Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Care ❯ Care ( One-Shot )

Title: Care

Author: Tearis

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz or anything related to it.

Notes: well, this might contain some hints of shounen- ai, if you want to see them, that is.

(Aya + Omi)

A huge hug for my wonderful beta and friend Rachael. ^_^

Care

The window was pushed completely open. A curtain that had been pulled in front of the open space filtered the light of the street lamp, coloring the room in a dim reddish light. When the cool wind of the night moved the curtain, flashes of the harsh light of the street lamp struck the sleeping form on the bed under the window, showing him in stark relief.

The covers had been kicked away, too warm to sleep under. They lay in a messy puddle half falling off the end of the bed. The boy on the bed was sweat soaked yet curled up in a fetal position, as if he were freezing. The shocks copper blond hair that clung to his forehead glinted scarlet in the warm, red light of the room. Hands clenched into fists resting in front of his chest on the mattress, his face was pale. Small drops of sweat glittered, dewy over his smooth complexion. His sleep seemed to be deep; the evenness of his breathing betrayed no nightmares. Still, there was, even in the deepest of sleep, an awareness of being vulnerable that made him stiffen.

Long fingered, slender hands reached over the bed and pulled the curtain back to close the window. Then allowed the curtain fall back into place, keeping the harsh light away. The dismissed covers at the foot of the bed were softly picked up and laid over the small frame of the body on the bed. Violet eyes lingered just a moment on the sleeping form, wondering if the boy was healing from his heat sickness.

It had been very hot the last few days. August had been bearing down on Tokyo with the most brutal heat and humidity in her arsenal. This summer was trying to suffocate them all in the last days before autumn would breeze in to sweep it away.

Omi had repeatedly taken on the duty of watering the cut flowers in the refrigerated cases during the past week. Moving in and out of each case many times during the day, he hadn't borne the difference between the shockingly cold cases and the oppressive heat in the shop. After two days he had collapsed in front of his friends. Aya wasn't sure, if it had only been the temperature difference that had made the younger man collapse. He had a suspicion that Omi had been skipping meals, too many of them. He had grown very slim over the last weeks.

Aya realized that he had allowed his mind to wander, watching over Omi's sleep, and turned to leave. He looked in on him when he reached the door, only to see that Omi had kicked the blankets away again. He walked back and tucked the boy in once more, this time more securely.

Omi's eyes fluttered open. They were both sleep fogged and glossed over, fever bright. A trembling hand reached out for Aya, but fell down on the mattress again, before touching him.

"It's too warm." Omi's voice was dry and hoarse. He tried once more to get rid of the blankets, but Aya held them in place. The taller man sat down on the bed, laying a hand on Omi's forehead, checking his fever.

"You're already weak. You've got fever and the air is cool. I don't want you to get more ill."

Omi's weak struggles stopped and he looked at Aya sleepily. Aya smoothed some sweat heavy locks of hair off of Omi's face. His hand glided down to cup Omi's cheek and caress it with a thumb. A small sigh escaped Omi and he closed his eyes, leaning into Aya's soft touch. Aya smiled, just the barest hint of a smile.

Aya bent down, intending to kiss Omi's forehead. He lingered here, just centimeters from the sleeping boy's face. Puzzled by his own strong desire to wrap his arms around Omi.

He knew that Omi had no family left, and he hadn't started out with a family anyone would wish for. Someone as intelligent and sensitive as Omi must have suffered horribly to be born a Takatori; He must have been so lonely, and Omi was lonely still. They all were. What else did murderers deserve? Looking at the boy sleeping in front of him, Aya didn't see a murderer, despite what he knew.

Omi thrust his chin out, pushing his head up on the pillow, and his lips gently brushed Aya's. Aya stilled himself, in spite of the awkwardness of the moment and the pink flush of heat he could feel on his own cheeks. He watched Omi sinking back into the pillow, a small smile tugging back the corners of the sleepy boy's mouth.

"Aya." How could someone convey so much feeling, simply by whispering his name?

He reached forward once more and let his finger run along Omi's cheek. His face was smooth. It invited caresses. Omi had fallen asleep again and Aya didn't want to wake him. He wanted Omi restored his full health.

Aya slowly got up and silently went to the door, his eyes still lingering on Omi. Omi was now tucked in up to his chin and his face looked much calmer than before. Maybe not just calmer, there was a difference, Aya could tell. It was that small smile, not a faked one like the one Omi usually painted on, but a true smile. It was small, but it was a smile that came from deep inside Omi. A smile that was a part of Omi, a true expression of happiness shining from within him, not put on for the rest of the world.

Someone like Omi should have a safe place, Aya thought when he closed the door behind him. Someone should make a safe place for Omi.