Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Our Games ❯ three ( Chapter 3 )

Our Games
Chapter Three

He hovered around the edge for a day or two, watching, being ignored, plotting his next move.

It should have been something intricate and subtle, but Aya didn’t really do subtle, so Yohji went for it.

He walked into Aya’s room and sat down on the bed. Pulling open the nightstand drawer, he tugged out the first personal item he saw–the blue notebook with its financial notations–then settled in.

That’s how Aya found him, sitting against the headboard of his bed, bare feet close together as his long legs crossed at the ankles, hands occupied with the open notebook. Yohji had heard the footsteps, forced himself to keep still as the door opened. He looked up only when it shut again.

Was Aya trying to trap him? To lessen the noise when he attacked?

The image of his own broken body slowly bleeding out on the carpet made him shiver.

Yohji offered a smile and, without looking down, turned a page.

Aya glared, but there was a tentative caution in his step as he went to the window. The afternoon sun lit bright behind him, silhouetting his thin form as he pulled his long duster off, one arm at a time, and laid it over the nearby chair. He watched Yohji the whole time, like it was a poisonous snake in his bed rather than his teammate. Or maybe he thought Yohji was crazy.

There was a lot of that going around.

Aya crossed his arms and glared harder.

The room was silent, except for the crinkle of paper as Yohji turned a page. His eyes were still on Aya.

The silence was swept away by Aya’s deep voice, “What are you doing?”

He ought to have whispered.

Yohji opened his mouth to answer and found that he didn’t have one, so he smiled instead.

Aya’s glare was fading, having found no resistant attitude to press it against. His expression was blank as he slowly stepped towards the bed, staring down at Yohji who made ready to fight.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Coming in here. Bothering me.”

Bothering with me, Yohji thought he heard. There mere fact that he had yet to be slaughtered attested to Aya’s wavering opinion of his presence.

“I’m a curious guy, Aya. Right now I’m curious about you.”

“Don’t be.”

With a sigh, Yohji closed the notebook and laid it aside. “It’s not that easy. I have questions.”

“Get out.”

“No. Not until I get some answers.”

The anger was back in full force, taking only the small refusal to spark it. Yohji watched Aya’s eyes flick towards the chest of drawers, to the katana resting on top. He tensed, ready to spring in the man went for it. But the violet eyes came back to him, narrowed and sharp.

“Out.”

He sat up straighter on the bed.

“No.”

It happened suddenly, too quick for even his perception to follow. Aya had him by the throat again. The younger man stood by the bed, leaned over with one hand braced on the mattress to Yohji’s right, the other once again fisted in the collar of his shirt as he was bent back towards the bed. He could breathe easy enough, but the side of his head hurt, and Yohji could only theorize that it had been forced into the headboard.

Aya’s face was close to his own, almost intimate in its proximity, and Yohji wasn’t sure if it was really the danger that had him half-hard.

“What’s with the choking, Ayan? You got a fetish or something?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ve got some cuffs if you want to tie me down; that way you can have both hands free.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He was shaken, hard.

“Well, you’ve got me in your bed, I thought you might want to, you know.” His suggestive leer was cut short as Aya shoved him away with a growl. The stiff mattress bounced under him, and Yohji was left laying on it at an odd angle. He turned his head to watch an agitated Aya stalk back to the window, turn, and come back to glare down at him.

He wasn’t sure how the conversation had gone down that road so quickly when he had come into the room with no such intentions.

“Slut,” Aya pronounced.

Now that wasn’t going to work.

“You know it, baby.”

Aya’s voice, angry and demanding to, picked up an almost whining note as the redhead dropped his crossed arms to his side and asked, “What do you want from me?!”

So Aya had read it all as teasing. Good. Yohji thought that’s what it was, would at least go with that as it made more sense.

Sitting up, again, he replied calmly, “Answers.”

He had seen more of Aya’s emotions in the past ten minutes than he had in the six months he had been with Weiss, and now the man seemed to recognizing this. He turned away, pulling hard, once, on one of his eartails, and when he turned back, it was with the cool, blank expression he wore so often.

“Out.”

“Nope. Try again,” he smiled, then patted the bed, “Come sit with me.”

“No.”

“The more you do this, the longer it takes to get me out of here.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Would it help if I was?”

Aya continued to stand and glare.

“So you’re not going to talk to me?”

“I have no intentions of doing so.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just find the answers on my own.”

Standing, Yohji carefully put away the notebook, leaving the nightstand drawer open.

“They’re all here, Aya. All I have to do is dig.”

The threats were getting him nowhere, so Yohji made good on them.

“What do you do for fun, Ayan?”

Silence.

Wearing a grin edged with determined cruelty, he began to sort through things he had seen before.

He pulled out the other notebook from the drawer, running a hand down its black cover before pulling the pen from its clipped place over the first page.

Aya’s eyes widened a little when he opened it, but the man said nothing.

He spent a minute flipping pages, half-reading the kanji, the style reminiscent of the financial notations, but not nearly as neat. Poetry. He had expected a planner, a journal at best.

Looking to Aya, he got only ice.

“I’m taking this,” he lifted the book, bracing his legs for the attack and resolving to use the book to protect his throat. Nothing happened. He moved towards the door, turning to blow Aya a kiss. “See you tomorrow, beautiful.”

The door was locked behind him.

~tbc~

*plot bunny hops by, wearing a waistcoat and carrying a pocket watch*

Shall we follow?