Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chains ❯ Guilt Me ( Chapter 65 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.22.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 257 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.22.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 257 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter Sixty-Five: Guilt Me
Omi pushed himself away from the computer desk, careful to keep half an eye on the small window that displayed the greenhouse camera. Aya hadn’t been in the best state when he’d left the boy there, and the last thing Omi wanted was to be responsible for him hurting himself any further.
Grabbing his water bottle from the floor, he took a drink and wondered what he was going to do now that Yohji had messed up so badly. The older man was planning for Aya to join Weiss, but Omi was the one doing the actual planning.
Above all, he needed to know if Aya was capable. Kritiker would have its own long assessment, some of which he would be asked to participate in, but the organization was supremely reluctant to release information which is what Omi needed most.
So he had started to look. Though Aya wasn’t with Kritiker yet, there seemed to be some serious obstruction of records of the boy. Moving past the usual searches, which yielded neither birth certificates nor tax identification numbers, Omi had hacked into more than one system to collect information, often coming up with pages that were inaccessible or strangely deleted. Only small databases yielded much of anything. Now, the points of information he was lacking seemed almost impossible to find, at least without something else to go on. There were a few very confusing details that he needed to work out.
Difficulties aside, Omi had been sitting on some pretty important stuff for about a week, trying to figure out where to go with it. Ultimately, he had decided a chat with Aya was required and had been set on getting it out of the way on their day off, but Yohji had messed that up.
What precisely had the man done? The question ate at Omi. He didn’t think it was…that, but it couldn’t have been good. It seemed that a good deal of Aya’s hard work was going to be lost, and Omi didn’t know if the boy was strong enough to build himself up all over again. Plus, they didn’t have much time.
Omi shuffled a few files and put them in a folder; they would have to wait a few more days. Glancing back at the camera shot, he watched Aya pet a large cat. Omi had first noticed the animal three days ago and was surprised it hadn’t activated the alarm. He had watched Aya sneak it tiny bits of food, pet it over and over, and shoo it away just before Yohji walked in the door. Omi had quickly decided to let the boy keep his pet a secret, but he was going to have to give up the rest.
~*~
“What’re you doing?” Ken asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Making dinner.” Yohji didn’t snap at having to explain what he was obviously doing, paying only half a mind to his friend as he leant over the stove and kept watch on the cooking noodles.
“Why?”
He didn’t bother to answer that, requesting instead that Ken find him the mirin. This required an extensive excavation of the condiments in the refrigerator and offered Yohji a reprieve.
He didn’t want to tell Ken why he was cooking, because it was a stupid idea. It wasn’t like Aya was going to come in and be won over simply because Yohji had managed some version of a food he liked. But he had to do something. Anything.
He felt…
There weren’t words for it. He was disgusted with himself, utterly loathe to even think about what he had done. And he was disappointed in the revelation that he would sink so low; even if he was drunk, Yohji liked to think he had standards of behavior, and attempted rape was just not something he had ever thought himself capable of.
But he had been wrong.
It made him sick with himself, another log to toss on the fire of his despicability, right up there with murder.
And it fucking hurt. When he had realized what Aya had done, what he had almost done, Yohji had realized how much he actually felt for the boy. That alone was a sudden discovery, but it occurred almost simultaneously with the revelation of how much he had hurt the other.
He prayed it wasn’t an irrevocable mistake. He wanted to apologize again, but none of that had gotten through. How many times had he said he was sorry? Aya hadn’t responded at all, sitting silently until Omi moved him away. And some grand gesture wasn’t going to cut it; he couldn’t just hand Aya a big bouquet with a little card that said ‘sorry I almost realized your biggest fear.’ But he couldn’t dismiss it either, not without leaving a rift between them that would only fester with time.
So he was making dinner.
“Here,” Ken said, putting the bottle on the counter to his right. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Go to the store and get some strawberry ice cream. I’ll pay you back later.”
“Why?”
“Because Omi only has the coffee flavored kind,” he replied, poking at the noodles with a long set of chopsticks and wondering if they were ready.
“Yohji,” Ken seemed to fish for words, “This isn’t going to fix it.”
“I know, just…just give me time to think,” he answered, hearing the weariness in his own voice and wishing he had put his glasses back on since it had to be showing in his eyes. “And get the ice cream.”
~*~
Yohji fidgeted beside the set table, adjusting and readjusting one of the plates. He had tried his best to get it together, finishing dinner before changing into a better pair of jeans and his blue button-down. He had also collected his sunglasses, and enough money to pay Ken back for his trip to the store.
Finally, he had set the table, presenting simply his best attempt at soba noodles. He had even managed to put together the dipping sauce without resorting to the add-water version. It wasn’t often that he cooked, and when he did, he favored western food, so the noodles, sauce, and steamed vegetables represented quite a bit of work on his part.
Now he waited for Omi to bring Aya. He had already gone through two packs of cigarettes, but he really wanted another one. Instead, he reached to move the plate again, only to have his wrist caught by Ken. On edge, he barely resisted taking a swing at his friend.
“Leave it alone,” the brunette directed. Yohji was surprised to see concern rather than anger in the brown eyes. “It’ll be okay.”
He nodded as Ken released him, not sure how to say he wasn’t so sure. Worse, the look on the brunette’s face made it clear he wasn’t either.
The kitchen door opened and Omi stepped in, Aya silently in tow a few steps behind him.
There wasn’t a scene, no yelling, nothing but an awkward settling around the table. For the first time, Yohji forwent the seat next to Aya and sat directly across from him, a move that made Ken shift his seat as well. It seemed to throw everyone a little off balance and add to the palpable tension in the room.
“Eat up,” Yohji offered, trying to smile and not quite managing it. He looked at Aya, but the boy stared resolutely at his own lap. He looked pale and tired.
Ken quickly served himself, passing the tray of noodles to Yohji who shoveled some onto his plate halfheartedly. Omi took care of his own plate and Aya’s as well, stepping in for Yohji who usually managed what the boy ate. Thankfully, the younger blonde took over the conversation as well, talking to everyone and filling in answers when Yohji or Aya failed to come through. Ken played a supporting role, and they managed to get through dinner.
“Yohji,” Ken tapped him on the elbow, and Yohji realized he had been staring at Aya again, lost in thought about what he had almost done. “Dessert,” the soccer player suggested.
“Good idea,” Omi smiled, scooping his and Aya’s plates from the table. Though he moved quickly, Yohji still noticed the redhead hadn’t done much more than move food around on his. Grabbing Ken’s plate along with his own, he followed Omi to the sink.
“Talk to him,” Omi whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the running water. “And stop staring.”
Yohji nodded. He got several bowls from the cabinet and then some spoons, but it was all automatic. He felt like he was sleepwalking, too distracted now that Aya was in the room to participate properly in what had been his own plan. He just wanted to make things right with Aya, and until he did, nothing was going to seem real.
When he sat a bowl in front of him, the boy stiffened, hands fisting in his lap and eyes directed downward. Yohji lingered, standing beside him and trying to come up with something to say.
“We got strawberry ice cream, so you don’t have to eat the coffee kind,” he tried. Aya nodded, but it was a stiff motion that only made Yohji feel worse. When he failed to say anything else, he found himself displaced by Omi who, after giving him a rather exasperated look, filled Aya’s bowl and told the boy to eat.
Yohji wandered back to his own seat to do little more than play in the ice cream in front of him; he stirred the melting pink aimlessly between long stares across the table. Aya seemed to be doing the same, lifting the spoon to his mouth only a few times before poking at the ice cream despondently. Everything was quiet, and Yohji had almost worked himself up to a comment when Aya spoke.
“Can I go?”
It was unclear who it was addressed to, and Omi met Yohji’s eyes hesitantly.
“Yeah,” Yohji finally said. As much as he wanted to avoid ordering Aya around, he couldn’t stand the thought of the boy listening to anyone else. Everything was so damn screwed up.
Aya got up silently and left the table, heading upstairs.
“Well, that went well,” Ken said sarcastically, scooting away his empty bowl.
“Shut up,” Yohji returned as he dug out a cigarette and lit up.
“Don’t get all pissy with me,” the other shot back.
“Guys,” Omi broke in, “Don’t. Please.”
~*~
Aya paced back and forth across the room. There wasn’t much time.
He had to come to a decision.
What was he going to do? Was he going to submit to Yohji? He should. It was his fault, his responsibility. Aya-chan weighed heavily on his mind, and he knew he should do anything to protect her. He had done it before. It was just his body, and what was that worth? What was he worth? Nothing.
But another part of him cried out against the injustice. It was Yohji’s fault! The man had encouraged that piece of him, giving life to something almost dead, some sense of self-preservation that whispered possibilities of resistance and escape.
It didn’t matter, though, because resisting would only get him beaten. Right?
Aya could take that. He deserved that for his cowardice. If Yohji hit him before…Yohji would hit him…that would be better. At least he would know for sure where he stood, what the man wanted.
He couldn’t be sure of even that. Yohji had made everything so confusing! With his tender touches and nice gifts and…Aya couldn’t understand when things changed so quickly, and he couldn’t get a grip on what he needed to do.
His hand came up and pulled hard on his hair. Unable to sort anything out, he decided to wait and try to withstand whatever his owner had in mind. Curling up on top of the comforter, Aya focused his eyes on the door and waited for Yohji to come.
~tbc~
Notes: Yohji needs advice…review to give him some, or at least a sound smack to the head.
Converting /tmp/php9ZiGLl to /dev/stdout
Omi pushed himself away from the computer desk, careful to keep half an eye on the small window that displayed the greenhouse camera. Aya hadn’t been in the best state when he’d left the boy there, and the last thing Omi wanted was to be responsible for him hurting himself any further.
Grabbing his water bottle from the floor, he took a drink and wondered what he was going to do now that Yohji had messed up so badly. The older man was planning for Aya to join Weiss, but Omi was the one doing the actual planning.
Above all, he needed to know if Aya was capable. Kritiker would have its own long assessment, some of which he would be asked to participate in, but the organization was supremely reluctant to release information which is what Omi needed most.
So he had started to look. Though Aya wasn’t with Kritiker yet, there seemed to be some serious obstruction of records of the boy. Moving past the usual searches, which yielded neither birth certificates nor tax identification numbers, Omi had hacked into more than one system to collect information, often coming up with pages that were inaccessible or strangely deleted. Only small databases yielded much of anything. Now, the points of information he was lacking seemed almost impossible to find, at least without something else to go on. There were a few very confusing details that he needed to work out.
Difficulties aside, Omi had been sitting on some pretty important stuff for about a week, trying to figure out where to go with it. Ultimately, he had decided a chat with Aya was required and had been set on getting it out of the way on their day off, but Yohji had messed that up.
What precisely had the man done? The question ate at Omi. He didn’t think it was…that, but it couldn’t have been good. It seemed that a good deal of Aya’s hard work was going to be lost, and Omi didn’t know if the boy was strong enough to build himself up all over again. Plus, they didn’t have much time.
Omi shuffled a few files and put them in a folder; they would have to wait a few more days. Glancing back at the camera shot, he watched Aya pet a large cat. Omi had first noticed the animal three days ago and was surprised it hadn’t activated the alarm. He had watched Aya sneak it tiny bits of food, pet it over and over, and shoo it away just before Yohji walked in the door. Omi had quickly decided to let the boy keep his pet a secret, but he was going to have to give up the rest.
~*~
“What’re you doing?” Ken asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Making dinner.” Yohji didn’t snap at having to explain what he was obviously doing, paying only half a mind to his friend as he leant over the stove and kept watch on the cooking noodles.
“Why?”
He didn’t bother to answer that, requesting instead that Ken find him the mirin. This required an extensive excavation of the condiments in the refrigerator and offered Yohji a reprieve.
He didn’t want to tell Ken why he was cooking, because it was a stupid idea. It wasn’t like Aya was going to come in and be won over simply because Yohji had managed some version of a food he liked. But he had to do something. Anything.
He felt…
There weren’t words for it. He was disgusted with himself, utterly loathe to even think about what he had done. And he was disappointed in the revelation that he would sink so low; even if he was drunk, Yohji liked to think he had standards of behavior, and attempted rape was just not something he had ever thought himself capable of.
But he had been wrong.
It made him sick with himself, another log to toss on the fire of his despicability, right up there with murder.
And it fucking hurt. When he had realized what Aya had done, what he had almost done, Yohji had realized how much he actually felt for the boy. That alone was a sudden discovery, but it occurred almost simultaneously with the revelation of how much he had hurt the other.
He prayed it wasn’t an irrevocable mistake. He wanted to apologize again, but none of that had gotten through. How many times had he said he was sorry? Aya hadn’t responded at all, sitting silently until Omi moved him away. And some grand gesture wasn’t going to cut it; he couldn’t just hand Aya a big bouquet with a little card that said ‘sorry I almost realized your biggest fear.’ But he couldn’t dismiss it either, not without leaving a rift between them that would only fester with time.
So he was making dinner.
“Here,” Ken said, putting the bottle on the counter to his right. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Go to the store and get some strawberry ice cream. I’ll pay you back later.”
“Why?”
“Because Omi only has the coffee flavored kind,” he replied, poking at the noodles with a long set of chopsticks and wondering if they were ready.
“Yohji,” Ken seemed to fish for words, “This isn’t going to fix it.”
“I know, just…just give me time to think,” he answered, hearing the weariness in his own voice and wishing he had put his glasses back on since it had to be showing in his eyes. “And get the ice cream.”
~*~
Yohji fidgeted beside the set table, adjusting and readjusting one of the plates. He had tried his best to get it together, finishing dinner before changing into a better pair of jeans and his blue button-down. He had also collected his sunglasses, and enough money to pay Ken back for his trip to the store.
Finally, he had set the table, presenting simply his best attempt at soba noodles. He had even managed to put together the dipping sauce without resorting to the add-water version. It wasn’t often that he cooked, and when he did, he favored western food, so the noodles, sauce, and steamed vegetables represented quite a bit of work on his part.
Now he waited for Omi to bring Aya. He had already gone through two packs of cigarettes, but he really wanted another one. Instead, he reached to move the plate again, only to have his wrist caught by Ken. On edge, he barely resisted taking a swing at his friend.
“Leave it alone,” the brunette directed. Yohji was surprised to see concern rather than anger in the brown eyes. “It’ll be okay.”
He nodded as Ken released him, not sure how to say he wasn’t so sure. Worse, the look on the brunette’s face made it clear he wasn’t either.
The kitchen door opened and Omi stepped in, Aya silently in tow a few steps behind him.
There wasn’t a scene, no yelling, nothing but an awkward settling around the table. For the first time, Yohji forwent the seat next to Aya and sat directly across from him, a move that made Ken shift his seat as well. It seemed to throw everyone a little off balance and add to the palpable tension in the room.
“Eat up,” Yohji offered, trying to smile and not quite managing it. He looked at Aya, but the boy stared resolutely at his own lap. He looked pale and tired.
Ken quickly served himself, passing the tray of noodles to Yohji who shoveled some onto his plate halfheartedly. Omi took care of his own plate and Aya’s as well, stepping in for Yohji who usually managed what the boy ate. Thankfully, the younger blonde took over the conversation as well, talking to everyone and filling in answers when Yohji or Aya failed to come through. Ken played a supporting role, and they managed to get through dinner.
“Yohji,” Ken tapped him on the elbow, and Yohji realized he had been staring at Aya again, lost in thought about what he had almost done. “Dessert,” the soccer player suggested.
“Good idea,” Omi smiled, scooping his and Aya’s plates from the table. Though he moved quickly, Yohji still noticed the redhead hadn’t done much more than move food around on his. Grabbing Ken’s plate along with his own, he followed Omi to the sink.
“Talk to him,” Omi whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the running water. “And stop staring.”
Yohji nodded. He got several bowls from the cabinet and then some spoons, but it was all automatic. He felt like he was sleepwalking, too distracted now that Aya was in the room to participate properly in what had been his own plan. He just wanted to make things right with Aya, and until he did, nothing was going to seem real.
When he sat a bowl in front of him, the boy stiffened, hands fisting in his lap and eyes directed downward. Yohji lingered, standing beside him and trying to come up with something to say.
“We got strawberry ice cream, so you don’t have to eat the coffee kind,” he tried. Aya nodded, but it was a stiff motion that only made Yohji feel worse. When he failed to say anything else, he found himself displaced by Omi who, after giving him a rather exasperated look, filled Aya’s bowl and told the boy to eat.
Yohji wandered back to his own seat to do little more than play in the ice cream in front of him; he stirred the melting pink aimlessly between long stares across the table. Aya seemed to be doing the same, lifting the spoon to his mouth only a few times before poking at the ice cream despondently. Everything was quiet, and Yohji had almost worked himself up to a comment when Aya spoke.
“Can I go?”
It was unclear who it was addressed to, and Omi met Yohji’s eyes hesitantly.
“Yeah,” Yohji finally said. As much as he wanted to avoid ordering Aya around, he couldn’t stand the thought of the boy listening to anyone else. Everything was so damn screwed up.
Aya got up silently and left the table, heading upstairs.
“Well, that went well,” Ken said sarcastically, scooting away his empty bowl.
“Shut up,” Yohji returned as he dug out a cigarette and lit up.
“Don’t get all pissy with me,” the other shot back.
“Guys,” Omi broke in, “Don’t. Please.”
~*~
Aya paced back and forth across the room. There wasn’t much time.
He had to come to a decision.
What was he going to do? Was he going to submit to Yohji? He should. It was his fault, his responsibility. Aya-chan weighed heavily on his mind, and he knew he should do anything to protect her. He had done it before. It was just his body, and what was that worth? What was he worth? Nothing.
But another part of him cried out against the injustice. It was Yohji’s fault! The man had encouraged that piece of him, giving life to something almost dead, some sense of self-preservation that whispered possibilities of resistance and escape.
It didn’t matter, though, because resisting would only get him beaten. Right?
Aya could take that. He deserved that for his cowardice. If Yohji hit him before…Yohji would hit him…that would be better. At least he would know for sure where he stood, what the man wanted.
He couldn’t be sure of even that. Yohji had made everything so confusing! With his tender touches and nice gifts and…Aya couldn’t understand when things changed so quickly, and he couldn’t get a grip on what he needed to do.
His hand came up and pulled hard on his hair. Unable to sort anything out, he decided to wait and try to withstand whatever his owner had in mind. Curling up on top of the comforter, Aya focused his eyes on the door and waited for Yohji to come.
~tbc~
Notes: Yohji needs advice…review to give him some, or at least a sound smack to the head.
Converting /tmp/php9ZiGLl to /dev/stdout