Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Reminiscence of Antiquity ❯ Wishing to be Free ( Chapter 3 )

Title: Reminiscence of Antiquity

Chapter: 3 - Wishing to be free

Rated: PG13 (?)

Warnings: Eventual shounen-ai ( AxY & KxO)

Legal stuff: Well... I think it's obvious but I'll state it anyway. I down own them! Please don't sue me? I'm poor... seriously...>_>;;

Author and Editor notes: None for now, are you impressed?

Thanks to: My editor. Shaeric Draconis. The Squall x Zell + Aya x Yohji Yaoi fanfic group. Creators of Weiss Kreuz. My fellow Gypsies everywhere.

AYYA! Vive la Resistance!

~*~

Sneaking into the apartment wasn't easy. Not in the middle of the day. Not with five little kids all gathered

in the living room and hallway waiting for you to return. And definitely not with three very angry adults waiting up for you. Yohji was pretty much screwed from the start and he knew it. Closing the front door behind him he could feel the tension thick in the air, making breathing a somewhat unpleasant experience.

"Yohji," came the statement and closing his eyes, he swallowed hard.

Stepping into the living room, all eyes were upon him and he knew he was in some serious trouble. Maybe he should have called them? Maybe he shouldn't have gotten so drunk so early? Maybe he shouldn't have gone at all? Shaking his head he sighed and rubbed one of his throbbing temples. This was going to be hell on his already painful hangover. He didn't need this right now.

"Where were you?"

Oh yes, he -really- didn't need this right now, "Out."

The anger directed towards him would have been worse if Aya had not been one of the three adults standing there. Sometime in the process of him being gone they must have called Aya and informed him that he was missing. It was probably Aya who prevented them from raising hell in half the countryside over his "mysterious disappearance".

"Excuse me, young man?" That was his adoptive father. Even with his eyes closed Yohji could see the disgust on the man's face and he somehow felt ashamed for what he was, even though he knew that was wrong.

"I... went out with some friends, I'm sorry I didn't call. I forgot." He started again, maybe a bit more of a "I'm sorry" approach would appease the angry adults before him.

Opening his eyes he took note of all the emotions playing upon everyone's faces except Aya's. His adoptive father was, as he thought, disgusted. His adoptive mother was livid. Most of the children were amused and glad it was not them in trouble with the exception of the oldest who held some sympathy for Yohji and his current situation. But Aya. Oh no, Aya was perfectly in control of himself and therefore showed no emotions upon his face or in his eyes. Aya was a very controlled person and Yohji suddenly felt very relieved that he was there... even if he knew he would be living in hell the minute the older man left.

"Why did you go out?" Emerald orbs shifted over to gaze at such disapproving charcoal colored ones.

"It was my birthday." The youth spoke flatly and was partly amused by the flicker of surprise followed by a wince in his adoptive parent's expressions. That's right, none of them knew when his birthday was... they always forgot... or perhaps they never cared to remember.

"Yohji, why don't you ever tell us anything? You never talk to us...we were so worried that we almost called the cops," Yohji could hear his adoptive mother say with false concern. That always made him sick. They only pretended when they had company. He hated false emotions and faked concern.

"But you called Aya instead." Yohji pointed out, letting his eyes play back over to Aya who was standing firm in his spot. No response. Aya was good when he was mad. Or was he really mad at all? Yohji couldn't tell at this point, not with Aya, simply because he could never read Aya.

"You will respect Fujimiya-san in this house hold, young man and call him by his surname," the supposed father went on. Yohji nearly rolled his eyes. He had known Aya since before he was a teenager. Aya was practically his best friend and here this man assumed to tell him how to treat his own friend and on top of it all, belittle him by calling him a 'young man' and not by his name. He hated that about most adults.

"Yes, Ikido-san." Yohji said mockingly, half hoping to anger his adoptive father. They both knew that his adoptive father couldn't blow up when Aya was there and so he was going to push all the buttons he could under Aya's protection. He was going to get into trouble anyway, might as well have fun on the way down.

"Why are you dressed in that ridiculous outfit?" Yohji's eye twitched as he turned to look at Mrs. Ikido.

"It's not ridiculous." He said flatly in defense.

"You're practically wearing a skirt and on top if it you're wearing makeup. Are you trying to become a girl or something?" She laughed her snooty little laugh and Yohji glared at her. She knew where to sting him and pretend she was only joking.

"You couldn't be less ignorant." He muttered darkly and the "man" of the house decided to jump all over it.

"You will not talk to your mother in that manner!"

"She's not my mother!" He snapped.

"She's more of a mother than yours ever was. At least she has a job and helps keep a roof over your head."

Nothing. He just stared at them in disbelief. How dare they. They had no right to down his mother. Turning on his heel he walked straight for the front door before he punched one of them.

"Get back here this instant, young man!"

Yohji didn't listen, in fact, he just kept walking. To hell with those people. Bitter tears began to streak down his face. Why was he crying? Was it because they made fun of him? No, he could care less if they made fun of the way he dressed... it was his mother that he cared about. Slamming the door on his way out he went straight for the stairs at the end of the hall. Yohji's adoptive father ran out after him and grabbed him by the arm but Yohji yanked his arm away as fast as he could, barely keeping himself from hitting the man.

"Don't touch me!" He screamed at the older man, "Don't you ever touch me again!" and with that he was across the hall and down the stairs.

Once he was out of the building he didn't care where he was going. He just ran blindly as fast as he could and as far as he could without looking back or thinking to stop. He must have been a strange sight to the people he ran straight past. Then again, most teenage boys dressed in gypsy clothing and makeup running down the middle of the sidewalk in the slums of Japan would be a strange sight. Stopping only when he was out of breath he ducted into an ally and sunk to the ground, not caring that it was covered in filth. The hot tears rolled down his face and he wanted nothing more then to curl up into a little ball and die. The pain in his back from his tattoo was stinging twice as bad as the throbbing migraine right behind his eyes.

He wanted his home back. He wanted his mother back. He wanted his old life back. He was so very tired of the life he had been living. Tired of the moving from place to place; tired of the rejection and violating stares he always got when he went somewhere new. Nobody understood and so they mocked him and his way of life. The tears weren't helping his headache but there wasn't much he could do to stop them. It was there, in that very moment, he felt so alone and so pathetic. What other practically adult male ran away from home and cried for himself in an alley? He hated himself for being so weak but what else was new? Footsteps. Footsteps coming towards him were new.

"Hey."

"If you're going to try and convince me to go back then just turn around and leave, Aya."

There was a short pause before Aya spoke again, "Did you want a milkshake?"

Yohji looked up with his reddened eyes at the man standing before him, "Only if you're paying." He smiled faintly.

"Deal." Aya muttered then turned and headed towards his car which Yohji was surprised he never heard following him or park nearby.

Gathering himself together the blond rose to his feet and leaned against the wall for a minute so he wouldn't fall over from blacking out. It took a minute before he could see again and after that minute passed, he wandered out of the alley and into Aya's car. No words transpired between them on the way to their fast food place. That's right, their fast food place. Aya wasn't very adventurous when it came to food so whenever he picked out a place that served "decent food" he stuck with it. Yohji grew accustomed to this and over time he thought of it as 'their fast food place'. The car pulled to a stop and the two of them got out and wandered into the little restaurant, made their orders, received their shakes, then continued to sit in silence. So much silence. Why was Aya always so quiet? Was he really all that silent or was it Yohji being paranoid of the lack of noise?

"Aya I-" Yohji started but Aya simply shook his head and the words died in Yohji's mouth.

"You know you should have called your guardians, Yohji. You also know that you're supposed to try and fit into this family..."

"Aya, you can't-"

"Be quiet until I am finished, Kodou-san." Aya frowned. Yep, he was mad. "You could have caused a big commotion and in the worse case scenario, you could have gotten yourself put right back into the orphanage. I'm not asking you to like them but I -am- asking you to try and obey their rules and give them a little respect."

"But-"

"I haven't finished yet." Aya cut in, sending Yohji a warning glance, "I understand your discomfort with them and I also can see why you dislike them but Yohji... you're running on thin ice." In the amethyst eyes there was a hint of concern, genuine caring. "You don't have a lot of options left. Do you -want- you end up in the orphanage until you are of age?"

Yohji was silent as he stared straight back at Aya whose gaze never wavered. It was, of course, the youngest of the pair who dropped his gaze to the table first. Even if he hated those people... even if he couldn't stand the conditions he lived in... he wanted to please Aya. Why? Who the hell knew. Yohji sunk a little into the booth that he was sitting in with a sigh. Aya was just someone he looked up to, someone who had saved his life and stuck his neck out for Yohji countless times. Aya defended him and Aya gave him friendship when no one else would. Maybe... maybe that's why he always wanted to please Aya. He wanted to prove to Aya that the man did not make a mistake when he defended him all those times.

"I know..." Aya stared to speak again, causing Yohjis head to snap up in attention, "...I know that what they said back there hurt you more than they could have known it would but ... it didn't make it right." Aya wasn't good at giving sympathy so it made Yohji smile a little when the older man tried, "It wasn't fair of them to bring up something that they had no business sticking their noses in to. I guess some people are just insensitive bastards like that."

Yohji almost choked on the milkshake he had just took a sip from. Aya wasn't one to throw out insults like that...ever. Aya must have been in an odd mood. Yep, the ghost of a smile was placed on Aya's lips and Aya rarely smiled.

"Thank you." The blond teen spoke lightly as he shifted in his seat.

"You're welcome." Aya nodded then turned his attention to the milkshake in hand. This was the way things were between Yohji and Aya and both were fine with that. Somewhere as a distant thought, Yohji wondered what life would be like without Aya and to answer that ever distant thought he decided that he didn't care to know. Why bother to question what wasn't when he was content with what was? It was a waste of time and effort and that's something that he wasn't about to spend any amount of energy upon. Not today anyway.

"Are the wings finished?"

"Next year I'm getting some details done and then I think it will be finished."

Aya nodded and the corner of his lips twitched into something that resembled a smirk. Or at least a smirk in Aya's body language which Yohji had earned a master's degree in. After a second of nothing, the two went back into their respective shells of silence though neither of the two bothered to put up their masks of emotionlessness. No, there was no point to do so around the other because each knew their companion's true self and to hide it would only be a futile effort that neither of the two really cared to bother themselves with.

Once the milkshakes were downed, they left the restaurant and headed back towards Yohji's house keeping the quiet between them ever present. With Yohji's parents it was always an uproar, with the gypsies it was always some kind of commotion and with Ken it was always just noise but with Aya... with Aya came the cessation of sound and in this world of chaos, the silence Aya brought was welcomed to Yohji.

The car pulled to a stop right in front of Yohji's apartment place where Aya turned to look at the boy who was staring straight ahead, trying his damnedest not too look over at the haunting building towering above them to their right.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Aya slowly spoke smoothly without hesitation.

"No." The teen shook his head as he turned and looked at Aya, pushing a smile as he spoke again, "I can handle this one, Aya, thank you."

Aya, in turn simply nodded, and Yohji opened the door to take a breath of unpleasant city air. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell and sight of the urban wasteland he so regrettably called home. Closing the door gently he waved to Aya and scrambled to the sidewalk where he could wave and watch his last hope of help drive away. Swallowing hard he turned and headed closer to the building. He had to prove to Aya that he could do something on his own... he had to prove to the man that he wasn't a waste of time and effort... he wasn't a waste of -Aya's- time and effort. The main rusty door squeaked and groaned from being opened when it would have rather rusted shut. With a sigh he slipped inside then climbed the many stares to his apartment where he paused before doing anything more. This was going to be hell... he knew it but he determined not to fail, no matter what. The apartment door open and he stepped inside, sealing his fate for what was to transpire of his adoptive parent's wrath.

Walking down the hallway and rounding the corner he could see them seething and bubbling in their own anger and disgruntledness over the events earlier. When they turned and both stared at him he balled his hands into fists by his side and once more prepared himself for the lecture and wrath that would, no doubt, ensue. Part of him really wished he could have Aya beside him. Part of him really wished he would just die right then and melt away from the disapproving look in his guardian's eyes though part of him knew he had to be strong. He knew he couldn't depend on Aya forever and he knew that most of this was his fault anyway and he should accept the consequences of his actions and

carelessness.

"Yohji..." Cue the drum roll please, "We're very disappointed in the way you behaved this afternoon, in front of Fujimiya-san no less."

Yohji gritted his teeth and tightened his fists a little, he hated the way they pretended to know Aya. They knew nothing of the man... they knew nothing of his and Aya's friendship... they only assumed that Aya simply "put up with him" like everyone else.

"You should have at least called to let us know where you were!" And so the avalanche of a lecture fell over him and suffocated him.

Biting his bottom lip and digging his nails into the palms of his hands were effective ways of avoiding a break out from his end. How much he wanted to yell back and defend himself though he didn't. Quietly he accepted their accusations and insults; allowing them to ride out their power trip. What could he say them? He did everything against their wishes and was careless enough to worry everyone when he didn't come home and was reported absent the school . This lecture was well deserved, however, the insults and stabs at his heritage were not. His eyes narrowed at them and his teeth grind together to stop him from snapping at them. They were idiots and they caused him to realized just how much he disliked them. Wanting the babble to end, Yohji pretended to be humble and sorry before them. He was such a good little actor.

The teen's hands were wet and it took him a minute to realize that fact, though he didn't bother to glance down at his hands; not until they had finished with their self-righteous arguments.

"And so..." Yohji's step father was finishing up at last. Oh thank gawd. "You're grounded to the house for the next two weeks. We'll come up with more

of a punishment after we've discussed it later."

Joygasams. "Fine."

"Now go to your room, we want to see it clean before dinner."

He wasn't about to tell them he already ate, "Fine."

Turning on his heel he practically marched all the way to his shared room. Lucky for him the little brats that he always took care of weren't in there. That was certainly one less thing he had to worry about. Blood. It was blood that made his hands wet earlier; no wonder his hands hurt. Apparently digging your nails into the palm of your hand cuts the skin and causes you to bleed. Go figure. The blond bent down and picked up a relatively clean towel to wipe up the tiny streams of blood pooling in the creases of his aching hands. Half mesmerized by the stains of crimson all over; he felt himself start to slip.

/Widened eyes filled with shock took in the horror of what was laid out before him. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor that tainted the air while he cautiously moved to the motionless figure's side. The child hesitantly reached out and touched the frigid stationary body then instantly pulled back as if it had bit him. There was dark liquid all around- warm, thick and almost black liquid and nothing but hysteria was written across the youth's face when he finally had the nerve to turn the person over and find it was his mother, or something that resembled her. The woman's face was too badly beaten and bloody to tell for sure if it really was his mother or not but he guessed by the hair and clothing she wore that it was the one person in the world whom he didn't want it to be. A scream caught in his strained throat and he was paralyzed to the spot. Blood was still oozing out over everything now and all he could do was sit and stare at the lifeless form now half draped across his lap. His hands... his body... all covered in his mother's sticky blood.

Darkness was closing in on him and he felt himself start to choke on it. He couldn't breathe; he couldn't see; he was going to die. And then... nothing. The boy's jade eyes were wide open but he was not in his body. The mind had sent the boy's consciousness far from the reality that was crashing all aroundmhim. Voices called him but he refused to come back. No, in the darkness of his own world was where he would rather be./

"YOHJI!"

The teenager jumped, snapping straight out of his memory to look over at his adoptive father standing in the doorway of his shared room. The man was clearly rankled with him but he couldn't for the life of him understand why. Had he been drifting again? Yohji looked around the room to noticed it was only part of the way done then looked over at the clock to see how much time had passed.

"This room is still a mess." He heard his guardian reiterate what he already knew, "what the hell were you doing for the last hour and a half?" That was a fine question; one in which Yohji himself couldn't even answer. Hour and a half, huh? What the hell -did- he do in that time? He was spacing off but about what? His mind could only draw blanks and upon looking back at his guardian he gathered the feeling that he had -better- come up with something for the man before he found himself in more trouble then he already was in.

"I..." He started, searching for some form of an excuse, "I guess I must have dazed off... or something." It was the truth, now to see if Stalin would accept it as a reasonable one.

"Obviously so." We have a winner, "Get to the kitchen and do the dishes. There is some dinner left for you in the pans. You can eat after you've finished." And with that, the anal retentive human being was gone. Perfect.

Only minutes had passed before Yohji was in the kitchen, doing the dishes and letting his mind wander as he preformed such a mind numbing and somewhat simplistic task. The water fell from the tap, hit the pan and caused the soap to foam, which in turn softened the grime upon the metal. With soft movements in sweeping motions the boy washed away the filth and watched it be tugged down the drain by the force of the moving water. Moving water was always like that; pushing and pulling at objects to get them to move in the same direction as the current. Water flowed together and followed its mass to whatever destination was carved out for it. People were a lot like water and in the mass ocean of people, Yohji felt like a pebble. He was always being pushed and pulled in different directions at the whim of anyone who it pleased to do so. Free will was never his to be had.

All his life he had been pleasing others and he half guessed that for the rest of his life he would be doing the same thing. The boy was a slave to everyone's happiness and he showed it in many different ways but the most common was by pleasing everyone that he could almost all the time. He made his adoptive parents happy by doing what they told him to; he made the gypsies happy by agreeing to be their leader; he made his friends happy by entertaining them in different matters and, in some ways, he made Aya happy by trying to do his best and prove his worth to Aya... prove that he was worth the effort Aya had invested in him.

Was this the way life is supposed to be? He mused over the idea, letting it roll over in his brain while he mulled it into its most simple states in order to understand it better. Life was all about serving, or at least his life was. A sigh escaped him and the water was turned off once he placed the last dish on the drying rack. One day, a small grin formed upon his mouth, he might break free of the cycle and eventually live his life the way he always wanted to live it. He would serve only those he wanted to serve simply because he wanted to serve them, no other reason. One day he would be his own man with no burdens but his own and no life to really worry about but his own. He would live as a person, a human being and not some subhuman slave. Freedom: one day it would be his.

A glass shattered against the kitchen tiles and spread out across the floor in tiny harmful fragments threatening to bite at anyone's skin that dared to touch them. The blond shook his head and slowly dropped down to his knees so he could pick up the glass shards; freedom was only a silly dream that would never really be his. He couldn't even fool himself into believing that things would ever get better anymore. Crimson against the harsh white floor - his blood upon the harsh white floor. The pain rippling up his arm from the cut across his hand reminded him that he was still alive in the hellish reality of existence. There was no room for dreams anymore, it was time to give up dreaming because nothing would ever come from it - nothing was ever going to change.

to be continued...