Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ a bloody december ❯ One-Shot

Title: a bloody december
Author: a.m
Rating: PG-13. May be disturbing- you have been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss or anything related to Weiss. I don't own the song "For Justin" by Dashboard Confessional. I don't own the quote in the summary, which is from the book american gods by Neil Gaiman. Free, non-profit.
A/N: Get Kleenex.

And I have learned so much since you been gone
And I have done so little for so long
So now I'll settle up my grievances
And focus on the savory
And wave all these discrepancies away
And I'll peter out these misconceptions
Give out faith at my discretion
Live a life that you would think was sane

It is late.

The hands of the clock move slowly. Fujimiya Ran is not worried. He has all the time in the world, now.

It is late, and Fujimiya Ran holds in his arms, close in his embrace, a person.

Pale moonlight filtering in through the window highlights their slight frames, one fallen angel holding another. Ran is thinner than he ought to be for his height; he began eating a lot less when the person in his arms began spending more time in a hospital bed than his own, at home.

Snow falls in little flurries, outside. It has already covered the ground at least an inch, and it will continue to fall for the rest of the night. The clock ticks minutes away, and Ran is silent. The room is silent.

Ken does not look at his best, either. He looks frail, painfully so, and has lost almost all of the bulk his particular line of work bestowed on him. His eyes are closed, and he dozes in Ran's arms, nuzzling against his chest.

Violet eyes skirt the lines of a face he fell in love with, remembering the smile that used to brighten up his day. Ran hardly sees that smile, now, and hears the tones of affectionate laughter even less often. Whenever Ken is awake, he tries to smile, but it rips Ran's heart out every time. As for laughter, it hurts Ken, and so he has stopped. By now, he has forgotten how to. And Ran does not crack many jokes.

Fingers brush a cheek that was once a lot more tanned, pale and cold to the touch. The slumbering Ken leans faintly into it, though, like it soothes him, and Ran strokes his cheek gently before letting his hand fall.

Ken was so much happier, once upon a time. When he wasn't sick, and confined to a hospital bed all day. When he could run around outside, limbs warmed by the golden touch of sunlight, and kick a soccer ball around with the kids. When they could hold each other, and for a few brief moments not have to worry about anything, because the point of holding each other was to hold each other.

Crimson strands shield his eyes as Ran leans his head down- slowly, as to not jolt Ken awake- and brushes dark hair away before pressing a kiss to his lover's forehead. Ken stirs but his eyes do not open as he sleeps on, and Ran pulls him closer against his chest, leaning his head back. And he starts to remember.

Mid afternoon, in a cafe.

"A~ya..." Ken grumbles, pouting in mock frustration. It makes Ran laugh, and he does, softly, to Ken's infinite delight. Proof that his lover was human, and it makes him smile to know it.

"Oh, all right... fine. It's only a milkshake," replies Ran, making a face anyway, and they sit in the small booth, across from each other. Ken beams, sticking the second straw he'd been waiting to put to use into the tall glass, and turning it towards the redhead.

"It's good milkshake," Ken retorts, taking a sip. Ran does the same.

They drink together, from the same glass, in silence. Enjoying the sweet taste of vanilla, and each other...

Exactly half past five, on a scaled-down soccer pitch.

Ran remains on the sidelines, watching Ken run with the children, kicking around the soccer ball and showing off a few tricks. He was dragged out by the brunette, coerced into coming and getting some fresh air with threats and bribes and cajoling. They giggle, and he laughs in return. Their joyful cries of 'Ken-'nii-san!' are audible all the way to where he stands.

The children were wary of him, at first. They thought he was a tall gaijin from his red hair, and they saw his scary eyes. They were wary, but he came with Ken, and if he was their 'nii-san's friend he could be theirs, too. And they were nice to him, they hugged him and giggled and called him 'nii-san' as well, and he was awkward but couldn't help but smile, and then he stood by the side to watch them play.

And afterwards, sweaty and muddy, with the soccer ball under his arm, Ken said his goodbyes to the kids before they ran off. He shared a kiss with Ran by the goalposts, and he tasted sweet, and smelled of warm sunshine and grass, and from that moment on Ran knew, even if he had wanted to before, he would never kiss anyone else again...

Five AM, in Ken's room, and Ken's bed.

They hold each other, limbs tangled underneath messy sheets, bodies still heaving from the exertion. Ran's hot breath scorches his lover's sweat-chilled neck, and Ken shivers, fingertips trailing loving touches down Ran's spine. They moan into each other, and lips brush again, but softly.

"Ran?" Ken whispers, while they bathe in the afterglow together. He uses the name for his lover he isn't allowed to use when others are around, but when they are alone together he cannot imagine using any other name.

Amethyst eyes open to meet dark chocolate ones, with a hesitant, curious smile in their depths. Ran had never learned to truly express a smile, except in that way, and it was something special that Ken knew no one else had. And he treasured it.

"... I love you." The words are breathed against a pallid cheek while he leans forward again, and presently the arms stroking slowly along Ken's sides still. They are silent, together. And then-

"I love you, too..." The redhead nips a line along his lover's shoulder to his neck, to press a kiss there. "... always."...

Ken shifts again with a sleepy murmur, jolting Ran out of his memories. Wetness touches his cheeks, evaporating slowly, leaving a cool tingling he has not felt in a long time. When he looks down to check if Ken is awake, a drop of salty liquid falls, a single glimmering tear on a thin cheek. Fingertips dispel the water resting on his love's cheek, and sighs.

Dimly, Ran realizes he is crying, and wonders why.

He looks at the clock again, as he has so many times through the night. It strikes him how cold and blank and absolutely white the hospital walls are. Sterile, and untouchable. So they aren't stained by the death that sometimes flashes through, or hurt by the sickness. And the nurses are like that, too, uniformly vacant and methodical and clinical.

Ran hates the nurses.

He notes the time, and knows he does not have much left. At the first wink of daylight the first nurse will come in, to check Ken's temperature and pulse and blood pressure, or whatever it is she does, and note it down on her clipboard of rubbish. She will not put a blanket over Ran, usually sleeping as well, sitting in the chair beside the bed, and he has never expected her to. None of them do. They are only supposed to do their job.

He holds Ken, and is silent.

The snow falling outside the window is peaceful, and it makes him think, again. Of soft snowflakes touching his face and his hair. Of a wintry field, and a free day ahead. Of ...

Snow is still falling, lightly, and the field, bathed in early morning sunlight, is covered with it. He remembers how Ken begged and pleaded for them to go for a walk together, and the pure childlike excitement on his face when Ran, coerced into giving consent, agreed. He remembers, too, how they strolled down the forest path holding hands and just enjoying, and the sunrise they watched together from the top of a low hill, and then finally the field.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Ken had laughed, arms outstretched while he spun in a slow circle, delighting in the feathery kisses of snowflakes on his cheeks. And Ran hopped the fence to follow, watching his lover and wondering at his beauty.

"Isn't what wonderful?" He asked.

Ken paused to give him a look, a mock-annoyed 'why-don't-you-get-it' look, and went on to explain.

"The snow. You know, winter... It's cold and all, but on days like this, and you to share it with, it's really ..." Ken hesitated, face scrunched up in thought, searching for the right word."... it's really beautiful." A helpless shrug; he couldn't think of a better word to describe it with.

"Oh." Ran blinked and looked down, scuffing a bit of frost from the sole of his shoe. "No, I.. don't know." Looking up again at the snowflakes falling like leaves in autumn, slow and poetic and sparkling in the light, he wondered if they really were as beautiful as Ken saw them.

Warm breath and a chuckle against his ear jolted him out of his momentary lapse of concentration, and without having to think about it he tucked an arm around his lover's side. They walked on together.

That was when he realized he didn't have to understand how beautiful it was. He already knew how beautiful it was, because he was sharing it with Ken.

And that's all that mattered.

The gun is loaded, two bullets. Ran does not plan to miss- how could he? He only wants to save his love... he only wants to save both of them from more suffering. Ken snuffles, sleepily, and nuzzles his head close to his lover's chest again, into the warmth he recognizes. Trusting. He does not know what is coming. He does not see.

There were so many ways their lives might have ended before. Blood loss from wounds, illness. Suicide. Death at the hands of their enemy, and Schwarz. Now the missions have stopped coming, and Ken is sick, and Ran is sick with him.

All he wanted was to live happily ever after...

But he never believed in fairytales.

Ken lies in the hospital bed every day now, in its clean sheets in the clean room in the clean goddamn hospital. Ran hates it. He hates a lot more things now; especially the illness that took his lover's laugh away. He hates all of it.

And inside, he hurts.

It is cold, and Ran shivers gently, reaching for the weapon lying on the bedside table. Slender fingers close around it, and he uncocks it with a click that echoes on strangely in the room, an empty, miserable sound. He shivers again, and lifts Ken up a little higher to kiss his cheek.

"I love you," Ran whispers, now staring down at dark locks of hair and his lover snuggled against his body. There is no reply; Ken is blissfully asleep. He puts the barrel against Ken's temple, the cold ring of steel barely touching.

Idly, he wonders how happy they could have been living together. He knows he does not have to wonder; after all, he still has his memories. He knows how happy they could have been.

Could have been...

His finger twitches, almost onto the trigger. Ran remembers their love. It's still there, sickly and wretched, but it's there. A love that smells of sunshine and grass, and tastes like a cold vanilla milkshake on a summer day.

Then he does pull the trigger, and the explosion rings in his ears. The body in his arms jerks and is still.

Ran doesn't want to look down, and so empty violet eyes stare at the window. The snow falls, silent, unmoved by the scene.. He doesn't want to look down and see what he can already picture in his mind; he can feel hot blood slick on his hands and staining his clothes. The noise would have alerted someone. He doesn't have any time left.

Still, he watches the snow. It's chilly inside the room, but not as cold as it would be, outside. It doesn't matter to Ran; he doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel anything now.

...the snowflakes, hundreds of thousands of them, descending; Ran is standing in that field again, with his lover; snowflakes land in Ken's hair and sparkle, and he laughs, and they're standing together...

... and Ran understands.

"You're right," he said, hoarsely, to the empty room and to no one except himself, putting the gun to his own head. "It's beautiful."

Bang.

End.