Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Freeze My Love ❯ Prologue

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

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DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Weiß or it's characters, unfortunately. I also don't own the song "Freeze My Love," by Glay, on which this story is based. I'm not even pretending to own either of these things, so don't sue me or anything. ^_^ This story does contain shounen ai, so if that offends you, please refrain from reading this story and please don't flame me for it. ^_~ C&C is very welcome, however, whether in review form or email form. I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at saezuru@hotmail.com if you want to say anything other than a review. Thanks for reading!
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Freeze My Love
''''''''''''''


Your warmth leaves from the fingertips
A strangely cold departure
The dream sleep brought enveloped memories,
holding the heart until it breaks . . .


Aya rolled over, his hair sprawled tangled over his pillow, his skin pale in the darkness. The twisted bed sheets were strangely beautiful in the moonlight, for all they wouldn't lie flat. His eyes, open to mere slits, gazed steadily at some point beyond the wall in front of his face. *A cold departure. Ice, drenching rain. Would that I could freeze.* He closed his eyes briefly, and then opened them again in dull surprise as he listened to the radio.


Freeze my love, freezing my love to never awaken
Freeze my love, Love still lingering in my heart, sleep with my memories


He let his lips curve into a faint, ironic smile, his tired muscles protesting. Fitting that a cold piece of metal, blaring out some fleeting pop group's latest hit, would be the only thing to echo his thoughts. *Would that I could freeze . . .*
Aya sat up, letting the twisted knot of sheets fall from his chest. The moonlight glinted off his pale skin, making him seem to almost glow in the dark. His hair fell limply around his face, and he shut his eyes as if to shut out the music. He never listened to this modern crap that played on the radio; he'd only turned it on to try to drown out his thoughts. It hadn't worked, of course, but he liked to think it helped. He listened for a while, finding himself unwilling to reach out and turn off the radio. Although he never listened to that type of music, the song wasn't actually -that- bad. It just cut too close to the bone, and rubbed against his soul like a knife. Like a dull, cracked knife against a wound that was already bleeding from being picked at.


Piercing a rusty knife into my chest, I think of you, now so distant
Oh freeze my love forever...
Our different destinies the same moon shines upon
Oh freeze my love forever...


With a jerk, Aya reached out and slammed the 'off' button on the radio, his eyes wide in the darkness. The bad lighting and his sleepy body combined made him over-exaggerate the movement, and he knocked the radio off of his night stand. Stifling a curse that suited Youji far better than him, he dived for the electric cord and pull the radio up before it crashed to the ground and woke everyone else up, but succeeded only in unplugging the radio and crashing his head into the night stand, sending the flimsy wooden piece of furniture teetering. He barely had time to watch in dismay as it fell over, with a thud that echoed like thunder in his ears. Aya sucked in a breath of air, holding it and trying to listen over his pounding heart for the sounds of other people stirring.
He waited there, not moving an inch, until he was sure that somehow, no one had been awakened by his mishap. He relaxed minutely . . . and felt the electric cord slipping through his fingers. "Shit!" he said in a strangled voice, as the radio, too, fell from his grasp and hit the floor. A piece of metal bounced away from the wreckage, and sat spinning gently like a coin, until it grew closer and closer to the ground and then stopped.
There was a thud outside -- it sounded almost as if the door across from his had burst open, and the person in the room had stumbled out and landed heavily against Aya's door. For a moment, Aya's sleepy mind grappled with the task of remembering whose room it was . . . His eyes widened imperceptibly. *No . . . not him, not now . . .*
The door opened, and someone stood silhouetted by darkness in the doorway. Aya's body was blocking the window, and the moonlight reached the far wall surrounding the doorway around an Aya-shaped shadow.
"Aya?"
His body lost control for a moment, and he felt himself sliding . . . already in a precarious position from trying to stop the radio from falling, the failure of his muscles just let him slide the rest of the way to the floor with a loud, resounding thud. Tangled in the sheets, Aya blinked dazedly up at the ceiling for a few moments until a face peered down at him, worriedly.
"Aya?" Ken asked again, his large eyes wide with concern.
Aya blinked again and sat up abruptly, inevitably knocking his head against Ken's. "Wh . . . what are you doing in here?" he muttered darkly, ignoring the quick jolt of pain that ran through his skull. Pain was real, pain was something he could hold and measure and know. Not like . . .
Ken rocked back on his heels, one eyebrow raised. "Er . . . Aya?"
Aya clenched his jaw angrily. Why wouldn't Ken -leave-? "Yes, I know. I'm Aya. Very astute of you." He knew he was being horribly bitter, but he couldn't restrain the tension building up inside of him, and let it trickle out in annoyance at the poor boy. "I'll say this again: what are you doing here?"
Ken's face hardened slightly. "Sorry. I heard a thud, and came to make sure you weren't being attacked or something. Pardon my intrusion upon your midnight escapade." The boy cast a cursory glance over the night table, which now had a nice crack in it, the wreckage of the radio, and then back again to the graceful pile of long limbs and pale skin that was Aya.
Aya didn't even twitch. "I'm obviously not being attacked. Why are you still here?"
Ken's fists clenched at his side. "Because," he said.
"Because. What an excellent reason."
"Because--!"
"Yes?"
"Damn you," hissed the boy and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Aya listened until Omi had asked Ken what was wrong, earning a snappish and angry reply, and Youji had mumbled something about needing his beauty sleep. Then he allowed himself to collapse back on the floor, his limbs shaking slightly. *Freeze my love . . .*




Ken leaned heavily against the inside of the door, his fists still clenched and his eyes burning. He forced his fists to relax, and found that his hands were shaking. -Why- was Aya always so cold? He had just been trying to make sure everything was alright. The stupid redhead had made his heart jump into his throat, when he'd sat up in bed thinking he'd heard a loud thud from Aya's room. And just when he'd thought he'd dreamt it, another crash came. What was Aya doing, anyway? Ken's hand twitched, near the doorknob. It'd be so easy to turn it, and go back and listen at the door . . .
He pushed himself away from the door and took the few steps to his bed, falling down on his back and letting the mattress springs take the brunt of the impact. He couldn't spy on Aya . . . what was he -thinking-? Not that there was much he'd learn from listening at the door. He'd have to find out how much he could see by looking under the door, or maybe through the keyhole . . .
Ken shut his eyes tightly, putting a hand to his head. Why had he even gone to check on Aya in the first place? He knew by now that trying to get close to the most distant member of the group was impossible. It was just that every time Ken felt those cool, violet eyes on him, he could barely stifle the urge to go to him and make those eyes soften, make his lips smile. He couldn't remember when it had started -- at first, he'd thought it was just because Aya was his friend, despite the fact that the relationship between all four of the assassins was shaky at best, and that he wanted to cheer him up. He'd -thought- that as time passed, it would go away. But it hadn't, and had only gotten stronger, to the point where he could almost physically feel himself pulled towards the aloof redhead, pulled by something deep in his psyche. Sometimes it was so hard to hold back that he would start to shake, and would have to go somewhere where no one could see him and just try to breathe for a few minutes. It was during one of those brief respites that Ken realized something -- his eyes were burning, and not with anger. As a tear escaped and fell onto his hand, Ken suddenly understood. He, for some horrible, unexplainable, impossible reason, was in love with Fujimiya Aya.
Ken let out a faint groan from where he lay on his bed, letting the sounds of the city, alive even past midnight, wash over him. He was in love with Aya, his partner, his business associate, his fellow murderer. He was in love with a murderer, and his own hands were so stained with blood that he couldn't possibly have anything to offer. He was in love with a ice sculpture, perfect and cold, and untouchable. Ken reached one hand up towards the ceiling, his fingers curving slightly. Untouchable . . . With the heat of a single touch, ice melted, no matter how hard you tried to keep it. . .




Youji raised an eyebrow. "Oi, what was going on last night?"
Ken raised his head, blearily. "Wha?" he asked, his exhaustion apparent in his voice.
Omi sighed. "There was that crash. And now you an Aya-kun are both so tired . . . look, you can see the bags under your eyes."
Youji grinned slyly. "Unless you were doing something together to make that crash . . . which -would-explain the apparent lack of sleep, too."
Ken's face immediately turned bright red. As he spluttered and stammered, Aya said coolly, "There was an accident. That was all."
Youji rolled his eyes. "Jeez, you're no fun at all."
Ken muttered something incoherent, and dug into his cereal with a passion. Omi grinned and said, "Youji, you're always so mean to Ken."
Youji shrugged, with a smile of his own. "It's 'cos he's so -easy-, though."
Ken glared at Youji. "I am -not- easy. I'm just . . ."
Youji raised an eyebrow, holding back a smirk. "Clumsy? Thin-skinned? Thick-skulled? Brash? Over- emotional?"
Ken stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over with the movement. "I am not over-emotional!"
Youji blinked in the ensuing silence, and Ken realized his outburst. Without saying anything, he left the table and went out into the shop, and through the door. He slammed it behind him, hard, making the little bell on the door tinkle cheerily in the silence.
Youji let out a long breath. "Oi . . ."
Omi gazed towards the door, his eyes worried. "Ken . . ."




"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Ken kicked at the guard-rail on the edge of the street in disgust. They were all going to think he'd cracked, or something.
*But who says I haven't?*
He let out a short laugh, the noise echoing in the frosty winter air. *I'm in love with a -guy-, for God's sake. I'm not gay, am I? I never have been . . .* But Aya was different. He was so aloof from everyone that he seemed neither male nor female, but something else completely. And that was part of why Ken loved him.
"You should know better than to go out this late in the year without a coat," said a voice near his elbow.
Ken stiffened. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly, in an unknowing imitation of the previous night.
Aya let out a short, ironic laugh. "I thought that was my line." He paused, and Ken didn't turn around. He didn't trust himself to see Aya's face and not break down again. "Er . . . Ken?" he murmured, and Ken felt something soft land beside him, and listened to Aya's footsteps fade away as he disappeared back into the flower shop.
Ken looked down. On the guard rail, next to him, was his jacket. He swallowed.




Aya hesitated, his hand above the radio. It had seemed like important pieces had broken off as a result its accident the previous night -- would it still work? He didn't want to listen to that music anymore. And yet . . . *You do want to listen to it. You're just upset because it actually made you feel something, for once.*
He ignored the tiny voice, and swallowed. The song had hurt him, last night. It had made him realize just how hopeless and insignificant his feelings were. Ken was more and more endearing every day, and it was getting harder and harder to keep him at a distance.
*But why keep at a distance?* whispered his mind. *You don't want him far away. You want him close, as close as two people can--*
"No, dammit," whispered Aya into the silence of his room. *I don't want that! Ken is a guy; I could kill, anyone, no one, just for a chance to touch him. But if so much as look at him wrong, he'll be scared and sickened, and I'll lose even the friendship that we might once have had.*
*Might have had, if I wasn't such an asshole to him every single day. Every goddamn day, I snap in his face and push him away as if I hated the sight of him. And he's giving up, too. He doesn't even try for my friendship, not like he used to . . .*
Perversely, he wanted that pain again. The pain was real, almost as real as physical pain. And pain was something he could hold onto, something he could remember. Like rubbing off a scab. It hurt, but then you saw it bleed and somehow, it felt -good . . .-
He pressed the button on the radio, shutting his eyes to prepare for the music.
Nothing came, and the silence washed over him like an almost intangible wave. Without thinking, Aya flicked his fingers and watched almost in slow motion as the radio crashed to the ground. He held his breath. *What am I doing?* He wondered faintly, almost dizzily. *Do I -want- him to come?*
A faint voice came from the doorway. "It . . . helps if you plug it in."
Aya spun around -- he hadn't heard Ken open the door, he'd been so focused on his own thoughts. "Y- You . . . what are you doing here?"
Ken smiled almost bitterly. "I heard a crash."
"You were here before that."
"Yeah. So?"
Aya swallowed. Why was he feeling like this? His cold, calm exterior was crashing down around his ears. Something about the brown eyes, his hesitant stance, his hand on the doorknob -- was that a shiver? -- was making him feel like he was fifteen again, like he was a little schoolboy. He dropped his hand from where the radio had been and turned towards the doorway.
"Look," Ken said, his eyes shifting towards the window. Somewhere, anywhere, but not at Aya. "Look, I don't know what it is I've done, what I did last night or what I did ever to make you hate me like this. I'll leave you alone now, but--" Ken swallowed, and took a deep breath. "You can't keep your friends from caring, even if you try."
Aya took a step forward. "I wouldn't want to," he said, for once without thinking and calculating what he was saying.
Ken blinked, startled into looking back at Aya. "But . . ." he said, his eyes caught by Aya's violet ones.
"But what?" asked Aya, and something in his voice made Ken's cheeks turn pink.
"But . . . you're always so . . . distant. Cold. Icy."
Aya lifted a hand and spread his long, pale fingers. "Does this look like ice?"
Ken shifted nervously. Somehow, he felt like a schoolboy again, like he was getting a lecture from an upperclassman. "No . . ."
Aya reached out and touched Ken's hand on the doorknob. "Does it -feel- like ice?"
Ken had to resist the urge to shiver at Aya's touch. "No . . ."
"Then why do you assume I'm not human like you? That I can't have emotions?"
Ken felt something build inside him, and managed to snap, "Because you've been a goddamned ice statue the entire time I've known you! The only time I ever got any sort of reaction out of you was when I first met you, and punched you in the face." He swallowed, trying to push back the stinging in his eyes. "The only time, Aya! Ever! Damn, maybe I should just do it again," he snarled, and brought his fist back.
As the younger boy struck, Aya dodged and reached up to catch Ken's wrist as it shot past his ear. "Freeze, my love," he murmured.
Ken froze, balancing precariously on one foot, his wrist outstretched and caught by Aya's ear. "Wh-what?"
Aya glanced to the side, where Ken's confused face was near his. "It's a song," he said by explanation.
Ken started to breathe again. "O-Oh . . ."
"It's why I broke the radio last night."
Ken, his muscles untensing enough to relax his position, managed to lose his perilous balance, and would have fallen to the floor had Aya not been standing there. Ken's heart caught in his throat as he fell against Aya, and he prepared himself to jump away from him. The older man would probably be disgusted. And yet -- Aya hadn't moved, not even to let go of his wrist. Ken looked up, and saw Aya looking down at him, his violet eyes beautiful in the darkness.
For the briefest of moments, Aya's eyes showed the barest trace of the same fear and anxiety that Ken felt. His eyes, so cold and uncaring by day, were softer in the darkness, and easier to see past. Ken opened his mouth to say something, but there weren't any words for what he was trying to say.
Aya managed to smile, if a little crookedly. "'The dream sleep brought enveloped memories, holding the heart until it breaks.'"
Ken was glad for the support he had in leaning against Aya, else he wouldn't have been able to stand. If it was just a dream . . . he wouldn't mind it melting in the morning if he could have this one chance to embrace the icy warmth he leant against. "Freeze, my love," he whispered brokenly, and tilted his face towards Aya's.