Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Scarlet Letters ❯ Mystery caller? ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: *sniffle* Nope, not mine.

 

AN: Yes it has taken me a while- but I made oneshots! Or I tried to anyway.

Well, this chapter is crap in my opinion - but I think everything I write is crap so you be the judge.

 

Scarlet letters Chapter 8

 

(Aya)

 

I've made up my mind - I'm following him.

 

Yes, it's sneaky and not at all something I would want to happen to me, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

Although, even when I do find out who this mystery caller is, what am I going to do about them?

 

Hmm…Yohji obviously loves them so killing them would be out of the question - I don't want to make Yohji cry!

 

Yes, I am actually sensitive to others feelings - I just don't show it. How could I lead Weiss if I turned acted all sympathetic because Ken's kid's lost one of their soccer games, or Omi only got a 99/100 score on his test.

 

But I'm not sure I could handle Yohji crying, I mean sure I have seen him do it before, but I wasn't the cause of it.

 

How do you think Aya-chan always got me to buy her things?

 

Even now, as far away as she is, she still gets packages in the mail that she knows are from me, but I get happy phone calls as payments - that makes me happy.

 

But, I am getting off track.

 

It's only been a few hours since the mystery caller interrupted Yohji bandaging my hand, and I know for a fact that he is going out tonight because he has been in the shower for longer than usual.

 

Okay so I know how long it usually takes him to shower- I was bored one day and I happen to…who am I kidding?

 

I timed him.

 

Obsessive anyone?

 

At least I can admit that I was in denial.

 

A therapist would say that is a big step forward.

 

I also know that he likes Italian coffee in the morning, he's trying to quit smoking because Weiss isn't doing suicide jobs anymore, his favourite shirt is green silk, the very same one he accidentally burnt a tiny hole in with his cigarette, he can sketch quite well, his favourite foods are American, and he can speak 13 languages.

 

Okay, the last one I got from his file, but that is not the point. I must admit though, I was shocked when I read that little fact. Apparently Yohji was quite the child genius in school, especially with science. He graduated two years early.

 

Very shocking.

 

But then again, we all have our little masks that we wear from time to time - or in my case, whenever I'm near any living things.

Would Yohji like me better if I treated him nicer? Almost certainly.

 

Maybe it's time to let go of the mask?

 

I'm still brooding I my chair in the mission room, and don't notice Omi standing behind me with Ken, until he taps on my shoulder.

 

If I was really myself, I would have jumped a few inches off my chair, but I forced myself to stay still when the hand descended on me.

 

“Aya-kun, did you notice that Yohji is going out tonight?” He asks in his usual glass-half-full voice.

 

I wanted to snap at him, tell him of course I noticed, how could I not? But I really do not wish to provoke him.

 

Never corner a wild animal after all.

 

I settle for not saying anything.

 

His hand on my shoulder tightens, the only warning I have before he spins me and the chair half around, still managing to look innocent as ever.

 

“Aren't you going to the club with him Aya-kun?” Singsong voice, angry eyes - his demeanour contradicts itself.

 

“Hn” Honestly, this wasn't really what I expected him to say, so I try to sound nonchalant.

 

Omi looks at Ken, and all of a sudden, I'm on my feet, being hauled up the metal stairs, and practically dragged into Ken's room. I must say, I was still kinda shocked to actually protest.

 

“It's okay Aya, we know you probably don't have anything to wear so we decided to help you out!” Sounding genki even after he assisted in forcing me onto the bed.

I had a sudden flash of panic and an odd thought to go with it.

 

I hope Omi isn't the kinky type…we really are here to put clothes on and not take them off.

I watch nearly wide eyed, as Ken rummages through his closet, bypassing a pile of soccer shorts, pulling out a pair of soft black leather pants and a tight red shirt so dark it looks almost black also. I recognise the ensemble from a mission a month or two ago.

 

Next thing I know, I'm being forced into the now vacated bathroom, with no choice but to change into the clothes in my arms or face Omi and Ken, both seemingly set on making me practically stalk my teammate to a nightclub.

 

I risk taking a peek out of the door, and am promptly shoved none too gently back in, hearing that perky voice commanding me to change or I'll be late.

 

While I am trying to fit myself into Ken's too small leather pants, my mind wonders back to my list of possible identities of the mystery caller.

 

X

X

X

 

(Yohji)

 

I rushed to get to the club after getting the frantic phone call earlier today, hoping that bastard boyfriend of his didn't hurt him too bad this time.

Man, sometimes I dunno why he even tries. That guy loves him I'm sure, but he is as receptive as a rock.

Except in the bedroom I'm told.

Still-like it would scare him off. But he could just say it - it's not that hard. Especially if he means it.

 

I walk into the club after passing the bouncer with a wave of recognition, and sure enough, there he is sitting at the bar cradling an empty glass, looking like a lost child.

 

My heart wrenches at seeing him like that - he's usually got more energy than Omi. What they went through during the reign of Esset was almost as bad - no worse, that what we did.

 

I make my way through the crowd to him, and don't need to say anything to make him look up.

I grab his hand and head toward out usual booth in a darker corner. He moves compliantly as I push him onto the leather, sliding in beside him.

I know he wants to cry, but even that was something not tolerated before and old habits die hard.

He can't help it though-this time is worse than the others.

I pull him into the circle of my arms and he simply breaks. Within seconds he is sobbing into my chest, hands clenching my shirt as I let him ride out his pain, the years of being as emotionally repressed as a certain redhead I know catching up with him.

His torrent of tears eventually slow to quiet but still steady stream, his breath catching with smothered little sobs and hiccups.

I stroke his hair and whisper to him soothingly in his own language, knowing it makes him comfortable, and am rewarded with a slight relaxing of his tense shoulders for my effort.

 

Red-rimmed blue eyes look up at me after a few moments of silence, slightly hidden behind orange-red wisps of hair.

 

“Feel better?” I question, knowing that I always feel quite a bit better after letting it out a little.

 

He nods almost sheepishly, still trying to accept having emotions and being able to express them without reprimand.

 

“Yes…Thank you Katzen”

 

X

X

X

 

Oops cliffhanger.

 

If you want another chapter you had better review!