Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Mending Wounds ❯ Escalation ( Chapter 2 )

And here's the disclaimer folks: (Drum roll please)….nope…still don't own them. They belong to project Weiss, etc…. Oh, but if I did, we'd all be on the beach somewhere & I'd be lathering up Aya w/ sunscreen. Can't have that perfect pale skin getting burned, can we? Gonna stay as R for now. Beware: violence, cursing, yaoi, general weirdness & may haps some S&M. (In case anyone's wondering, this is post first series. But I'm going to pretend that Gluhen never happened.)

Moving on-

Thud…kersplersh.

That was the sound of Omi's heart hitting his stomach. His hope had been shattered with those two words.

Get out.

He bowed his head, shading his eyes from Aya's view, as he desperately fought the tears welling in his eyes. It was to no avail, as they overflowed their hold and streamed silently down his cheeks.

To be honest, Omi was expecting a hard right hook or to be met with the business end of a katana following those two soul crushing words. There was no further response though. The stoic Weiss leader made no move to rise from the bed, no motion to strike out against the younger boy. Instead, Aya continued to glare violet daggers at him as he slowly backed away, creeping, inching towards the door. It was only eight or so feet behind him, but in that moment, Omi felt as though it were miles away. Finally, he did the only thing he could-he ran. Omi dropped the first aid kit on the floor and bolted out of the door, not once looking back. He didn't stop until he reached his room at the complete opposite end of the hall. Kicking the door shut behind him, he hastily locked it, fumbling with the latch as he tried to focus with tear shod eyes. Omi's breath came in great hitching sobs. He finally took one long, deep breath and collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow.

"What have I done?" Omi whimpered.

Realization hit him swiftly and with out mercy, "Aya hates me."

He clutched desperately at his pillow. Omi cried himself to sleep soon after.

For a good solid hour after the incident, Aya still hadn't moved to close the door. His eyes remained fixed on the empty air where Omi had been. He had watched horror and shame bloom in his friend's eyes. Aya forcefully bit his tongue, holding back the torrent that wanted to escape from his mouth. He let him go. He let him run away. Aya brought his hand to his face, his unseeing eyes still fixed on that vacant Omi space. The long held breath was let out; a sigh which shook his entire frame.

Finally Aya shifted his way fully onto the bed. He loosely placed the sheets on top of his body, being mindful of his injuries. He cradled his injured arm on his chest, while pillowing the other beneath his head. Thoughts ran rampant through the redhead's weary mind. He began tiredly mumbling to himself.

"He can't take it. Not me. Not what I have to give."

The injured man repeated these thoughts and others like them as though they were a mantra. He had always appreciated Omi's concern, and to a degree, his tenderness towards him. Aya got more than he bargained for this night. Strained eyes slipped closed as their owner drifted into much welcomed sleep.

Omi sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in his hand, and a dejected look on his face. He had been in that position for at least an hour. The coffee remained untouched, and by now, cold. After a night of fitful sleep, his confusion and heartache refused to dissipate. Omi's mind whirred.

"Does he hate me because I'm a Takatori? Is that it? It can't be. He said himself that I'm not, so….Oh, I see. He hates me because I'm a guy. He's probably disgusted with me. Maybe I should try to apologize. Hell, how do I start that one? Why didn't he just hit me then? He wanted to…I could see it in his eyes."

Omi was roused from his introspection by a familiar voice.

.

"Mmm…morning, sunshine," Youji drawled as he shuffled into the kitchen above the Koneko, pausing to ruffle Omi's hair as he passed.

He lifted his eyes to watch as the chestnut haired playboy made his way to the coffee maker on the counter. It was 10 o'clock in the morning. Youji was up early for once. It was Sunday morning and the Koneko was closed. Fortunately for him, he only received a few harsh hits the night before. The bruises had begun to flower across his skin already. They were uncomfortable, but the pain was sort of good. Reassuring. Pain meant that he wasn't dead.

He dragged himself across the cold kitchen floor slowly. Youji had a natural sensuality to him. That flirtatious sway of his hips was even present when he was still half asleep, barely out of bed. He made a most impressive sight despite being clad in ratty flannel pajama pants and his ever present shades perched on his nose. It was laundry day for Youji Kudoh, and he couldn't very well saunter into the kitchen naked-think of the poor chibi. He'd be scarred for life. So, it was the flannel, or nothing. Omi let his eyes do a quick once over of Youji's lanky, toned frame while the older boy's back was still turned. Yep, he's a natural. Omi figured glumly, but with some amusement, that you could stick Youji in a giant pink bunny suit and he'd still ooze sex appeal.

"Why, hello lovely," Kudoh crooned to the coffee pot as he flipped over his favorite green mug and pored himself a cup of liquid alertness. He gracefully spun around and walked to the table to join Omi.

After fidgeting to get comfortable, and one good, long first swig of his morning ambrosia, Youji raised his head to Omi. One look at Omi's sullen expression and dark circled eyes, and his big brother alarm went off. In fact, it was blaring at him. Bells, whistles, sirens…you name it. Where's the genki boy who's usually making breakfast right now?

"Oi. Omi. Did you get hurt last night? What's the matter?"

"Hmm…oh, no Youji. I'm fine," came the lie straight through Omi's teeth.

Youji eyed him warily for a second longer. Omi caught his look and immediately plastered his best smile on. His eyes did their best to sparkle like they normally do.

Youji got up from his seat and sidled up to his younger friend. He squatted down until he was at eye level with his teammate and leaned in until they were almost merely a breath away from each other. Smoldering jade eyes met wide cornflower orbs.

"You were up surfing the net for porn again, weren't you? Damn. Even after a mission. I'm impressed Omittchi," the playboy teased.

Those wide sapphire eyes flew wider still in incredulous indignation.

"Youji-kun!" Omi screeched.

Omi continued to sputter and stammer his denial as Ken waltzed into the kitchen. The brunette was dressed in soccer gear with a whistle hanging from around his neck, a sports bag slung over one shoulder. A sprained wrist was the extent of Ken's injuries from the previous night's mission. Ken was moving with his usual agility and apparently was in a great hurry. He tried to hurdle over Youji who was still squatting next to Omi at the table, and ended up knocking him on his backside instead. Ken collided with the fridge.

"Oof-mornin' to you too, Ken," Youji snapped from his position on the floor.

"Ah, sorry Yotan. Crap. Crap. Crap," he mumbled as he rummaged through the fridge. "I'm gonna be late. The kids are waiting at the park. Sorry. I gotta go."

Ken let out a small triumphant yip when he came up with the sports drink he was searching for. Drink in hand, he sidestepped Youji, who was still on the floor, grabbed his bag and was gone.

"Back by dinner!" he shouted over his shoulder as he headed out the door.

Ken was in such a rush to leave, that he nearly knocked Aya to the ground when he flung the door open. Yes, Aya was out and about even with those injuries, and was just returning from who knows where.

"A-Aya? Oh, damn. Sorry. Hey, what are you doing out here? I thought you were still in bed. You should be you know."

A glare and a "hn" were the rewards for his concern. Shoving off a wince from jarring his injured arm, Aya regained his balance, and dusted his shirt off. That done, he walked past Ken, opened the door and marched up the stairs that lead to their apartments.

"Ooooo-kay, what was that all about?" Ken whispered to himself and took off for practice.

Aya ascended the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. Omi, thinking Ken had forgotten something, turned around. Immediately, he cast his eyes to the ground when he realized it was Aya. Aya looked at Youji sharply, but brushed past Omi without even giving the younger boy a glance.

"God, he won't even look at me," Omi's mind shuddered even if his body didn't move

Aya poured himself a cup of coffee and strode out of the kitchen and to his room without so much a word to either of his teammates. He locked the bedroom door behind him. Once out sight, Youji raised a questioning eye to Omi.

"Now, I know the ice prince in there doesn't have my morning charm, but what the hell? I mean, that was down right frosty."

"Oh, Youji-kun, he's probably just sore from his wounds. Being hurt probably makes him cranky. He'll be fine," he said with his megawatt, genki smile.

Youji made to further protest, but Omi dismissed it with a small hand flapping in his direction. He accepted Omi's reasoning and rose from his chair.

"If you say so. Mother knows best after all," he snickered. "My day off-I'm goin' back to bed chibi." Youji patted Omi's head again on the way out.

Alone in the kitchen again, Omi was left to stew in his thoughts.

"Great. This is great. Youji went back to bed. Ken's out at soccer practice and Aya's pissed at me."

Omi trotted to his room to occupy his mind with other things, like school work and mission plans. He surfed the net for the better part of the day. As exhausted as he was from the utter lack of restful sleep the night before, it was no wonder that he nodded off at his computer. Omi awoke to the sounds of people shuffling around in the kitchen. He glanced at his alarm clock. The bright red digits read 7:30. The others were no doubt making dinner. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Ken came knocking at his door.

"Omi, soup's on."

He ignored the growling sensation in his stomach.

"Not hungry, but uh, thank you."

After several bouts of "you're sure" from Ken and "yes, I'm fine" from Omi, Ken went back to the kitchen and ate with the others. Actually, just one other. Aya hadn't bothered to come out of his room all day either.

Around 9 o'clock that night, Omi poked his head out of his door. Seeing that the coast was clear he ventured out of his room and down the hall towards Aya's room. There were far too many questions crashing through his mind and sitting in his room speculating was not going to get them answered. He made his way down the hall and stopped in front of the redhead's door. Omi raised a small fist to knock, but it hung there in mid air. A sudden fire filled his insides. He demanded answers. Although he was still deathly afraid of what his stoic leader's response might be, he had to know. He needed a balm to ease the ache in his chest. That hand that had been suspended in mid-air reached down and turned the knob. It was locked. Damn.

He was about to turn away, when suddenly the latch clicked on the other side and the door swung partly open. Aya's room was dark. Big shock there. The Weiss leader stood not three feet from the door. Amethyst eyes blazed through the darkness of the room and fixated themselves on Omi's slight frame. Not a word passed his lips. He hadn't even asked who was at the door. He just knew it would be his young teammate. He wouldn't start this conversation, but he was certainly planning on finishing it. Time to put an end to this. The entire time he was waiting for Omi to begin, he was wondering to himself if he had the strength to do this. In his mind, a short quick burst of pain now was better than drawn out agony in the long run.

"A...Aya, I, uh…I need to know…,"Omi trailed off.

Omi's sky blue eyes were already beginning to glisten with tears. He could feel his resolve wavering in the hard lined face of his unrequited love. The words started spilling out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. He advanced on his crimson haired leader and clutched at his shirt, the dark blue material fisted in his small hands. Aya visibly tensed at the proximity of Omi's closeness. His arms remained limp at his sides.

"Aya, why? Why did you push me away? Because I'm a guy? Or because I'm me? How could you be so cold, Aya?"

The tears were falling freely now. The fair haired boy pressed his face against Aya's chest, his words coming in hiccups.

"I love you Aya. I do. Can't you love me, just a little? Please Aya…please," Omi whispered against his chest, sobbed into the soft material of his shirt.

He wanted desperately to wrap his arms around this young assassin who was undeniably strong, yet so fragile. He wanted to rock him and coo to him and tell him that everything would be ok. Instead, Aya clutched at his shoulders and slowly, but forcefully pulled Omi from his chest and held him at arm's length. He regarded him with a cold, hard gaze.

"You didn't hear me last night? I said get out. I meant it. I don't make it my business to play with boys," Aya hissed.

The taller man pushed Omi roughly by the shoulders until he was on the other side of the door. Aya braced his arms on either side of the door and rested his forehead against the cool wood. He had just pushed the only person, besides his family, who had ever loved him out the door. The first night he had just brushed off Omi's advances. Maybe broke the boy's heart. Tonight, he crushed him. Utterly and completely. He saw the total devastation in his cerulean eyes as he pushed the shell shocked boy out of his room. Aya's breaths came in ragged gasps. Slowly he pushed away from the door and began to move around the room collecting various articles of clothing. Jeans, boots, shirt….The sight of Omi's tear streaked face was etched into his mind. How completely vulnerable and completely delicious he looked right at that moment. Aya Fujimiya did not do guilt, but there was a tightness developing in his chest. He needed to blow off some steam. He needed to get out of that room. Not that he made a regular habit out of it, but… he knew exactly where to go.

On the other side of the door, Omi's world was crashing down around him. The pain he felt in the pit of his stomach was akin to being shot. And, he ought to know what that feels like. The walls were suddenly too confining, the air to thick to breathe.

"Boys? Play with boys? Gods, I'm worthless to him."

The thought struck like a two ton wrecking ball.

"I'm worthless," he sighed.

Worthless.

Omi turned on his heel and hastily wiped at his cheeks as he strode down the hall. He grabbed his keys, jacket, and slipped on his shoes at the door and fled. He needed to get out. Time to pound pavement. To where, he had no idea, but he knew that he needed to be anywhere but there. With any luck, a long walk would clear his head a little. Nothing was going to soothe his battered heart and annihilated self esteem that night, but time away from Aya, the Koneko…from everything. That's what he needed. Omi walked a few blocks and decided to hop the subway. Tokyo was one of those cities that never slept. There would be something to do. He didn't care which direction he headed in. He jumped on the first westbound train that pulled into the station. When he finally decided to get off, he walked up the steps to find himself at Shinjuku station. Fine. He started wandering.

Aya stalked out of their home and went to his car. He headed towards the highway-westbound.

Kix: Thanks for the review! But hon, I can guarantee it's going to get a whole lot worse for the boys before it gets better.