Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Smile in Regret ❯ Where I Hold You ( Chapter 1 )

Smile in Regret

Chapter 1: “Where I Hold You”

Fan fic by: Omni-sama

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Ratings, disclaimers, etc, found in prologue.

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His eyes were always so emotional. The rest of his ivory face was like cold stone. Unless he was extremely angry, or in the throes of passion, that is. Yohji had seen him in every way he thought imaginable. He had watched the man scream in fury as he drove a sharp steel blade through someone's body. He had watched the man scream in pleasure as Yohji stroked and worshiped his flesh. And, of course, he had seen what everyone else was used to seeing…the stone cold mask. But, even with that mask, his eyes were always so emotional.

 

It was those eyes that haunted him.

 

No matter where he wandered, he would always see those violet eyes staring at him as they did that last day. How was it even possible for so many emotions to be reflected in his eyes all at once? Anger, hatred, disgust, confusion, sorrow, uncertainty, betrayal……and all directed at him, Kudou Yohji. The words that were spoken to him in the redhead's deep voice were barely remembered, because they were barely registered. It was the eyes that he was focused on, the eyes that he was listening to. And those eyes were telling him to leave and never come back. So, he did. Because, after all, once you leave….you never can come back.

 

*****

 

The smoke swirled in the air as he slowly let it out of his lungs. Green eyes traced the pale gray wisps until they spread too thin and disappeared into nothingness. It had been nearly an hour since he returned home from the casino. As he took another drag of his cigarette, he wondered how much longer he would have to wait for Schwarz to show up and drag his sorry ass out of there.

 

“There” was a small, rundown apartment with one main room and a closet-sized bathroom. The walls that could have possibly been a white color or even a pale cream at one time were a sullied dark beige with putrid yellows and rusty oranges staining them in places. The floor consisted of worn-down, slightly warped wood that was adorned with similar stains. A bed that could barely be described as a single was pressed lengthways, on its left side, against the back wall in order to provide more surface area for a person to move about in the small room. The kitchen was made up of a cabinet, a sink, a broken stove, and a small refrigerator that was just big enough to hold five beer bottles. Yohji was currently sitting on the only piece of furniture there was besides the bed—a wobbly wooden chair that looked ready to break at any moment.

 

Of course, now that he was a millionaire, he could afford a much better place than this. But, he had only won his millions this afternoon, and his little stalker on the way home pretty much told him that he wouldn't have the time to spend the money. So, nothing else to really do but sit in the rickety old chair and blow smoke rings. Which is exactly what he was doing. Outside the one window the apartment possessed, with its panes cracked and distorted with age, the cars on the street drove loudly by. He was only three floors up, so even the people on the sidewalks could easily be heard through the glass. There were footfalls on the stairs in the hall, the partially rotted planks creaking beneath the strain. When he heard two sets of feet stop outside his door, he stood up and tossed his cigarette butt to the floor, grinding it out beneath the toe of his shoe. Before whoever it was could even knock, he had opened the door. There was one brief moment where he saw piercing blue eyes, and then everything went black.

 

*****

 

Before he opened his eyes, he registered a few things in his fuzzy brain. His back was cold and damp, the air was stale and moldy, and everything was silent. There was no sound of traffic, no voices, nothing. When he opened his eyes, he assumed he had actually failed at that, since everything was still pitch black. It took several more tries for him to realize that he had in fact opened them, but that wherever he was possessed no light. None at all. No light from around the cracks of a door or streaming through the panes of a window. It was just solid black. Shifting his limbs about, he found that he was not restrained in any fashion. But, the darkness was a restraint in itself, for he had no idea where he was, or what existed in that black void.

 

It was not long until he heard a strange but familiar scratching sound of metal against metal. A key was being inserted and turned, the click of the lock release echoing in the dark chamber. A few more loud clicks indicated the shifting of more bolts and locks. Then, there was light. First it came in a small stream from a slowly opening door; then it became a flood, pouring down from bare fluorescent strips along the ceiling. Yohji grit his teeth and closed his eyes, the light still blinding him through his lids.

 

“You woke up right on time. Damn, that man is so very rarely wrong…” a familiar voice tisked in German. Eyes still closed, Yohji listened carefully to the two sets of footfalls upon the concrete floor, gauging their positions in his mind.

 

“He wouldn't be much good if he was wrong all the time,” remarked the owner of the second set of feet, also speaking German, but with an accent that implied it was not his native tongue.

 

“True. But, it would be more fun if he was.”

 

“I suppose. Anyway, aren't we going to play with the kitty now?..”

 

“Ah. Yes. But, Farfarello, remember that you don't get to hurt him until after I ask him a few things, alright?”

 

“Yes, I know.”

 

“Good.” The feet belonging to the German stepped closer to Yohji. He heard one lift from the ground and he braced himself just in time as a foot plowed into his stomach, causing him to roll a little. “I know you're awake, Balinese, you might as well open your eyes. Or, should I call you Nanashi Fleischer?” An amused snicker. “Nameless butcher? Creative. And, if you don't mind me saying so, rather sloppy. It's a pretty obvious sign that seems to scream `Hey, I'm an assassin! Woo! Come get me!' ”

 

On the floor, Yohji tried to smile instead of groan from the pain in his gut. Also speaking German (for why spoil the trend?), Yohji said with a false amity, “Yeah, well, I thought it was a brilliant idea at the time. Guess I've learned my lesson, though, huh?” He managed to open his eyes a little, and stared up at the looming man with long fiery red hair. “Hello, Schuldig. Fancy meeting you here. Thought Schwarz was Japan-based…”

 

A wry smirk formed over Schuldig's lips as he nudged Yohji with his foot until the man rolled over to lie fully on his back. “Were Japan-based. Were. After what happened to the Elders, we were…transferred. But, enough about us, Fleischer, tell us about you.”

 

“Nothing to know, really,” came the nonchalant reply from the blond on the ground. “That is, nothing that you don't already know, I'm sure.”

 

“Oh, come now, Balinese… It's been going on two years now since we last saw each other. Think of all that time to catch up on.”

 

“Then you should have asked me out for coffee if you wanted to play catch-up. I don't respond as well to the whole kidnapping and kicking thing. Not exactly a nice way to start a conversation, you know.” That earned him a snort of laughter and a sharp kick to the side.

 

“Enough flirting. Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?” Schuldig's smirk grew as he watched Yohji cringing from the pain the most recent kick had caused. Smirk still in place, he continued, “We want to know where the others are.”

 

“The other what?” Yohji grit out, rolling over onto his stomach so he could attempt to pull himself up onto his hands and knees. He didn't have time to try, however, as another hard kick sent him rolling. Once his body came to a stop, he didn't try to move again. Besides, he could have sworn he felt a crack this last time….

 

“Don't fuck around, Balinese. I'm talking about the rest of Weiß. Where are they? Are they here, too?”

 

For a moment Yohji lay there, staring at the wall with his back facing Schuldig. His own shock kept him silent for that short time. Then, realizing that continued silence would equate to more kicking, he spoke. “You mean they aren't in Tokyo anymore?…”

 

“Could you kindly cut the dumb act? It was a little cute at first, but now it's just fucking annoying.” Schuldig slowly started walking closer to Yohji's prone body, more than ready to deliver another blow.

 

“…But I'm not playing. I haven't seen them in a year. I left.”

 

The sound of shoes clicking dully against the hard floor stopped. Another short silence settled over the cold room. And then a soft “you're lying” left the German's lips.

 

“No. I'm telling you the truth. I left.”

 

The shoes moved again, faster this time, and Yohji suddenly found himself being picked up by the back of his shirt and tossed. For a split second the only thing that came to Yohji's mind was wonderment over Schuldig's strength, and then he panicked a bit as he noticed where he was being flung. A single golden eye stared down at him once he landed in front of a pair of black shoes. Scarred lips pulled back slowly into a demented grin, and Yohji felt dread deep in the pit of his stomach. It felt almost tangible…as if he had swallowed a cannon ball.

 

“You better start telling the truth, Balinese, or else I'll let Berserker have his fun. And you know Berserker likes his fun.”

 

“I am telling the truth,” he yelled, the panic barely kept down in his voice. “Scan my fucking mind if you don't believe me! You're a telepath, aren't you?! So fucking read my mind!”

 

“Ah, you see… I would. I tried. While you were out, I tried to pick your brain apart so that our little…chat..wouldn't even have to take place. Problem is that I can't get anything clear from you. All I get are flashes of red and purple. I get a few jumbled words, some random feelings…. Then again—and this isn't easy for me to admit—I never really could get a clear reading of you before, either. Oh, I could always tell where you were going to toss your little string next, and all that lovely stuff. That was easy. But, anyone who fucking trains to fight long enough can tell that, telepathy or not. But reading your mind? Oh, that was another matter… At least I could tell what you felt for that Neu bitch. Or was it `Asuka'?”

 

“Shut up!” Yohji had mixed feelings as Schuldig explained the inability to read his mind. In a way it was a good thing, but in a way it was pretty much guaranteeing him more torture. The Neu and Asuka comments, however, were intolerable, and anger overcame all other thoughts and feelings.

 

 

“Excuse me? Did you just command me to shut up?” The German slowly made his way over to the other two, his head cocked to the side. “Do you realize you're a prisoner? Do you realize that Farfarello and I are here to beat you to a bloody pulp in order to obtain information from you? Do you realize that you're in no position to command either of us to do anything? Hm? Do you?”

 

Yohji was silent, but he was thinking, “fuck you,” over and over again, hoping that at least that would get through to the German telepathically. Whether Schuldig “heard” it or not, he seemed to be fed up with the interrogation. He strolled to the door, tisking softly.

 

“Have fun with Farfarello, Kudou. Farf, `call' me when you're done and I'll come unlock the door for you.” And with that, the heavy metal door creaked shut and the locks clicked loudly back into place.

 

*****

 

He didn't know how much time passed after Schuldig departed and he was left in the tender mercies of Farfarello. He also didn't know how much time passed after Farfarello left him in a boneless pile on the cold floor. All he knew was that at some point he had passed out, only to awake with bandages and a bowl of what he assumed was food. Prodigy was standing silently near the door, watching Yohji wake up and shift about in pain. It was damn eerie, that boy's gaze. He'd grown a bit since the last time Yohji had seen him, but in Yohji's mind he still seemed far too fucking young for all of this. Even younger than Omi, and Omi was also too fucking young.

 

Somehow Yohji managed to drag himself over to the bowl. With unsteady hands he lifted it and set it to his lips, carefully drinking down the broth-like contents.

 

Nagi continued to stare.

 

For a small eternity, things remained just like that. The silence of the room was only disturbed by Yohji's slurping sounds. Dark eyes bore quietly down upon him as he fed. His own green eyes stared back, questioning…suspicious. What did the kid want with him, he wondered. Schuldig's job was to get answers. Farfarello's job was to beat the shit out of him. Brad's job was to be the shadowy figure of a leader who didn't get his hands dirty with something like this. So, what was Nagi's job?

 

His eyes flicked away from the boy long enough to glance at the soup he was slurping down. Oh. Of course. Nagi's job was to play nursemaid. Maybe Yohji wasn't the only one who thought the kid was too fucking young for the other shit.

 

Emptied of its contents, the bowl was set back down upon the cold floor with a few soft clicks. Yohji shifted again, trying to find a comfortable sitting position. Eventually he decided it might be worth it just to drag himself over to the wall so he could prop himself up. As he crawled and scraped and slid to the wall, Nagi still remained silent and motionless, watching him. Finally able to sit up and rest his back against the wall, Yohji looked up over at the boy from beneath heavy eyelids.

 

Speaking Japanese for the first time in nearly a year, he asked, “What's the damage, doc?” He subtly raised a brow upon hearing the roughness in his own voice.

 

A few moments passed in renewed silence. Then Nagi tilted his head just slightly, and proceeded to make an audible list of Yohji's injuries. “From what I can tell, two broken ribs, a fractured ankle, an either sprained or fractured elbow, far too many abrasions to count, and three deep wounds that required stitches.”

 

Yohji whistled low, or at least attempted to. It came out a bit too airy because his lips were dry and chapped. He frowned at his failure and licked at his lips, which helped in some marginal degree. “So…” The man let his head roll back on his neck, resting it against the cool cement behind him. “You're the one who fixed me up, right?”

 

Nagi nodded, eyeing him in a way that seemed to dare the man to say something negative because of it. His eyes narrowed in suspicion when he saw Yohji crack a small smile. “…What?” asked the boy, wanting to know what would make his enemy so pleased, and knowing it couldn't possibly be anything good.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Another silence fell over the room as Nagi attempted to digest that. It wasn't quite what he had expected. He thought the cocky Weiß member would say something cruel, perhaps spit at him and the medical treatment he provided. But to be thanked… And it seemed genuine. It was a long while before Nagi shook himself from his confused musings and gave another slight nod. “You're welcome,” he responded.

 

Yohji's smile grew a little more and he nodded back. No more words were said as Nagi made his exit and made sure the locks were secure. Left alone once again in the room, yet this time with the lights left on, Yohji stared absently at the door. Yeah, he always thought the kid was too good to be in Schwarz. Like an innocent in a pack of devils. Oh, he wasn't so naïve as to think that Nagi never killed anyone. But, he had a feeling it wasn't what the kid wanted to do… He did not seem to have the heart of a killer. Yohji had enough experience with murderers to be able to tell.

 

Perhaps, if he could befriend the kid, he might be able to survive… A part of him grasped desperately to this sign of hope. When another brought up the scene where Brad had slapped Nagi and demanded obedience, the hopeful side slipped away a tad. It might not matter how buddy-buddy he gets…he's still screwed.

 

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, working on pushing the memory of Aya deeper into his mind so that Schuldig couldn't reach it. Evidently it had been working so far. The only drawback was that it prevented the German from obtaining confirmation that he left… Still… He couldn't let Schuldig see. Never. They could use it… Yohji couldn't allow that. He had to protect him…he had to.

 

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Tsuzuku…