Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Go Away ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I don't own em. That's all that needs to be said.

Warning: Death/Suicide fic. AU. Takes place sometime after Ep. 5. Lots of Spoilers.

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Go Away

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God. My head. I can't take this. I need a drink.

There are too many voices. They're so loud and they Won't. Shut. Up! I know what it is. I know exactly what it is. Schuldich told me once. I guess my unshielded thoughts, and the thoughts of others, were distracting him. I'd worry, but Schwarz wouldn't come after me. They already have a telepath. A trained one.

Fuck! Why won't they go away? How does that German bastard do it? My head is pounding. All this useless drivel flowing in and out of my consciousness. It's hard for me to tell where my thoughts end and everyone else's being.

Just make it go away. I miss the silence.

Tell Kritiker? Not likely! I've seen that unit. It's only in it's fledgling stages, the five members are still being trained. And fuck. I wouldn't go through that shit for anything. I watched them. They all got distracted. Thankfully they picked my plea for them not to say anything out of the sea of thoughts in my head. I felt more than a few washes of sympathy. But then someone's grandmother might have just died. I don't know

I don't know anything. It's annoying.

I have to do something. I'm becoming a liability. Omi took three bullets on the last mission. Two in the shoulder and one in the back of his thigh. All because the panicked voices of the guards overwhelmed me and I couldn't think. Sometimes I wish I could just pass out.

Hence the drink. I need another one. I'm only slightly buzzed, which only makes what precious few walls I've somehow managed to erect come crashing down. I don't know how they're up in the first place. But it's not enough. It only keeps the quieter ones out.

What number am I on? I don't remember. I don't think I've even been counting. I can hear that damn German again. He always comes in loud and clear over everyone else, when he wants to. He thinks I'm pathetic. A sad excuse for a telepath. Fuck him. He had years of training. I've only recently started dealing with this. Only within the past year.

God. Why won't they shut up? Why does everyone think about such useless drivel? I'm going to go insane.

Aya.. Ran... won't stop thinking about Takatori. Either the many, bloody ways he plans to murder him, or replaying the night his sister go hit and slipped into a coma.

Ken is always sports. I don't care who won or lost. I don't care about soccer. I don't want to know, I don't care. Sometimes he thinks about his days in J-League, which inevitably leads to Kase and his death. But most of the time is Yuriko.

And Omi. Poor fucked up Omi. If anyone else on this team is as fucked up as me, it's him. He doesn't hear them, but I hear his memories loud and clear. I just home Aya.. Ran.. never finds out what I know. Jesus. That would fuck all of us over.

Then there's the rest of the fucking world! All worrying about work or their dates or other trivial bullshit. I guess I just hear Aya, Ken and Omi better because I'm around them so much. Maybe if I lived in a secluded cave in the Himalayas they would all go away, somewhere isolated.

Schuldich is laughing again. I guess he tried that one. God why can't he pick on someone else.

Of course. I'm more fun to torment. I think he's trying to get me to kill myself. It doesn't seem like a half-bad idea. But how? How could I kill myself without making the voices louder? I'd like my death to be reasonably quiet and painless.

I suppose I should wait until I'm sober, then. I'm not drunk enough and all I have left is a couple of bitch-beers. Or I could just find something that will knock me out fairly quickly. I want a few moments of peace before I die.

{I can give you that, Yohji.}

I perk up at the nearly screamed offer from the German. He has to scream over the screaming in my head. It's gone beyond painful. I get up and stroll over to my mirror, taking a close, hard look at myself. I look like I haven't slept in days, which is nearly true. I try to sleep, but I can't. I have to make myself pass out from sheer physical exhaustion. It takes a couple of days. I've started working out a lot more to help it along. So I've built up some good mass. But it looks wrong. Everything looks wrong and out of place.

I'm wrong and out of place. Where in the world can an unwanted, untrained, nearly insane telepath go?

To another telepath, of course. He's already made it clear that he won't help me, except to give me a minutes peace before I die. I can't believe how easily I've already accepted my death. But I can't go without saying anything to them. I don't have to tell them where I'm going or what I plan on doing. It doesn't matter that it's nearly three in the morning. I don't want to just leave a note. I have to say it.

Slowly I slip into the hallway and over to Omi's room.

"Omittchi?" I whisper, knocking softly on the door. There's some shuffling and the door opens a crack.

"Yohji-kun?" A pair of sleep glazed eyes peer up at me. "Nani?"

"I'm heading out for a bit, bishounen." I smiled, ruffling his already mussed hair.

"So?" He blinks.

I should have expected him to be confused. I don't usually them when I'm coming or going.

"I just thought I would let you know." I smiled again, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead. "And remember, you can't choose your parents and you can't change the past."

The boy gives me a strange look. I just wink.

"Are you drunk, Yohji-kun?"

I just shrug. He nods slightly, happy to have a reason for my odd behavior. "Good-night, Yohji-kun." He sighs and closes the door.

Next stop, Ken. I knock again, waiting for the door to open. Sure enough, sleepy sea-blue eyes blink at me. "What, Yohji? It's 3am."

"Just wanted to tell you I'm heading out." I yawn. "And Ken. Don't listen to me. Go find her. What right do I have to tell you what you do and don't deserve? You need her."

"Are you drunk, Yohji?"

I sigh and nod. Ken nods and glares slightly, more or less slamming the door in my face. He's still mad at me. Or mad because I brought it up. I don't know. I can't think past all of the voices.

I turn around to knock on Aya's door, but it's already opened. Aya is glaring at me, annoyance just oozing from every fiber of his being.

"You're drunk Yohji." He growls.

"So?"

"What are you doing?"

"Going out. And don't be mad at Omi, Ran. It's not his fault." I place a hand on the side of his face, removing it just before his hand came up to grab it. A soft growl is all I hear before his door slams.

They might be annoyed, mad, and confused right now. But they'll understand eventually. Slowly I make my way downstairs and climb into Seven. I shouldn't drive, but why does it matter? I can hear Schuldich over the commotion of the other voices. He tells me where to drive, and I follow, struggling to hear him over the din.

Finally I see a mass of flame red hair. I park my car and get out. He's over to me before I can even finish closing the door. The man is standing so close I can smell his faint aftershave.

Everything goes quiet. I gasp slightly and look around, suddenly feeling cut off and alone.

And I love it.

Soft lips brush against mine, contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the gun against my temple.

{Thank you.} I whisper into the German's mind, a tear slipping down my cheek.

A wash of pity and sympathy overtakes me as he nods and pulls the trigger.

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A/N: … I really have nothing to say. Humor doesn't seem right. *shrugs* I'm in a morbid mood. I don't know where this came from.