Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Out in the Fog ❯ Fifth ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

out in the fog: Fifth

Youji stood outside in the fog, smoking a cigarette that wasn't worth standing out in the dampness for. A few solid months of patronage in Yuushi's bar, and he still hadn't managed to convince Ran's cousin to build on a smoking room. Inside. Where it was warm.

Sometimes he got the feeling that Ran had conned his cousin into helping his mission along: mission 'Get Youji to Stop Smoking'. So far they had been utterly unsuccessful, and Youji was determined to see that it stayed that way. Oh, he admired Ran for having the willpower to stop and stay stopped when his lover smoked, but a life without nicotine was not in Youji's future.

Youji had begun to think of Ran as his lover. Over the past few months they spent more and more time together, eventually remembering to exchange phone numbers and Youji had moved a few things to Ran's, like underwear, a toothbrush, and his own various and sundry toiletries. Ran had agreed, long before he had met Youji, to cover Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and so was unavailable to go out with Youji like they both had wanted. So Youji contented himself with spending the evening in Ran's kitchen, with Ran's cat, and putting together a romantic meal for them to be shared in front of the fire.

And then he'd shagged Ran's brains out.

He smiled at the memory. And the memory that followed of New Year's Eve. Neither of them had wanted to party, so they'd stayed in, cuddling, making fun of how ageless Dick Clark seemed to be getting, and then curling up under a blanket outside to watch the fireworks out over the bridge. And then Youji had shagged Ran's brains out again.

Their relationship had deepened over the last several months, to the point where they had a pretty strong bond, where they were both content to sit in silence with each other for company. Though those quiet evenings had grown infrequent of late, Youji grumbled to himself. But still Youji was aware of a quiet voice at the back of his head that told him he was fooling himself if he could believe things would continue the way they had. He could tell himself all he wanted, but Youji knew he wouldn't be able to hide his true profession from Ran forever.

But Youji kept pushing those thoughts away. For the moment, it wasn't important. Ran didn't know and that's what mattered. Youji was happy for the first time in recent memory, really and truly happy, and the soft smiles Ran bestowed upon him convinced the assassin that he felt the same way, despite his overwork.

He ground his cigarette out with his foot and went back inside, welcoming the burst of noise and warmth that greeted him from the other side of the door.

"Oi, Youji!" Yuushi waved from the end of the bar. "Phone!"

Youji made his way through the mid-week crowd to the phone, eyebrows raised in question.

"Ran," Yuushi mouthed as he handed over the cordless handset.

Wondering why his lover hadn't called his cell phone he accepted the call. "Ran?"

"Hey, Youji."

Even those two words sounded exhausted. Since the media had broken open the case that Ran had dubbed the "Takatori Murders," the detective had found himself under enormous amounts of pressure to get it solved, and quickly. And the demands were coming in from every angle; his superiors, the mayor, hell, even some flunky from the Japanese embassy had called him up and given him a hard time. Though from what he remembered of Japanese politics, it was probably old Takatori himself who had prompted that phone call.

"Hey, babe," Youji slid onto a stool and noticed Yuushi loitering not far away. "What's up?"

"I'm going to be later than I thought," Ran sighed. Youji could picture him sitting at his desk, coffee at his elbow, fingers massaging his temples to ease the stress induced headache. "We got some new information in, and I've got a couple people coming in to give a statement."

"Do you want me to go feed Ronin?" Youji smiled. He knew Ran would have gotten around to asking eventually. But the sooner Youji let Ran get back to work, the sooner the stubborn idiot would come home and let Youji take care of him for a while.

"Please?"

"Of course." That was another thing that had changed; he had a key to Ran's place and seemed to be looking after the cat and fish more often than their owner did anymore. But Youji couldn't fault him. "When do you think you'll be home?"

"I have no idea." Ran sighed again. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, babe. Ronin and I will keep each other company." Youji couldn't tell him what he really wanted to, that he was worried about him. Ran was spiraling toward a burnout. While Youji knew what solving the case would entail, he really wanted it just to be over so he could whisk Ran away to someplace warm for a few weeks. "Do you want me to bring you dinner?"

"I ate," Ran answered. "I'd better get back to work. You don't have to wait-"

"Of course I'm going to wait up," Youji cut him off with a smile. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

Youji waited for the click that represented the loss of signal.

"Youji?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Ran paused again. "Thank you."

The phrase was heavy, and Youji basked in the weight of it. "Always, Ran."

In typical fashion, Ran hung up without another word. Youji pressed the button that would disconnect the call on his end and handed the phone back to Yuushi, who had likely heard every word of Youji's side of the conversation.

"He's working late?" Yuushi set the receiver back in its cradle.

Youji snorted. "When isn't he working late?" He smiled as he slid off the stool. "Thanks for the drink."

"Anytime." Yuushi nodded.

Youji pressed back through the crowd, taking a deep breath of cold moist air when he was clear of the throng of people. He drove the short distance to Ran's in silence.

Ronin met him at the door, purring and twining through Youji's legs as he made his way through the dark house to the kitchen. The old house was cool without a fire lit; Youji had learned early on that Ran didn't run his heater if he didn't have to and preferred the warmth of a fire.

Youji retrieved the cat's dinner, and once the animal was happily crunching away, Youji turned his attention to Ran's fridge. Ran may have eaten but Youji hadn't, and depending on how late his lover ended up coming home, it would be a good idea to have something ready. Still slightly chilled from his smoke break, Youji was very happy to find what he would need to make a decent miso soup.

That was another thing that seeing Ran brought out in him. Youji had always loved to cook, but hated to waste the effort on himself. And since Ran didn't seem to know how or care to learn, Youji was quite content to take over the responsibility of feeding them both. He set the water on to boil, two pots, for rice and soup, and stripped out of his coat, hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He hadn't been surprised to learn that Ran didn't even own a rice cooker. That's how much his lover hated to cook.

Despite the fact that they shared a bed every night, Youji thought as he dug around for a stirring spoon, he felt like he had hardly seen Ran in the last week or so. A few nights before, Youji had fallen asleep and woken up alone, though the side of the bed Ran generally slept in was mussed. He missed the redhead.

Youji tossed the rice into the pot and settled the lid onto it before turning the heat down. He set about slicing the scallions, letting his mind wander. Youji knew he could walk away from this job at any time. He was paid per target, and he wasn't entirely sure that his employer would try to find another assassin to finish what Youji left behind. Hell, Youji thought. He didn't even know how many targets were left. He was paid half his fee when he received the packet of information from his employer and the other half was transferred into his account when he sent confirmation the job was done, without knowing how many more people his employer had targeted. But he would walk away, and the killings would stop. The case would grow cold, and without new bodies, the pressure would ease up off Ran, and the case would be relinquished to a dusty basement somewhere. Ran would be able to take a break, cut back his case load and relax for awhile.

He watched the seaweed pieces expand and drift in the water as it heated.

Such an action would force Youji into retirement. Or make him need to change his weapon. But the beauty of his wire was that it was mostly clean and untraceable, unlike guns, knives, or just about anything else he could think of. Retirement he could accept. He could turn his attention to floristry full time, settle down, stop running from the government that he felt on his tail every once in a while.

He could take care of Ran. They could both be happy.

Youji had more than enough money, even with the small shop he ran barely running in the black. It was thoroughly laundered and placed in several different bank accounts, not all of which were offshore accounts. He could stop being a mercenary, an assassin for hire and just live for the first time in his life.

The water boiled and he tossed in the scallions, letting them dance for a minute before removing the pot from the stove and stirring in the miso, watching it dissolve. He lifted the lid on the rice, determining it needed a couple more minutes.

He would never be able to come clean to Ran, he knew that. No matter how much he loved the detective, how much he thought Ran loved him, he knew that his deceit would be too much for the other man. Youji knew, instinctively, without asking or being told, that there had been something between them that had made Ran open up to him immediately. Ran had trusted him, and to reveal his secret would be the ultimate betrayal. Because Ran hated what Youji really was. And though Youji loved Ran, and knew that Ran loved him, he feared, deep down, that Ran wouldn't be able to see past the label of "assassin" to the man he had fallen in love with.

Youji dished himself up a bowl of soup and rice, leaving them both on the stove where they could be easily reheated. Cooking the miso would take away some of the healthier benefits, but it would be enough, he hoped, to keep Ran from collapsing if he managed to come down with one of Youji's frequent bouts of sniffles.

Sipping from his bowl, Youji wandered into the living room and folded himself onto the couch. Ronin followed, jumping onto the couch with a soft murph of exertion and plopped himself down on Youji's lap. He knew his current contract was almost up. He wasn't sure how many targets were left but he had the feeling he was reaching the top end. Ran worked such random hours that he didn't say anything if Youji didn't come over one night. Chances are, Youji thought, sipping his soup, he hadn't even come home on those nights.

With his belly full and warm, Youji shifted slightly and set the empty bowl on the table without disturbing the dozing cat on his lap. That, he decided, feeling his eyes droop, was a good idea, and he let himself relax and settle into a light sleep, alert for signs of Ran's arrival.

**

Ran flipped the porch light off as he stepped inside, signaling his safe arrival to the officers who had dropped him off. With a sigh, he let his pack slip from his fingers and fall to the floor and then shrugged out of his coat, draping it over the table instead of hanging it up.

His house was dimly lit, and he could hear faint snores drifting from the living room over the distant hum of the fish tank. Youji. Ran found the energy to smile at the thought of the other man waiting for him. Ran toed his shoes off and nudged them toward the wall, next to Youji's. It didn't surprise him, really, that Youji had stayed, but it made him feel better all the same. Ran glanced at his watch as he started toward the kitchen.

It was almost midnight.

He paused. He hadn't realized it had gotten so late. No wonder Youji had drifted off.

Ran found the remains of Youji's supper still on the stove. He filled a bowl for himself, distantly realizing that he was indeed hungry, and popped it in the microwave, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge while the soup and rice reheated.

He slumped against the kitchen counter, eyes falling closed while the microwave hummed nearby. He was tired. Working eighteen hour days, dealing with politicians and the media, not having time to exercise more than walking to the coffee stand down the street from the office was wearing him down and he knew it. He saw the worry in Youji's eyes when the taller man thought Ran wasn't looking. If he could just solve this case, he could take the vacation his captain had been threatening him with for the last two years.

Ran wasn't the only one under pressure to solve the "Takatori Murders". His captain had taken all of Ran's other cases and given them to other detectives to allow Ran to focus his attention on the high profile case. Not a day went by that either Ran or the Captain didn't get a call from the embassy, or the Governor, or someone. Through the months the case progressed, more murders took place, and no more evidence was found. Ran was beginning to respect his perp as much as hate him, and he was more convinced than ever, after consulting several times with Tsukiyono-san, a Japanese colleague, that he was tracking a professional.

The microwave beeped and Ran retrieved his soup, carrying it out to the living room on silent feet, gracefully sliding to the floor with his back to the couch. He rested his head on the couch cushion for a brief moment, letting his eyes fall closed again. Absently, he pulled his glasses off and set them on the table and rubbed his had across his weary face.

With a soft sigh, he lifted his head and sipped at the soup. It was good and warm and just what Ran needed. And he'd already taken his glasses off so what he could see wasn't fogged over with steam. He watched the blurry fish swim around the tank as he slowly sipped at the meal Youji had left. After a while, he felt warm fingers against the back of his neck.

"Hey, babe," Youji muttered sleepily."Hey. Sorry its so late." Ran apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay," Youji shifted on the couch and Ran felt lips pressed to the top of his head. "I told you I'd wait up."

"Hn." Ran responded, feeling a tired smile touch his lips.

"Come 'ere." Youji tugged lightly on Ran's ponytail.

Slowly, Ran set his mostly empty bowl on the coffee table and climbed to his feet. He slid onto the couch, leaning into Youji's embrace automatically as long arms curled around his waist. Ran felt as if he were closer to fifty than thirty, tired and achy. He idly wondered if he were coming down with something as his hair was swept aside and Youji began the semi-nightly ritual of relaxing Ran enough to sleep.

The massage continued in silence for awhile, save for Youji's habitual humming that was as much a balm to Ran's soul as the massage itself. He never recognized any of the tunes Youji hummed; he never stayed with one long enough for Ran to figure out the snatches of melody. It was another random thing that Ran didn't really know about Youji - how he had learned enough tunes to endlessly hum them without repeating them, at least to Ran's ears.

"Why don't I know anything about you?" Ran asked softly as he felt the knots in his shoulders loosen and give way under Youji's fingers. Youji knew just where to focus his touch, and Ran felt bad that he never reciprocated in kind, but the one time he'd brought it up, Youji had told him to stop fretting, that he enjoyed giving the massages as Ran loved receiving them. "I feel like I know /you/, but I don't know anything about you," he said following up on the thought from just a brief moment ago.

"You know the important stuff, babe," Youji said softly, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck.

"Do I?" Ran turned, and caught Youji's eye. "You run a flower shop I've never seen, I don't know anything about your family or why you came to San Francisco."

Youji's hands resumed their massage after a brief pause. "It's not important," he said softly.

"It is to me," Ran murmured. "Don't you trust me?"

"Ran," Youji sighed. Ran allowed himself to be turned to face Youji, trying not to let the hurt show on his face. He was too tired for this, and he was beginning to regret bringing it up.

"Ran, I love you," Youji said seriously. "And yes, I trust you. But those things, my past, its not important. This," he gestured vaguely, indicating the present in general, "here, now; this is what's important."

"I know," Ran whispered, as Youji gently turned him back around and resumed his massage. "But sometimes," he took a breath. So tired. Too many things running through his mind at once, he couldn't keep everything straight. "Its hard, sometimes, Youji. To know, but not know, to wonder." He hadn't been sleeping enough again, despite Youji's best efforts and what sleep he did get was full of unpleasant dreams. "I love you, Youji, but it's so damn hard."

"I know, babe," Youji said. "But you have to trust me, too. It's not important. I'll take you by the shop if you want, show you my flat. I hadn't realized you'd never met the ladies or seen the place."

"That's not the point," Ran breathed, not knowing anymore what the point was. He was so fucking tired. He felt like he was picking a fight without knowing why, instigating trouble, despite that he wanted nothing more than to let Youji point him toward the bed and have his lover curl up behind him.

"What is the point?" Youji asked, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. Ran knew he was a patient man, that he would wait for Ran to say what he wanted to say, but even the most patient of men have their limits.

"I don't know," Ran sighed. "I just- What are you hiding from me?" he continued tiredly.

"What makes you think I'm hiding anything?" Youji asked, gently releasing Ran's hair from the ponytail.

"You're so damn evasive sometimes," Ran said, the words falling off his tongue before he could catch them. It seemed that every time he asked Youji about his past, his family, his education, anything, he managed to evade answering the question directly.

Youji's long fingers carded through his hair. "I don't mean to be."

"But you are." Ran slumped back against Youji's body. "Why won't you tell me about where you grew up?" He had told Youji about his past, about his childhood in Tokyo, on other nights like that one, where he'd just let himself go and talk until he had no words left.

"Because it wasn't a pleasant time in my life and I don't like to think about it," Youji said firmly, but not unkindly. "Maybe someday I'll be able to tell you about it, Ran. But not now."

"Did you really grow up in Tokyo?" Ran pressed. He wanted to know, needed to know something about Youji besides the little he knew about the man's present life.

"Yes." Youji's fingers caught on a tangle and he pulled them through, no where near as gentle as he could have and Ran winced.

"With your parents?" Ran continued.

"Ran," Youji warned, hands sliding down his neck, tightening briefly at the juncture of neck and shoulder.

"Where did you go to school, Youji? Did you play any sports, belong to clubs? Go out dancing on the weekends?" Ran asked the random questions that popped into his head. Some were small things, insignificant, and there were others that nagged him.

"Don't, babe," Youji said softly, a hint of hurt mixed with the warning in his voice. His breath stirred the long hair around Ran's face.

Ran continued. "What did you do after school? Did you go to college? Why did you stay in the family business when you came to America? What really made you come to America? Doesn't your family miss you?"

"Please, Ran. Let it go."

"Why, Youji? Why should I let it go? I don't know anything about you. What do you do on the nights I don't come home?" Ran heard his tone grow bitter, sharp. Something in the back of his mind flared warning, but he ignored it and plunged ahead. "Do you go prowl the bars? Pick up women? Start bar fights?" he spat. Youji had met Ran at home with bruised knuckles once. Another time he'd had a split lip. Ran had noticed, had helped apply ice between "healing kisses", but Youji hadn't volunteered an explanation. "How do I know that you're ever telling me the truth when you won't tell me anything? How do I know that you are really you, that you're not hiding some deep dark secret, some horrible thing? Do I need to go call up Tsukiyono-san and look up the records in Tokyo to find out anything about your past?"

Youji's hands tightened painfully on his shoulders. Ran knew he was going too far, but he couldn't make himself stop. Why wouldn't Youji answer his questions, talk to him, give him something more than dodges and half-answers? He knew he was being unfair, that everyone had a secret they didn't want to tell, but why couldn't he just let it go? Why couldn't he just take Youji at his word? Why was it that Youji's admission that his childhood and past were harsh and he didn't like to talk about it wasn't enough? He was tired and angry, and part of him wanted to make Youji angry too.

"Ran, stop this," Youji said, suddenly stern. "You're tired, and you're not thinking straight. "

"Why won't you just talk to me, Youji? What are you so afraid of?" Ran lowered his voice. "What's in your past that you don't want me to know? Or am I just a convenient fuck for you and you're withholding information because you don't want to get to close? Is that it? It'll make it easier for you to leave if you don't get close, won't it?" Ran took a breath.

Youji's hands were unmoving on his shoulders.

"You're just like all the others," Ran said, his voice steady, a sense of defeat washing over him. "I thought you were different, but you're not. You want me to open up and share everything with you, but you're not willing to hold up your own end. That's a big fucking horse you're on, Youji. I hope you don't hurt yourself when someone finally knocks you off."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ran regretted them. Youji rose without a word and headed down the hallway. Somehow, Ran couldn't find the words to call him back. His shoulders slumped as he heard the front door slam. All the tension Youji had worked out of his body snapped back into place.

Ronin cried pathetically from the hall a few times before padding back into the living room and leaping onto Ran's lap. The animal had been dislodged when Youji got up, and had followed him, probably hoping for a treat.

Oh, he'd fucked up. Big time. He felt a dark cloud settle over him where peaceful contentment had beamed down just moments ago. He had wondered when Youji would realize Ran wasn't worth it.

He just hadn't thought it would have been something he'd say that would be the catalyst.

Ran sat for a few moments. He should call Youji, apologize straight away, ask him to come back. But he couldn't remember the number and he was too paralyzed by his own stupidity to get his cell phone out of his pack where Youji's number was saved.

Because he was afraid that if he got up something might break. It hurt, more than it had any other time once of his lovers had left him. Ran thought he had loved Josh, been in love with Josh. But none of their fights, which had been much bigger louder and more violent than the argument he'd just had with Youji hadn't hurt near as much. None of the insults he'd hurled in Josh's direction had made him hate himself as much as any one of those comments to Youji.

He suddenly felt the need to do something, not just sit around and feel sorry for himself because he messed up. He was hurt that Youji had left, angry at himself for making it happen, and bone weary but unable to sleep. A car would be by to pick up at 7, he remembered. The same patrolmen who had dropped him off at home had offered to take him back to the station at the end of their shift. It was already 1, maybe later, but Ran thought he could maybe exhaust himself into a few hours sleep- or at least keep his mind off how much he hurt. Denial had served him well in the past - push the hurt and grief aside and maybe it wouldn't consume him. That's what he'd figured out after his family had died.

Ran hefted himself off the couch. He pondered a moment. He could get his cell phone, call Youji, apologize while he still had a chance of fixing things. Before he could change his mind, he padded down the hall and fished his phone out of his pack. He hit the key that automatically dialed Youji's number and waited. It rang and rang, and when the voicemail picked up, Ran disconnected the call. He might have been able to talk to Youji if he'd answered, but for some reason, the idea of leaving a message turned his stomach.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a long moment, before leaving it on the table. If Youji hadn't answered, there was little chance he was going to call back. On silent feet, he paced toward his bedroom. Ran changed into sweatpants and a tank top, and peeled out of his socks. His feet made gentle noise against the hardwood floor of the hallway and spare bedroom he used as a dojo. He crossed the room and retrieved the bokken from its begs just below his father's katana.

It had been a long time, long hours keeping him from being able to practice, to exercise, to distract himself. But the wooden sword felt right in his grip, well balanced, an extension of his arm that had been too long gone.

Ran switched on the stereo, setting it to the CD he knew was there - it had a good rhythm, solid, steady, but with a melody that helped him focus on the moves and relax his mind.

He lost himself in the katas, doing form after form, feeling the burn in his muscles but ignoring it, letting his mind go blank as he traced patterns in the air with his practice blade. Ran had no idea how much time pas passed and only came back to himself as a melody crashed over him.

Youji had been humming that tune.

Ran's knees gave out and he slid to the floor, exhausted further but no closer to peace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to believe the moisture on his face was only sweat.