Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chains ❯ Scorn Me ( Chapter 46 )

Notes: My apologies for the brief hiatus! I wish I had a fun tale of a sudden romantic fling or pursuit by the police, but, alas, I can only report an attempt to die by bronchitis and an inability to do more writing than the freelance stuff that pays my bills. I want to thank everyone for the reviews! I really appreciate the people who read this, and especially the ones who take time to leave a comment or two.



Chapter Forty-Six: Scorn Me



Aya stood still in the middle of the silent room.

The sun was bright, giving off an orange flare of light before it began to set. This was mostly hidden behind the heavy shades, letting in only enough light to create deeper shadows within the gloom of the unlit space.

Schuldig might be hiding–no, he would forget that. If he was there, then…

He tried not to think as he settled onto the floor, kneeling carefully to the right of the bed so that he might, in a little while maybe, rest his head against the edge of the soft mattress. There had been a fleeting reservation of sitting there, a tiny mental urging to take his place on the bed instead, to be where Yohji liked him when the man returned home.

But Yohji was angry.

Aya took a deep breath as he stared at the worn rug beneath his knees. He couldn’t figure out precisely how, but the meeting with the woman–Manx–hadn’t gone well. Though not denied entrance into the profession that he did not want, there had been a particular look in her eyes that he didn’t like.

Not that it mattered what Aya liked or wanted or needed.

What mattered was that Yohji was upset; Aya hadn’t missed the steel glint in his eyes, the tense, closed stance he assumed as they left the basement. He had seen it before.

Despite his attempts to please the man, Aya’s presence had brought nothing but trouble, with his friends, his customers, and now this woman and the organization that backed her. A difficulty, that was what Aya was, and, as Schuldig had pointed out, Yohji gained nothing for his troubles. Why would Yohji continue to put up with him?

He wouldn’t. It was simple, then, wasn’t it? Yohji had left; he was done. Schuldig would come and get him and take Aya back. He wondered if somehow Yohji knew this, planned it.

He certainly hadn’t planned to become attached to his owner, a person who could, and most likely would, hurt him, but when Yohji hadn’t done that, when he had been insistently kind, it was difficult. He felt different around the man, a feeling verging on comfort, something he hadn’t felt since his family was gone. It was–he hesitated over the word but decided it was true–it was safe with Yohji.

But he was still a slave, despite the blonde’s objection. And that meant he could be set aside, told to stay, and left in an empty room like before. The emptiness echoed with his memories, bringing forth long hours where he had laid, half-conscious, listening for Farfarello’s footsteps, knowing the abuse was imminent and being able to nothing except wait. What was coming for him was only the pain that always followed silence.

He couldn’t do anything, and he hated it.

Aya tugged at the collar for the first time in a long time, taking a firm hold at the front and pulling hard. He wasn’t sure what he meant by the action, but it was all of a sudden strangling him; still, his fingers wouldn’t go to the buckle.

Where would Schuldig come from? The window, maybe. Or was he already there, hiding in the afternoon shadows?

What if Yohji didn’t come home in time? What if he did and let Aya go?

It didn’t matter, Aya reiterated to himself. But it was a lie.

It had been too good, the reprieve from physical pain and exhaustion. His body was starting to recover, to demand attention and care. Even now his stomach grumbled softly, spoiled by the regular intake of food. And as the physicalities of just surviving were lessened, some part of his spirit had decided to return; it easily regained strength once it stopped living in constant desperation not to be extinguished altogether, and he tried hard to suppress the urge to run away, to be done with it.

There was Aya-chan. Always.

He thought about his sister for a long time, a rather stoic expression on his face as he lost himself in pleasant memories: Aya-chan burning their mother’s birthday cake and begging him to make one, her first sleepover when she had ordered him angrily to stay in his room only bring him his favorite chips and hour later, her begging him for a pair of golden earrings.

They were sweet memories, but they fled too soon, leaving bitter remains. There was no more kitchen, no more mother, no more Aya-chan as she was. He hadn’t seen her since the explosion, but he could all too easily conjure images of her injured, lying in some crisp hospital bed, alone. She needed him.

Something creaked. Aya’s head jerked up, and he scanned the room. He couldn’t see it.

He tried to press down the threatening panic.

It was just a room, better than others he had been in. Odd, that a place that had become a kind of safe habitat could seem so cold, so dangerous, so quickly.

The sun was finishing its display of light, leaving only gray-purple to creep through the blinds and cast shadows in the diffuse gloom. In the last lights, he could see the place where Schuldig had stood, and it didn’t take much effort to imagine him there again. The bed, too, where the red haired man had pushed him down, threatened him, ran his hands over his skin.

He didn’t want to be there. Not alone.

~tbc~


Notes: Aya is feeling lonely, review to tell Yohji to hurry back!