Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Crazy Sunday Mornings ❯ When the Talk Backfires ( Chapter 5 )

 

Well, are you?

 

`What the fuck…' Yohji began, but the insidious voice cut him short. And in spite of himself, he felt a mixed feeling of slow terror and esteem. Wow. He never thought he could sound so cool. Insidious… cool sounding word, that.

 

Ah, ah, ah, no expletives please.

 

“You're not the boss of me.” He ground out; he knows a challenge when he sees one. And this, by far, is the most bizarre one he'd ever encounter. An image of him fighting himself flashed in his head, and it wasn't pretty. It was downright ridiculous. He has to take charge of this situation and snap…

 

“…OUT OF IT!”

 

Yohji took in a sudden sharp intake of breath, opened his eyes, and saw red- lots and lots of red strands of hair. `Oh gods… not him…' He groaned aloud, and then scratched his head in a very irritated manner as he slowly met the gaze of humorless piercing eyes. Standing in front of him was Aya. He does not look pleased at all (but then again, he never does). `First I get creepy head voices and handsome yet disturbing reflections, then this. I must have violated some serious Pondering Act Law to deserve this.' He made sure to keep a mental note to never liberally and spontaneously engage in pondering or any deep-thought thinking unless in the case of life and death. And since his job is a life and death kind of job, he corrected the mental note to say instead `in the case of very persuasive arguments forcing me to do so', persuasive arguments here meaning `when push comes to shove'. Or, in other words, `on pain of a very gruesome and instantaneous death (insert picture here)'. This whole mental note train of thought made Yohji stop for a moment. `Why is my mind running around in goddamned oblongs? Quick, say something you genius'.

 

“So, hey Aya, man, what's up?” was about the most conversational and cool sentence he can come up with given the circumstances. This met a slightly raised eyebrow, which dampened Yohji's ego a bit because it didn't even merit a fully raised eyebrow. `Tch, critics.' No one spoke for a very long while. Finally, Yohji decided to be rude, it was his room after all.

 

“What are you doing in my room?” He asked, but with more weariness than exasperation. Aya seemed to consider this, shifted a bit on his footing, and spoke as if he was testing the sound of his sentence. “I was con… no not concerned. More of… how do I put this…worried? No, no, too caring…” And Aya continued on trying to find the exact right word for whatever he was trying to convey, that seemed as if he was fighting it over with himself, and made Yohji rethink his previous encounter with…uh… the mirror Yohji. Seems the phenomenon is quite normal, in Aya's case. It's just that I bet his reflection never does that to him' and then he added, `and I bet his conscience is more subtle and less sarcastic than mine'. Someone said `Ah' like an `Aha!' that missed the light bulb, and Aya finally agreed with himself.

 

“I was a bit bothered by the fact that you spent the whole day in your bedroom alone (Yohji felt an emotion equivalent to a sarcastic `ow' at this emphasis) and so I thought to check up on you…”

 

“Look Aya, if you're suspecting me again of having drugs let me tell you…” But his wearied explanation promptly halted when Aya's raised his hand in a silencing manner.

 

“Don't interrupt me.” Aya said in a rather dangerous low voice that made Yohji nod, in spite of himself again, a little meekly. “When I got to your door you were sitting on your bed staring into nothing, not moving at all nor talking, so I went in unbidden. You had a dazed look and your eyes were glassy…” Yohji opened his mouth to say something, and Aya waved his hand firmly and Yohji clamped his mouth shut. “…but you were breathing, rather erratically. I have been trying to wake you up and when I shouted `Snap out of it' you suddenly came to and there you are.” Aya finished this off by putting down his silencing hand with a bit of a flourish, but this was lost to Yohji whose mouth resembled that of a fish out of water, looking bewildered.

 

“I… wasn't… I was… supposed… there… the mirror…a aan and and then you…” Yohji stuttered, hands pointing to all directions. “I mean…” he stood, gathering his thoughts and calming himself, looked to the mirror hesitantly, then to Aya, then back to the mirror. Well, Aya thought, someone's gone insalubre.* Then Yohji stopped moving and looked at Aya with his head bent to one side, face full of worried curiosity.

 

“Hold on… you can actually speak in more than a curt sentence?”

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, downstairs, the two younger Assassins prepared to close the shop as they realized that the other two men wouldn't be thinking of taking their shifts.

 

“Remember the last time Aya had one of his talks with Yohji?”

 

“The first and last time?”

 

“Yeah. Yohji was a right wreck after that.”

 

“Well, Aya wasn't exactly a pretty picture either. Its better they have this talk in Yohji's room, I don't want to be cleaning up broken pots and losing stock flowers again.”

 

* * *

Yohji was pacing the room as Aya, sitting on the bed and becoming rather impatient, watched him.

 

“Okay okay… so you're saying… I was just sitting on my bed all the time, looking like a zombie?”

 

Aya rolled his eyes. How he got into this, he wondered. He looked back to Yohji and nodded.

 

“And there wasn't any… I mean, I wasn't saying anything, not even muttering to the… I mean, to myself? All the while?”

 

“Yes. Look Yohji…”

 

“How long did you say you were watching me?”

 

Aya gave out a short wordless cry of frustration, took Yohji by the collar, and stared the other straight into the eye. “You.were.alone.and.not.moving.your.lips.” he said, carefully enunciating every word so that they'll be the verbal equivalent of pointy daggers. Yohji smiled nervously and carefully pried off Aya's hands from his collar, which, by the way, is attached to a very much liked and expensive piece of branded clothing. “O-kay, Aya man, no need to get… physical.” Aya gruffly let go of Yohji, who stumbled backwards a bit until he got his balance right. Yohji checked his shirt for any claw marks then looked back at Aya.

 

“So… how long did you say you were watching me?”

 

“ARGH! This is pointless!” And Aya stood up and went, more or less. Leaving Yohji alone with his questions and more confused than he was before he started pondering. Maybe, just maybe, Aya was right. He was alone. He wasn't talking to anyone. He was sitting there like a statue. There wasn't any creepy voice floating about the room. Maybe, maybe he's just turning paranoid. Or maybe he was actually schizophrenic. He could be, couldn't he? He tried to remember whether his mom told him of any relative that had a history of schizophrenia, or even of a far-flung cousin twice removed who's a complete nutcase. Maybe it's the room, haha, yeah, maybe that's it. Maybe he snorted one too many magic dust up his nose, yeah, that'd be feasible, right? Right? All those drinks one too many now back with a vengeance. Wasn't there a documentary about alcohol abuse hinting at brain malfunction? Or… And Yohji believed the reasons he came up with, slowly, making himself accept them. That is, until he heard the low deep chuckle.

 

You don't seriously believe that, do you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* French for `insane'.

 

Many thanks to MikaSamu and LoneCayt for reviewing! (Btw, thanks to LoneCayt for pointing out the spelling and grammar mistakes. I mean, you didn't write them all down, but the rating you gave was a cue for me to check and by gods, I've been terribly…uh, spelling and grammatically wrong… well, not that terribly, but heck…)

 

I hope this story won't run away from me, now that it's getting some backbone.