Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Crazy Sunday Mornings ❯ Little Red and the Bad Ass Wolf ( Chapter 17 )

 

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I want you.

 

His heartbeat raced as if it was, well, in a drag race against severe adrenaline junkies and not because his pheromones are in overtime (like Yohji would've said, “It ain't love”). Instead of giddiness and butterflies-in-the-stomach-kind of feeling, he felt dread go all over his body like an ice age all over a race of dinosaurs. Aya, or Ran, in accordance with the voice in his head, felt like he was 7 years old all over again, standing right outside an abandoned shrine in an unlighted crossroads ready to piss his pants over a stupid dare. In short, he was scared shitless. We don't even have to flashback to a 7-year old Ran, just as far as last Saturday night when Aya was tucked in with his katana being stalked by a shadow that, by the way, actually confessed to be the being inside Yohji's head. His throat constricted, and he had to force out the words in a voice he sure hoped as hell wasn't shaky, because his body already was.

 

“What the hell do you want from me?”

 

Herein P.F.K.A.Yohji stood (again) and flowed towards Aya (again) because basically, that's all he can do with Aya still slumped against the same wall for over thirty minutes now. Only now, he bridged the gap totally, as if he said, “Fuck arm's length, I'm going in for the kill”, if he did say it. Here's how they looked: Aya slumped and looking up, one hand holding the left shoulder (so that's the right arm across his chest) while P.F.K.A.Yohji has his left hand to the wall, head cocked to the left, right hand under Aya's chin, and we can forget about the legs. Aya didn't even bat an eyelash when this was done in shorter than a flash, because by now his mind is adapting to the new found fact of Yohji's freaky speed.

 

What do I want from you? What indeed?

 

Distance crossed, Aya felt the full force of a mind trying to get in his head, and it left him close to completely powerless. He definitely limped, what with all his strength focused in his mind trying to defend its territory from foreign invasion. He thought a mantra was in order, so he thought one up on the fly. “Don't be like limp noodle Yohji!” To which P.F.K.A.Yohji laughed in that deep, rich, laughter of his that was earlier noted to have the capacity to shame Aya's voice, which is a big feat to accomplish without sounding like a Christopher Lee wannabe. Which means, if P.F.K.A.Yohji found his mantra amusing, then he could definitely read Aya's mind.

 

“Stop. Get the fuck away from me!”

 

Now why would I do that?

 

“I don't know, I'm not a sick bastard like you, you asshole” was what Aya wanted to say, but by now we all know that Aya always want to say these long sentences but never gets around to saying them, so he settles with, in this case, a noise that he commendably made to sound like a very derisive snort. This only cause P.F.K.A.Yohji to laugh again, and shake Aya's chin like an adult would to a child to make sure Aya knew he was amused.

 

Ah, don't worry, kitten, I can't get into your mind… you guard it all too well… I can, however, feel what you feel in such a close distance.

 

Aya responded quickly by feeling really, really, “Takatori-shine!” angry, as in steaming mad, that P.F.K.A.Yohji let go of his chin and afford a few inches of divide between them as Aya's emotion flooded like a tidal wave through him.

 

Amusing, but not wise.

 

“Shove off.”

 

Right then and there a significant change of emotions came across P.F.K.A.Yohji's face, and for a moment Aya was confused as to whether he actually won something. Perhaps “shove off” are actually the magic words to deter crazy, head-invading, shadow stalkers. P.F.K.A.Yohji scowled, and it was completely terrifying because he took on something other than Yohji, as if an errant shadow fell across his face and Yohji's face acquired some indescribable feature so sinister that Aya can't help but shudder. He pushed off from the wall, and Aya consciously stood his full height. P.F.K.A.Yohji turned, and then tilted his head back towards Aya. A hand went for the lone earring that Aya's hand instinctively shot out and gripped the hand holding the earring.

 

I want you because I do. You are in no position to ask me explanations.

 

“Oh?” Aya snarled. “And what position is that?” and the voice inside his head whispered conspiratorially: `you should've added `fucking' somewhere in that sentence. Makes you more bad ass.' Aya however was too preoccupied to snap back to the voice in his head that he personally abides by the “Less is More” rule of thumb.

 

A position… well, remember what I said before? When you asked as to my being?

 

“…”

 

Toying with the earring (and consequently adding to Aya's prodigious ire), P.F.K.A.Yohji remains undeterred from Aya's silent treatment, to which Aya can only mentally say “Dang…” because it usually works with anyone he tries it on to.

 

Think, kitten. If I were the big bad wolf, the scary `Vampire' (and he said the word in such a way that one gets the mental image of quotation marks and a capitalized letter), who would you be then?

 

Speechless, Aya's hand immediately went to his neck. The voice inside Aya's head insisted on answering it with an astounded whisper of… `Little red riding hood?' Ignoring the specifically stupid conclusion the voice in his head whispered, Aya came to his own dreadful conclusion and repeatedly said in a hollow voice, “You didn't… You didn't say Vampire earlier… Kami… Yohji was…” P.F.K.A.Yohji raised an eyebrow with a look of fake surprise.

 

Oh, didn't I say I was a `Vampire'?

 

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What is it with this fascination with Aya? And who is this Night creature? Hmm… (So here I am, computer all fixed minus internet connection, pleasantly buzzed- thank you San Mig Beer! - all ready to take on the monstrosity that is the Crazy Sunday Mornings fic, which would probably end with a sequel called “Love Your Wednesdays”, with two other fictions under construction in my mind- one's an after the whole business and the other's a Schwarz- with Bridget Jones' Diary playing somewhere and a CD of “Manila Sounds” for a soundtrack of the night….)

 

Terribly sorry for the very, very long delay, and hopefully, as I am writing this, I can finish this fic all in one go. Hopefully. Shout outs are in order: KD Sarge- who probably is the staunchest supporter of this fic and one who isn't afraid to point out my bad grammar, LoveyouHateyou- one of them people whose work of fanfiction I sincerely admire and who takes time to review mine, Vampire Louise- who likes this fic enough to be addicted to it, Darkephoenix- for telling me I write good fiction (insert emoticon with it's head swelling to immense proportions looking all smug- that'd be me), I appreciate that, and for correcting my booboo with Baba Yaga (she's from Russian folk tales)…Weisslover27-for enjoying cliffhangers, Jennifer_K- I hope I finish this one too, Comtess- you'll probably pick up another nod to Terry Pratchett in this one, Zelda-13- terribly sorry if the chibi came out and harassed you, Mikasamu-who I think reads most of my fics (they aren't that many anyway), LoneCayt, Bewsbud, Rosewhite- thank you for digging this fic, and liking it for its strangeness. Rock on, I got 21 reviews!!! Well… admittedly they're not 21 different peoples but still.