Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Life Is A Highway (Where's The Nearest Exit?) ❯ Red Means Stop ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters herein portrayed in a poorly written fan fiction, nor do I have the rights to the creative universe they belong to. I make no profit out of this whatsoever.

 

“I can't help but wonder what you intend to do now that, as you say, I'm”, and here he did the thing with the fingers that signified quotation marks, “yours”.

 

Aya was leaning on the doorframes that led to Yohji's room, where the owner was quietly smoking another cigarette while sitting on the floor, or what was to be seen of the floor. The two men stared at each other in silence, both trying to scrutinize the other man's face whilst maintaining a look of placidity on his own. Now and then, Yohji took a drag from his cigarette, the only movement within the four corners of his room, as if even the insidious breeze thought better than breaking the false calm*. The two were, as they both knew, in a deadlock of their own making, and that the next move was the blonde's to make. Yohji, though, would not be bullied into making a move.

 

For the truth was, Yohji himself didn't really know why he made that remark of “owning”- and here Yohji mentally did the thing with the fingers that signified quotation marks- Aya. Okay, he kinda knew why, at that moment when he sighted the cigarette burn mark and claimed it as a victory of some sort. But right now, after the adrenaline rush left him abandoned at the glittering avenue of cold reason and common sense, the stupid little idea that dared suggest itself to Yohji was shown for what it was- a stupid little idea that dared suggest itself to Yohji in a state of an adrenaline rush, when people are known to act like stupid braggadocios. It's annoying, having to explain himself to Aya.

 

But Aya didn't look like he's about to leave any time soon.

 

He felt like knocking down the redhead, speed down the stairs and jumping into his car, driving off, getting away from this. The highway was positively created for moments like this to run away from. But he probably wouldn't even succeed in knocking down the said redhead even if his life depended on it, not now when Aya's hell bent for something. Yohji took a drag of his cigarette to mask the frown forming on his face as he stared on. Aya seemed to be genuinely enjoying this, judging from the slight tilt to his lips**. The bastard, Yohji snarled in his mind. He could bluff his way out of it, but they'd both know he's bluffing, and he'd know that Aya knows that he knows that Aya knew that he's bluffing, and that just didn't sit well with Yohji, not at all. Ask him why right now and he'd probably not be able tell you why, just like he can't tell Aya what the redhead is asking of him. Probably something to do with his ego, but that's just a wild guess.

 

Aya stepped into Yohji's room, leaned back on a convenient wall while crossing his arms in front of him. After a moment he cocked his head to one side, never breaking off the staring match he was having with Yohji.

 

“Let me guess…” Aya began, in a totally-unbecoming-of-him move to start the ball rolling, “… you don't even know what the hell you meant by that piece of shit.” The amateur smirk that was just beginning to settle on his face was replaced with a more professional look of disgust- with his lip just ever so slightly curled- that had more experience of being on Aya's face than any expression bordering on a smile has.

 

“Oh, wow, you said pee-oh-es”, Yohji shot back, “I'm positively quaking in my striped rainbow socks.”

 

“And I suppose that was more mature.” Aya replied, the sarcasm only given away from the tone of his voice.

 

Yohji pondered for a split second whether he should stick out his tongue or not, but decided it was too cliché for the moment at hand, and settled for just flipping Aya the bird instead. “You're such a dick, you know that?” he said with a smile on his face, lest Aya didn't get the message his middle finger sent with adequacy. Aya's frown turned into a scowl that looked like it'll be a long time before it left, but he didn't move from his spot near the wall.

 

“And you are being more of an asshole as usual.”

 

Yohji rolled his eyes and flourished the hand holding the cigarette. “Huh- asshole, dick… whatever could they mean? Oh great chubby cheeks of Buddha save us from Freudian slips!”

 

Aya, as far as being katana-wielding assassin who is disenfranchised with the rest of reality that didn't involve a comatose girl, funny looking politicians, three other assassins, a cat and surprisingly, flowers, didn't really have much patience as he seemed to have. He has an iron will, oh yes, tough as nails, but iron melts, and nails bend. He only seems patient because he doesn't say and complain much, not if he can slice and dice the person annoying him instead. It shouldn't take too much of a stretch for Yohji to actually goad Aya into becoming genuinely angry, then. Crossing the distance between them the redhead hauled Yohji to his feet by grabbing at the blonde's shirt.

 

“What the FUCK is wrong with you Kudou?” The fire in those violet eyes was unmistakable, another cheeky retort from Yohji and they'd be finishing the fight earlier out in the alley. Yohji took a last drag from his cigarette as he stared down the redhead, blew the smoke into Aya's face, who to his credit didn't even so much as blink, and flicked the cigarette butt off somewhere he didn't care to look at to see if it'd start a fire.

 

“Get the fuck out of my face Fujimiya. While you're at it, get the fuck off my back.”

 

With a snarl Aya gave Yohji a violent push that sent the blonde man reeling backwards unbalanced for a moment. Gaining back his balance Yohji moved to his right quickly, avoiding his bed to the left so he wouldn't be cornered, and put up his fists. He took the time to flash the seething redhead an ingratiating smile.

 

“That's right, Aya~n, you just can't get enough of me don't you?”

 

Himself settling into a fighting stance, his own fists raised, Aya answered Yohji by feinting a jab, which the blonde fell for, and hitting the blonde with a solid straight. As Yohji tried to ignore the blossoming pain from his jaw he heard Aya say in a low growl.

 

“I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you Kudou, but I'm going to beat it out of you.”

 

Inflamed, Yohji squared his shoulders and moved in, surprising Aya enough that he got a few punches in. The punches flew, fast and hard, no one budging from the spot until Yohji swept Aya off his feet with his left foot, but before Aya hit the floor Yohji caught him by the shoulders and flung him to the nearest wall. Before the younger man even regained ground Yohji was already standing before him, face a look of pure hatred as his nostrils flared as he panted. The older man punched the wall on either side of Aya's face with both his fists, but to Aya's credit he glared on, unfazed.

 

“You self-righteous little prick, you're not gonna leave me alone, aren't you?”

 

Aya's retort was fast. “I didn't even know I was bothering you so much Kudou.”

 

“You really wanna know what the fuck is wrong with me?”

 

“Oh no, Kudou, I'm just here to borrow a book. What do you think, genius?”

 

Yohji, totally out of his usual repertoire, snarled. Faces almost a hair's breadth away from each other, rage goading each other from within, it just had to happen.

 

It happened suddenly, like lightning striking from out of the blue. Their lips met as their faces blindly lunged forward. It didn't even give them both a chance to stop and think- it was brutal, it was like an extension of their fight, both trying to dominate the other. And just as quickly as it started, it stopped- chased away by sound of Ken's voice, calling out to them from the stairs.

 

“Aya, Yohji, dinner. Now.”

 

As the sound of Ken's footsteps gradually disappeared the two men were left staring at each other amidst thick, suffocating silence. Both panting, Yohji's adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped, and Aya leaned back on the wall as if for support. Their breaths slowly normalizing, Aya was the first to break the stare by transferring his to the floor. Colors flickered in his violet pupils as his thoughts raced through his mind like Yohji's car on the highway. His head jerked up and his mouth opened, but before he could say whatever he needed to Yohji beat him to the quick with a simple word.

 

“Don't.”

 

And with that the man turned on his heel and stormed out of his room, leaving the redhead alone. As Aya absent-mindedly touched the burn mark on his arm, he whispered to no one in particular:

 

“I guess I shouldn't have asked.”

 

 

 

 

 

*being a playful insidious breeze that usually had merry hell inside Yohji's room where various bits of paper were found sans paper weights, the breeze was actually more kept out of the room due to the fact that Yohji left his windows closed, rather than the silly notion that any hostility between two assassins could ward off the wind.

 

**but it's not the end of the world yet, folks, relax, because Aya's not letting himself go yet- the rest of his face remains dispassionate.

 

 

 

Author's Notes: erm. Yeah. I was squirming as I wrote that down, it's so embarrassing. If this is going to contain a lemon I wouldn't know how to go about it…. Aaaaaaaaaaargh. But this is still labeled “other” instead of “yaoi” because I'm still not sure. If this is going to contain a lemon then I'd probably be a half-assed pansy and not write it, instead cutting the scene off and continuing with the scene afterwards, leaving it to your imagination or something. Or have someone else write it. Argh argh argh argh.