Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Last Child ❯ So Here I am... ( Chapter 1 )

last child

Rating: NC-17

Genre: angst

Warnings: spoilers for episode three, and maybe episode two // minor language // bondage // lots of angst // explicit rape and yaoi // OOC

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and all of its characters are property of Kyoko Tsuchiya, Koyasu Takehito, and Project Weiß.

Notes of some importance: this is based on the events of episode three, told from Aya's P.o.V. You may want to find an episode summary, as some parts may be confusing. I have changed it around somewhat, to satisfy my crazy urges for a nice, angst-filled story. I was listening to a song called "Last Child"… but I'm not sure who sings it (it's j-rock, not the song by Aerosmith!)

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It was early in the morning when the phone started ringing. I'd been up for an hour already, reading over the orders that we had to deliver for the day. I could have answered the phone… I was in the shop, and the kitchen phone just past the door. But I heard someone coming down the stairs, stumbling into the kitchen. It was Omi, wearing his annoyingly cute nightcap with the little puffball at the end of it. He answered sleepily. After a moment of silence, he started yelling into the phone desperately. Curious, I moved closer to the door. Omi is getting directions of an address… is it Youji?

He hung up, screaming for Ken to get out of bed, than, after a few seconds of hesitation, calls for me. He runs back upstairs, and I can hear both him and Ken thumping around in their rooms, then their feet pounding down the stairs. They came into the shop, having correctly guessed where I was. I looked up from the stack of papers I was holding, not speaking to them. Omi gave me an imploring gaze, but shrugged.

"We're going to get Youji."

And then they left me, without a second glance.

So here I am…. alone, in the house. That was over an hour ago. Here I am…

Waiting.

I won't say it to the others, but I feel… left out. I would have gone with them to get Youji, if they had asked me. I was worried about him, truth be told; he's been gone almost fifteen hours, now. I nearly followed them out the door, to ask if they needed me there. But I didn't. It's not my place, because I'm the newest member of Weiß. As such, I'm not a part of their unusual family: Ken, the clumsy yet caring teenager; Omi is the motherly-type, fussing over anything and everything, and always smoothes out any wrinkles in the delicate fabric of our lives; and Youji, the instigating womanizer… I suppose you could call him a slut. But what does that make me?

The cold, heartless leader? The outcast, the oddity, the bad gene in the family? Take your pick. I could be any of these, and more.

I am the last child.

Not that I blame them. Omi suspects me to have a hidden agenda… my own reason for being a part of this group. He has ever since I tried to kill Taketori at the human chess match. He's right, of course. Then there's Ken. Being somewhat slow, he believes that I have a personality problem of some kind, and tries to include me in everything he does. Except today, that is.

So here I am, sitting in silence. Alone. Something I do often, though it's never for very long, as I'm interrupted frequently. But this time, I find the silence unbearable. I jump when Ken and Omi crash in through the front door, shouting for me. Finally, someone needs me, wants me.

Yet…

I am still the last child.

~//~//~//~//~

I watch as Omi cleans the wound in Youji's side, then wraps a bandage around it. I hadn't expected him to bleed so much from such an insignificant injury as a bullet hole. The crimson fluid soaks the pristine white of the cloth almost immediately as Omi puts it on. After an hour of tense silence, Omi finally stops the flow of blood, having placed seven stitches into Youji's stomach. Then, Omi stands and hands me a clean roll of bandages then leaves, carrying the disk in his cleaner hand.

"Keep an eye on him, Aya-kun. If he starts to bleed again, give me a shout, okay?"

He smiles and then goes downstairs to his beloved computer to upload the information that Youji obtained for us.

Feeling unwanted and uncomfortable, I sit down on the corner of his bed, dropping the bandages beside me. I feel nervous for some reason, like I should not be near him at this time. Youji tosses his head in his sleep, crying out incoherently. I catch a name… Asuka… then I see a single tear crawl down the side of his face.

Normally, I'm not the type of person who gets emotionally involved with other people. I've never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend for that matter. I've had many lovers - sometimes women, but mostly men - but they meant nothing to me. It was all meaningless sex, with no emotion or commitment. That is what sex is to me; a pleasurable way of releasing your anger and frustration. Nothing more. Anything else, such as kissing, or hugging… it's all useless contact. Anything more is dangerous.

But for some reason, that single tear gracing Youji's skin reaches me.

I stand up and move to the head of the bed to crouch down beside his face. I raise my arm and brush my fingers over his hair, than down, to softly wipe away his tear. I find myself wishing that he would open his eyes and look at me… those striking forest green eyes, so warm and compassionate, unlike my cold, amethyst-colored ones. That's what I always notice about Youji… his beautiful eyes that match his equally beautiful face. There's always a hint of sadness in his eyes, even when he's laughing. I wonder what those eyes look like when glazed over in pleasure, watching a young, luscious body moving atop of him.

I realize, now, that I wish I could see them for myself… looking at me the way he looks at the countless women he brings to bed. I sigh and stand once again, and leave his room. There is a mission to be completed. But we will be one less tonight. I refuse to wake Youji. Let him dream.

And so, for once, I am not the last child.

~//~//~//~//~

We stand outside of the building, gazing at the bright, seemingly inviting lights from inside. Footsteps approach us from behind, but from the uneven gait, I already know who it is without turning around. Omi and Ken turn, ready to strike. Instead, when they see Youji, they chide him like a small boy who stole a couple of yen from his father's pocket. When I turn to look at him, he lifts his bright eyes to meet mine. We stand, motionless, until he lifts his hand and runs a finger over the very place I had touched him only a few hours earlier. Then he moves by me, and we follow him inside.

The mission is easy. I killed one of the two remaining targets, since Youji eliminated one of them early this afternoon. The other ran from his bedroom, but Youji caught him and strangled him, all the while fighting very obvious tears. I watched as he lay the young girl's battered body on a table. I left after that, followed closely by Ken and Omi.

So here I am, waiting once more for Youji to appear. When he does, his face is streaked with dried tears. The rest of us don't say anything. We simply turn and walk away from that place.

~//~//~//~//~

When we get home, everyone goes their separate ways. It's a routine; we each need to be away from the others, so they don't see how the mission upsets us. Usually, Ken and Omi will change into their pajamas and watch movies together all night, until they fall asleep on the couch. Youji showers, then disappears for the night. I hide away in my room, alone, just writing or reading. But tonight is different, somehow. Ken changes into boxers and his old J-League jersey and watches a soccer game on the television. Omi slips downstairs, to the computer. Youji goes upstairs, and I follow him, expecting to see him emerge from his room, dressed to seduce.

I stand at the top of the stairs for ten minutes, half-listening to the sounds of Ken hollering at the television, and the strains of Omi's detestable techno music. But his door remains closed. Sighing, I make my way to the shower, stripping off my blood-soaked jacket and shirt. I pause in the doorway of my room, dropping my clothes, along with my boots on the floor. I lay my katana on the table beside my bed like I always do, then go to the shower.

I turn the water on, leaving it cold while I remove what's left of my clothes, dropping my pants carelessly on the floor. I step under the freezing water, the coldness piercing me like a million blades of ice. I stand still for awhile, letting the cold water wash away some of the dirt and blood that always seems to be present on my body.

When my body has had enough icy torture, I reach out and turn the tap, making the water hotter. The shock of the temperature change nearly makes me move out of range of the spray. My flesh reddens at the abuse, every nerve protesting in mind-numbing pain. I'm not sure how long I stand under the water, watching the red-tinged water flow over the smooth porcelain. I could have been here forever, and no one would notice.

When I finish, the house is quiet. I leave the steam-filled bathroom, holding a dark towel loosely around my waist for modesty's sake. I return to the embracing darkness of my room, and drop the towel beside the door, adding it to the pile of bloody clothes already there. I put on a pair of loose, black pants that I usually wear to bed. Just as I'm running a brush through my wet hair, my doors swings open silently, then closes. I reach for my katana, but when the intruder moves away from the door, I withdraw my hand and continue brushing my hair.

"Aya…"

Youji's voice is close behind me, close enough that I can smell the nicotine on his clothes… close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his whispered words. I step away from him and turn to look up into his beautiful eyes. I can't see much in the darkened room… I need to see him. I walk backwards a few feet, never once taking my eyes away from his shadowed form. I reach behind me blindly, fumbling for the curtains. I pull the heavy cloth back, allowing the silvery moonlight to flood in.

Much to my disappointment, Youji is wearing those accursed sunglasses. He moves closer to me, trapping me between the window and his body. The smell of alcohol is stronger now, much stronger, permeating my senses. Although Youji can hold his alcohol, and is very rarely drunk… he certainly is drunk now.

I stand still as stone as Youji reaches out to touch my still dripping hair, lowering his fingers to trace the tiny rivulets of water running over my chest and stomach. Fear stirs in me, an emotion that I had forgotten even existed… I haven't felt fear since my younger sister was run down by Taketori. I try to get away from him, but he presses closer until I can feel the heat radiating off of his skin.

"Aya…"

"Youji…"

My words fall on deaf ears as he takes my hand in his and gently tugs me over to my bed. He pushes me down on my back and nudges his knee between my thighs, softly rubbing against me. I bite my lip at the pleasure the action produces. Youji sighs, lightly caressing my stomach, tracing a few scars. He watches intently as his questing fingers disturb the small droplets of water still clinging to my flesh. Slowly, he lowers his face, his golden hair dusting my stomach. He places a kiss just above my navel, catching a stray drop of water between his lips. Youji continues to worship my skin, kissing it and touching it almost lovingly. He trails his fingers down my sides, pausing at my waist to stroke my slightly jutting hipbones.

Too close…

"Youji… stop…"

His fingers grip my waist painfully, his fingernails digging sharply into my yielding flesh. His breathing quickens, becoming harsh. He glares at me over the top of his sunglasses, and shifts his weight so that he straddles my waist. He presses down on me, so I can feel his growing erection. I try to sit up, but a warm hand touches my chest, pushing me back down onto the bed. I'm frightened now, horribly so…

"Youji… you're hurting me… stop…"

"Aya… never…"

He shifts again, and shoves me onto my stomach. He grabs my wrists, squeezing them, tying them behind me with what must be his shirt. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls it up, forcing my legs apart at the same time. It's extremely painful, and I can feel tears starting to form in my eyes. I hide my face from him, smothering myself in the pillow below me. Youji traces the curve of my backside, gentle again. But it doesn't make me feel needed… just wanted.

This isn't happening…

"Youji… stop… why are you…"

"Aya… I won't stop…"

I feel him touching my hips before dipping into the waist of pants, slowly pulling them off to puddle around my bent knees. How submissive I must look… Youji moves up behind me, rocking his waist against my exposed flesh. I can't help it…

I cry, once again burying my face in the soft pillow to hide my shame and tears.

"…don't do this…"

Taking no notice of my pleading words, Youji takes hold of my restrained hands and yanks me into a kneeling position, leaving me to stare at the dark wall. He brings one of his hands up to my face, covering my mouth. Youji holds me close, rubbing his lips over my ear before whispering huskily into it.

"Aya…"

In one brutal, fluid motion, Youji thrusts inside of me.

I scream into his hand. The pain is so excruciating that I almost lose consciousness. Tears fall freely now, my muffled sobs mingling almost sweetly with his husky pants of pleasure. I feel blood dripping down the inside of my leg, more seeping out with each violent thrust of Youji's hips. Finally, after an eternity of searing pain, Youji releases inside of me, moaning my name so passionately that I sob his in return.

"Youji…"

He freezes, pulling away from me. I feel the blood pouring down my thigh more swiftly now, mixed with semen. The bed creaks as Youji moves further away from me. I collapse to my side, trembling with pain; my arms still secured tightly behind my back. With effort, I gaze over at Youji. His sunglasses have fallen from his face, revealing those forest green eyes, now clouded with fear. He looks so scared… horrified, as if he's just realized what he's done.

"Aya…?"

He moves closer to me and releases my arms. I immediately curl into the fetal position, ignoring the screaming muscles in my arms and legs, oblivious to the fact that I'm naked, and so is he.

"Oh, gods… Aya… what have I done? Are you…"

"Please leave…"

I'm surprised to hear my voice so weak and tearful. I think Youji is, too, as he hesitates.

"Aya, I am so sorry… I never…"

"Get out, Youji!"

Seconds later, my door closes. I listen as Youji goes down the hall, than the shower starts.

I cry, more than I have ever cried in my life. This is what I get for wishing to be needed, to be wanted. I cry long after Youji had returned to his room. I cry until the moon disappears into a blood-red horizon.

I feel so dirty… so used… so violated… so unwanted.

So here I am.

I am the last child.

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Part two is in progress….

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