Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Of Shooting Stars and Supernovas ❯ Prelude ( Chapter 1 )

Opposite challenge: of Supernovas and Shooting Stars

 

[Prelude]

 

“WAaaaaaaaaaaaaaAKE UP!”

 

A flurry of incoherent limb movements and twisted sheets later, the man finally managed to get off the bed by landing face-first on the floor, to which he muttered `oof' intelligibly. Shaking his head vigorously, and instantly regretting it as everything began spinning and some metal rock band drummer on crack took residence inside his head and began banging away without a by-your-leave, he blinked five times to get the blur off his vision and looked up to the human alarm clock and cause of all his morning tussle with himself.

 

“What?' he asked his voice hoarse. Hoarse from what, he asks another question, this time directed to himself.

 

The sight that greeted him wasn't ugly, not exactly pretty, but rather surprising. Standing before him, and it seemed to his already hurting neck that the person standing before him was way too tall, was a scowling Yohji with arms folded over his chest and tapping an admonishing foot.

 

“What time is it?”

 

He blinked again, looked around his room until his field of vision included an alarm clock flung somewhere near the door*. Squinting a bit and wrinkling up his forehead trying to read the time upside down, he sighed and let fall his head on the floor. Yohji's foot didn't stop tapping, though. He sighed again.

 

“10:30…”

 

“And what time did you get home?”

 

He wracked his brains trying to remember in between slips of memory what time exactly did he get home last night, and then corrected himself, what time did he get home this morning. He kind of remembered looking at a wall clock in between navigating the kitchen and trying to remember how to walk. Fuck it, but he was wasted last night.

 

“2:00 am…” actually, he got to the door at around four, but he was technically home in the garage by two, he just fell asleep somewhere.

 

“From where?”

 

“You know, fuck wherever I was from.”

 

“From WHERE?” Yohji reiterated with more anger. The head on the floor snapped up, revealing a pissed off face.

 

“From the club, bar, shit maybe even the whorehouse, who remembers? Wherever it was it got me wasted. What the fuck do you care?”

 

Yohji's left eye twitched, and it was a bad little twitch, the kind of twitch people in mental health facilities usually sport before going into a psychotic rage. The blonde crouched down and lowered his head as low as his fallen teammate's until they met eye to eye. It wasn't your normal Yohji, and it wasn't Balinese, but rather a Yohji so serious he could actually be scarier than a Balinese out for blood and a Yohji out for sex combined, that talked in a low whisper.

 

“You don't have to know why, just be grateful anyone would actually still be caring for your sorry ass. Now get up, take a shower, and meet me in the kitchen. I'm giving you fifteen minutes and if you're still not finished by that time god help me Aya I'm going to drag you and your sorry ass back to Kritiker and let's see how you'd like what they do to stupid, annoying and self-destructing pricks like you.”

 

And with that Yohji stood up, turned around and headed for the door. Before leaving the premises of Aya's room though, he looked back and seeing his redheaded teammate still ungracefully sprawled on the floor, mouth agape, the blonde shook his head.

 

“MOVE!”

 

Aya flinched, and despite being magnificently wasted, debauched, and over-all abused the night before, his body reacted to Yohji's barked order like a well-oiled machine and he was up in no time, trying to find a way to get out of his sheets' version of a venus fly-trap while in his mind a timer ticked out the fifteen minutes his older teammate graciously gave him before handing him over to a worse hell- Kritiker's idea of psychological counseling.

 

 

 

*and then he remembered flinging something at the door when someone was knocking at it rather loudly.