Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Stray Kitten ❯ The First Day of the Rest of Your Life ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimers: Alas! We don't own Weiss. However Jade does happen to own Schu's favorite black thong, and Pheno owns a pair of Ken's boxers… *get bricked*

Jade: Oy! Also, I would like to tell everyone that I do not condone the use of fanfucktion.net. mediaminer.org is where it's at, yo.

Pheno: *whistles innocently as she posts on ff.net*

Jade: --; Well I didn't post it there. Just so you all know...

Warnings/Notes: Uhm.. warnings.. warnings... Lets see.. Blood, shounen-ai, heavy angst, cutting/attempted suicide, lots more blood and a lot more angst. Is that all? I think so. And the insanity in the A/N, but that's pretty much a given. Italics indicate personal thought, whereas {Italics} indicate Schuldich's telepathic speech.

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Stray Kitten

Chapter 2: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

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Schuldich hummed a German tune to himself as he poured pancake mixture into his pan and proceeded to make himself breakfast. The sweet scent of strawberries and cream wafted through the air as he popped opened the cap of the jam jar and spread a generous glob on his own stack of freshly toasted pancakes.

Schuldich knew he didn't look like a pancake person. For (A) he was an assassin and (B) he was gay. Gay assassins didn't do normal stuff such as frying pancakes for breakfast. But he did a killer job of it. Every morning he would lure at least one of the Schwarz members out with the 'breakfast smell', as he affectionately dubbed it, at seven sharp in the morning when all of hell was fast asleep.

And apparently it was enough to awaken a certain lost little kitten too as a tousled, damp brown head peered around the corner from the stairwell.

Apparently he found the shower. Schuldich thought to himself, thankful for not having to give him a bath later. Good thing Brad remembered to wash his clothes.

Brandeis stared at him meekly, doe-eyed, looking nervous and confused and hungry. He looked as though his brain had been knocked into next week. When he realized Schuldich had noticed him though, a deer-in-the-headlights expression crossed his face and he stood frozen, his hand resting hesitantly on the white wall, brown eyes wide. "S-Schuldich?" He nearly whispered, still not certain about the name.

Schuldich stopped himself a hair's breadth away from calling him Ken. He gestured to the table and smiled with what he hoped was friendly and reassuring.

"Hey Brandeis," he said cheerfully, untying the neon green apron he'd had on and offering the brunette a plate. "Breakfast?"

Brandeis nodded shyly and settled into a chair, looking around to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. When Schuldich handed him his share though, he picked up his fork and attacked the meal as though he'd been stranded in the desert for forty days. He grabbed a piece of ham, took a ripping bite and chewed. Then he downed the entire glass of milk in one gulp and poured himself another, and another. The food was disappearing in a remarkable rate.

Schuldich took in all of this, amused. There was something about the open honesty of the brunette that drew his attention like a moth to a flame…

"Brandeis," Schuldich said. Brandeis looked up immediately, swallowed what he had been devouring and blinked at Schuldich with rapt attention.

Good kitty.

Schuldich sauntered over to where the brunette was sitting almost casually, and grabbed his chin, tilting his head. He met the frightened, uncertain gaze for a split second before lowering his mouth to meet Brandeis' lips in a kiss.

It was soft at first, their mouths just lightly touching. After a moment, the red-head carefully darted his tongue out to taste the other's lips, purring slightly at the taste of strawberries and cream still lingering from the food that had been devoured. When Brandeis didn't react negatively, he pressed his luck a bit further and gently parted the brunette's lips.

To his surprise, they parted willingly, allowing his tongue to enter and explore. Soon the younger man got a bit of courage and lightly nudged Schuldich's tongue with his own. Schuldich growled playfully and chuckled. A few moments later he finally pulled away, tugging lightly on Brandeis' lower lip with his teeth.

Ken, no, Brandeis really was a knockout, especially when his face was all flushed like it was just then. He imagined what it would look like lying under him, crying and moaning his name in exquisite pleasure. Schuldich smiled and played with tufts of brown hair, twisting the chocolate stands between his fingers, admiring the silky softness. Slowly he bent over and buried his nose in the dark locks, inhaling deeply.

Pumpkin and clove. The little bastard had used his expensive shampoo. Not that he could blame him. It was better than that citrusy stuff Nagi loved, and that boring generic soap Brad used. As for Farfarello.. well, the best they could do for him was to toss him into a tub of water with some bubble bath. Apparently baths make God laugh.

"Do you.. uhm.. I mean.. you want to… um…" Brandeis blushed deeper, his face adopting the same strawberry hue as his pancakes as he dipped his head and shied away from Schuldich's gaze.

Awakening from his thoughts, Schuldich delivered him a full-lipped pout. "Brad won't let us play. It's like he's got this sexual tension detector that picks up the slightest spark of passion in the house. We try anything down here and he'll barge in and shoot us with a fire extinguisher within twenty seconds."

Brandeis looked like he was torn between the desire to burst out laughing and to exhale and slump in relief. Finally, not wanting to offend, he said, "Uh… how sad."

Schuldich chuckled and tossed his long hair back, running a hand down Brandeis' cheek. "It's okay to laugh, kitten. I don't mind. Honestly."

Brandeis blushed yet again and offered him a tiny smile.

Well, that's a start. The redhead broke into a self-satisfied grin as he forked a piece of egg and popped it into his mouth.

Somewhere upstairs a door opened and closed. Brandeis swallowed the food in his mouth and looked at Schuldich, that nervous expression back on his face.

Schuldich quickly did a mental scan. Brad and Farfarello were still asleep. By process of elimination it had to be...

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SIBERIAN DOING HERE!" Nagi screamed, leaping back about five feet from the base of the stairs.

Brandeis yelped and clung to Schuldich's arm at the unexpected shout.

"Having breakfast, you idiot." The German growled. "You'll wake the others. Brandeis, this is Naoe Nagi. Naggles, you remember Brandeis."

Dark blue eyes darted between the frightened Weiß member and a smug-looking German.

What the fuck did you do? Nagi sighed, going into the kitchen to get a plate.

{Me? I didn't do anything. Not really, anyway.}

Then what the hell is happening? One doesn't usually expect to come to breakfast and see one of their mortal enemies scarfing down pancakes like it's no big deal. The younger boy sat down at the table and served himself some pancakes, eyeing Brandeis warily.

{He has amnesia.}

"What!?" Nagi yelped out loud, quickly covering his mouth and looking at Schuldich.

Brandeis blinked, then looked up at the German. "Do Nagi and I not get along?" He tilted his head, then looked back at the younger teen, who just continued eyeing him like he had head lice.

"No, you two get along wonderfully. We just had to tell him you were in the hospital so he wouldn't bother you. You needed rest and he would have mothered you to death." Schuldich smiled, running a hand through Brandeis' hair. "Trust me, kitten."

Nagi growled and crammed a whole pancake into his mouth before storming upstairs. A door could be heard slamming above them, followed by blaring music.

"... It doesn't look like he likes me.." The brunette lowered his head and sighed.

"No, he's just mad that we didn't tell him you were in the house all along." Schuldich sighed, rubbing his temples slightly.

Suddenly Brandeis got up and slowly made his way upstairs, following the music to figure out where the boy was. At the end of the hall he found a black door with a few stickers for various different bands, as well as a small picture of a slightly masculine blond woman holding a gun towards the camera (1). Swallowing a nervous lump in his throat, the brunette raised his fist and knocked on the door.

The music quieted and the door opened a crack, one midnight blue eye fixing him with a death glare. "What?"

"Uhm.. Nagi? I-I'm sorry no one told you I was here. I'm sure if I could have remembered anything, I would have demanded to see you."

A derisive snort was the only answer he received.

"Or is Schuldich lying to try and make me feel better? Did we really not get along before?"

The door slammed in his face and the music turned back up. Brandeis leaned back against the wall and slumped down to a sitting position, resting his head on his knees. He felt hot tears pricking at his eyes again, and he did nothing to stop them when they spilled down his cheeks. His shoulders shook slightly as he let loose a sob.

He was so confused. What had he done to the boy that was so terrible? Everything here felt so wrong, like he just didn't fit in. Even lying in bed late at night he hadn't felt right.

Suddenly arms encircled him and warm lips pressed against his temple. "Shh. Kitten, don't worry." A nasally, German tinged voice whispered into his ear.

"I want to go home!" Brandeis sobbed into the man's chest, clutching the lapels of his jacket.

"You are home, Brandeis." Schuldich rubbed soothing circles on his back.

That only made the younger man cry harder.

* * *

The young blond stood under the shower until the water long ran cold. He seemed oblivious to the freezing, however, as he scrubbed furiously at the shiny blade cradled lovingly in his arms. The water had cleansed the bugnuk thoroughly… not a single speck of red was to be seen. He held it up for inspection.

It was beautiful, the razor sharp tip. Slender as a needle, yet deadly as a viper.

Omi ran his fingers over the blade and it sliced open the soft pad of his thumb. A line of red ran down his fingers and dripped down the cold tile floor, staining the clear liquid a dark murky crimson.

He remembered when he was fourteen. During a mission he had fallen off his bike and skinned his knees to the bone. He had sat there shivering from shock, sweat trickling down his scalp as he prayed passionately that the enemies would not find him lying there hurt and helpless. Or they could just shoot him and execute a clean, painless death.

Aya, Yohji, help me, he'd prayed.

But it was Ken who found him. It was Ken who scooped him up in his arms and carried him out of the danger zone and in doing this, risking his own life. He had felt like a child again to be so carefully protected.

It was Ken. Not Aya, not Yohji. But Ken.

Slowly Omi pulled himself out of the shower and teetered towards the mirror. He glared at his reflection. Lank blond tendrils fell into dull blue eyes. He didn't brush them away. His hands were busy playing with the jagged weapon in his hand as he gently stroked it from all angles, admiring the dangerous pain it promised to inflict…

He rubbed his clammy hands together. Gods, it was cold.

"Why did I listen?" he whispered brokenly, leaning over the sink to caress his own cheek with bloodied hands, smearing streaks of red over the mirror. Trailed a finger down his nose and stroked the hollow of his cheek.

He stared at himself, fascinated. There was blood. So much blood. Ken might have died the same way…

Once again his gaze fell on the bugnuk blade between his tightly clenched fist. Rivulets of blood flowed down his knuckles. He raised his hand and made a feeble attempt to lick the blood off the wounds and in doing that, only succeeded in opening them further. He dabbed his tongue between the slit and dug into flesh absently while his free hand twirled the lone bugnuk between slender fingers.

Why did Ken have to die? It shouldn't have been Ken. If it wasn't for him…

A life for a life. He had killed Ken. And someone should kill him in return.

But who?

Omi twisted his wrist upright and touched the tip of the blade to the tender skin. He dipped slightly harder, his eyes fastened upon the rapid stream of crimson.

With a decisive jerk, he ripped the blade vertically down his wrist and up the forearm, slitting it clean to the bone and quickly repeating the action on his other arm. He knew cutting across would do nothing except give the others time to find him. That couldn't happen.

A familiar smile flitted across his face, watching his blood flow down his arms. The same charming curve of lips that never failed to make girls swoon. It was the same, yet it was different.

Ken, was his last thought before he drifted off into oblivion.

* * *

Omi hadn't stepped foot out of his room for an entire week.

Aya had long since begun to worry. Yohji paced tirelessly in front of the young assassin's door. He walked across the corridor, spun, and walked straight past Omi's room. When he neared the wall he turned and stalked back, passing by Omi's door once more. His only comfort was hearing the boy moving around inside. Feet shuffling slowly across the carpet, the clacking of computer keys, the shower running, bed springs squeaking as the boy got up or went to bed.

However today the shower had been running longer than usual. Yohji was about to knock when it shut off. The blond breathed a sigh of relief, but when that was the last action he heard he began to worry again. It didn't take that long to wrap a towel around yourself.

"Omi?" He called, knocking on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked a little louder. "Omi? Are you alright?" Again there was no answer, except for a heavy "thump" which to any trained assassin was obviously the sound of a body hitting the floor.

With the picture already in his mind, the blond quickly tossed his weight into the door, thankful that is gave way on the first try.

Panic kicked up a notch upon seeing that Omi wasn't in bed, or anywhere in the bedroom.

Please God... Yohji swallowed past the lump of fear in his throat and carefully opened the door to the bathroom.

Just as he had feared, there was Omi's body. A pool of blood forming under his arms, which were sliced cleanly opened.

"Sweet mother of God! AYA!" Yohji screamed, quickly kneeling by the boy and trying to stop the flow of blood somehow. "AYA! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GET IN HERE!" The blond assassin screamed again. "Omi, you idiot. AYA!"

A split second later Aya was standing in the doorway, shock clear on his usually stoic face. "Oh Jesus."

"He won't stop bleeding Aya!" Yohji cried, his hands, arms, and clothing covered with blood. "Help me! Do something!"

Aya quickly ran and snatched the phone off of Omi's nightstand, dialing the number for Kritiker, then barking orders when someone answered. A sign of a nearly hysterical Aya.

"Don't you die too, Omi. Don't you dare." The eldest assassin whimpered.

The red-head quickly slammed the phone down and left, returning seconds later with a first aid kit. It wasn't much, but it had to be better than nothing.

Yohji snatched the box and flung the lid opened, grabbing all of the gauze.

Aya kneeled down and hooked an arm around the boy, pulling him into an upright position, then held his arms up over his head to try and slow the bleeding. Yohji hurried and knotted a strip of the white fabric tightly over each of Omi's upper arms, then wrapped several layers around the cuts. He had just finished bandaging the second arm when Kritiker's doctors came rushing in, then carted Omi out on a stretcher. Aya and Yohji followed close behind them, neither man paying any attention to the blood they were tracking through the building.

"I'm sorry, there isn't enough room for both of you to ride with us." One of the female paramedics said softly as she closed the back of the ambulance. "But you can follow in your car if you'd like." She smiled sadly, then went around the red and white emergency vehicle and got into the passenger side. The door hadn't even closed all the way before the ambulance took off with its sirens wailing.

Aya grabbed Yohji's wrist and half dragged him to his car. The both climbed in and took off, trailing right behind the ambulance. Once they got to the hospital and found a place to park, both men dashed inside and demanded to know if Omi was going to be alright. The receptionist just plastered on a warm smile and asked them to fill out the necessary paperwork. Yohji growled, about to scream at the woman when Aya thanked her and took the clipboard.

"Calm down, Yohji." The redhead sighed and began writing down the information he knew. "Panicking will not help Omi."

Yohji growled again and reached for his cigarettes, wishing they had taken Seven instead of Aya's Porsche because he knew one pack was not going to cut it tonight.

A soft cough from the receptionist as Yohji put the stick between his teeth reminded him of exactly where he was. With a sigh he headed outside, lit up and paced in front of the main doors, puffing nervously on his cigarette. He was just finishing off his last one when Aya and the doctor came out.

"Well? How is he?" Yohji forced himself to keep from screaming, trying to keep his hysterics to a minimum.

"It's not good." The doctor said bluntly. "Tsukiyono-san has lost about three pints of blood and needs a transfusion."

"He can have my blood." Yohji said.

"We already checked, Kudou-san. We checked for Fujimiya-san as well. Neither of you are compatible with his blood type."

"Then what--"

"O positive, thankfully, is a common blood type. We have a few pints we can use." The doctor sighed. "We're just having a slight problem getting the bleeding to stop."

"He hasn't been eating well in the past week." Aya stated softly.

"I see. Well, we'll need to keep him here for about a week. If there are no more complications, we'll release him to you. After that, I would highly suggest therapy. This wasn't just a cry for help, gentlemen. He was serious."

Both men nodded. Yohji pushed his sunglasses up further to hide the tears brimming in his eyes.

"As for the both of you, go home and sleep. You can some see Tsukiyono-san tomorrow."

"Thank you, Dr. Katagiri." Aya said wearily.

"I'll call you if anything changes." The doctor smiled sadly, then went back inside.

Aya sighed softly, then turned and headed for his car, Yohji following at his heels.

It was a long, quiet ride back to the store. Yohji kept his sunglasses up as far on his nose as he could, quickly reaching up to wipe away stray tears before Aya saw.

"It's alright to cry, Yohji." Aya said in his flat, calm voice that made him the fearless leader of Weiß.

"I'm not crying." The blond shot back, trying to keep his voice just as steady and even.

"Liar." Aya sighed and pulled into the garage, killing the engine. They both climbed out of the car in silence and shuffled upstairs, immediately disappearing to their own rooms.

The first thing Yohji did was go to take a shower. He was still covered in blood. Not just any blood, but Omi's blood. If it had just been blood it could have waited until morning, but it wasn't just anyone's blood. It was sweet, innocent Omittchi's blood that the boy had spilled with his own hands.

Letting out a soft, keening whimper of despair, Yohji quickly disrobed and climbed under the scalding spray. The water flowed crimson over him and pooled around his feet before washing down the drain. "Damnit Omi." Yohji sighed and grabbed his loofa, slowly scrubbing off the blood that wouldn't simply rinse off, letting the gentle scent of vanilla waft through the bathroom. After a quick shampoo, Yohji shut the water off. His skin was slightly flushed from the heat as he stepped out, lazily running a towel over himself. The bloody clothing could wait until tomorrow.

With another soft sigh, Yohji shuffled into his bedroom, exchanging the damp towel around his waist for a pair of black silk pajamas. He didn't usually wear silk to bed, only when he needed the extra comfort of something soft. He had been wearing them for a week straight. Yanking back the white down comforter, Yohji dropped down into the soft mattress and curled around himself. His mind wanted to shut off, this was just too much. Losing one, almost two teammates, two friends in the course a week was just too much. He would have gotten drunk, but he drank every drop of alcohol in the house on the night Ken..

Don't think about it. Go to sleep. Yohji's brain demanded.

He was almost asleep when the blond heard his door open and close quietly. Feet shuffled across the thick carpeting, then the edge of his blanket was pulled back and the mattress dipped with the weight of another person. Silently, Yohji moved over. He knew it was Aya.

The red-head carefully slipped under the covers and snuggled against Yohji's back, wrapping a blue silk clad arm around the older man. The swordsman must have been really shaken up. There had only been two other times when Aya did this. Once when the doctors had said Aya-chan only had a ten percent chance of waking up, the other time had been when they discovered Omi was a Takatori.

Soft hairs tickled Yohji's skin. What surprised him however, was the warm, wet droplets landing on the back of his neck.

Aya was crying. Aya was actually crying.

"It's alright to cry." Yohji said softly, turning to face tear-brimmed lilac eyes.

Aya looked up at Yohji, into jade green orbs shining dimly with unshed tears. With an ungraceful sniffle, the younger assassin pressed his face into the blonde's chest, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Yohji wrapped his arms around the red-head and pressed a kiss into the mass of blood red hair, thin lines of wetness slipping down his own cheeks.

It was the only comfort he could offer.

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A/N: (1) This is actually a picture of Gackt I have hanging next to my computer. Ish muy sessy. I can see Nagi as a Gackt fan.

Pheno: And by "I" she means Jade.

Jade: *blinks* Hush, it's cold.

Aya: *strolls in with a big thick, heavy blanket and wraps it around Jade*

Everyone: o.O

Crawford: *follows Aya with several Fushigi Yuugi mangas and a container of Almond Roca*

Pheno: Uhm.. what the hell?

Jade: They're trying to take over Schu and Yohji's places as my favorites.

Yohji: They're sucking up.

Jade: Hey, I don't remember you ever doing anything for me, Kudou. They're earning it.

Schuldich: Hey Jade-sama, did I mention I love you lately?

Nagi: That is so sad...

Omi: Yeah. We're lucky we're young and cute. Everyone loves us.

Yohji: Hey, I'm young and cute!

Omi: Not as cute as we are, Yohji-kun.

Nagi: Especially Omi.. *purrs and nibbles on Omi's ear*

Yohji: *gags on the sweetness*

Pheno: *slaps Yohji upside the head* I think it's sweet!

Aya: Didn't Yohji kill me in one of your stories? *curled up under the blanket with Jade*

Pheno: Ooh, I'm cold too! *grabs Ken and dives under the blanket*

Jade: *gasp* He did! *glares at Yohji*

Ken: Are they gonna work out?

Pheno: Shhh!

Jade: Brad, if you kill Yohji, you can take his place in my favorites.

Brad: *smirks and blows a dog whistles*

Farfie: *comes scampering in* Que?

Everyone: *blinks at the random Spanish*

Brad: You know what Farfie? Guess what I saw this morning..

Farfie: *shrugs and licks his knife* Que?

Brad: Kudou. He went to church. He went to confession, Farfie. He made God happy.

Farfie: O.O *glares at Yohji* Killing the newly returned lamb will make God cry...

Aya: *Shi-ne glare o' doom at Yohji* Castration will really hurt God, Farfie.

Brad: Even more than killing him.

Yohji: O.O SHI-NE! *blinks at Farfie who is dashing at him* Shi-ne later when I get back and my balls are still in tact! *runs like a bat out of hell*

Jade: Yay! *pulls Brad down in the big pile o' muses and writers*

Schuldich: Hey Ken, wanna work out?