Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Paying the Devil ❯ 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Paying3

Disclaimer: Wahhh I still don't own them, and I'm just practicing my writing and trying to make someone smile.

Author's Notes: This story is written for Shumea-chan. Lovely to see Shushu happy.

Yes, I know, Aya-chan is Fujimiya's sister's fandom name. Chan however is not a part of someone's name, and as I'm writing in English, I probably ought not use it at all. But anyway, calling Ran-san, Aya-chan was delivered as an insult from Nagi to him. This Nagi doesn't particularly like Aya/Ran and would sooner have his tongue pierced with a pencil than call him Aya-kun. He wants to know if he looks like Omi... And gosh that leads my over active imagination to my Omi muse being all concerned for Nagi, poor lonely little one, and Omi never noticed how cute he is. Omi: "He did save Aya-kun and Ken-kun, didn't he? Oh! I have email!"

Nagi: *crosses arms, eyes trying to look cold and distant, hoping Omi will notice him anyway*

And NAH.. That's another story.

Paying the Devil. 3/?

Fujimiya rowed. The mist surrounded them, hiding the shore from them, them from the shore. Aya's muscles ached, pull, push, move the water. The oars slapped the water as quietly as he could make them. Ken's breathing seemed louder to him.

So many images flickered through Aya's mind. Ken at the park, ball under his foot, sweat and sunlight. He could remember wanting to see Ken play, not with some kids at the park, but really play. To be back in a stadium, Aya wished, shoving the oars hard. He wanted that now, wanted to see the life and bright light that was Ken shine again.

Mist covered them, laying like a cool blanket over Ken's stretched out body. The missed seemed to be thicker and the sound of falling water grew louder, so Aya wasn't surprised when the little boat ran aground. He was surprised when Ken lifted his head though, eyes dark with confusion, face tight. "Where are we? Did we get away?"

Aya gave a curt nod. "Don't know where we are. On a lake. Trying to get to a phone."

Ken sat up, rocking the little boat, holding his weight on one hand. Aya stood and jumped out into the water. It soaked him up to his knees, melted snow wicking up his pant legs. He caught the front of the boat and pulled it farther up on the gravely shore.

"A phone?" It made sense, as he said it, that they'd want a phone. Ken's mind was too fogged though, so sluggish. As the little boat ground against the gravel, Ken looked around, tried to pull himself onto the bench Aya and been sitting on and slipped, hitting his shoulder and seeing stars. "Aya, they'll be after us. Go get help."

There was a narrowing to Aya's eyes that communicated so effectively that he was angry. Ken didn't understand why. It made more sense for Aya to go, get help, come back with reinforcements. It was safer for Aya. "Am not leaving you," Aya said, cold, but not emotionless, sharp. Ken's vision had to be funny, he decided, because Aya's eyes were shiny. "Ken Hidaka, you are going to be okay."

Ken felt the boat drop away from him, and only realized it was because Aya was lifting him up again after he was chest to chest with the swordsman, held and carried backwards over the water to the shore. His arm throbbed where he'd injected the drug. Both arms hung down, his feet dragged on the gravel. It was humiliating, but his head hung back, brown hair feathering over Aya's strong fingers at the back of his neck. He wanted to say, 'Yes, sure, of course,' To agree. He was going to be okay. If anyone could make that happen, Aya could. He just felt so unreal as Aya slipped an arm under his knees and lifted him again.

He'd never thought of Aya as very tender. The arms holding him, his only tether to life, he felt, they were very tender, strong, demanding as they held him, refused to let him go. Time had no meaning. He didn't know how long Aya carried him, or if he slept or not. But he knew when Aya set him down, leaning him carefully against at tree. It was so dark, Aya so pale. It made his eyes vivid, his hair look like an angry sunrise. A smile twitched at Ken's lips and slender fingers touched the smile. "You have the strongest spirit, Ken-kun," Aya whispered, quiet words only between the two of them, calling him Ken-kun with so much meaning. "Stay here. There is a campfire less than a hundred feet from here. I will return."

Aya's footsteps faded into the quiet of the forest so quickly. It left Ken feeling as if he were the only person on the planet, as if no one would ever seek him or hear from him again and he couldn't even lift his hand to wipe away the hot slipping down his cheeks. He would have done it still, knowing he'd be lost and helpless in the forest. Aya. The world without Aya, or with a Aya hurt as deeply as Schuldig would have, was not a world Ken could have lived in.

"Damn it, Ken! Don't go to sleep!" Aya growled, having come out of no where, his hand taking hold of Ken's shirt, shaking him slightly.

Ken opened his eyes, tried to take a deep breath, wondered why his lips were tingling. It was like that lip gloss Omi had had once, too much mint, only this time there wasn't any gloss. "Aya."

"Yeah, Ken, stay awake." Aya must have been very close because Ken could hear the cell phone he'd gotten from somewhere ringing. Omi answered. "Moshi Moshi!"

"Omi. It's Aya." Quickly, he told them what forest they were in, how many miles from the high way, what direction, the details Nagi had given about the poison. "Hurry."

"Aya! How did you get away? Who is Seigo Nakao?"

"The very pissed camper I borrowed the phone from, very likely," Aya replied, not the slightest hint of guilt in his voice. "Bring changes of clothing, blankets, first aid kit."

"I know how to do this, Aya-kun! Is Ken-kun okay?" Omi sounded worried, even through the phone though, Ken could hear Omi's typing, searching for the antidote. For the first time since he'd injected himself, Ken began to have real hope.

"He will be. Hurry up, Omi," Aya cut the connection, lifted Ken in his arms, and carried him back to the campfire. He had to return the phone and he'd just borrow the fire and some of their blankets in the mean time.