Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Sub-Skin Shadow ❯ essence ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: okiayu_kaori 
Crawford is given a choice, and Youji doesn't know what he's getting into...
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.14.2002 | Updated On: 09.14.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 953 | Status: Completed
Crawford is given a choice, and Youji doesn't know what he's getting into...
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.14.2002 | Updated On: 09.14.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 953 | Status: Completed
Hi, min'na. ^^ This is my first Weiß fic. ...hell, my first fanfic at all. And I finally finished it. Just... there is a lot of sex, strong language, and some very mild violence (some folks get punched, pushed, knocked out, etc. and a gun is brought out towards the end but no shootings are described or included in the scene ^^). But there's LOTS of plot! This is not a PWP (plot? what plot?) fic at all. I'm still fixing errors since I just finished writing it... If you see something that doesn't make sense, come back later. ^^ On with it, now.
Notes: (AU, LEMON, ANGST/ROMANCE) CrawfordxYouji and vice versa... NagixOmi and vice versa (well, kind of). Ken secretly loves Youji. ^^;; There will be a sequel, which you can read the first parts to elsewhere on MediaMiner. Arigatou. Please enjoy it! Send all flames, "thank-you-for-helping-me-daydream"s, etc. to bliss@mesmerized.org.
SUB-SKIN SHADOW : CHAPTER ONE
"Omi.........? Omi, wake up! Hey... c'mon..."
Soft, warm blue eyes opened, and Omi felt the thin fingers of a hand clutching at his shoulder, shaking him almost roughly. Nagi had never been gentle, even when he wanted to be. He was almost clumsy in a way, sometimes. But, ever forgiving, a very sleepy Omi turned over and snuggled up to Nagi, yawning. "Don't wake me up, I'm dreaming," he murmured, almost purring the words as he nuzzled into Nagi's warm neck.
Anxiety melting only slightly, Nagi sighed and put his arms around Omi - once again, clumsily. "But we have to get you out of here. The guard's gonna do checks, and if you're in here --" He sighed then. "Omi-kun, you know how this works..."
"All right, all right," yawned Omi, pulling away and sitting up on the side of Nagi's twin-size, black-sheeted bed, elbows resting on his thighs, head hanging down almost between them. He hadn't had any sleep the previous night, and spending his evening in Nagi's room hadn't exactly been a restful activity.
A flash of black passed and Omi rubbed his eyes, watching Nagi sort through the clothes on the floor. He'd already gotten dressed, Omi noticed. At times, Omi was almost saddened by how nervous Nagi got about his being there. They'd never been discovered, but the two of them never really got to enjoy any truly "perfect" moments, since Nagi was every minute worrying about being caught.
Nagi tossed Omi's navy blue baseball cap and tan shorts to him, resting his hands on his hips with a thoughtful expression on his face. A golden cross shimmered around his neck, between the open folds of his black shirt. Always in black, lately. "You've got everything else there on the floor. I think that's it... I just want to make sure."
"Right," sighed Omi, pulling on his shorts and smoothing out the wrinkles. "I'll hurry, Nagi-kun."
Nagi walked past once more, threw open the doors to the balcony, and leaned on the cast iron railing, watching the street below as Omi got himself dressed. He knew Omi must be lonely, but if he let himself get too attached, it'd make things harder than they already were. What would happen if someday they were caught, and never could see each other again? //I just have to keep being careful//, Nagi thought to himself. //Better safe than sorry.//
There was a distant creak as the front door opened, and Nagi spun around, seeing Omi's silhouette against the soft lights in the hallway. "Want me to walk you down?" he offered, feeling suddenly very guilty. He watched as Omi tugged on the brim of the cap, lowering it to shadow his eyes.
"Iie," Omi sighed, waving to the other boy. "I'm suspicious enough without you walking with me to confirm their suspicions. I'll take the stairs too, just to be safe." His eyes were downcast, as if he were deliberately avoiding eye contact. Avoiding the pain of leaving, Nagi realized, just like he was doing.
Nagi came inside the apartment again, gently grasping the handle of the large glass balcony door. //Not even a goodbye kiss... I hate myself sometimes.// He could see it in Omi's eyes, the hurt he was feeling. //But I have to make him leave, I have to. Things are getting scarier every day, and I can't handle it. And I won't make him have to handle it, either.// He knew Omi was being forced to deal with the same problem, anyway.
The pause between them was broken as Omi lifted his hand, giving a weak goodbye gesture to his lover. "Ja ne." The door slowly shut behind him, giving a soft "click" and plunging the room into darkness once more.
Nagi felt Omi's hurt flowing into him, through the air, through the closed door. He approached this door -- through which Omi had just left him -- where their words had fallen short of anything loving or comforting. Leaning against it, Nagi felt the room solidifying, suffocating him. Alone was _not_ what he needed right now. And he knew that the boy who was now making his long, quiet way down 20 flights of stairs was also not needing anymore loneliness. //But we have to deal. This is how it is. This is how it is.//
It was Nagi's turn to wake up now. He felt his side aching and realized he'd fallen asleep in a crumpled heap on his bed, twisted quite uncomfortably. Pressed against his face was the white dress shirt that Omi had managed to leave on some other visit, on which he'd left much more quickly than tonight and had forgotten most of his clothes. Nagi tried not to giggle as he thought of his lover frantically throwing on his boots, dashing through the door and flying down the stairs, Nagi following close behind with his abandoned shirt in hand.
He bit his lip and inhaled the scent of the shirt, sighing softly. It smelled like him. Kind of a mixture of boy sweat and honey. Nagi knew where the latter scent came from.
The door parted slightly, making Nagi realize that he'd forgotten to lock the door when Omi had left. He turned over, feeling a sharp stab of pain in his side from sleeping in such a funny position. "What is it, Brad."
The taller, older man looked almost amused as he stepped halfway into the apartment. A smirk took over his face and Brad Crawford pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, saying nothing, but eyeing Nagi and then the now-clean room more knowingly than with suspicion.
"...what're you looking at me like that for?" Nagi grumbled, rubbing his aching side. "What do you want?"
"Just thought I'd let you know that the level 18/20 guard is doing room checks in a few minutes."
"What's that supposed to mean?" frowned the boy, standing up, the pain in his side rippling up to his chest. "Ow."
Brad looked even more amused, and leaned against the doorway, taking off his glasses and cleaning them off on his expensive silk tie. "You really think no one knows? Nagi, I didn't take you for the naive type." His smirk spread, cutting a bloody line to match it in Nagi's already-hurting heart. Really, Brad could be such a smartass, and at the worst possible times, too.
The younger boy ran a hand through his straight, dark brown hair, feeling it fall perfectly into place beneath his fingers. "Get out, dickhead," he said, not wanting to look at the man any longer. "You're pissing me off."
Brad merely chuckled and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him surprisingly gently. Darkness again. Nagi suddenly wished he had Omi's phone number. Would he even be home by now? Where _did_ he make his home these days? //I wonder what he's doing, right this minute.//
"Ah, Omi!"
Coming from down the hallway, Youji's voice sounded surprisingly chipper, but Omi's hearing was partially closed off by the goose-down pillow he was holding against his head. He had a headache the size of Japan from running so quickly down all 20 flights of stairs, and even if Aya himself approached him with a grin tonight, Omi wouldn't have been much for the notion of cheering up. He missed Nagi.
Youji had just come into the apartment from the shop downstairs, Omi guessed carelessly. He still had his hair pulled back, and his hands were dirty. "Ne!" he smiled, seeming genuinely happy. "I got that girl's number. You know, the one that came in two days ago for the tiger-lilies? The crystal vase, not the mixed bouquet. Yeah, you remember her, right?"
Omi pulled the pillow off of his head and blinked at Youji, trying to feign a smile. "Mm. I don't remember her name, but... yeah, I know who you're talking about..." He trailed off, not realizing how uninterested he looked.
"I'm going out with her tomorrow night, so if you want to make other dinner plans, you can. I don't think I'll be home." His grin was unwavering.
Trying to be amused but failing, Omi fake-grinned and laid his face in the pillow once more. His words were muffled as he spoke. "Mmh hmm mm hmm hm." Youji crossed his arms and raised a brow, tilting his head to the side and pulling his sunglasses down to look at Omi more clearly.
"Yeah. Sure. So you don't mind?"
Waving a thin-fingered hand above his light-haired head, wanting to be alone again, Omi quietly replied, "Uhmm mm."
Youji got the picture, still feeling a little clueless but much too enthused about his date to really give it much thought. Turning and taking the doorknob in his hand, he sighed and managed another grin. "All right. I'm gonna turn in kind of early tonight. I have to go in tomorrow morning. Oyasumi."
Silence again. Omi lay there on his makeshift bed of pillows and sheets, thinking of Nagi. Silence. Was it silence, or peace? He decided it was too much to think on right now, and cursed Youji for leaving him alone. Alone was NOT what he needed right now. Was Nagi-kun alone, too? Questions swam like fish through the stream of thoughts in Omi's tired mind. Moments later, a lack of light in the room met total darkness as Omi's eyes fell slowly closed.
Brad didn't feel guilty at all.
//Nagi deserves it, risking our asses like that. I won't protect the little snot.// Staring holes into the high ceiling of his 18th-floor bedroom, Brad Crawford lay with his hands folded beneath his head, denying that he truly had been protecting Nagi all this time. //Fucking brat. If he gets caught, it's his own fault.//
"[kszzttt] Crawford, I'd like to see you in my office immediately. [kszzttt]"
Rolling over onto his stomach, Brad glared at the intercom on the wall. He tried to check the time on the clock which was hanging next to it, but without his glasses on, he couldn't make out anything but a blur of black and glowing red. Reluctantly he dragged himself out of bed, stretching out his arms and yawning greatly. "Getting an objective at... whatever time it is now -- it's late enough for me to be _pissed_. If this keeps up, I'm going to _let_ them kill you, Takatori," he muttered, yanking on a charcoal-grey dress shirt and beginning to button it from the bottom. He fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand beside his large, black-sheeted bed and sighed, blinking at the clock on the wall. "2 AM. Does the bastard sleep?"
The corridor that ended in a single elevator was brightly lit, yet rather uninviting. At the end of the hall, two walls appeared to connect in a sharp, dark point. The building was large, allowing each member of Schwarz more than enough space for luxurious living accomodations, but so much space and so few people occupying that space could be strange at times. Not that Brad wanted more people around. Being by himself suited him just fine.
Halfway to the elevator now, the thought was starting to come back. Nagi had looked really dejected. //But he deserved it,// Brad told himself, shaking off the feeling and realizing that that one thought had carried him all the way to the large, silver elevator. He pressed the button and watched it light up, bringing the elevator down to his floor with a soft "whirr". The doors opened, inviting him to come inside. He hesitated there for a moment, trying to leave all of his personal thoughts outside of this elevator. He wouldn't take any of this weakness into the office with him or Takatori might consider using it against him. Fuck that.
A cool mask took over Crawford's face as he cautiously entered Mr. Takatori's office. "I came as soon as I got your order, sir," Brad said, breaking the silence as he approached the long, glass-topped desk. Takatori's large, black office chair was turned just enough to hide his form, and Brad could only make out the tops of his wingtips as the man reclined, his large feet propped up on a weak, slender cherry wood handrail. The darkly tinted glass of the giant picture window which made up Takatori's outside office wall seemed to block all outside light from entering, creating an artificial shroud of night even in daylight hours. Brad felt discomfort settling in his stomach as he folded his arms, not bothering to sit down. Hopefully this wouldn't take very long.
"You've exceeded my expectations of late, Crawford," Takatori said gruffly, clearing out his throat. "I'll keep this short because I need you on this job immediately."
"Job, sir?" Crawford inquired, shifting his weight to his right foot, showing the slightest hint of interest. A solo "job"? This might be promising...
"Kudou Youji is having a date tomorrow evening with one Hanada Ayumi. It's up to you to prevent it from occurring. ...I have _plans_ for Ms. Ayumi, and Youji will only get in the way."
Crawford barely avoided choking on his own spit. "...you want me to stop them from... dating, sir?" He tried to remain serious, but the whole idea sounded rather... well, stupid. "I mean no disrespect, but... why don't you just kidnap her or mess up his schedule so that he's... late? Why do I have to--"
"Your involvement is essential, Crawford. You aren't doing this just to get Youji out of the way. I intend to test your loyalty."
Speechless, Crawford felt his palms moistening. Silence once again took over. Takatori wasn't moving. Afraid to budge, Brad felt the air in the room thickening, ready to strangle him. Finally, he shattered the wall of uncertainty. "What exactly are you getting at, sir?"
Takatori could have been dead, if not for the sound of his low chuckle breaking the room's silence. Crawford had that old, familiar feeling that Takatori's death would be a nice change right about now...
The man finally spoke. "Charm him. Make him your plaything. If you succeed, not only will he no longer be a problem for Schwarz, but you gain something as well. It sounds very interesting, doesn't it, Crawford? And if you somehow manage NOT to succeed... well, let's push that vile notion aside for now. But I think you know how things work around here, don't you? If he doesn't submit, kill him. But I don't think that seducing him will be a problem... he's a slut, after all." Behind his chair, the businessman grinned widely, dark eyes flashing with malice.
//Bastard. ....you fucking bastard.// Crawford was trembling visibly, a line of sweat forming at his browline. Why did the idea of killing someone suddenly seem so much easier than... this?
"I recommend you pay a visit to that damnable little flowershop tomorrow morning, Crawford. The rest is entirely up to you. I trust you'll handle this mission in a professional manner." Takatori's chair rotated very slowly until he was facing his bodyguard, staring up at him intently. His body language reminded Crawford of a lion surveying his freshly caught prey with confidence and pride. "Enjoy yourself, now..."
Takatori's grin was unwavering, but Crawford felt his own legs ready to give at any moment. Unsteadily he bowed to his boss, then turned to make his escape. Golden eyes flashed behind the glare on his glasses and the door opened on its own as he came near.
"Oh, and Crawford--"
The younger man stopped dead in his tracks, silently cursing the very day Reiji Takatori was born.
"Don't forget to tie him up well so that he doesn't get away. I bet he'll like that."
As the door shut behind him, Crawford could hear that bastard _laughing_.
* * * * * * * *
"Ken! I need a handful of baby's breath and some magenta ribbon while you're back there!"
As soon as the Koneko had opened the next morning, Youji already had his hands full with several customers -- not to mention them wanting to give him their phone numbers. Busy cleaning up a mess he'd made in the back, Hidaka Ken struggled to find what Youji was looking for while at the same time trying not to trip over his own feet and the mess of empty boxes he'd toppled. "Magenta or pink?"
Exasperated, Youji put his pen in his mouth and reached down to pick up the daisies he'd dropped. "Magenta!!"
"...well, I only see pink... what's the difference?"
Youji heard a loud crashing noise, and cringed.
".....oh...I found it!"
Ken pulled himself from the pile of boxes and reached out to hand Youji the tangle of magenta ribbon and baby's breath. His hair was falling into his eyes and dirt smudged his cheek. He looked and smiled like a child gone astray from the kindergarten playground.
"Years of soccer and you're still a klutz," Youji teased as Ken passed the trimmings to him. "Thanks."
"Ne, Youji," Ken said, ignoring his insult. "Where's that Hanada girl who ordered the tiger-lilies? I have them in the new vase and ready in the fridge. Didn't she say she was coming by early to pick them up for her grandmother?"
"Now that you mention it..." Youji reached back to re-tie his apron, craning his neck to look outside, not seeing any trace of Ayumi. "You're right. I'm sure it's no big deal, she might have just gotten caught up." One of the customers caught Youji's attention as she leaned over the counter, fluttering her lashes coquettishly and clearing her throat. "Oh -- here you go, miss," he smiled, putting a small bouquet of daisies into the girl's waiting hands. "We appreciate your business. Come back soon!"
As the delicately pretty girl and her equally attractive friend left the shop, Ken overheard the one with the daisies remark, "It's hard to keep coming up with excuses to buy flowers, but it's worth it!"
Ken rolled his eyes and took off his apron, tossing it onto the workbench next to the register.
"You're not worried, are you?" he nudged at the pensive Youji, who was lost in thought over where Ayumi might be. "I'm sure she just got held up, like you said. No big deal. I'm gonna head out, all right? I'm gonna go to the park and practice a little, catch up on my game. I'm feeling rusty."
Youji smiled brightly and nodded at Ken, waving. "I'll let you know what happens tonight," he grinned mischievously. "I'm sure the evening will be noteworthy. I plan on giving a good show at the least."
"Too much information, man," laughed Ken, leaving the store with a returned wave. "Ja ne!"
//What the hell... is that Crawford?// Youji was more surprised than concerned. At this point, Youji wondered why Ken hadn't reacted to the face of the man entering the shop as he left. Unobservant Ken. //What, is he gonna buy a dozen roses to kiss Takatori's puckered ass s'more?//
On the other hand, Brad had no intention of retaining a sense of humor today. He'd stayed up the past 6 hours attempting to devise some sort of elaborate, sly plan that would get Youji out of the way, impress Takatori greatly, and most of all, keep himself ALIVE. And in the end all that his cunning and finally desperate mind had come up with was to waltz right into the flower shop in broad daylight and drag Youji into the back room kicking and screaming. //Really brilliant, Crawford. You're a fucking genius.//
Brad took a split second to survey the store - it was empty, and the sidewalk even seemed vacant. //Fate's calling... it's now or never.//
The next moment flashed by so quickly that Youji didn't see it coming until it was too late. Not giving his weak "plan" another thought, Brad dove gracefully over the counter, shoving a surprised Youji into the hard floor of the shop. As the man's silhouette enveloped him, Youji felt his skull meet the ground, and his vision began to tunnel in, blackening from the edges. Youji attempted to kick Crawford in the stomach with his knee, but the other man's clairvoyance kicked in, warning him beforehand. Brad quickly turned Youji on his side to avoid the attack, slamming his head into the floor again. Dazed, Youji felt his lithe body being scooped up as quickly as he'd been knocked down. Before the tall, dark-haired man had tossed him over his broad shoulder, Youji was completely out cold.
Brad wrapped his arm about Youji's thin waist, heading for the back room of the flower shop. His mind was calculating the possibilities: this was a flower shop, and a flower shop more than likely would have an alley behind it in which a dumpster would be -- and thus, there would be a back door through which he could escape easily. If anyone asked, he'd say that his friend had taken a tumble down some stairs and he was about to rush him to the hospital. Fifty feet stood between Crawford and his car, and he knew Youji wouldn't be returning to consciousness anytime soon. Once he got to the safety of his car, he could think about what to do next. //Since when don't I plan things like this out more thoroughly?// Brad berated himself, tossing Youji's unconscious body into the back seat of his sleek, black vehicle.
Traffic sped by as Crawford flopped into his front seat, breathless and dizzy. "All right then, Youji. Your place or mine?"
Notes: (AU, LEMON, ANGST/ROMANCE) CrawfordxYouji and vice versa... NagixOmi and vice versa (well, kind of). Ken secretly loves Youji. ^^;; There will be a sequel, which you can read the first parts to elsewhere on MediaMiner. Arigatou. Please enjoy it! Send all flames, "thank-you-for-helping-me-daydream"s, etc. to bliss@mesmerized.org.
SUB-SKIN SHADOW : CHAPTER ONE
"Omi.........? Omi, wake up! Hey... c'mon..."
Soft, warm blue eyes opened, and Omi felt the thin fingers of a hand clutching at his shoulder, shaking him almost roughly. Nagi had never been gentle, even when he wanted to be. He was almost clumsy in a way, sometimes. But, ever forgiving, a very sleepy Omi turned over and snuggled up to Nagi, yawning. "Don't wake me up, I'm dreaming," he murmured, almost purring the words as he nuzzled into Nagi's warm neck.
Anxiety melting only slightly, Nagi sighed and put his arms around Omi - once again, clumsily. "But we have to get you out of here. The guard's gonna do checks, and if you're in here --" He sighed then. "Omi-kun, you know how this works..."
"All right, all right," yawned Omi, pulling away and sitting up on the side of Nagi's twin-size, black-sheeted bed, elbows resting on his thighs, head hanging down almost between them. He hadn't had any sleep the previous night, and spending his evening in Nagi's room hadn't exactly been a restful activity.
A flash of black passed and Omi rubbed his eyes, watching Nagi sort through the clothes on the floor. He'd already gotten dressed, Omi noticed. At times, Omi was almost saddened by how nervous Nagi got about his being there. They'd never been discovered, but the two of them never really got to enjoy any truly "perfect" moments, since Nagi was every minute worrying about being caught.
Nagi tossed Omi's navy blue baseball cap and tan shorts to him, resting his hands on his hips with a thoughtful expression on his face. A golden cross shimmered around his neck, between the open folds of his black shirt. Always in black, lately. "You've got everything else there on the floor. I think that's it... I just want to make sure."
"Right," sighed Omi, pulling on his shorts and smoothing out the wrinkles. "I'll hurry, Nagi-kun."
Nagi walked past once more, threw open the doors to the balcony, and leaned on the cast iron railing, watching the street below as Omi got himself dressed. He knew Omi must be lonely, but if he let himself get too attached, it'd make things harder than they already were. What would happen if someday they were caught, and never could see each other again? //I just have to keep being careful//, Nagi thought to himself. //Better safe than sorry.//
There was a distant creak as the front door opened, and Nagi spun around, seeing Omi's silhouette against the soft lights in the hallway. "Want me to walk you down?" he offered, feeling suddenly very guilty. He watched as Omi tugged on the brim of the cap, lowering it to shadow his eyes.
"Iie," Omi sighed, waving to the other boy. "I'm suspicious enough without you walking with me to confirm their suspicions. I'll take the stairs too, just to be safe." His eyes were downcast, as if he were deliberately avoiding eye contact. Avoiding the pain of leaving, Nagi realized, just like he was doing.
Nagi came inside the apartment again, gently grasping the handle of the large glass balcony door. //Not even a goodbye kiss... I hate myself sometimes.// He could see it in Omi's eyes, the hurt he was feeling. //But I have to make him leave, I have to. Things are getting scarier every day, and I can't handle it. And I won't make him have to handle it, either.// He knew Omi was being forced to deal with the same problem, anyway.
The pause between them was broken as Omi lifted his hand, giving a weak goodbye gesture to his lover. "Ja ne." The door slowly shut behind him, giving a soft "click" and plunging the room into darkness once more.
Nagi felt Omi's hurt flowing into him, through the air, through the closed door. He approached this door -- through which Omi had just left him -- where their words had fallen short of anything loving or comforting. Leaning against it, Nagi felt the room solidifying, suffocating him. Alone was _not_ what he needed right now. And he knew that the boy who was now making his long, quiet way down 20 flights of stairs was also not needing anymore loneliness. //But we have to deal. This is how it is. This is how it is.//
It was Nagi's turn to wake up now. He felt his side aching and realized he'd fallen asleep in a crumpled heap on his bed, twisted quite uncomfortably. Pressed against his face was the white dress shirt that Omi had managed to leave on some other visit, on which he'd left much more quickly than tonight and had forgotten most of his clothes. Nagi tried not to giggle as he thought of his lover frantically throwing on his boots, dashing through the door and flying down the stairs, Nagi following close behind with his abandoned shirt in hand.
He bit his lip and inhaled the scent of the shirt, sighing softly. It smelled like him. Kind of a mixture of boy sweat and honey. Nagi knew where the latter scent came from.
The door parted slightly, making Nagi realize that he'd forgotten to lock the door when Omi had left. He turned over, feeling a sharp stab of pain in his side from sleeping in such a funny position. "What is it, Brad."
The taller, older man looked almost amused as he stepped halfway into the apartment. A smirk took over his face and Brad Crawford pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, saying nothing, but eyeing Nagi and then the now-clean room more knowingly than with suspicion.
"...what're you looking at me like that for?" Nagi grumbled, rubbing his aching side. "What do you want?"
"Just thought I'd let you know that the level 18/20 guard is doing room checks in a few minutes."
"What's that supposed to mean?" frowned the boy, standing up, the pain in his side rippling up to his chest. "Ow."
Brad looked even more amused, and leaned against the doorway, taking off his glasses and cleaning them off on his expensive silk tie. "You really think no one knows? Nagi, I didn't take you for the naive type." His smirk spread, cutting a bloody line to match it in Nagi's already-hurting heart. Really, Brad could be such a smartass, and at the worst possible times, too.
The younger boy ran a hand through his straight, dark brown hair, feeling it fall perfectly into place beneath his fingers. "Get out, dickhead," he said, not wanting to look at the man any longer. "You're pissing me off."
Brad merely chuckled and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him surprisingly gently. Darkness again. Nagi suddenly wished he had Omi's phone number. Would he even be home by now? Where _did_ he make his home these days? //I wonder what he's doing, right this minute.//
"Ah, Omi!"
Coming from down the hallway, Youji's voice sounded surprisingly chipper, but Omi's hearing was partially closed off by the goose-down pillow he was holding against his head. He had a headache the size of Japan from running so quickly down all 20 flights of stairs, and even if Aya himself approached him with a grin tonight, Omi wouldn't have been much for the notion of cheering up. He missed Nagi.
Youji had just come into the apartment from the shop downstairs, Omi guessed carelessly. He still had his hair pulled back, and his hands were dirty. "Ne!" he smiled, seeming genuinely happy. "I got that girl's number. You know, the one that came in two days ago for the tiger-lilies? The crystal vase, not the mixed bouquet. Yeah, you remember her, right?"
Omi pulled the pillow off of his head and blinked at Youji, trying to feign a smile. "Mm. I don't remember her name, but... yeah, I know who you're talking about..." He trailed off, not realizing how uninterested he looked.
"I'm going out with her tomorrow night, so if you want to make other dinner plans, you can. I don't think I'll be home." His grin was unwavering.
Trying to be amused but failing, Omi fake-grinned and laid his face in the pillow once more. His words were muffled as he spoke. "Mmh hmm mm hmm hm." Youji crossed his arms and raised a brow, tilting his head to the side and pulling his sunglasses down to look at Omi more clearly.
"Yeah. Sure. So you don't mind?"
Waving a thin-fingered hand above his light-haired head, wanting to be alone again, Omi quietly replied, "Uhmm mm."
Youji got the picture, still feeling a little clueless but much too enthused about his date to really give it much thought. Turning and taking the doorknob in his hand, he sighed and managed another grin. "All right. I'm gonna turn in kind of early tonight. I have to go in tomorrow morning. Oyasumi."
Silence again. Omi lay there on his makeshift bed of pillows and sheets, thinking of Nagi. Silence. Was it silence, or peace? He decided it was too much to think on right now, and cursed Youji for leaving him alone. Alone was NOT what he needed right now. Was Nagi-kun alone, too? Questions swam like fish through the stream of thoughts in Omi's tired mind. Moments later, a lack of light in the room met total darkness as Omi's eyes fell slowly closed.
Brad didn't feel guilty at all.
//Nagi deserves it, risking our asses like that. I won't protect the little snot.// Staring holes into the high ceiling of his 18th-floor bedroom, Brad Crawford lay with his hands folded beneath his head, denying that he truly had been protecting Nagi all this time. //Fucking brat. If he gets caught, it's his own fault.//
"[kszzttt] Crawford, I'd like to see you in my office immediately. [kszzttt]"
Rolling over onto his stomach, Brad glared at the intercom on the wall. He tried to check the time on the clock which was hanging next to it, but without his glasses on, he couldn't make out anything but a blur of black and glowing red. Reluctantly he dragged himself out of bed, stretching out his arms and yawning greatly. "Getting an objective at... whatever time it is now -- it's late enough for me to be _pissed_. If this keeps up, I'm going to _let_ them kill you, Takatori," he muttered, yanking on a charcoal-grey dress shirt and beginning to button it from the bottom. He fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand beside his large, black-sheeted bed and sighed, blinking at the clock on the wall. "2 AM. Does the bastard sleep?"
The corridor that ended in a single elevator was brightly lit, yet rather uninviting. At the end of the hall, two walls appeared to connect in a sharp, dark point. The building was large, allowing each member of Schwarz more than enough space for luxurious living accomodations, but so much space and so few people occupying that space could be strange at times. Not that Brad wanted more people around. Being by himself suited him just fine.
Halfway to the elevator now, the thought was starting to come back. Nagi had looked really dejected. //But he deserved it,// Brad told himself, shaking off the feeling and realizing that that one thought had carried him all the way to the large, silver elevator. He pressed the button and watched it light up, bringing the elevator down to his floor with a soft "whirr". The doors opened, inviting him to come inside. He hesitated there for a moment, trying to leave all of his personal thoughts outside of this elevator. He wouldn't take any of this weakness into the office with him or Takatori might consider using it against him. Fuck that.
A cool mask took over Crawford's face as he cautiously entered Mr. Takatori's office. "I came as soon as I got your order, sir," Brad said, breaking the silence as he approached the long, glass-topped desk. Takatori's large, black office chair was turned just enough to hide his form, and Brad could only make out the tops of his wingtips as the man reclined, his large feet propped up on a weak, slender cherry wood handrail. The darkly tinted glass of the giant picture window which made up Takatori's outside office wall seemed to block all outside light from entering, creating an artificial shroud of night even in daylight hours. Brad felt discomfort settling in his stomach as he folded his arms, not bothering to sit down. Hopefully this wouldn't take very long.
"You've exceeded my expectations of late, Crawford," Takatori said gruffly, clearing out his throat. "I'll keep this short because I need you on this job immediately."
"Job, sir?" Crawford inquired, shifting his weight to his right foot, showing the slightest hint of interest. A solo "job"? This might be promising...
"Kudou Youji is having a date tomorrow evening with one Hanada Ayumi. It's up to you to prevent it from occurring. ...I have _plans_ for Ms. Ayumi, and Youji will only get in the way."
Crawford barely avoided choking on his own spit. "...you want me to stop them from... dating, sir?" He tried to remain serious, but the whole idea sounded rather... well, stupid. "I mean no disrespect, but... why don't you just kidnap her or mess up his schedule so that he's... late? Why do I have to--"
"Your involvement is essential, Crawford. You aren't doing this just to get Youji out of the way. I intend to test your loyalty."
Speechless, Crawford felt his palms moistening. Silence once again took over. Takatori wasn't moving. Afraid to budge, Brad felt the air in the room thickening, ready to strangle him. Finally, he shattered the wall of uncertainty. "What exactly are you getting at, sir?"
Takatori could have been dead, if not for the sound of his low chuckle breaking the room's silence. Crawford had that old, familiar feeling that Takatori's death would be a nice change right about now...
The man finally spoke. "Charm him. Make him your plaything. If you succeed, not only will he no longer be a problem for Schwarz, but you gain something as well. It sounds very interesting, doesn't it, Crawford? And if you somehow manage NOT to succeed... well, let's push that vile notion aside for now. But I think you know how things work around here, don't you? If he doesn't submit, kill him. But I don't think that seducing him will be a problem... he's a slut, after all." Behind his chair, the businessman grinned widely, dark eyes flashing with malice.
//Bastard. ....you fucking bastard.// Crawford was trembling visibly, a line of sweat forming at his browline. Why did the idea of killing someone suddenly seem so much easier than... this?
"I recommend you pay a visit to that damnable little flowershop tomorrow morning, Crawford. The rest is entirely up to you. I trust you'll handle this mission in a professional manner." Takatori's chair rotated very slowly until he was facing his bodyguard, staring up at him intently. His body language reminded Crawford of a lion surveying his freshly caught prey with confidence and pride. "Enjoy yourself, now..."
Takatori's grin was unwavering, but Crawford felt his own legs ready to give at any moment. Unsteadily he bowed to his boss, then turned to make his escape. Golden eyes flashed behind the glare on his glasses and the door opened on its own as he came near.
"Oh, and Crawford--"
The younger man stopped dead in his tracks, silently cursing the very day Reiji Takatori was born.
"Don't forget to tie him up well so that he doesn't get away. I bet he'll like that."
As the door shut behind him, Crawford could hear that bastard _laughing_.
* * * * * * * *
"Ken! I need a handful of baby's breath and some magenta ribbon while you're back there!"
As soon as the Koneko had opened the next morning, Youji already had his hands full with several customers -- not to mention them wanting to give him their phone numbers. Busy cleaning up a mess he'd made in the back, Hidaka Ken struggled to find what Youji was looking for while at the same time trying not to trip over his own feet and the mess of empty boxes he'd toppled. "Magenta or pink?"
Exasperated, Youji put his pen in his mouth and reached down to pick up the daisies he'd dropped. "Magenta!!"
"...well, I only see pink... what's the difference?"
Youji heard a loud crashing noise, and cringed.
".....oh...I found it!"
Ken pulled himself from the pile of boxes and reached out to hand Youji the tangle of magenta ribbon and baby's breath. His hair was falling into his eyes and dirt smudged his cheek. He looked and smiled like a child gone astray from the kindergarten playground.
"Years of soccer and you're still a klutz," Youji teased as Ken passed the trimmings to him. "Thanks."
"Ne, Youji," Ken said, ignoring his insult. "Where's that Hanada girl who ordered the tiger-lilies? I have them in the new vase and ready in the fridge. Didn't she say she was coming by early to pick them up for her grandmother?"
"Now that you mention it..." Youji reached back to re-tie his apron, craning his neck to look outside, not seeing any trace of Ayumi. "You're right. I'm sure it's no big deal, she might have just gotten caught up." One of the customers caught Youji's attention as she leaned over the counter, fluttering her lashes coquettishly and clearing her throat. "Oh -- here you go, miss," he smiled, putting a small bouquet of daisies into the girl's waiting hands. "We appreciate your business. Come back soon!"
As the delicately pretty girl and her equally attractive friend left the shop, Ken overheard the one with the daisies remark, "It's hard to keep coming up with excuses to buy flowers, but it's worth it!"
Ken rolled his eyes and took off his apron, tossing it onto the workbench next to the register.
"You're not worried, are you?" he nudged at the pensive Youji, who was lost in thought over where Ayumi might be. "I'm sure she just got held up, like you said. No big deal. I'm gonna head out, all right? I'm gonna go to the park and practice a little, catch up on my game. I'm feeling rusty."
Youji smiled brightly and nodded at Ken, waving. "I'll let you know what happens tonight," he grinned mischievously. "I'm sure the evening will be noteworthy. I plan on giving a good show at the least."
"Too much information, man," laughed Ken, leaving the store with a returned wave. "Ja ne!"
//What the hell... is that Crawford?// Youji was more surprised than concerned. At this point, Youji wondered why Ken hadn't reacted to the face of the man entering the shop as he left. Unobservant Ken. //What, is he gonna buy a dozen roses to kiss Takatori's puckered ass s'more?//
On the other hand, Brad had no intention of retaining a sense of humor today. He'd stayed up the past 6 hours attempting to devise some sort of elaborate, sly plan that would get Youji out of the way, impress Takatori greatly, and most of all, keep himself ALIVE. And in the end all that his cunning and finally desperate mind had come up with was to waltz right into the flower shop in broad daylight and drag Youji into the back room kicking and screaming. //Really brilliant, Crawford. You're a fucking genius.//
Brad took a split second to survey the store - it was empty, and the sidewalk even seemed vacant. //Fate's calling... it's now or never.//
The next moment flashed by so quickly that Youji didn't see it coming until it was too late. Not giving his weak "plan" another thought, Brad dove gracefully over the counter, shoving a surprised Youji into the hard floor of the shop. As the man's silhouette enveloped him, Youji felt his skull meet the ground, and his vision began to tunnel in, blackening from the edges. Youji attempted to kick Crawford in the stomach with his knee, but the other man's clairvoyance kicked in, warning him beforehand. Brad quickly turned Youji on his side to avoid the attack, slamming his head into the floor again. Dazed, Youji felt his lithe body being scooped up as quickly as he'd been knocked down. Before the tall, dark-haired man had tossed him over his broad shoulder, Youji was completely out cold.
Brad wrapped his arm about Youji's thin waist, heading for the back room of the flower shop. His mind was calculating the possibilities: this was a flower shop, and a flower shop more than likely would have an alley behind it in which a dumpster would be -- and thus, there would be a back door through which he could escape easily. If anyone asked, he'd say that his friend had taken a tumble down some stairs and he was about to rush him to the hospital. Fifty feet stood between Crawford and his car, and he knew Youji wouldn't be returning to consciousness anytime soon. Once he got to the safety of his car, he could think about what to do next. //Since when don't I plan things like this out more thoroughly?// Brad berated himself, tossing Youji's unconscious body into the back seat of his sleek, black vehicle.
Traffic sped by as Crawford flopped into his front seat, breathless and dizzy. "All right then, Youji. Your place or mine?"