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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kreuz and Koyasu Takehito, their

mighty licensing powers, and (Checks list) Henry Kissinger. Okay, slowly making sure to offend everyone.
She sniffed as she took the clipboard out of the plastic slot by the door, checking once to see if the patient’s status had changed since her last shift. It was still listed as critical condition; and from her experience, things were likely only to get worse if he remained unconscious. She read off the name ‘Aya Fujimiya’ and took a second to place it to the countless faces she saw everyday in this hospital. With a little jump of surprise, she remembered that this name was actually a man’s, and that his fiancé was a good-looking but frightening blonde. She had already heard that Mamoru had gotten a black eye from the monster. She couldn’t believe that the tall, obviously foreign-born man had yelled out that he was engaged to the man lying in the bed just because she had been trying to tell him about proper hospital etiquette. Still, even more stunning than the patient’s gay partner was how many stitches it had taken to sew up the man’s wrists. People who usually committed suicide unconsciously didn’t cut deep enough, the human instinct to live more overpowering than the wish to die. This one had really wanted to, almost bled dry before being treated. She sighed, wondering if she should tell the man that Mr. Fujimiya’s chances might not be looking good if he didn’t wake up soon. It was better to inform family and friends the second they suspected something was wrong… but just what could that blonde be called?

It was fine to read the occasional comic or two about unrealistically beautiful male couples, but to actually see it in real life was another story all together. She couldn’t help but feel a bit disgusted every time she walked into the room, wondering just how the hell those two could possibly do the things a man and a woman did. That beast that had yelled at her last time most certainly wasn’t the type to make a reservation for a nice restaurant and enjoy pleasant conversation. The poor thing in the bed must have suffered so much under his ‘fiancé’ that he had committed suicide. It was just as well, since the world didn’t need this sort of perversion in an er-

She paused, feeling slightly dizzy for a moment as it felt like a hand was physically reaching inside her head... and then there was nothing else.

Nagi sighed as the nurse dropped dead in her tracks while Schuldig smirked and yanked the plugs on the various machines hooked up to Abyssinian. The heart monitor’s steady beeping went dead, along with the rest of the machinery in the room. Nagi had already been ordered to telekinetically break the lenses on every camera that they passed, including the one that had been in Abyssinian’s room. The sudden security glitch that had started on the first floor and continued all the way up the stairs just because Schuldig liked to cause as much trouble as possible probably had the hospital in a state of uproar. It was almost too easy to use that distraction, a panic spreading throughout the hospital staff that was visibly growing as the two members of Schwarz waltzed through the building, to capture the Weiss leader. A mostly comatose patient strapped to a bed didn’t have much fight in him, but Schuldig had mentally forced the man to wake up. Nagi winced away, not wanting to be in the same room as he saw that familiar torture be played out on someone else.

He had been physically sick to hear the panicked noises Abyssinian had made while Schuldig had taken out a needle and the bottle of one of his choice drugs. The German enjoyed to play with people like that, waking Abyssinian up for the sole purpose of letting him know just who was capturing him. There was really no point- except the Kritiker agent started openly crying and weakly struggling on the bed while Schuldig filled the syringe, humming delightfully. Nagi only watched dispassionately, carefully guarding his thoughts as Schuldig stabbed the needle into Abyssinian’s neck. All he needed to do was stay alive and in one piece. All he had to do was follow orders. He was nothing more than a tool.

"We’re going to have so much fun, mein Leibe," Schuldig announced to the assassin as the man went limp again. The German wiped at his nose, which had started to bleed again, before unclasping the straps holding the man down. Nagi simply kept watch at the door while the halls remained empty. Besides that one nurse who had the bad luck of walking in right when Schuldig had been trying to make an impression on Abyssinian’s slightly-aware mind, they hadn’t had to kill anyone else. Trained professionals or not, so far it had been a piece of cake. He could thank Bombay for that, freely giving away information. Schuldig had a new victim that would likely hold his attention for a while, and thusly wouldn’t be torturing Nagi as much. All around, things were beginning to look up and Nagi didn’t really care that it was only because someone else was going to become the focus of Schuldig’s sadism. He had lived too long under Crawford and Schuldig’s harsh rule, was jaded and cold to other people’s suffering because he had already been through so much himself...Besides, Nagi could rationalize it away with the fact that Aya Fujimiya must have worked up some very bad karma, since he didn’t believe in God like Farfarello did. Schuldig was insane, but he didn’t torture anyone who didn’t deserve it in some small way or another. As harsh as that sounded, they really had only run into the scum of the earth, the worst kind of criminal, and sometimes the poor bastard got to be Schuldig and Farfarello’s latest toy as they forced information out of him.

The best choice Nagi had left was to push a stolen wheelchair forward without saying anything, nothing more than an instrument for Esset to carry it’s scheme out through. Even if it was nothing more than Schuldig’s personal vendetta; Mastermind was still a superior to him. Nagi could give the guards in front of National monuments a run for their money; motionless, emotionless, and staring forward at the door in case yet another fool walked in.

Schuldig soon had Abyssinian unplugged and out from underneath the sheets, picking the former agent up like he was nothing more than a small child. There was incredible affection in the way the German cradled his newest prey, reminding Nagi of just how obsessed Schuldig had first been when they had been hired to blow up some bank or such- and found the son of their target would soon turn into their greatest enemy. They had accidentally given birth to Abyssinian, a mistake that Crawford punished them all for even before they ever met the man in actual combat. It was almost laughable at the ease they could simply grab the Weiss leader, put him in a wheelchair, and start out the door. Schuldig, of course, insisted on pushing the unconscious man in the chair and popping a wheelie around the corpse of the nurse. He was practically dancing down the hall as Nagi followed behind, pausing to brush the loose, long hair of the unconscious assassin. Nagi was just thankful that it was this member of Weiss instead of another, not about to be so stupid as to actually think the name; sure that Schuldig would pick up on it even if he was currently enthralled with his latest catch.

They got to the end of the hall without drawing any attention; Nagi hitting the button for the elevator before another nurse came running down the hall. She was yelling that a patient’s heart monitor had stopped...and began screaming loudly when she discovered the body of the nurse. Nagi doubted if she even realized that Abyssinian was no longer in the room. The doors opened and they slowly moved in to an already slightly-full car, other doctors and patients shuffling around to make room for them. Nobody even thought to ask what they were doing with a near-comatose body, just one man asked to confirm if they were going down. Schuldig nodded while Nagi watched the doors carefully, glimpsing a cop coming out from a room with his shirt slightly undone, soon followed by a nurse that was falling out of her uniform. The doors closed and there was more muffled screaming, a common thing in hospitals. Nagi shook his head, amazed once again just how easy it was.

***
Ken liked riding his motorcycle. It was a simple, easy thing that needed a little bit of concentration but allowed the mind to wander. The wind felt good on his face, since there was only one helmet between the both of them and Ken gave his to Yohji. The spare was with Omi, and Ken figured that the blonde was probably the most likely to fall off right now. Yohji was hunched over, almost the same height as Ken, just about as engaged in life as a brick. Ken had to shove the helmet into Yohji’s chest when the blonde didn’t notice him offering it the first couple of times; granted, a little more violent then he needed to be, but deciding to hold their fight off at least until they got home. It hadn’t even really been a fight, Ken admitted to himself. He was just so damn angry, frustrated with Omi calling him an idiot in front of the doctor, starting to cry again like he was the one being yelled at when Ken had let loose on Yohji. They just argued, reflexive as blinking, but usually Aya would break them up before it actually turned serious. Ken had been ready to beat Yohji up once he had gotten solidly punched again, but now after his temper had cooled, he wasn’t really sure why. He fucking knew that Yohji would never hurt Aya, was more than prone to going up and hassling anyone who gave Aya the wrong look like some street punk.

There was no way that Yohji would ever let Aya try to commit suicide.

Ken felt like he should apologize, but didn’t know how to do it. He could only pity Yohji right now, more pissed at himself for adding more on top of what the man already had to deal with. Ken was having a hard time believing that the doctor had dared ask if someone was abusing Aya. All it would take was five minutes with Aya, awake and throwing a fit over something yet again, to know just how impossible that would be. Ken would like to meet the inhuman fucker that could possibly bully Aya. Hopefully Omi would be able to explain all that to the doctor, since the man certainly wasn’t going to listen to them after fist fighting inside a hospital. Ken was a fucking idiot. If anything, he had only managed to prove the doctor correct in suspecting Yohji was violent. Ken just drove a little bit faster, wanting to get home and be able to talk to him without anyone interrupting them. He was almost glad that Yohji was being silent ever since they left the hospital, obviously not ready to deal with life right now.

Ken was pretty sure that the ride home had taken longer than usual even though he had taken the shortest way and traffic had been pretty light. The garage door was still open, Ken and Omi forgetting to close it... They were all pretty scattered over this whole incident. Ken pulled in and turned off the engine, trying to remember when he had eaten last. He knew it hadn’t been as long as Yohji, who was already looking like he was losing weight. Just one night of Aya in the hospital and the blonde resembled a corpse himself. Yohji had yet to even take notice of the fact that Ken had finally parked.

"Hey, man, are you going to move or what?" Ken asked a little harder than necessary, but his lip still stung like hell. He couldn’t help pressing at it with his tongue, waiting for Yohji’s response as the man stayed with his feet up on the bike and arms around Ken. It was times like these that he didn’t really like having a motorcycle, wishing that he could just push Yohji away. He really didn’t want to be touching the man right now, more than a little pissed about getting licked inside the hospital when Yohji was nothing more than an unresponsive puppet. Ken finally shoved back against the blonde and saw something splatter against the inside of the visor. Slowly, he twisted around and roughly yanked the helmet off of Yohji’s head. Blonde hair fell down around the older man’s face; almost enough to hide the tears falling silently down his cheeks. Ken couldn’t take staring at Yohji’s completely desolate and empty gaze focusing somewhere else.

"He wouldn’t wake up," Yohji whispered softly to Ken’s back, stealing anything that he wanted to say to the blonde. The driveway behind him was full of the sun, still a little bit early to be god-awfully hot but a touch too warm anyway. The city seemed quiet, distant, as if the rest of the town had slowed down to pay respect to Aya. There weren’t even dogs barking or kids screaming in the distance, just a couple of pigeons watching from the eaves of the next door building, cooing in confusion at them. It wasn’t fucking fair that it was a sunny day when Aya was unconscious in a hospital.

"I… I tried talking to him, but he just wouldn’t wake up," the utter failure in Yohji’s voice ringing hard. As if it was his fault that Aya wasn’t opening his eyes. Nobody was to blame but whatever cruel twist of fate that had brought Aya down so hard and fast. Ken wasn’t sure what had exactly had happened, but everything seemed to have gone straight to hell after Yohji and Aya had gotten in that first physical fight. There had been no stopping, no way to predict it, nothing to do now but wait for Aya to recover. Ken knew that there would be no other way to bring Yohji out of this funk; unless Aya opened his eyes and apologized to them all for pulling some crazy shit like this... especially to Yohji.

"Listen, man, I’m sorry for what I said before. This isn’t your fault," Ken assured the man, putting a hand on one bony shoulder. Yohji just backed away from it, going even colder and numb than before. He eased right off the bike and actually stood up, swaying like he was drinking and shaking his head at Ken’s words.

"No… it is. I did this to Aya," Yohji argued irrationally, looking faint and very breakable. He wasn’t even bothering to wipe at the tears on his face, all of that playboy’s pride and self-respect gone without a trace. He looked like a blonde martyr, practically hoping that Ken would just agree and start fighting him all over again; because Yohji thought that he was completely guilty but wanted someone else to punish him. Last time Ken checked, suicide was when someone tried to kill himself. That was one-party murder, and Yohji had certainly not been willing to let Aya go into the bathroom alone. He had been screaming frantic for them to break down the door because Yohji suspected Aya might be hurting himself. Nobody could have guessed that their former leader would be actually trying to kill himself.

"Yohji, you didn’t do anything wrong," Ken found it very hard to keep the irritation from his voice, furious that Yohji was stupid enough to somehow figure that this had happened because of something he had done. This had been Aya’s own choice, his own mistake. It wasn’t like Yohji had told Aya to go do it or something equally bizarre and sick. Yohji loved Aya too much to live without him... the sobering thought was just how true that was. Ken didn’t have a doubt in his mind that if Aya didn’t recover; Yohji was going to follow his lover straight to the grave. Ken wasn’t about to deal with two dead friends, if nothing else just how fucking sad that would make Omi; because he didn’t really want to think about how hard he would take it if Aya and Yohji made it a double suicide.

"I did; you don’t fucking know-Y’ Yohji argued yet again, shaking his head more violently and taking a step back like he was going to run.

"No, Yohji," Ken ordered just as firmly as if he was training a dog to sit, grabbing the taller man around his shoulders and hugging him. It wasn’t like the type he would give Omi, who would likely bruise if Ken ever held him this hard, but a fierce and brotherly hug reserved for Yohji. Aya never did like to be touched long enough for a hug from anyone else other than the older blonde. Yohji was almost acting the same as his much-shyer lover, trembling hard and standing dumb underneath the sudden affection... and then it all really broke down. Yohji gasped for air as if he had been underwater ever since Aya had been admitted to the hospital, actually to cry now as he suddenly slumped against Ken. It was unexpected and Ken couldn’t hold up all of Yohji’s weight anyway, his knees bent and they both fell down hard. Ken took most of the shock right on his ass as Yohji hit him instead of the cement, blonde head buried in his shoulder and arms holding on tight enough to break bones. Ken awkwardly worked his arms out from underneath Yohji and started patting the man’s back as someone cried on him for the second time today

"It’s my fault, I got drunk, and..." Yohji trailed off, unable to speak further as he actually let loose with soul-draining tears of his own. Ken had never seen Yohji cry like this before, not when the blonde had been their resident detached asshole, never seeming to care even though he really did underneath it. They all had little devices, some kind of armor worked up over the years from living a life that was too fucking hard- but right now Yohji’s were completely down. He couldn’t see the man’s face as he dug it into the seam on Ken’s shirt, but he could still suspect what the man might say next. He had wound up cheating on Aya with some girl, understandable; in fact, rather predictable that Yohji had gone back to his old haunts after Aya had actually punched him in the face and called him a liar on top of it. Even Omi wouldn’t be able to play nice after that.

"I woke up and... And there was blood and no one was there and I just..." Yohji wasn’t very coherent through his tears, at least not hiccuping out of control and unable to put two words like Omi had been. Yohji was just completely open for a second, so drained and worried about Aya that he had no choice left but to cry. Ken was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. He still frowned at the words, wondering if the blood had anything to do with those red fingernail lines that were running down Yohji’s back or if the older man had accidentally killed someone. The last seemed very doubtful, but Yohji was upset about ‘blood.’ Maybe he was mixing up Aya’s fiasco in the bathroom with whatever he had done last night. Aya and Yohji had both split immediately after that fight to similarly drink themselves into a stupor, and they were more skilled than the average Joe when it came to murder. Ken just waited for Yohji to share more, quiet and more worried by the second as the blonde only stayed silent. He wasn’t even crying any more, though Ken could still feel the wetness spreading on his shirt. He could feel Yohji’s much longer body stiffen up against Ken’s, as if readying for a nuclear bomb to be dropped. He could only pet Yohji’s back and wish he actually had something good to say for once.

"Ken, someone fucking raped me," Yohji whispered it into his ear; as if he was afraid the birds might overhear and tell someone.

"What?" Ken could only ask back, stunned out of words. His brain sputtered and died, left staring silently at Yohji in horror. He couldn’t even believe the words, staring at the former playboy, the epitome of male sexuality, the guy who always got the girl’s number, Yohji admitting to something like that. He was too shell-shocked to even move, wondering if a bomb had been dropped for the way the whole world seemed to get silent after that. Ken couldn’t even start to grasp it before Yohji told him even worse.

"I was bleeding and when I got home, Aya… was- on top and he thought he did it," Yohji stammered out, pulling away from Ken to just slump over, settling back on his legs and hands dropping down between his knees, so goddamn alone and miserable that it tore at Ken’s heart. He had never seen Yohji look so utterly desolate before, like his whole world had burned down and someone had killed his dog on top of it, not resembling the snide player he knew at all. Those facts wheeled around in Ken’s heads, taking once statement and slowly attaching it to the other as he tried to understand the whole situation. Aya had committed suicide because Yohji had been raped until he bled and hadn’t told Aya before they had sex. It was the most fucked-up thing Ken had ever heard, so fucking horrible that, of course, it would only happen to them. Yohji… raped? Ken could picture the blonde getting plastered enough to wake up in a hotel with no memory of last night- but in Ken’s head, there would be some drunken, female mistake. Yohji was most certainly not a bottom, just like him.

"Yohji," Ken could only get out the man’s name before the blonde was shaking hard enough to cut him off. Yohji was doing a good job of hiding behind the mess of his hair, blonde turning red-brown in some places from Aya’s blood. Ken had noticed that someone had taken the time to clean every single strand of hair on Aya’s head- while barely able to classify as living himself. Yohji was just gone right now, a completely different person in front of Ken right now, one that was consumed with guilt and misery. Yohji didn’t ever get depressed, not like this. He was always in control, emotionally and during sex too. The older man wasn’t the type to let someone else climb on top and just have their way.

"It’s my fault. I’m so fucking stupid," Yohji sounded so much like Aya at this point it was hard not to just start screaming at the man. If they both thought that it was their fault entirely, why couldn’t either of them just apologize? Why did things have to get so damn complicated? Yohji and Aya didn’t deserve it, not after all Aya had worked through after they had finally managed to quit Kritiker. Yohji may not talk about everything he had been through to finally get to this small little piece of happiness that they had found, but the few lines he had dropped after a night of hard-liquor and bad jokes was enough to sober Ken right up. Most of them hadn’t had the best of family life, but the short and sweet horror stories Yohji would share made Ken feel sick. He was shaking right now; ill with new knowledge that he didn’t really want- but Yohji was staring down at his own wrists, still stained from handling Aya’s bleeding arms, like he was starting to get ideas of his own.

"Yohji!" He yelled out the man’s name, trying to snap him back to reality. He wasn’t about to have Yohji freak out on him now. It was his mission to keep Yohji sane until tomorrow when they’d finally be allowed back into the hospital. Aya would have to be awake then, and that small fact would be enough to get Yohji back to normal... if there was something as normal after being raped. This was Yohji, a man of legendary dispute who had fucked half of Tokyo. Who knew the number of women from out of town or the occasional international one-night stand? Yohji was what most men dreamed of being, able to get phone numbers without even trying; which also pissed Aya off to no ends. Was Aya still going to get jealous of Yohji, yelling out something usually bitter but witty? Ken had never realized Aya had such a sarcastic sense of humor, but the man had never smiled at the end of his jokes either. Yohji had managed to finally get Aya out of his shell. He didn’t deserve a corpse for a boyfriend; Yohji needed an alive and healthy Aya.

"Oh, God, Ken, I can’t lose him," Yohji somehow managed to say the exact line to break Ken’s heart. He wasn’t going to start crying too. There had already been too fucking much of that today. He grabbed Yohji firmly by the shoulders, shaking the man until he finally looked up at him and really saw him- the two of them, sitting just a little outside of the garage on the driveway, Ken’s tailbone aching like a bitch, and all of Yohji’s lanky weight on top of him. The blonde’s usual I-don’t-give-a-damn expression was gone without a trace, nothing but tear-stained cheeks and fading hickeys on his neck. Yohji still hadn’t even wiped the blood off of his chin yet. Ken made sure that Yohji was really looking at him before he started talking, not about to repeat himself.

"He’s not going to die, Yohji. We got him to the hospital in time. He’s going to make it," Ken had made to say now on the second try. He wished he could have had all these lines for Omi on the spot, but it had taken lying awake for half a day while the boy drowsed naked against him to come up with anything good. Ken always did think best after sex...but now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. He shook his head, biting his lip and hoping that Yohji would take this to heart. Ken didn’t now how much longer he could put up with Yohji turning into the puddle of human suffering when he could at least be doing it inside the house, only a few feet away. The blonde scrubbed uselessly at his leaking eyes, only marginally better than Omi when it came to calming down after such a horrible cry.

"I-…"Yohji started again.

"-Need to take a shower," Ken interrupted before Yohji could say anything stupider than he had already mentioned. The utterly confused and lost expression on Yohji’s face was priceless, the man clearly forgetting about even the most basic of personal hygiene. Ken didn’t feel particular bad about taking advantage of that momentary bewilderment to drag Yohji up onto his own two feet along with him. It definitely felt better to stand in the driveway than sit there any day; at least to Ken. Yohji seemed like he wanted to die right there in the driveway, but that would only hurt Aya. Wasn’t there already some sort of play about lovers committing suicide? How many times had Ken heard this very same story on the news or one of those talk shows Omi liked to watch? He may have gotten jaded to other people’s stories, but this was Yohji and Aya. They were different from some dumb, depressed teenager who got too involved in a high-school relationship. They were all adults, and Ken was going to make sure that they all fucking acted like it next time they were together.

But, until then, Ken was stuck forcibly dragging Yohji by the elbow to the backdoor. Yohji stumbled and tripped along the way, like his coordination had fled along with his common sense and self-respect. Ken couldn’t blame the guy, certain that he would be an even worse mess if he ever lost Omi. He just couldn’t deal with any more tears or another fucking surprise. Learning that Omi had a grandfather out there, ready to exploit his family member to further some underground group of vigilantes wasn’t the best distraction for his best friend committing suicide. Ken found himself panting by the time they got to the door, not from having to half-carry Yohji all the way but simply because he was overwhelmed with all the shit that was going on. Ken decided to blank it all out for a bit, concentrating on getting in the door and locking it behind them while Yohji stood in the kitchen like an idiot. Ken gently herded Yohji into the downstairs bathroom since they still had yet to even touch the one Aya had messed up to all hell. He made sure to stand in the doorway and watch for a moment as Yohji fumbled around with turning on the water in the shower. The older man paused, his hand turning into a fist on the plastic curtain, and Ken was suddenly thankful that they hadn’t put any money into redesigning this bathroom, sure that Yohji would be going insane himself if he saw a glass shower door right now. He backed out silently as Yohji started stripping, closing the door behind him and immediately going to the kitchen.

He took the moment of privacy to put a hand on the counter and let out one huge sigh. Just what the fuck was he supposed to do right now? Even if Omi did call to say that Aya had woken up, Yohji was still not going to be allowed into the hospital. Ken could only hope that the kid could tell a good enough story to clear up the doctor’s accusation. Until then he was stuck alone with the fact that somewhere along the line, Yohji had gotten raped- and if that wasn’t bad enough, Aya thought he had done it. No wonder the poor son of a bitch had tried to commit suicide. Ken rubbed at his own eyes, trying to comprehend this all. He ended up drumming his fingers on his chin while the pipes hummed from Yohji taking a shower. At least the guy would be cleaned up now, but Ken doubted he’d be able to get Yohji to eat or lay down for a much-needed nap.

Ken went to the trusty option of the liquor cabinet. Omi, the staunchest prohibitionist in the house, had finally conceded to clearing a small area out next where they kept the cereal when Yohji had sat the boy down and argued over it like a politician. There were more than a few nights when despite the happiness they had found, one of them woke up screaming in the middle of the night. It was usually Aya, but nobody really brought that point up. Yohji, however, complained loudly of having to go down to the liquor store at two a.m. for a simple bottle or two. Ken admitted to getting into Yohji’s stash sometimes when he couldn’t sleep. That may not be the case now, but Ken grabbed a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey all the same, figuring that his manners would be forgiven as he simply tilted the tilted the whole thing back and swallowed.

Omi didn’t have to call him an idiot in front of the doctor. He had just been trying to make a joke to how utter stupid the doctor had sounded when he accused Yohji of domestic abuse, and he had been all but told to shove it. What a miserable fucking day. At this rate it was going to stretch out into a whole week of atrociously bad days. Ken sighed heavily, not able to chug hard liquor for very long...at least, not this early in the morning. So, while Yohji was still in the shower Ken pulled out two fairly-sized glasses and sleeping pills from behind the aspirin and Pepto-Bismol. He used a plate to crush down a small handful of the little white suckers, pounding them down with the meat cleaver while Yohji got cleaned up.

He poured out a glass and put several measured pinches of the powder he had made in as well. Ken used a spoon, stirred, and tasted. It still seemed like alcohol, so another couple of pinches and one last splash just to be sure, and Ken had the answer to all of his problems. Just knock Yohji out so the poor bastard could get some sleep, quickly hiding the evidence by throwing the plate in the microwave to be cleaned up later. Yohji certainly wasn’t going to sleep when he was finally let back to Aya’s side and got to worry right there in front of the object of his affection, and there was no chance in hell that Yohji would lay down long enough to nap while Aya was in a hospital. Ken needed some time himself to sort this all out. He wasn’t going to able to comfort Yohji when he couldn’t even accept what the blonde had just told him; and someone was going to have to while Aya was in the hospital. Omi couldn’t be expected to do much more than talk to the doctor today... any more than that and Ken was sure the kid would be bawling his eyes out all over again. Right now, Yohji was the only one that Ken really had the patience for- because he felt bad enough already for getting into a fight with the guy.

Yohji had been raped.

Aya had attempted suicide.

Ken would like to see how things could possibly get worse, found it hard not to toss things around and start kicking in the walls. It was amazing that Omi had even decided to go to classes, even though Ken had ended up yanking the poor kid out early. What little fucking good it had seemed to do with those goddamn doctors. They acted all smart and superior, looking down on Ken because he had the slightest bit of emotion for his friend who was fucking strapped down to a bed like a madman. Yohji didn’t have the energy to get worked up about it, still lost in the fact that Aya hadn’t woken up yet, so Ken had to get angry in the man’s place. It was fucking hard not to. He was going to make sure that Aya lived, just so he could punch the man good. Yohji needed Aya here now, not Ken slipping pills into his drink. Nobody would have thought it, but Aya was actually a good influence on the older man. He didn’t even chain smoke anymore...well, except on the weekends and his days off.

Yohji finally exited the shower with a towel around his waist and another draped over his shoulders, his hair a gnarred and wet mess. His usually tanned skin was reddened in some parts, obviously from scrubbing too hard at blood. Ken knew firsthand just how hard that stuff was to get out. Belatedly reminded, Ken grabbed Yohji before the blonde could stagger over to the stairs and shoved him down in a chair, not about to let him walk in on his lover’s near-death scene in the bathroom. Then, Yohji winced and bent up over kitchen table, favoring his ass and proving once again what a fucking idiot Ken could be. He’d been doing his best to just not think about it that he had completely forgotten what Yohji had been through. What a fucking week for all of them, Ken thought darkly to himself as he finally went back to pour his own glass. Doing his best not to look suspicious, Ken set both glasses down on the table, one in front of Yohji.

"Oh, man, take that shit away. I don’t want to drink," Yohji immediately demanded when he saw the somewhat dusty liquid in front of him. It was quite the backfire plan, Ken never once taking into consideration that Yohji might not want to drink. The man was probably the biggest alcoholic of them all, and proud of it; Aya was more of a closet-case in that respect, but a heavy drinker nonetheless. For Yohji not to want a glass of something hard right now was like saying the world was flat. Ken frowned down at his own drink, wondering just what the hell he was going to do. He wouldn’t really have the chance to prepare another ‘special’ drink for Yohji and was damn sure the blonde wouldn’t take sleeping pills by choice right now.

"Come on, Yohji, just one. You’re a mess right now," Ken had never felt worse in his life, actually peer-pressuring his friend into drinking. He hadn’t done something like this since high school, but he was desperate right now. He couldn’t sit there, watching Yohji stare down at the table with his hair dripping wet, utterly defeated. Yohji hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry himself off, but at least he was no longer smeared with blood. Aya’s blood. Ken shook his head, wishing that he could at least get a call from Omi saying that Aya had woken up. Just that would be enough to get Yohji to look half-human again.

"I made the wrong choice. I got completely fucking inebriated, and left Aya to cry himself to sleep and commit suicide in the morning. I’m... I’m a fucking asshole," Yohji laid out the facts with such harsh, black-and-white negativity that Ken was left with nothing to say immediately. Ken certainly hadn’t seen Yohji break the shower door for Aya; no matter what had happened or led up to it, Aya had been the one that finally made the choice to hurt himself.

"You forgot the part where you got raped, Yohji," Ken added darkly, wondering how the man could just brush that aside so easily. Ken knew he couldn’t. It was hard enough just to imagine Omi sticking anything up his ass other than the occasional finger when Ken was either impassioned or drunk enough to agree. He didn’t really care to know about just what Yohji and Aya did in the bedroom-....living room, kitchen, garage, wherever Yohji had managed to trick Aya into doing it- but Ken had always pictured Yohji on top. Like the way he was always on top with Omi. It wasn’t boring or routine at all, it was just the way things were. Sex with Omi had always been fabulous. Ken couldn’t imagine what it would be like with a stranger, especially since Ken would die before he allowed anything up his ass. Yohji had to feel the same way, perhaps even more strongly than Ken, but somehow he was still alive.

"I shouldn’t have told you," Yohji moaned out at last, slapping one hand to his forehead in an audibly moist ‘smack.’ Ken had seen hardened criminals begging on their knees for their lives that were less pitiable than Yohji was now. He looked like he had just wandered in from the rain, wet and lost without Aya. Ken hadn’t realized how much Yohji had depended on the man until Aya was actually gone. He had always thought it had been the other way around, knowing firsthand what an absolute wreck Aya could be if Yohji left for grocery store or such and ended up taking more than half an hour. Eventually Aya finally managed to start going outside again, even worse with crowds than he had been before joining Weiss, but Yohji had worked with him. Ken was starting to notice just how much Aya had done a little tinkering with Yohji as well; perhaps the blonde cursed even worse now, but at least he wasn’t openly lewd with the female customers anymore. One-night-stands and women calling up the flower shop screaming about getting pregnant and that he better fucking pay for the abortion were a thing of the past. Ken couldn’t remember the last time he had dragged a completely trashed and loaded-up Yohji inside along with the morning newspaper. It had been a while since the last time he had a conversation like this with the blonde, finding it hard to get a one-on-one with a guy that thought somewhat like him when Aya was permanently attached to Yohji’s arm. Ken still wished it had been on better circumstance.

"Yes, yes, you should have told me and Aya. Yohji, the only mistake you made was not telling us," Ken immediately corrected. He wasn’t going to let the whole damn household get depressed today. Things were going to have to look up soon, because it simply couldn’t get worse. Ken had to take a drink himself while Yohji just snorted derivatively.

"Like it would have made a damn difference," Yohji hissed out darkly, lowering himself down further on the table until his head was resting on top of his arms. Ken could only stare, finding Yohji even more ridiculous than Aya when he got into one of his moods. There was nothing he could say, because Yohji wasn’t going to listen- he wanted to blame himself and that was it. Like he was the first fucking person to ever make a mistake in their lives. Ken would agree that this had been one big-ass snafu, but it wasn’t entirely Yohji’s fault. He should have grabbed the both of them and had an intervention; or at least not have let Yohji and Aya leave when tempers had been flaring so badly.

"You know it would have fucking helped. This wasn’t your fault. Now, shut up and take a drink. I’m not going to let you do anything stupid until we go back to the hospital tomorrow," Ken firmly put an end to the whole argument, getting up to grab the little bit left in the bottle and bring it back; just to pressure Yohji by the sight of there still being more to drink. Ken was damned determined to make sure the rest of it right down the older man’s throat. Yohji sat up again when Ken rejoined him on the table, not exactly crying again but he did wipe at his eyes. His shoulders were rounded out like all his pride had just been drained out, mechanically taking the glass at last, brought it to his lips...sighed heavily, wavering for a bit as he stared forward at the wall...and then finally took a drink. That gave Ken the courage to start trying to think about what he should say, finding it easier to try and reassure Yohji than Omi because this guy would at least laugh at the same jokes he made. Yohji didn’t call him an idiot unless he really deserved it, or was just being a jerk like usual. Ken would have paid money to get Yohji to get into one of their play fights again, if he wasn’t so sure things would sour pretty quickly.

"Look, Yohji, just you saying that you did the wrong thing is enough. I’m sure that you’re beating yourself up worse inside than any of us could ever fucking do, but you know what? Aya is going to fucking need you when he wakes up, and if you’re not going to be there for him, sane and healthy, I’ll be sure to kick your ass then," it was probably the most Ken had ever said at once, rushing it all out before Yohji lowered his drink to stare at him. Ken had never been one for speeches or pretty words, but there were sometimes when things just needed to be said aloud.

"Trust me, Ken, short of getting arrested, there’s nothing that could keep me from Aya right now," Yohji toasted himself after that, raising his glass up high before downing almost half of it. Yohji couldn’t afford another arrest, since he already had a record after Kritiker had worked so hard to erase his identity. And now, they didn’t even have that. No amount of sweet-talking and dancing around paper work would be able to save Yohji’s ass if he was taken in by the police again. There was still a good quarter left in the glass Yohji slammed back down to the table. They were both silent then, since Ken had run out of words and Yohji was just too miserable to keep up the conversation like usual.

"It’s not like I’m a virgin or anything. I’ve done some fucked-up shit in and out of a bed," Yohji started, vaguely mentioning sex that Ken couldn’t even imagine- probably didn’t want to either. He just sat there with elbows on the table, bangs dripping down into his face and giving Yohji the impression of tears he wasn’t spilling. Ken didn’t know how Yohji couldn’t just be a sobbing mess right now, even worse than Omi. It was like God had been out to get Yohji this week, unloading the worst possible scenario-twice. He reached over and squeezed the man’s bony shoulder, hoping that it would be enough to let Yohji know that he was there for him. Sometimes it was better to spill your guts out to a friend rather than a lover; especially when said lover was unconscious in the hospital.

"It’s just… I mean…" Yohji couldn’t finish whatever sentence he had been trying to get out, so Ken freshened up his glass with another liberal splash of Wild Turkey. It was also a safeguard in case the powder had sunk to the bottom and would start to get noticeable. Ken could only hope that Yohji would get drunk fast since he hadn’t eaten anything in several days. They both sighed heavily at the same time, and it was stupid enough for Yohji to actually crack a small smile. Ken would have laughed, but he just couldn’t find enough good humor to overcome this. He just ground his teeth together while Yohji shook his head and swirled around his glass dully.

"I wanted it to be Aya. He’s the only one I ever would do it...you know, that way," Yohji mumbled out with a blush. A fucking light pink blush underneath tanned skin. Yohji Kudoh was suddenly uncomfortable discussing sex when he usually got into so much detail Omi would run screaming from the room with his hands held over his ears. Ken wished he didn’t know what ‘that way’ really meant. It had been bad enough to accept that Aya had worked a few months as a prostitute...and had been a real virgin to boot. It had taken weeks for Ken to somewhat accept that- he didn’t know how he was going to do the same for Yohji. This was Yohji! None of the women who had associated with the playboy for over an hour would ever believe that Yohji was gay and sickeningly, romantically involved with one single man. Nobody would ever believe that he’d been raped too. Ken would prefer Aya over that himself.

"You’d want it to be Omi, right?" Yohji suddenly asked, catching Ken in a staring contest that he would have just as soon not started. Not with this sort of question being asked.

"Uh…"’ Ken didn’t have an answer for that, dropping his mouth and desperately trying not to spit out ‘I’m never having anything put up my ass, thank you.’ He’d only be thinking hypothetically; and even then Ken still had the sudden desire to punch anyone who thought he was another pussy fag. Ken made a fist, wishing he could put down that childish, immature part of himself just for a few minutes and simply be there for Yohji. It was just easier to fight, to yell, to get angry- because Ken didn’t know how to make Yohji feel better. He could only sit there, waiting for drugs or alcohol to kick in.

"I shouldn’t have fought with you in the hospital," Yohji moaned, self-pity being his number one priority right now. He was honestly sorry about it, scared to do one thing wrong; because it might just rebound onto Aya. Ken could see that dumb blonde’s though pattern clear as day.

"That’s rig-...Oh, don’t even try to take all the blame, that was my fault, you selfish prick," Ken corrected himself, pointing a finger up in Yohji’s weary face, realizing a little bit later that Yohji had been trying to carry a cross all by himself. Ken knew that it was his damn fault for getting all worked up; it had just fucking hurt to see Aya all pale, unconscious with a tube shoved down his nose, that damn heart monitor beeping irritably, and restrained like a monster on top of it all. Ken made fists on top of the table, not about to fight with Yohji again, but wishing there were something that he could physically kick the shit out of for hurting Yohji and Aya so badly. If Yohji ever told Ken who had had done this to him last night, the guy probably wasn’t going to even get a chance at his own rapist before Ken was done tearing the guy limb from limb.

"I was still beating you up pretty bad," Yohji had a definitely slur in his voice now. Ken looked up at that, noting that Yohji’s eyes were starting to drift down, fluttering closed for a moment before he realized he was beginning to fall asleep and jerked them back open. Ken felt a smile sneak across his face at the success before he quickly schooled his face back down into a somewhat serious expression.

"I was letting you win in the hospital," Ken returned lightly while Yohji wavered between sitting upright and slumping over in the chair.

"You’re a fucking liar," Yohji drawled with an incredibly depressed smile before he keeled forward on the table. Ken finished off his own drink slowly, waiting for the blonde to be well and truly out. Yohji hadn’t even bothered to comb his hair out, usually putting forth that basic effort- and usually more. Yohji liked to look good, wore clothes that Ken thought belonged only on girls and somehow managed to be masculine despite it. Yohji had always been the confident one of the group. Ken wouldn’t know how to deal with the man if he wasn’t like that; but just what was he supposed to act like now?

Ken sighed, deciding that Yohji probably wouldn’t want to be passed out on the kitchen table. He was pretty sure the older man was now drugged up enough to sleep through it as Ken hoisted the taller body up awkwardly. Thankfully the towel managed to stay in place as Ken carried Yohji into the living room; not just because he didn’t think he could make it up the stairs. Yohji was no lightweight even though he was so damn skinny, it had all gone up into height instead, a relief to finally lie down on the couch. Ken wasn’t simply out of shape...he just didn’t want to have Yohji going upstairs before he took care of a few things. So, it was a matter of gently putting the guy down on the cushions without waking him up, throwing a blanket over the mostly naked body before leaving Yohji to sleep it all away. Now that he was passed out for an indefinite amount of time, Ken had an opportunity to go back into the kitchen and dig out a bucket, bleach, gloves, trash bags, and a wire brush. If nothing else, he could finally go clean up the bathroom. There was no need for Yohji to wake up to a room still splattered with Aya’s blood.

***
Omi sat down uncomfortably in the office, fidgeting and unable to do a thing about it. He waited for the doctor to finally move around to his own chair behind the desk, sighing heavily as he picked up an open file. Omi caught a glimpse of highlighted manuscript, little notes filled in at the margins. Doctor Kido scratched at his beard as he shook his head and frowned down at the file; glancing back to Omi with a look that certainly wasn’t approving, in fact, it was like the doctor thought he was a hardened criminal. Doctor Kido had no idea how right he was, both Omi and Aya had been involved in assassin work long enough to gain scars. Big, white and dark pink puckered and jagged lines that would never heal, wouldn’t darken even when Omi had tried to tan. It was embarrassing to have to think of an excuse for the large line going from the inside his stomach to his hip, small holes of a bullet’s entry and exit forever burned in his shoulder, a nice welt along his leg that could be hidden with large socks, along with several dozen other nicks and scratches that one didn’t get from attending college and living in Tokyo. Omi bit at his lip, shoving himself aside and desperately trying to think of a story for Aya.

"You know why I called you in here?" Doctor Kido finally asked at last, throwing the file down dramatically and sitting up in his chair. Those eyes were deadly serious behind his large glasses, fixing on Omi in a hardened and professional manner. It was like he was getting ready to deliver some sort of horrible news that he hadn’t wanted to say in front of Ken and Yohji. Omi could understand that, at least, not wanting to be around the two of them after they had gotten into a fistfight either. Ken and Yohji could be so hotheaded sometimes, and look where they were now because of it.

"Is…Is Aya-kun going to die?" Omi asked quietly, very fearful that it just might be the truth. There was a second’s pause, that quiet hesitation enough to confirm it all for Omi as he swallowed hard. He closed his eyes, getting ready for the news, trying to numb himself so he would be able to just listen without crying.

"What? No," the doctor laughed off heartily, somehow managing to make Omi feel ill and relieved at the same time.

"I wanted to talk to you because I need to ask a few questions. You don’t have to be afraid to answer them. We have protection services," the doctor almost sounded like he was rambling because it was just so ridiculous. It really was sweet, Omi wasn’t about to deny that; but right now, they didn’t need it. All he wanted was Aya’s clean bill of health, just something on a sheet of paper that said they could take care of Aya from now on. Omi didn’t like the fact that Aya was restrained to a bed, just as angry as Yohji and Ken were, Omi was sure.

"Please, Doctor Kido, there’s no abuse going on. You see…" Omi trailed off as he realized he had nothing left to say. The doctor stared at him, waiting for a story that he was going to write off as false anyway. There was nothing Omi could say to make this doctor think differently. Omi sighed at the same time the doctor did, both of them tired and stressed; though it was likely for different reasons.

"It’s alright," Doctor Kido confirmed. "Mr. Tsukiyono," he added after one more glance at the file, clearly not memorizing their names yet. Omi wiped at his mouth, smiling weakly and doing his best to look like nothing was wrong. The doctor only waited for him to gather himself, obviously expecting Omi to be the most forthcoming out of all of them. Ken and Yohji hadn’t exactly given off the best impressions after wrestling it out in Aya’s hospital room.

"You see," Omi started out with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand, desperately trying to buy more time. Doctor Kido only nodded his encouragement.

"Aya-kun used to have an abusive… lover," Omi finally lied, seeing that the man just wouldn’t be happy until he admitted to Aya going through some kind of domestic violence. Doctor Kido’s frown deepened, but Omi could tell his eyes were lighting up. He obvious thought that this was going to be the honest truth. Omi sighed, wondering why he didn’t feel guilty; in fact, didn’t feel much of anything as he began lying. One long, touching, heartbreaking lie that Aya had been trapped in a horrible relationship with an older man, suffering slowly until he met Yohji by chance and they promptly fell in love. Aya had been rescued by Yohji, which was also why the man was so protective; besides, Ken and Yohji both took boxing classes at a city gym, so mock-fights were an everyday occurrence. Omi wasn’t sure how long he went on for, but eventually the doctor’s face softened into something that resembled sympathy. He just hoped Aya never heard of this, halfway into the imaginary life he had created for the man before a knock on the door interrupted him. The doctor didn’t even have a chance to say ‘come in’ before the door was thrown open by a young and frightened nurse.

"Doctor Kido, Mimi’s dead!" the girl screamed out, not used to death even though she worked at a hospital. She had the look of someone who had just seen their first corpse, white in the face and seemed vaguely nauseous as she wavered in the doorway. They both just blinked at her, Omi wondering just who Mimi was while Doctor Kido’s face shifted between irritation and surprise. This girl looked like she lived a rather pampered life, somehow managing to look popular and young in the standard uniform. Her mascara was smeared and she was all-around shaken up, likely very used to having people take care of and gossip with her instead of dropping dead.

"She was checking up on patients, and… and I just went to find her and she was dead!" the girl stammered out, shaking like a deer that had just been missed by a semi-truck. Omi coughed and looked down at his lap politely, trying very hard not to think of this as a relief. At least the doctor would have to stop questioning him now, definitely needed to go check on this. It certainly wasn’t any of Omi’s concern, not about to become caught up in the middle of the drama called a hospital nurse. He already had enough problems of his own at the moment.

"Where is she right now?" Doctor Kido asked calmly before he rose up out of his seat. Omi stood up hastily afterward, figuring that this was his chance to leave. There was no reason for him to stick around, doing his best not to smile. He was pretty sure that this ‘Mimi’ had only fainted or such, her presumed deceased state likely a horrible exaggeration.

"She’s in room 816. Oh, God. Oh, God," the girl moaned out, no longer able to hold herself together as she covered her face with her hands. Omi paused, the number connecting slowly before both he and the doctor looked at each other. It was Aya’s room. Omi felt ice build in the pit of his stomach, every alarm inside him going off at the same time. Omi was already sprinting out the door before Doctor Kido could tell him to stay. He ran out of the office area and into the busy hallway of the hospital, dodging around various staff members and somehow injured or sick patients. He was already on the third floor, but it was still quite a feat to run up so many flights of stairs. It was still faster than taking the elevator, which would stop at every story to unload or allow more people to get on. Omi was left breathless and weak by the time he got to Aya’s floor, but he still bolted down the hall for his friend’s room.

The door was open and the first thing he noticed was the crumpled nurse on the floor. Her face was pressed down into the tile, a long drip of blood coming out from her ear and tracing down her cheek. He didn’t even have to check her to know that she was dead. What was even worse was that he had seen this style of killing before, had looked at dozens of pictures of people lying down in the same manner. He didn’t want to think about who might have done this; didn’t want to jinx himself and have it be the truth. The video camera mounted in the corner was shattered, professionally broken. Terrified, Omi looked up to the bed; various plugs and tubes hanging off of the empty mattress, the leather straps hanging down from the sides of the frame. The heart monitor was quiet, the expensive equipment fallen on its side. No Aya. There was nothing but him breathing hard from running up the stairs. Omi glanced back at the dead nurse, knowing that they would find no physical marks on her body. It would look like a blood vessel had suddenly and inexplicably burst inside the girl’s brain.

She had probably seen someone she never should have.

"Oh, my, she really is dead," Doctor Kido remarked from Omi’s side. He turned around in slow-motion horror, trying to find the ability to speak. He was scared. His hands were shaking, his teeth were clacking together, and his mind was wheeling from the shock. Maybe this was all some sort of big mistake. Omi swallowed, doing his best not to simply panic.

"Where’s Aya-kun?" Omi asked in a voice that was calm and emotionless. He didn’t know how else to say it, biting down on his tongue. Was this what his grandfather been speaking of? Were they in danger from other assassin groups? It couldn’t possibly be Schwarz; the last fight they had had was years ago. They were dead as far as Omi knew-...and then lamely remembered that he went to classes with Prodigy. He had just never thought of Nagi as a member of Esset, had just thought they were both going to attend classes like normal people. They were friends! Nagi wouldn’t tell the rest of Schwarz about anything Omi had shared with the other boy because they were friends! Right? Omi realized how poorly he really knew Nagi. He had just wanted to trust the other boy so badly that he had forgotten Nagi was one of the bad guys. This just couldn’t be happening.

"He’s missing?" the doctor asked in shock as he looked at the empty bed, noticing that Aya was gone at last. Aya certainly hadn’t gotten up for a walk. Where was that damn useless cop? Omi hated the surprise, knowing that it didn’t bode well at all. He prayed, prayed that the doctor would explain they had moved him to another room; that he had already woken up and was waiting in the lobby. Something, anything beyond the dreadful scenario Omi was coming up with in his own head.

"We have a problem," Doctor Kido concluded at last, making Omi want to scream aloud.

***

Ran knew there was something wrong with him at a pretty young age.

He had a great life, good friends, was on the track and tennis team… yet it was all still distant. He’d rather stay up in his room and read instead of going through the exhausting effort of socializing. Ran could usually bear with a full day at school before he was racing home on his bicycle, hoping to escape his fellow classmates. Girls and boys alike would leave letters or gifts in his shoebox, approach him after school, and wait for him outside the house. It was ridiculous, especially when Ran hated the attention so much. He attracted people that he didn’t even want to meet, finding it hard to even go outside the house without being assaulted by smooth lines and deceitful, smiling faces. Ran hated the other men that thought he was gay because of his delicate features, but he didn’t like girls much either. Neither sex interested him. Aya-chan thought it was some huge mistake in the universe that her older brother didn’t have a girlfriend, laughing as she announced the phone was for Ran. Again. All he got was praise for good grades, good manners, and good looks. It was so boring he could die, apathy creeping in from every corner. He tried to simply ignore it all, happy with doing his homework and reading until it was time for dinner and he was forced to come down. Ran didn’t really want anything else, content and wanting for nothing.

His parents didn’t see it the same way. They couldn’t understand how their prodigy son could still be so ‘shy," as they liked to put it. It was a simple matter of disgust for humanity, Ran not really finding any extraordinary people to prove him wrong. For as much as he participated in school sports, he hated his teammates as well as the rest of the world. He was just smart enough to keep it to himself. Aya-chan, however, had so many friends that Ran found it hard to believe she could somehow remember their names. Aya-chan had even managed to be voted class royalty or some teenage bullshit like that. Ran didn’t care to pay particular attention to the school spirit announcements. The only reason he was aware of it at all was because there was going to be a big dance at school, and of course, Aya-chan didn’t know how to. So, that along with his parents’ worry that their son was going to become a recluse, Ran had to go along with Aya-chan to dance lessons.

Of course, it was hell.

Ran hated the reeking old building and the hallway with peeling wallpaper. There was one large dance studio on the third floor with one window running along the length of the back wall. It was nothing more than a large unfinished room with open electrical wires in the roof and nice, polished wooden flooring. From the moment they had stepped into the room, the Fujimiya siblings stood out like a raw thumb. Aya-chan was wearing a short pleated skirt and a low-cut pink tube-top. Right down to her matching pink purse and heeled shoes, she was by far the most fashionable and prettiest girl in the room. Older women were immediately staring in Aya-chan’s direction and murmuring about her visible bellybutton. She just tossed back her hair over her shoulder, smiling back at her older brother with an excited and pleased look in her eyes. Ran loosely smiled back, really only feeling comfortable with her. Aya-chan had the same sort of contempt for people as Ran did, even though hers came from a little bit of an inflated ego. Ran didn’t care because he loved her all the same, could openly talk to her unlike all the posers at school. It was that, and also because he chose to outright ignore the disapproving frown she gave his outfit. He had just come in what he’d worn to school, jeans and white shirt with a loose, patterned one on top. He belatedly realized he was wearing a green and blue plaid shirt that wasn’t really appealing, but Ran wasn’t one to care much about what he was wearing. Even so, it must have been a shirt Mother bought. Ran sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and grimacing as he became painfully aware of them being the youngest in the class.

Aya-chan had immediately gone to mingle with the middle-aged women standing slightly against the wall, laughing delightfully and stealing everyone’s attention. It only took a few seconds for the whole female crowd to be slowly circling around to Aya-chan, even though a few gave Ran some strong and heated glances. Even though he could spot several clear couples in the room, there were more women than men; it didn’t mean Ran was safe. Sure enough, one by one, the obviously and frighteningly gay older men started to hassle him. Ran was used to just turning his hearing off and ignoring the idiots, but it was another thing to have it done by a whole group of men taller than him. It forced him to actually hear half the things being suggested, most of it incomprehensible but somehow sexual- and the little bit Ran did know the meaning of enough to make him blush. He had gotten too embarrassed to even speak, standing there against the wall with a wide arc of guys around him with one or more taking their turns at openly seducing him. It was enough to make him physically ill. Ran wished he could melt into the floorboards, staring down at his shoes as one particularly persistent man actually leaned in and briefly petted his hair. Ran squeaked in a panic, but knew better than to fight an adult. He just started shaking, alone and desperately uncomfortable with no idea what to do.

"Mr. Yamada, I would appreciate it if you would back away so I could see our new arrival," came a very distinctive and male voice, obviously angry but somehow managing to sound so calm at the same time. Ran’s current antagonist gulped like he was a child being yelled at even though he was rather well built and seemed like a fighter, wincing and quickly backing away from him. In the space that the crude asshole vacated, a tall and somewhat thin man stood with one hand on his hip. Everyone else seemed to be respectful to this new character in a dark red sports jacket, black shirt and slacks, all the way down to a pair of shiny black and white tap shoes. It was the most flamboyant thing Ran had ever seen a man wear in the light of day, gold jewelry flashing and blinding him from every part of the man’s body, but that wasn’t what made Ran stare like an idiot. It was a truly blonde person, with light blue eyes and a white color of skin that he had never encountered before. It wasn’t his first time seeing a foreigner in his native and homogenous country, but Aya certainly hadn’t been so close to one before. He was caught speechless by exotic features of a square chin and amazingly curly hair, not expecting his rescuer to look so...good. Ran never thought anyone looked good!

"And you are?" the man asked in very pronunciated Japanese with a tint of humor as Ran just kept on staring. He felt his cheeks get even hotter, even his palms starting to sweat as he realized what an idiot he must look like. This was exactly why he didn’t want to go to some stupid dance lessons, just to be embarrassed in front of a crowd. The rest of the class was whispering but beginning to disperse as the scene was dying down. Most of them were glaring at the ‘Mr. Yamada’ that had touched Ran as he walked toward the back of the room, but the rest were still staring at him. He just knew he was being judged right now and was likely found to be severely lacking, unable to look the foreign man in the eye. Ran licked his lips nervously before attempting to stand up straight and look as cool and indifferent as possible.

"R…Ran Fujimiya," he found it hard to get his name out, his throat gone dry all of a sudden. He had to cough and just felt ridiculous, assaulted by a man and now being made to feel like some thirteen year old girl with a crush. That would be Aya-chan, not him.

"That’s a pretty name."

Ran didn’t know how many times he had heard someone say that before, but it wasn’t insulting coming from this man. In fact, he was actually complimented for once. It was silly and embarrassing, Ran unable to do anything but fidget nervously as he tried to look like he didn’t care. He really didn’t! He couldn’t look at the other people in the class, out the window, back at the clock- just stuck on staring at the man in front of him who was just smiling even though he must have known he was suddenly under Ran’s attention.

"I’m his sister, Aya Fujimiya," Aya-chan announced as she suddenly joined them, returning to suddenly stand slightly in front of him. Ran tried not to glare at Aya-chan, knowing that she was just being friendly. He just got protective of Aya-chan... it wasn’t that he was jealous of how easygoing she could be in front of this foreigner while he could only gape like an idiot. The blonde must think that he was retarded, his foreign Japanese better than Ran’s at the moment. The man blinked down at her, smiling once before his gaze snapped right back onto Ran. He found himself caught by those very, very blue eyes, perhaps more intense because of their color, and Ran wondered just what was wrong with him. It was the first time anyone had made him feel so awkward, forcing him to actually interact instead of disregarding the attention usual. He wanted to get to know this man, whether it was out of curiosity for the exotic or the churning in his stomach.

"Oh, yes, I know who you two are now. Well, I’d like to welcome you both to the class," he announced warmly, and for some reason Ran felt like it was meant just for him.

That man turned out to be their instructor, and suddenly Ran had a reason to enjoy this class. He told them all to call him ‘Yuki," since his real name was a complete mess to pronounce in anything other than his native tongue. This Yuki was nearly fluent in Japanese and had a sharp wit that came through despite his language barrier. Ran never really did catch where the instructor had come from, for some reason never able to listen clearly when he was in the man’s presence. The class was ridiculously easy, as if being taught to a group of children. Ran was still always amazed when he heard people ask questions even after Yuki used one student to demonstrate. But, it made Yuki stand in front of the window longer, just like he did every session as he introduced a new dance or step, and it gave Ran an honest excuse to openly stare. He found himself looking forward to the two hours after school in this ugly, eroding studio like nothing else. Even though he had just come along because his parents had demanded it, he thanked them both for the opportunity when Aya-chan and he came home. Ran had never liked to dance, didn’t like to do anything that would bring such unwanted attention to himself, but Yuki would sometimes walk past and tell him that he was doing a good job. That was all it would take for him to actually put some real effort into it Ran could instinctively find the rhythm to any song and was always quick to memorize anything; especially something as blindly simple as a large poster with numbered footsteps laid out along with dotted arrows.

Despite the subject and horribly tacky suits he would wear, Yuki would always manage to be graceful and masculine at the same time. He was a very charming and easy-going person, never once getting mad at his sometimes insanely stupid students. Ran found his first crush, an impossibly older and foreign man that only knew Ran for how well he could dance. He found himself trying hard just so he could here the man praise him. It was the first time Ran had ever felt nervous around someone else, unable to control the fluttering of his stomach and heart whenever Aya-chan and he went to class. Ran hated himself, called himself a freak and a pervert, but he couldn’t help but admire Yuki. He felt ridiculous, but he still took the time to carefully pick out an outfit on the days they would be going to dance. He even began to improve, better than Aya-chan was in the first place and rapidly growing ahead of her, even though she had been the one who wanted to take classes in the first place. Aya-chan began to hate the class. She was just a horrible dancer, and there was really nothing to do about it. It was like she really did have two left feet, only able to be a decent partner when Ran counted out the beat for her. Still, he wasn’t about to dance with anyone else, finding himself enjoying the music and dancing...and sneaking glances at the instructor whenever he had the chance.

His parents first asked him if something was wrong when Ran got to high school and still had yet to find a girlfriend. He would sometimes read magazines along with Aya-chan, both of them laughing and squealing at the pictures of handsome idols. Ran just never thought that it would become a problem. He started having dreams, vivid ones that woke Ran up in the middle of the night with a hard-on. It didn’t take long to realize that he was gay, finally able to say it-well, at the very least, think it... Ran kept it to himself, of course, certain that his parents and sister would blow a fuse if he told them. It wasn’t like they all had shown much interest in his life before and Ran saw no reason to change that now. He just stayed silent like usual, growing more and more uncomfortable everyday as Aya-chan hated the dance lessons even more. He improved with the sick, twisted desire to be noticed by Yuki while Aya-chan outright stopped trying. Things actually hadn’t been too bad until one rainy day when they were introduced a new dance- and he asked Ran to demonstrate.

He couldn’t decide if this was his secret desire come to life or his worst nightmare. It had been some bizarre stroke of luck that Yuki hadn’t called on him before this, since Ran didn’t know what he would do if he had to close to him. He still had to woodenly approach the man so that he didn’t look anything out of the normal despite all those dreams, sleeping and waking, of his instructor doing things no teacher should do to a student. He had never been more nervous in his life, wondering if Yuki had noticed Ran staring at him before, and intensely aware of everyone watching in mild interest for the new dance to be demonstrated. The studio had never seemed so big before as Ran finally approached the instructor, unable to think clearly enough to even breathe properly. As if to mock the dark weather outside, Yuki was wearing shiny white dance shoes, tight but well-worn light jeans, and a thin sweater that loosely bunched around his body with a v-neck, showing off his throat and the beginning of chest muscles. Ran could only stare straightforward at a miniature gold crucifixion hanging from a chain around Yuki’s neck, stuck between the hollow dip of the man’s collarbone. Ran was being very careful to simply breathe through his nose, sure that he would say something stupid if he tried to talk right now, not even sure if his breath would smell or not. Yuki, of course, had on the faintest cologne that was distinct but unexplainable. It was probably what heaven would smell like. Ran hadn’t been this close to anyone else beyond family members before, and it was intoxicating.

Despite what must be obvious embarrassment, the older man just smiled down at him, so charming and fascinating in a way Ran hadn’t believed possible for a human being. Yuki held up his hands, heavy with gold rings on every finger, and loosely waited for Ran to assume the woman’s position. It was just pure logic that the instructor would lead, but Ran found himself biting his lip as his ears started burning from the thoughts brought up in his mind. He had never wanted to dance with anyone more in his life, and yet was desperately afraid that he’d be found out, that Yuki would call him disgusting while Aya-chan and the rest of the class watch. Ran just needed to get through this without accident and everything would be fine, all desires kept secret. Besides, there was still the weak hope that perhaps Yuki would feel the same way and that this might be the perfect opportunity to get the older man to really notice him. Ran reached up and put one hand on a thick and muscled shoulder and let the other be taken by a warm and soft grip. He felt like he was being electrocuted.

"Relax and follow me," Yuki suggested, counting out the beat he wanted Ran to use once. And then he started moving, bringing Ran along with him in such a smooth manner that he felt like nothing more than a doll on strings. Yuki was so damn good that Ran forgot to be nervous, caught up in moving along with the man as the foreigner guided him around. It was such a change to have a good dance partner for once, someone who was expert and just so damn talented. It was like flying, Ran shocked with the pure ease Yuki could dance, making subtle hints with his hands, the shifting of weight, a hundred little messages with his body before he sent Ran into a new move. They flowed; Ran was able to perfectly match the pace as everything else just seemed to fade from his sight, so close to the other man right now that he was dizzy with happiness. Ran still managed to keep dancing, somehow hearing music even though there was nothing but the sound of Yuki’s breathing. It ended all too soon, Ran finding himself breathless and hot, staring up at Yuki’s somewhat confused face as the man glanced down between them.

Ran had an erection.

His mind had gone sheer white with panic and Ran was running despite the painful straining at the front of his pants. He escaped the dance studio before the rest of the class could even start talking, fleeing down the hallway to the restrooms. Ran had thrown himself into a stall, locked the door, and proceeded to sob his life out over a red-hot agony between his legs. He had never been more humiliated in his entire life. He wondered how many of the class had seen him. How could he have gotten a hard-on from simply dancing? With another man? Ran couldn’t even live with himself, embarrassed to death in that small bathroom with his pants too tight. He kept on crying, long enough for the rigidity of his penis to fade without Ran even having to touch himself. He may be some sick mistake, born with a horrible disease that made him attracted to other men, but he wasn’t about to jerk off in a public bathroom. It was a small blessing that no one even came in to use the facilities until Ran somehow scraped himself back together. It was at least an hour before he finally unlocked the door and washed his face off with water from the sink, drying himself with rough paper towels and somehow still managed to drip water onto the black silk button-up shirt he had worn. Aya-chan had said he looked good today. Ran felt like a fool.

He carefully snuck out of the bathroom, making a run for the stairs instead of risking being caught in the elevator with someone who would recognize him. Aya-chan was waiting for him in the lobby, both of their backpacks resting on the floor next to her. She didn’t ask a single question or say anything to indicate she knew why he had suddenly left. They stared at each other for a while, both silent while Ran sat down next to her. All Ran had to say was that he didn’t want to go to the class anymore and she was already agreeing with him. They left for ice-cream before heading home, Aya-chan able to cheer Ran up by telling dirty little secrets she had learned about everyone from gossiping with the ladies, making fun of the people in the class until Ran didn’t feel like he was the worst one. Dance lessons ended that day, and he never had to see Yuki again. The feelings were still there though, a slice of childhood embarrassment that he had never gotten over. Ran had learned just what his sexuality was and that he should be ashamed of it in the same blow, sometimes still lying awake at night thinking about what could have happened differently as the humiliation got stuck in his throat and burned his eyes like it was happening all over again.

"Oh, Kätzchen, you’re fucking precious," Schuldig laughed as he finished viewing that one memory he had never taken the time to examine before. Aya gasped, weakly wishing that he could scream but too shocked to make any louder noise. He felt like he was in a horror film, everything pitch-black around them except the weak, naked light bulb hanging over their heads. Aya couldn’t make out anything in the blackness except Schuldig standing in front of him, a blurry figure that was shimmering at the edges. Each movement had an afterimage, colors a strange music incomprehensible to him. Aya couldn’t even get his thoughts to go in the order he was used too, just raw and open from Schuldig ripping through them. He had built up a resistance to the German, had learned how to keep himself awake for days and work himself into pure exhaustion, his brain shutting down so hard when he finally slept that Schuldig couldn’t even reach it. And on the occasions when he hadn’t been able to help himself, falling into a nap that Schuldig could somehow reach him in, Aya had developed an ability to refuse the man. He had never understood why Mastermind had chosen to start entering his dreams, somehow able to mess with his head when had first become an agent for Kritiker. Schuldig had just always been there, coming along every time he fell asleep or once in a few months, always laughing at his progress, his weakness. Schuldig wasn’t able to manipulate dreams enough to actually have sex with Aya, but the few times the telepath did touch him, that particular stretch of flesh would become bruised and sensitive for days, nerves still sparking fires at the end.

Except this was even worse than that old torture, because Aya hadn’t been expecting it. That had been one secret he hadn’t told anyone about it. Aya-chan had never brought it up, his parents had never really asked why they wanted to quit since his sister had made a strong enough case for it with horrendous amounts of crying and pouting. It was something he had done his best to forget, to box away somewhere in the depth of his mind along with everything else that had happened before his parents had been killed and his little sister put into a coma. The man talking to him had been responsible for it too. It was so utterly humiliating to know that Schuldig had just seen every little detail of that horrible moment in his life. He hadn’t been ready for it. Yohji had started protecting him from these dreams, from Schuldig, was always there from the minute Aya fell asleep and the second he woke up again. He could trust Yohji to wake him up before a nightmare ever got out of control, soothing him back into sleep...but Aya had lost that. He had destroyed that with his own two hands- with raping Yohji. Aya could clearly remember that one moment of looking down at his flaccid cock and finding it covered in fluids, one of them red. Yohji’s blood. What had he done, what had he done?

"Hurensohn," Schuldig cursed, backing up as if he had been burned. Aya could only gasp, more vulnerable than he had ever felt before and mentally left for dead. Aya had never been so violated before, exposed to let any sensation come over him. Schuldig had been truly looking at him, watching that crushing memory and laughing at it, at him. Aya had vomited onto his chest, warm liquid coming down his chin and acid burning in the back of his nose making him aware of it. He was in a wheelchair, still in the hospital robe with heavily bandaged arms lying limp in his lap. Schuldig shook himself out, snapped out of Aya’s mind with the overwhelming guilt he felt. Aya wouldn’t have found the man then even if he could. He felt empty, his soul hollowed out with a spoon and nothing there to fill it. Yohji had done that, had fitted into all the spots where Aya had been lacking. He had betrayed that so quickly as well, and found himself staring down at his wrists numbly, remembering that he should be dead. He had removed himself from Yohji’s life before he could cause the man any more pain. He had been nothing but a burden, and had now freed Yohji from that. What he couldn’t understand was why he wasn’t in hell, just this dark limbo that he couldn’t make out.

What if Schuldig was the devil who would torture him in the afterlife? It was so damn ironic that Aya could laugh, if tears weren’t already spilling from his eyes. The German was dressed like a whore, for lack of a better word, leather pants and a tank top that was so sheer Aya wasn’t even sure if it was really there. Schuldig’s hair seemed to be a brighter orange than Aya remembered, but his eyesight wasn’t the best right now. The man looked like he had gotten the losing end of the fight with a healing and bruised face, though Aya couldn’t think of anyone who would be able to get the best of the telepath. He didn’t know if he was more surprised at the bruises or mere fact that Schwarz’s Mastermind was standing before him, wearing the same smug smile he had on last time they had met. Aya didn’t even think to fight the man, to try and run. Moving anything below his neck was an impossibility right now.

"Am I dead?" Aya managed to rasp, his throat gone terribly dry for some reason. It was as if every physical discomfort had been brought forth, centering on the burning pain in his arms. So much for death being a peaceful release. It hurt like he was still alive, wishing that Yohji was there to comfort him- and at the same time hoping he never saw Yohji again. He didn’t deserve to. He would only wear Yohji down, lacking too much in simple humanity to be the man’s partner. Yohji loved physical comfort, secretly craved it in a way that Aya didn’t examine too deeply. He had just been happy that Yohji loved such a rotten, useless creature like himself. The man practically lived off of constant contact with Aya, but there were times when he couldn’t stand to be touched and would shove Yohji away. Aya realized now how heartless and selfish of him that was, how he regretted never holding Yohji like he needed to be when he had the chance. At least now, Aya couldn’t make the man sad ever again.

"You don’t need to ask any questions, mein Lieber," Schuldig answered, smiling as picked up a length of Aya’s hair and ran it through his fingers. Aya couldn’t even move to jerk away in self-preservation, in front of his mortal enemy and frozen like a rabbit catching sight of a rabid dog. He could only stare into Schuldig’s eyes, wide and eager; ready to devour him whole. Aya didn’t stand a chance, not even allowed to look away as Schuldig gently caressed the side of his face. He was pretty sure that Schuldig wasn’t even looking in his head right now, but Aya found himself to be completely helpless anyway.

"Is this hell?"

He was backhanded heavily, happening so slowly that Aya still wondered why he hadn’t been able to move out of the way. It rang in his ears, burned on his cheek, and made his head ache and blood started to trickle down his chin. Aya wondered if the pain was so much more distinct because he was dead. It felt like he was drugged, the sense of touch heightened to a painful degree and getting beaten on top of that. Even the hospital robe he was in hurt, cloth ripping skin off as it slid against his body. It could be that he was dead like Aya was beginning to suspect more and more, considering the growing ache in the side of his neck. It felt like an injection; and even though Aya had been in a medical facility, he didn’t think that they would give him anything to make him hallucinate. This was something different, a feeling of floating somewhere outside of his body as Aya struggled to remain sitting upright. Schuldig helped by grabbing the soiled hospital robe and physically ripping it off him. Aya shrieked at the horrible spiraling motion the rough handling sent him in, far away from himself...

"Oh? When did you get this?" Schuldig asked curiously, rubbing his thumb against the rose tattoo on Aya’s hip. He couldn’t answer, couldn’t remember enough of himself to know. All he knew was that he hated the feeling of Schuldig’s smooth and lotioned hands on that personal of a spot, wanting to flinch away but unable to do so. The German grabbed him by the hair, yanking Aya up in his seat and wiping his neck and mouth clean with the soiled hospital gown before tossing it aside. Aya was left cold, hurting, dressed only in a pair of boxers that weren’t his own. Just that little fact was enough to make Aya cry, slumping down in the wheelchair before Schuldig caught him underneath the jaw and jerked his face up to meet Mastermind’s own again.

"I’m going to make it hell for you, little Stricher. Next time you open those lips, it’ll be to scream," Schuldig promised, hooking his thumb on Aya’s lower lip and dragging his mouth open. Aya choked on air before it was the German’s own tongue, licking the back of his throat and top of his mouth, digging into the little gash he had made on the inside of Aya’s cheek. Schuldig invaded him in more ways than one, using his mental abilities to dig around in Aya’s thoughts while he ravished his mouth as well. It felt like the psychopath was walking through his memories with steel-toed boots, kicking emotions and nostalgia aside to view Aya’s deepest secrets raw. He could tell that Schuldig was laughing at him, could feel it in a way that he had never known before. The German may be kissing him on the outside, but he was also inside Aya’s mind at the same time, more intimate and closer than Yohji had ever been.

Yohji.

Aya was picked up by a fistful of his hair and tossed down to the ground. The wheelchair went rolling off into the shadows while Schuldig stood over him, a dark shadow in front the light bulb above him. The floor underneath him was cold and hard, like cement, a surprising material to find when Aya thought he should be in hell. Wasn’t there supposed to fire and brimstone, spiritual suffering and all that bullshit? The only thing Aya got was a leather boot to his stomach, stealing him of all his breath as his torturer raged above him.

"Hör auf damit! All you fucking think about is him! It makes a man sick!" Schuldig screamed at Aya, more incensed than Aya had ever seen the man before. He kicked Aya again, more in the ribs this time and hard enough to send him flying back across the floor. He couldn’t protect himself, couldn’t even find the energy to curl up defensively as Schuldig jogged up to kick him again like Ken would his soccer balls. Aya coughed and gagged, blood splattering on the floor underneath his face, horrifying even if he couldn’t see it. He could feel something rupture inside, losing more blood than he could afford to right now... but what did that matter, when he had already passed away? Aya tried to get up onto his hands and knees, but his arms gave out on him. It was a tearing agony that was too much to not be real. Aya had to be alive, had managed to fail at suicide, just like he had failed with loving Yohji. He should be dead for hurting Yohji, and yet he couldn’t do that simple task. How many people had he killed before in a matter of seconds? Why would it be so hard to deal that same punishment on himself? And why did he want to see Yohji so badly when he should be trying to get as far away from him as possible? Aya started to sob on the freezing cold ground with a pain that had nothing to do with the beating Schuldig was starting to deal out.

"How can you love him that much? You’re supposed to be an assassin!" Schuldig roared at Aya, approaching quickly and slowly at the same time as Aya’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. The air was thickening painfully, Aya moaning and burying his face in his aching arms as he futilely tried to hide from Schuldig. Yohji had always told Aya that he was deserving of love, no matter how many people he had killed. They all were. Aya still felt guilt for using hands that were so stained in blood to touch another human being; disregarding the fact that Yohji was just as tainted and jaded as he. Aya was just a different breed, so sick and depraved that he would use his partner until he made him bleed. There was no pleasure in that. Aya couldn’t help but think he deserved this in some sort of way, not sure if it was reality or fantasy but not caring either way. He was already so damaged, it didn’t matter. Nothing could matter any more.

Schuldig knelt down beside Aya, taking a hold of his boxers and pulling them down with remarkable gentleness in contrast to his violence before. Aya could manage to struggle at that, weakly twisting away as he realized Schuldig was stripping him. He hadn’t been naked in front of anyone other than Yohji in a long time, but was still surprised that he could be this frightened of it. He made a panicked noise in the back of his throat when Schuldig jerked the underwear down without much trouble. He rolled over then to hide his nakedness, able to flop away when Schuldig put a hand on his hip to turn him over. Schuldig grabbed a knee then to pull Aya around to face him again, the rough stone floor digging into his back as his legs were forced apart. He started shaking his head back and forth, clenching his eyes closed and praying desperately that he would be able to dispel this horrible dream.

"Would this make it better?" the German asked in a different but very familiar voice.

Schuldig was Yohji then.

Aya stared in complete horror at his lover crouched over him, long blonde hair and beautiful emerald eyes. It suddenly made sense then, that incident in the bathroom. Yohji had been acting so strange then, it had all been so sudden that Aya hadn’t even had time to think about. He hadn’t even tried to remember it, just so horrified by what had happened that Aya lost all ability to function. He had never once though that it might have been Schuldig, only now recalling just how easily the German could manipulate thoughts. He was able to use Aya’s own memory and past experiences to influence his perception, to twist the messages sent to his brain and make him believe that this really was Yohji. The only thing that was missing was the smell of Yohji’s cigarettes...and the fact that the man would never hit him. This was Schuldig, right now and back then when Aya had thought Yohji had been molesting him in a college restroom. He fluttered back to his real face then, grinning widely at Aya’s fresh tears.

"You thought that he really did that to you? I’m hurt, Ran. You’ve forgotten all about me," Schuldig said in mock injury, reaching down to pinch the inside of his thigh when Aya started to struggle away again. He laughed when all Aya could do was jerk around like a fish out of water, his hands useless right now and his soul vibrating inside his body. It wasn’t just the drugs any more, but guilt. How could he have been so easily fooled into thinking that it had been Yohji? Was his trust for the man that little? That fight really had been all his fault, his misunderstanding, his own weakness that had allowed Schuldig to crawl up inside him in the first place. He could he have possibly been fooled into thinking that Schuldig could ever possibly be Yohji? Yohji would never have hurt him, had always been there for him, and promised to protect him from monsters like this German kneeling over him right now. Why couldn’t Aya have just trusted Yohji, or even tried to listen to what the other man had been saying?

"Can’t you even think about what I did to you?! Verfluchte Scheiße!" Schuldig yelled, jumping back to his feet and kicking Aya again. This time there was the sickening crack of bone and Aya was sent up against steel bars, a blossoming new agony racing along his whole spine. The wind was knocked out of him and a true blackness started to seep into his sight. He was seesawing on the dizzying edge of unconsciousness, hurting yet removed from it all now that Schuldig wasn’t demanding his full attention. Aya just lay there, trying to figure out which rib the German had broken before he lost all coherent thought.

There was the loud click of a circuit being flipped before long tubes of florescent light flickered and began to hum loudly overhead. Aya became aware of harsh, white surroundings in contrast to that dark hell he had been in only moments ago. He could see unfinished roofing above his head with bare support beams, the walls tiled with crumbled white ceramic squares. It was a large and open square room, with a row of prison bars separating off a small part of the back. Schuldig returned from wherever he had gone to switch on the lights, grabbing Aya by the back of his neck to drag him across the floor. Aya was thrown onto the other side of the bars and he heard the door swing shut. Aya had the sensation of being caged and watched all at once, rolling over to see yet another nightmare come to life standing behind Schuldig. He had been up against the wall so that Aya hadn’t noticed him at first, but he became aware of that insane bloodlust the moment he set eyes on the man.

Farfarello had his back up against the wall, a large straightjacket and white sweat pants helping him blend in with the tile even better. He was scratching one bare foot with the other, looking nonchalant and subdued for being restrained like the insane bastard that he was. One red eye looked down on Aya dispassionately, the other covered with an eye patch tied around his white hair. For once, the Irishman looked calm- and for some reason it was all the more frightening. Aya found it impossible to breathe then, afraid that the slightest movement would be the end of him. It didn’t matter that there was a set of bars between them. He didn’t doubt Farfarello’s ability as a complete psycho. Aya was sure that the short man would be able to figure out some way to hurt him, all laid out on the floor like a good little victim. Aya wasn’t about to bother with standing up, just cold and aching from the kicks Schuldig had delivered; dizzy from the loss of blood and the confusion over if he was really dead or not. Surely Schuldig and Farfarello wouldn’t both be in Aya’s afterlife. It was just too unfair.

"I have some business to take care of now," Aya heard his own voice laughed aloud, rolling his sight up to an illusion of himself. Aya blinked up at the new form Schuldig was forcing onto his mind, wondering just what the telepath could possibly do with his face. He was dead; there was no one who would care to see him now- except, perhaps, Yohji. There was a muffled popping noise before blood started to pour out from his nose and ears as the German pressed his will down harder against Aya’s for merely thinking of Yohji. He tried to resist, the mentally put up some sort of defense, but Schuldig went through like wet toilet paper- just was there, insidious, liquid poison coursing through the microscopic nerves in his brain. Aya screamed in horror, worse than naked, worse than dead, being looked at more closely than ever before. He could feel the psychopath laughing as he trailed fingers along the inside of his mind. Aya slammed his head against the floor, panicked enough to try and beat Schuldig out of his mind like an animal gone mad with terror. He didn’t have the old determination and direction that he had before, just the vague notion of living day to day with Yohji.

Crack. Aya dazed himself, skull glancing off the cement hard and sending him ricocheting into some gray haze. Except he was alone in it, his thoughts his own and no more familiar faces being imposed on him. He couldn’t sense the filth of Schuldig’s telepathic presence anywhere but that didn’t make him feel any better. Aya could only lay there and shudder, not because of the blood loss or the agony dancing along his sides from Schuldig’s kicks, but because he was so damn violated. Schuldig had gone over deep, hidden truths Aya had tucked away inside on a fucking whim, finding every facet of Aya’s life ludicrous and pitiful. It was nothing more than a sick little desire to dig through his head and pop out thoughts of Yohji like he was mining for gold. Just the thought of Yohji’s name at this point sent Aya spirally off. Everything was raw and torn up inside, abused beyond human imagination; the sound of Schuldig’s footsteps as the German walked away enough to make Aya scream aloud with pain. He didn’t know where the Esset agent could be going, but didn’t care if it meant he could be alone long enough to rebuild psychological shields Yohji had taken down and renovated until Aya could actually manage to love and trust another person again.

He had a moment of clairvoyant reality, suddenly able to read minds just like Schuldig. The German wasn’t angry that Aya could only regret how much pain he had caused Yohji; he was jealous of the relationship they had once had. Aya had certainly ruined it, destroyed it beyond belief after making Yohji bleed during sex, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to work with. Schuldig would truly break everything, right down to the memories. Aya didn’t know why, couldn’t even begin to phantom what the German’s reasoning might be- that was, if there was any to begin with. Aya had caught a telltale glint in Schuldig’s eyes, a twist to his mouth that told him that Mastermind must be jealous. He couldn’t stand the fact that Yohji and Aya were together and loved each other as deeply as they-...had, Aya reminded himself bitterly-… and then paused again as he watched the polished shoes and leather pants walk further away from the cage Schuldig had thrown him into.

Aya must be alive then, because there was no point in ruining a dead man’s life.

"Stay away from him, Schuldig!" Aya found himself screaming after the man, threatening the cold-hearted killer from his spot on the floor, coughing and spitting out blood that had dripped down his throat. He didn’t care that he had been wishing he had gone to hell earlier, just so he could never hurt Yohji again- he was the only one that would ever be allowed to make such a stupid mistake. Schuldig wasn’t going to get the chance to hurt his lover, because Aya would kill him before he had the chance. The murderous intent he sent out was enough to make Schuldig pause and stop- turning around slowly to look down at Aya one more time with a horrible grin on his face.

"I’ll be real good to him. Auf Weidersehen, Aya," Schuldig somehow made each little word fraudulent- a jab at his conscious, even the name the German was using right now a lie. Why did he have to get so worked up over the thought of someone else touching Yohji? The sight of fingernails down the man’s muscular back, small bruises on his neck from someone else’s mouth, and the redness around Yohji’s right nipple from being played with too hard had made Aya so angry...jealous to the point that he made Yohji bleed for allowing someone else to mark him up like as such. Just the thought of some stranger was enough to make Aya see red. How was he supposed to handle Schuldig’s threat to pose as him in front of Yohji? Aya wanted to do something more than lie there like a dog waiting to be kicked, long hair falling across his vision as he tried to concentrate all of his hatred onto the telepathic. Schuldig just laughed, obviously able to read Aya’s thoughts and found them amusing as well, before he snapped his fingers over and over like a machine gun going off, bringing the other person in the room’s attention around.

"Farfie, watch him while I’m out. Don’t start playing before I get back or I won’t let you have any at all," Schuldig ordered, waving goodbye to Aya before leaving them both. There was the metal clang of several doors being opened and locked, the German’s leather soles as he climbed up a set of stairs. Aya couldn’t see far enough clearly to watch Schuldig go, panting as he stared out the bars. He didn’t know what to start imagining Schuldig doing to his beautiful Yohji. It was like the gears in his head were stuck, snagged on the absolute horror of his situation. Just how could Schwarz be here, with a personal vendetta against him and his lover? It had been one thing to have the German show up in his dreams, but it was quite another to know that Schuldig was going to do something to Yohji. He might even put his filthy fucking paws on Aya’s man. Aya tried to scream futilely after Schuldig one last time, not caring how far away the German had already gotten, but could only rasp and cough anyway. He was so damn weak; powerless enough to allow this to happen. He was going to get Yohji hurt even worse than how he had left him.

"Welcome to my corrupt little hell," Farfarello greeted, suddenly shoving his face in between the bars to leer at Aya with one good eye. He immediately slid back on the floor, managing to pull himself in far enough to be out of reach. Farfarello just giggled at Aya’s terror- that Schuldig was going to do something horrible to Yohji. He knew he was drugged then, because Aya ended up unable to look away from that red gaze, wide with excitement but still managing to seem so dead. Not even the light was reflecting off of his iris, but Farfarello was still baring his teeth like a rabid animal. Aya found himself thankful for the cage and straightjacket, and yet somehow still didn’t feel safe. The Irishman’s full attention was too much to handle outside the heat of battle. Aya couldn’t look away, was in no shape to find a place to hide from the man’s intense gaze. The man shouldn’t even have depth perception with his mutilated eye, but Aya felt like he was getting skinned alive.

"When Schuldig gets back, we’re going to play. You’re going to scream for God to save you," Farfarello promised, licking his lips in anticipation. Aya was nothing more than a new toy for this psychopath. Aya wondered if Farfarello even recognized him as a past enemy, seemingly so deep in his madness. He couldn’t understand how the man could continue to be so articulate about his hatred for God when he was screaming incoherent war cries half of the time.

"I don’t believe in God," Aya whispered back softly, pressing his face against the floor. He wondered if religion would have made a difference in this situation, if he could pray to some mystical higher power to set everything right. Aya wasn’t used to anyone else helping him out when he needed it. Life always seemed to go right down the fucking toilet any time Aya was stupid enough to get comfortable- open, trusting. He didn’t have anyone else but himself to blame for this mess, for Schuldig going after his only love. There was no way Aya could expect some God to perform a miracle for him when it was unlikely that even his friends would be able to help. This was Schwarz, a team of murderers that Weiss hadn’t been able to take down even when they were in their fighting prime. There probably wasn’t the smallest clue left behind at the hospital, not even a witness to give the slightest hint. Yohji, Ken, and Omi would never be able to find him, not when Aya still wasn’t sure if he was alive. His only proof was that it hurt too much to be the afterlife. If this was really Hell, Aya would really be suffering instead of lying on the ground and wondering just what Schuldig might do to Yohji. Aya was the only one allowed to cause Yohji any pain, however slight! If that telepathic bastard touched so much as one hair on that curly blonde head, Aya would be certain to kill him.

"I’m going to fuck you," Farfarello somehow took that curse word and made it into something so much more frightening, petrifying. "I’m going to fuck you hard!" Farfarello shrieked when he noticed that talking somehow had an effect on Aya. He flinched despite it all, the words running through him like bullets. He hadn’t really thought about what could happen to him at the hands of these madmen, not when he knew Schuldig was going after Yohji for whatever demented reason. He hadn’t thought about being sexually abused in months, Yohji able to wash even the dreams away. Aya found this to be wonderful karma, since he deserved it for turning around and doing the same violence upon Yohji. The only person in the whole world who hadn’t deserved it, and Aya made him bleed. Farfarello could say whatever he wanted, but it could never make Aya feel as bad as he did over hurting his lover so.

"I’ll make you see what a cum-guzzling son of a bitch your God is for abandoning you," Farfarello rattled on like he had never even heard Aya admit to being nonreligious, settling back down to watch him on the other side of this makeshift cage. The pure profanity that leaked from the man’s mouth was enough to assure anyone that he was completely insane. Farfarello giggled at the end of it, wrapping his feet around the bars, toes wrapping around like little fingers as the Irishman gauged him for a reaction. It was like watching a child at Christmas, rocking back and forth with excitement for Schuldig to return and their fun to begin. Aya was finding it hard to just be there right now, feeling like he was floating up toward the ceiling.

"I don’t believe in God!" he hissed again with much more effort than he should spare right now, trying to bring himself back to his body as much as it was to make Farfarello be quiet. Aya couldn’t handle insane babble on top of his desperate worry for Yohji. Why couldn’t Schuldig just be satisfied with torturing him? Hadn’t his screams of emotional anguish over the images the telepath would send into his brain always been enough before? There was no need to get Yohji involved in this too. Aya would have buried his face in his hands, if his wrists weren’t already hurting so much from slitting them open, being sewn shut, and the itching sensation of barely healed flesh on top of it all. Aya couldn’t decide if Schuldig’s kicks or his arms felt worse, but it was almost like assessing the pain mathematically. It was like he was three steps to the right of his own body, tingling and hovering over himself while Aya desperately tried to keep his center of balance. It didn’t even matter if he was lying completely still, Aya wanted something to hold onto to keep himself from flying up into whatever high the drug Schuldig had shot up into him would take. Usually Yohji would be there for him, but he didn’t have that now. He had to start being strong for himself, so that he would be able to protect Yohji in the end.

"You’ll beg for Him at the end. Everyone does," Farfarello insisted, moving back to start cracking his neck and shoulders loudly. It was the most disgusting thing Aya had ever heard before, slightly muffled by muscle and skin but nauseating all the same.

"Just shut up," Aya moaned out miserably, half-wishing that Schuldig would come back in just to stop this horrible conversation. At least then he would know that he was the German’s only victim. That would be more than enough than lying here worrying about Yohji. Despite it all, Farfarello would only be talking to him until Schuldig returned. He couldn’t help a glance underneath hair that had spilled over his eyes, studying the berserker for any signs of weakness. Farfarello was a completely different type of fighter than Ken; not just able to become stronger when he became excited by blood but almost unstoppable. The man wouldn’t feel a thing even if Aya managed to slice a limb off.

Farfarello lifted up one foot at an impossible angle, using the floor as leverage to tilt his knee. The man somehow had the dexterity to fumble open the bottom buckle of the straightjacket with his toes. Aya stared in horror as Farfarello preformed a form of a magic trick, popping another buckle before using his foot like an extra hand to help drag the straightjacket up over his head. The Irishman slipped out of it like liquid, immediately standing up and shaking himself out in relief afterward. Aya didn’t mean to- but he couldn’t stop staring in revulsion at the man’s bare upper torso. Scars crisscrossed over each other, looped around from front to back, neck to hip, and everywhere in between. Aya couldn’t tell where or if there was any untouched parts of flesh on Farfarello’s body, aghast at what was pure human torture left behind on every inch of the man. It was even harsher in the light of this prison-like room, curled and puckered lines lacing around every part of the man’s body.

Aya almost felt ashamed for ever being conscious of his own collection.

Farfarello walked over to the wheelchair, kicking it forward hard with a childlike giggle. It slammed against the bars loudly and fell down, making Aya flinch and shudder on the cement. He still refused to back away, knowing that Farfarello would be able to sense the fear in that physical movement. He didn’t know how long he would be separated from the madman by this cage, but he should use the time to recover and think of a plan. He couldn’t just lie here while Schuldig was off doing unthinkable things to his Yohji. Besides, it seemed Farfarello was more interested in Aya’s robe discarded on the floor, grabbing it up and playing with it like a child who had found a new toy, rubbing his face in it. Aya stared for a moment; confused and slightly disgusted by whatever the Irishman was doing, wondering how Esset had trained such a madman to take on assassin missions.

"I can smell you," Farfarello whispered underneath the hum of electricity for the florescent lights. Aya glanced up in confusion, just in time to see Farfarello turn around and made an unexpected dive through the bars, throwing out a single hand. Fingernails managed to snag the bandages on Aya’s right arm, sending sheer agony lacing up to his shoulders. He threw his body back before Farfarello could get a better grip to drag him closer to the edge of the wall of this cell, making trim bandages tear. Aya could only roll, but he moved further away until he hit the bottom of something. It was nothing more than a black, blurry shadow in Aya’s worsening vision, like some sort of desk. He just hid underneath the concave as Farfarello grunted disappointment at Aya’s escape. It seemed like the Irishman’s bloodlust was more overwhelming than Schuldig’s orders. Aya could feel it, could taste it in the air. He wasn’t in the same room as a sane person. There was something indescribably different about a man who killed another for pure pleasure. Farfarello was evil in ways that Aya couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

"Are you trying to hide under that?" Farfarello laughed, making Aya nervously turn away from the man to look around once again. He forced his eyes to focus; noticing that the table he had hidden under was more of a large cross; a large dissection table. He could smell old blood and fear, becoming aware that this room was not meant for holding Farfarello as he had first assumed. There were chains on the floor, loose and empty, some even hanging expectantly from the ceiling. Aya shuddered, knowing that he was only safe for a few more hours...at least he hoped that was all the time the man would devote toward toying around with his lover’s head. Aya couldn’t imagine what Schuldig would do with his face, but he just hoped it wouldn’t be long, wouldn’t hurt Yohji. He had already done that himself, the real Aya. What an utter fucking fool he was. He couldn’t stop trembling after that, wanting to press his back up against the base of the table but repulsed by the old, dried bodily fluids that still stuck to the surface. He couldn’t even wrap his hands around himself, the two wounds aching even more now that he regretted doing it in the first place. He had managed to screw things up so very badly.

"Wait till I get my claws in you, lovely. You can pray for God to save you before Schuldig gets back," Farfarello suggested gamely.

Aya didn’t pray for any God.

He just prayed for Yohji.

***

Ken wiped at his nose with the corner of his elbow, not even the draft from opening the window and the broken down door enough push out the sting of bleach. Ken’s eyes were burning like hell and his knees were beginning to itch from where they had touched the floor when he had been on all fours and scrubbing hard. The blue foot mat outside the bathtub had to be thrown away inside a double-bag; still dripping wet at the corners from Aya’s blood. It was truly amazing how much had come out, just like a bad movie. Ken was used to seeing people bleed to death from nasty things like stomach wounds and slit throats, but never from two gashes to the wrists. Ken sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and didn’t think about it. He just washed out the brush in the sink along with a hand towel he was using to soak up the dirty water raised up from the grout. No matter how much he wanted to just go to the park and start kicking a few balls, he had to clean this up before it stained even worse. Ken had managed to wipe down the wood cabinets that had a little bit of blood splashed up, unable to help the inevitable darkening. They would probably have to sand it down to get rid of the stain, but at least the little caked, dried blood was gone.

The floor was now clean; a nice sparkling white like Aya had never even bled his life out on it. Ken would be proud of it, if it had been cleaning up anything other than Aya’s suicide attempt. His only thought was that now Yohji wouldn’t wake up to his boyfriend’s blood splattered all over the bathroom. Ken had checked up on Yohji once since he had first laid the sorry bastard down on the couch, the blonde doing nothing more then curling into the back of the furniture; clearly reaching for a warm body that just wasn’t there right now. Omi hadn’t even called back from the hospital yet, and it had been over several hours since then. He had been given more than enough time to finish cleaning everything up, stripping off the rubber gloves at last and tossing them into the sink. Ken wasn’t sure what to do next, suddenly having no more jobs and finding that a little bit scary. He didn’t want to stand still, couldn’t give himself that time to think about what had happened. Aya had never been this stupid before. If he thought that they were just going to let him slip away in a hospital bed, he was dead wrong. Ken was going to make sure that Yohji was there at his side when Aya woke up next, so that the two would finally apologize and never fight again. This was supposed to be their happy-ever-after, not some goddamn cheesy soap opera.

Ken stretched his arms over his head, slowly spinning around to leave the bathroom. What other little tasks needed to be done around the house? Ken vaguely recalled that a light bulb somewhere needed to be replaced, so he might as well start searching for that. Even though Aya was usually the only one anal enough to keep up on little things like that. Not that Ken complained, since he wouldn’t usually do it himself. Aya would still yell at them some times, catching Yohji and Ken down in the den drinking beers and watching television when it was their turn to sweep up all the clipping in the shop.

Jesus Christ. He missed Aya’s bitchiness, suddenly wanting the man to coming storming into the house fit to have kittens. It was almost a game to see how angry you could get Aya, since he was so sensitive about the strangest things. Ken hadn’t really noticed it before, but Yohji had drawn Aya out of his shell, along with all those little personality quirks. Ken remembered one day during this very summer that he had gotten Aya so enraged that it was still amazing to see himself standing in one piece. He had really thought Aya was going to kill him then, more used to Aya murdering other people. Never himself. Ken covered his hands with his eyes, trying to let the memory overwhelm the thought of Aya lying still as death in that fucking hospital, stinking of sterilized bandages and powerful medications.

"So what? Who gives a fuck about what the news says?" Ken remembered starting the whole argument with that innocent little question as he walked outside with Aya to water the plants. It was an unspoken rule that Aya wasn’t allowed outside by himself, even if it was broad daylight. They had been proven deadly wrong once before in thinking that they were safe because they were in a nice neighborhood, that there were people around to see if anything had happened. Aya had been kidnapped once before, making Ken and Yohji equally paranoid every time the man walked through the door to go water plants outside the large windows of the flower shop. Omi would try to reason with them that Aya was completely healed now and was more than ready to take on anyone that would dare attack him, but it was hard to put a stop to protective habits. Ken had been the one to accompany Aya this time since Yohji was working the register once again. He liked the fact that Aya was talking now, but it also meant bearing the full brunt of Aya’s stark honesty. Some things the man said were better left unmentioned, dark but true little comments about the downfall of humanity. That was where they were now, talking about some stupid headline that Aya had tried to discuss with Yohji, but the blonde just hadn’t been paying attention to the report while Ken had; already regretting it from the frown covering Aya’s face. He really did know better than to start a debate with the man, already this far into it so that there was no backing out now. Ken Hidaka didn’t do anything half-assed.

"You just don’t care about the economy," Aya shook his head in disbelief as Ken went around the corner to find the hose. He was dressed like he had someone to impress, shoulder length hair down in spite of the heat and wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with a rock band logo across the front. He knew it was Yohji’s without even asking, choosing not to bring up those touchy subjects along with things like politics and government. It was probably the heat, humid and sticky with the bugs humming constantly in the distance that made him bring it up in the first place. Even still, if Ken wasn’t more easy-going, he would have snapped long ago; but as it was, he was irritated by the tone of Aya’s voice.

"Hey, I buy shit. I am the economy," Ken returned as he started the water. It was hot for a moment from being left in full sight of the sun before the water finally started cooling. Ken began to soak the larger pots while Aya watered some of the more delicate flowers by hand; both of them ignoring the pedestrians and customers that stopped and stared alike. It was hard being a good-looking guy in Tokyo, but however bad it was for Ken, was multiplied by the hundreds when it came to Aya. The poor guy couldn’t even walk down the street unaccompanied before he was hassled by two or three people at a time. It was his own fault for looking so damn good without even meaning too, gorgeous and perfect in a way that just turned Ken off. As he had said before to Yohji, Ken would take cute any day over the unattainable supermodel status Aya had.

"It doesn’t work like that, Ken. You need to invest in-Y’ Aya started tiredly, beginning to start his typical speech. Omi had gotten one the second he’d announced he was going to get a credit card. Aya had already taken over handling the flower shop’s bills, as well as Yohji’s and to a lesser degree, Ken’s. Aya just had a head for numbers, somehow able to crank out financial deals that ended up in Ken getting a check in the mail for fifty bucks or so. Some people might not have been impressed, but to Ken it was pure magic. He didn’t really care though, because it was a good change from being in debt all the time as he had been as a professional soccer player. Parties had just gotten expensive after a while, and Ken never did really think about currency other than the change he had in his pockets.

"Not all of us are banker’s sons, Aya. I don’t have enough money to invest in anything," Ken interrupted, pressing his thumb over the end of the hose to spray down the display of flowers. He hadn’t even had a need for a bank account until he had joined Kritiker. Some missions just didn’t have a cash payoff, the digits too big to easily have that much paper money on hand for a whole team of agents. Aya growled on the other side of him, obviously thinking that Ken was some sort of simpleton. He wasn’t stupid, he just didn’t care.

"That’s because you don’t know how to save," Aya sighed in patented annoyance, turning his nose up at the rosebuds he was watering at the moment. Ken swung around to say something smart, but in the processes forgot that he still had the hose in his hand. He just stared somewhere between rage and laughter as he accidentally soaked Aya’s waist, a puddle forming underneath his shoes. The paler man was too pissed to even move, glaring at Ken with one eye twitching in such a manner that he started laughing aloud, unintentionally lifting the spray up higher and soaking Aya’s stupid head. Long bangs immediately fell over his eyes as Aya trembled underneath the water, obviously not sure how to keep himself from killing Ken in public. People openly stared as wet fabric clung to the man’s body, skin beginning to show through the shirt. Ken only had a split-second to laugh at the furious face before Aya threw the rest of the watering bucket in his mouth. Ken sputtered and coughed as his found himself just as soaked, dropping the hose in an attempt to clear out the moisture falling into his eyes.

Aya made a grab for the running water, but it was Yohji who snatched it up in the end, had obviously been watching the fun from inside and unable to resist. The blonde laughed maniacally as he soaked the two of them with an alternating spray, scaring a group of several high school girls off the sidewalk. The rest of the people were stopped on either side; some watching while others just didn’t dare to walk around three grown men playing with a hose. Ken and Aya simply looked at each other, sharing a muted plan before they both sprung into action. Ken went for the hose while Aya simply tackled Yohji, taking the taller man down in a pile of long limbs and wet hair. They both landed heavily onto the sidewalk with Aya on Yohji’s stomach and his lips on top of the other man’s. Ken wasn’t sure which one of them had maneuvered the fall as such, but two began to feverishly kiss each other in a manner that just didn’t belong outside the bedroom. Ken found himself staring along with the rest of the crowd, a little bit caught up in the passion himself until he saw Yohji’s hand sneaking under Aya’s shirt.

"Okay, okay, either take that inside or I’m going have to start charging these people money," Ken announced, turning the hose down to soak the both of them. Yohji and Aya began to curse and twist around like wet cats, both of them loudly threatening to kill Ken... later as Yohji forcibly dragged Aya inside by his hand and left Ken to deal with the offended crowd. He and Omi got to take care of the shop all by themselves, able to drown out the muffled sounds that managed to reach through the walls by turning the radio up a little bit louder than usual. Still, Ken would have been dead meat if Yohji hadn’t showed up and so deftly managed to distract Aya. There wasn’t even a word about it the next morning when the two finally emerged again for breakfast and Ken hadn’t asked Aya about money ever again- until he got a letter in the mail from his bank. It was yet just one more reason why Aya couldn’t die. Ken didn’t know where the fuck his finances were now, long since given up and letting Aya take over completely. He had the best sense of responsibility out of all of them, so how could he do a selfish thing like suicide?

Fortunately the phone rang before he could sink back into that line of thought. Ken ran downstairs, hoping that he would be able to get to the phone before it could wake Yohji up. By the time he had hit the kitchen, it occurred to Ken that this might not be the sort of call he wanted to answer. He still picked it up before the third ring, scrambling to hit the right button on the portable while there was some sort of moan from the living room. Yohji might have been waking up or just murmuring in his sleep, but Ken answered the call with a hushed ‘hello’ all the same.

"Hey… Ken," he could tell there was something odd about Omi’s voice immediately, his lover’s voice recognizable no matter what tone he took.

"Oh, God, he’s dead," Ken whispered it aloud, flipping off emotions for a minute as he turned to the corner. He used the refrigerator to lean against, pressing up against the cool white surface as he waited for the time it had happened. Aya had died. They didn’t get help in time. Ken hadn’t done a single damn thing when those two had first started fighting. There were so many reasons to drop down to his knees right then, hating himself for not doing anything sooner, for getting Yohji to leave the hospital. It was almost a blessing in disguise that the older man hadn’t been there to witness Aya’s passing.

"No, no… but, uh, you know how we were talking about if I got kidnapped?" Omi asked in a quivering sweet voice. ‘No’ meant alive, but that wasn’t always necessarily a good thing. He could only make a ragged sob of relief, feeling tears sting at the corner of his eyes. Ken was the one person who simply didn’t have the fucking time to cry, and he preferred it like that. If he let himself go for a second, he would probably just breakdown screaming. Their little group was falling to pieces so quickly that it would have been humorous… if this was all happening to someone else. Ken could tell hysterics were a hair’s width away for Omi as the boy tried to sound happy and calm, only making things seem all the more worse for it. He didn’t see the point of bringing this up now, but the hardening ice in the pit of his stomach and the little stretch of silence that followed made Ken want to start hitting stuff. He felt like he had just gone on a roller coaster and fell out while going through a loop. Aya wasn’t dead, but some thing was wrong. There had been some sort of accident, mistake, trouble with the paperwork- some shitty damn bad luck that they just fucking didn’t deserve. Hadn’t everything been messed up enough yet, or did God still need a few more cheap laughs at their expense?

"Uh, yeah?" Ken answered back, even more confused than ever when nothing more followed. Aya was still alive, and that was the most important thing right now. That egotistic jerk had become the starting point for an emotional domino effect that left Ken feeling numb at the end of it. He began to wonder if something might be wrong with Omi himself, so caught up in the messes his roommates had been making of themselves that he had forgotten about his lover altogether. Ken stood up fast, gripping the set hard as he heard Omi cough and start again. Had good old grandpa Takatori gone and hassled his only relative again about becoming the leader of an underground network of assassins? This was playing out worse than any B-rated movie. Ken waited with his breath stuck in his throat for Omi to finally spill it, wondering what could possibly be worse than Aya being dead.

"What about if it was Aya?"

Ken heard his knuckles crack as his free hand made a fist.

"Ken, Aya-kun’s… he’s missing from the hospital and nobody knows a thing," Omi reiterated in case Ken didn’t understand the first time. The floor flattened out, seemed to grow and stretch impossibly far away as Ken stared down at his bare feet. Aya… really kidnapped? In his state? He had barely been stable strapped down to a fucking hospital bed, and now someone had just taken him?! That was so utter fucking horrifying that Ken laughed aloud; just one short bark of disbelief. That just had to be some sort of sick joke on Omi’s part, even if the boy was never known to make such before. He couldn’t be missing, because… because that would just be so fucking awful. It just simply wouldn’t be fair.

"Aya’s what?" Ken accidentally yelled it, forgetting in his shock that he should have been quieter. He couldn’t accept what he was hearing; wishing that Omi would correct himself and say that Aya had changed rooms or such. They had too many enemies to even begin guessing who might have done this; Aya had more intimate foes to deal with as well. It was too much to even process right now on top of everything else. Ken was just trying to get over Aya slitting his wrists open. He hadn’t even started to think about Yohji being raped as well, unable to do anything else other than yell at Omi over the phone line. Maybe if he hadn’t said anything at all, Yohji would have never woken up when he did.

Even so, the sound of a body moving toward Ken overpowered whatever Omi was mumbling into the speaker. He was shoved hard into the refrigerator; the whole machine rocking back from the force of it as Yohji dragged him up by the two fists he had in Ken’s shirt. He dropped the phone in order to grab at Yohji’s arms, trying to shove the man off as he was physical attacked yet again. It was hard to struggle against a naked man, but the taller blonde wasn’t less powerful for it. Even after drinking that much of Ken’s homemade sleeping syrup, Yohji was able to overpower him with longer limbs and leverage no matter how hard Ken fought back. It only made Yohji slam him back in one last warning, shoving his face up Ken’s own until their noses were smashed together. There was no doubt in his mind that Yohji was ready to kill someone.

"What-happened-to-Aya?" Yohji made it a threat; each word dropping like it was going to be his last. Yohji’s eyes were wide, pupils contracting down to little dots that were obviously not focusing right. His hair was a mess and now that they were this close, Ken noticed several bleeding knicks on Yohji’s face from shaving. The man looked every bit of crazy right now, Ken pretty sure that if he said anything stupid like ‘calm down’ Yohji would tear his head right off. Ken was almost too scared to speak, could hear Omi’s electronic yelling out questions on the floor from where he dropped the phone.

"What happened?!" Yohji screamed it, shaking Ken again in a way that didn’t have anything to do with rage and everything to do with raw terror. Yohji had lost his cool, all that collected poise dropped out the window and left to scatter in the wind. Aya had a way of doing that to people. No matter how many times he pissed Ken off, accidentally made Omi cry, or fought with Yohji, they still all ended up loving that selfish asshole. He was charismatic in a way that Ken didn’t even bother understanding, but there was a reason why they had picked Aya to be their leader when Weiss had been an active team of assassins.

"Don’t worry. He’s not dead, he’s just missing," Ken tried to calm Yohji down. There was a process to these things. They would have to call the police and report that their unconscious, suicidal roommate had just disappeared from the hospital. Fucking wonderful.

"Missing?" Yohji whispered it, dropping down and shaking his head at the news. He backed away from Ken in shock, looking placid enough for Ken to reach down and pick up the portable. He listened for a moment, checking to see if the line was dead. Omi had already hung up, but Ken didn’t think Yohji was going to give him the chance to call the boy back and assure him that it had just been Yohji waking up, not some screaming maniac that they didn’t know.

"Omi just called, he-Y’ Ken started to explain what little he knew himself.

"Fucking ‘missing’? Where the hell is Aya?" Yohji cut him off immediately, stepping forward to grab at Ken again. He knocked the man’s hands down hard, not all that far from doing violence himself. Did Yohji not catch the point of a missing person was that it was someone you couldn’t find?! How could this have possibly happened to Aya in the few hours they had managed to pry Yohji away from the man’s bedside was beyond Ken. The timing was too good, circumstances falling apart too quickly. It felt like someone was watching them, hunting them down, and he knew exactly why. Next time Gramps paid a visit to Omi, he was going to go home in a coffin.

"We don’t know," Ken found his teeth grating together in an attempt stay calm in the face of Yohji’s panic, even when he was starting to get scared. What control did they have over their lives if Aya had gone missing so quickly? Ken couldn’t even begin to start thinking about whom it could be, where they could have taken Aya. Right now, he wanted Omi to get his cute little butt back home… now. He would rather call Omi and talk the kid the whole way home on his cell just to make sure that nothing was happening, but he was stuck arguing with Yohji right now. The blonde just glared at him, naked and half-crazy with concern for Aya, like he was going to do everyone else’s worrying for them. Yohji wasn’t the only one who cared about Aya.

"You better damn well know! You said you were going to watch him!" Yohji accused him, bloodshot eyes dry despite his voice sounding like he was about to cry. Ken decided that he couldn’t take it anymore.

"I’ve just been fucking trying to keep everyone else from committing suicide too! You needed some goddamn sleep! Aya is gone right now, and we have to fucking find him! Stop arguing with me!" Ken yelled that all right back into Yohji’s face, shoving the blonde back had. Yohji went staggering backward into the middle of the kitchen, standing there without any sense of direction. Ken had never seen Yohji get this worked up over something before, and frankly, it was a little bit frightening. He didn’t know how to handle the man, all the usual ways probably useless right now. If he tried to make a joke, Yohji would rip his tongue off, not able to recognize any friends at this point. Ken could tell that there was exactly one thought on the taller man mind.

"Aya," Yohji said the name aloud, as if he was reminding himself why he was getting so damn worked up in the first place.

"Aya!" Yohji yelled it now, making a sudden run for the backdoor that almost caught Ken off guard. He quickly threw up a hand, clothes-lining Yohji across the neck. The blonde didn’t quite have the momentum to fall down but he still reeled around Ken’s arm, grabbing at Ken to regain his balance. Somehow Yohji still had enough moves left in him to spin around to land on both feet, managing to push Ken back in the process. Ken finally got his legs back under him and stood there a moment too long- just stunned that Yohji had managed to get the best of him again. He needed to start sparring again. That split-second of inner evaluation gave Yohji enough time to open up the backdoor; tanned ass hanging out for everyone to see.

"Yohji, get back inside! You’re fucking naked," Ken yelled it out the door, wondering if Yohji had just not realized it yet or simply didn’t care.

"AYA!" Yohji screamed his lover’s name at the top of his lungs. If the man was anywhere within five blocks of the flower shop, there was no way Aya couldn’t have heard that. Yohji started to make like he was going to search for the man completely naked. Ken didn’t even really have the time to think about or even regret what he did next. He grabbed the frying-pan on the stove, leftover from a meal that had yet to be cooked in the chaos that was sweeping through, shouldering open the door before it could shut, and slammed it down against the uncovered blonde’s head. Yohji immediately dropped in a boneless pile halfway down the driveway, making Ken almost feel bad if the older man hadn’t been acting so crazy. Thankfully nobody was passing by to see this, Ken panting hard as he hunched over his weapon, trying to get a moment to just fucking think.

Yohji had gotten raped and didn’t tell Aya, which caused him to think he had done it. Aya had then attempted suicide, and was now missing from the hospital. Of course it would happen when they finally managed to get Yohji to take care of himself instead of dying right next to his lover in that old plastic hospital chair. Ken rubbed at his head, doing his very best not to go crazy himself. Yohji had already done enough of that for the both of them. Instead of kicking Yohji’s unconscious body like he felt the sudden burning desire to, he set the pan down on the ground to be retrieved later. He needed both hands to hoist up Yohji, slinging an arm around his shoulders and hauling the man back inside like he was an awkward bag of luggage. After a little fight with the door, Ken dropped Yohji inside on the kitchen tile, nudging the man’s bare feet inside the doorway before closing it and going straight back to the phone to give Omi a call.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: I think if I tried to put any more in this chapter, people would start bleeding from the eyes at the length. -sigh-

It’s German!- Thank you once again to Auribiel and Cattley for help with the German.

Kätzchen- kitten (we all know this by now)

Hurensohn-son of a bitch

mein Lieber- my love

Stricher- prostitute (male form)

Hör auf damit- Stop...in a really mean way.

Verfluchte Scheiße- German explicative. (Rough equivalent to "%#?"$!, she didn’t write another &%*#~! Yohji/Aya scene yet?!")

Auf Weidersehen- goodbye

MY BETA BITCHES

Eternitys End

Iie Nome

YOU LIKE ME! YOU REALLY, REALLY LIKE ME!

(Alphabetically)

Amethyst- And now, for chapter 7! Thank you for dropping a line, I appreciate every word!

Bisexual Pygmie- Ken and Omi are going to have to start having their foul times as well...but they’re so cute I gave them a few more minutes together! (Evil laugh). Thank you so much for reviewing yet again, Schuldig is going to be crazy evil to a T!

Eternitys End- It’s posted, see? Peace, woman! I promise good Yohji and Aya smut next chapter, okay?! I’ll send a page over...as soon as I write it (though the reviews make me think about it more. That’s a good thing) Thank you for the constant pressur-support!

Evilkat- Lol, Spaceballs. God, you have wonderful taste! (You idiots, you’ve captured their stunt doubles!) You can certainly look forward to more delicious Nagi, he’s the cutest of Schwarz in my book. Maybe not sexiest, but definitely cutest. Well, you were not only the FIRST, but ONLY person to recognize the Super Troopers quote. I official owe you five bucks!

Delphinium- Thank you for remembering to reviewing this time ^.^ I figured that Ken and Omi needed their moment in the sun before everything goes to hell. I mean... shh, I’m building suspense. I hope that I can continue doing everyone well-pun intended.

Halcyon- Thanks for the nice long review waiting for me! (Munches happily) I was going to do something meaner, but well...Ken and Omi NOT having sex? That was just wrong. Introductions for everyone, I realized I somehow was forgetting our dear Schwarz!

Huge Aya/Yohji Fan (or Y/A)- We can all do for some nice juicy angst sometimes! Everyone will soon have their reckoning, don’t worry (evil laugh). And Schuldig won’t get away free...but he has to have fun first ^.^ I hope this fix was enough for you. Anime Gher All-Japan Angst! I lived every fangirl’s dream(sigh and goes back to writing)

Jenna Muff- Thanks once again for the heartening review! I...I won’t ruin it for you with the meaning it has for a group of college boys if you don’t know already. I’m so flattered you like this chapter, cliffhangers make it interesting(want to see how many people I can give a heart attack through yaoi). Lol, I can’t wait for our married life if that’s going to be the case...on condition: Aya and Yohji have to cook meals for us...naked.

Jessara50k- Thank you for the notice, I keep worrying that this will never be as good as the first story, sequel syndrome n all. I hope that I can answer all those questions simply through my writing, but the only problem is: I take forever! Well, maybe next chapter will clear issues up even further.

Jukebox csi- I’m beginning to concentrate on Weiss now, I need to turn my head back to Saiyuki, I guess. (Sigh) Why are the plot bunnies so insistent these days? I’m writing as much as I can, but once again, school has started...not that it’s going to keep me from writing more! Thank you for the support!

Koji-chan(First to review! Whoohoo, confetti and such!) Here is the next chapter, as I eventually promised. I hope you enjoy!

MurasakiSilver- Thank you so much for the kind words(blushes like a Catholic schoolgirl). I’m so glad that you can enjoy this one as much as the first, responses like yours are what makes it all worth it to post! I hope you enjoy the rest of this as well! Nitelyfe- Cliffhangers make you appreciate life more! Really...weak cough. I’m sorry you can’t read at work any more, but thank you for reading anyhoo! I’m jealous of myself going to Japan too, I wish I was back there RIGHT NOW!

Weisslover27- Thank you for the review(writes you another prescription for addictive yaoi substances). I do still promise the happy, go-lucky, silly ending to end all happy endings that have come before, but first...the angst!
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