Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Sous-Chef ❯ Chapter 2

The Sous-Chef -- Chapter Two

 

Aya put down the book on Marxism that he was failing to read. It sat on the coffee table, looking innocent and enormous. Full of wisdom and folly. He'd been trying to read it for weeks and hadn't gotten past the twelfth page of the introduction. He just couldn't focus on it. He couldn't focus on anything anymore.

 

He smirked. His focus had once been legendary, his will inexorable, his drive unstoppable. It had been that way until he had woken up one morning a year ago, to find that the axis around which his universe revolved had disappeared. Since then he'd been slowly disintegrating. Perhaps even dying, or dead already. Some days he felt as though he must be a ghost, floating through the mortal coil, but he had no task to complete, no mystery for the living that could be solved and lay him to rest. He'd done all he set out to do. Besides, his fellows at his construction day-job could see him enough to attempt to smack his ass - which had resulted in so many hand injuries that his foreman had eventually asked him to settle for black eyes because the work was falling behind, and still some people seemed to think it was worth a shot -- and the dark beasts he sometimes confronted at night still saw the hand that wielded the blade. So he must have a kind of corporeal existence.

 

As he turned to gaze out the window into the rainy late-summer afternoon, his cell phone rang. He drew it out of his pocket slowly, and checked the number. Ken. He debated just letting it go to voice mail, but knew from experience that if Ken was sure he was home, he wouldn't stop calling. Turning the ringer off would only ensure that when Ken arrived home, he would be infuriated and a little desperate. He would then spend the evening alternately lecturing Aya and beseeching him, and listening to all that took a lot out of Aya. Better to just answer.

 

Aya sighed, thumbed the phone on and grunted into it.

 

“Hey, I'm on my way home and I thought I'd stop for take-out. You up for Thai, babe?” Ken's voice bounced out of the phone. Someone seemed to be happy today.

 

“Whatever,” Aya mumbled.

 

Aya's lack of enthusiasm didn't diminish Ken's at all. “You want that basil-curry seafood stuff? You seemed to really like it when we got it last time.”

 

That actually does sound good, Aya thought. “Yeah.”

 

“Anything else, sweetie?”

 

Aya grunted noncommittally.

 

“Okay, I'll just get whatever. I'll be home soon.” A slight pause. Aya inhaled deeply, knowing what was coming. “I love you, Aya.”

 

There was a soft click as Ken hung up without giving Aya a chance to reply. Since Aya wouldn't have replied anyway, and Ken knew it, this was very convenient.

 

Aya tossed the phone onto the book on the table, and pulled his knees up to his chin in his big armchair. He wrapped his arms around them and leaned his head back.

 

Ken.

 

When Ken had been released from the institution, he had begged and pleaded with Mamoru for Aya's contact information. Mamoru had eventually caved, much to Aya's chagrin. His sister had still been with him at the time, and he'd wanted her to have nothing to do with his past. He'd succeeded at keeping Ken at well over arm's length, until Aya-chan left. After that, there seemed no point in resisting Ken. No point in anything, really.

 

He'd let Ken take care of him, feed him, hold him, kiss him, fuck him. Ken seemed deliriously happy with his lot in life, and Aya was distantly glad for him, though he couldn't imagine himself as the cause of any of this happiness. Ken claimed to have been in love with him for years, and Aya accepted this, but it didn't really mean anything to him. His life was the same grey mist whether Ken was in it or not. But, loving him seemed to give Ken joy, and somewhere in what was left of Aya's heart that mattered to him. So when Ken asked Aya if he could move in with him, a couple of months after Aya-chan's departure, Aya said yes.

 

In retrospect, that had probably been a mistake.

 

While Ken's love and enthusiasm never diminished, his patience didn't hold up so well. He tried very hard not to make demands of Aya, but once it became apparent that the power of his love wasn't going to miraculously cure Aya of his despair, Ken became increasingly desperate. Unable to get through to Aya by physical or verbal means, he would go on spending sprees, buying books he thought Aya would like - leatherbound collector's editions or rare first editions, if he could get them - taking Aya to eat at exclusive restaurants, or to plays and operas, filling the house and garden with plants he knew Aya liked, buying Aya amazing leather coats with so many buckles, straps, zippers and fasteners that it was nigh impossible to actually wear the things.

 

Aya thought that, once upon a time, he would have been horrified at such wasteful extravagance, especially visited upon himself, but now he was just indifferent.

 

Which, of course, didn't help Ken's uneasiness about Aya. Ken had a recurring nightmare that he'd wake up to find Aya gone, just as Aya had woken to the absence of Aya-chan. Often after this or similar nightmares, Aya would wake up in the night to find himself being crushed to Ken's hitching chest. Having no resources in himself to comfort Ken, he would simply lie there as Ken quietly sobbed into his hair.

 

If the nightmares were especially bad, Ken would get violent.

 

“Promise me you'll never leave me,” Ken would growl, fisting his hand far too tightly in Aya's hair and yanking his head back. “Say it. Say you'll never leave. You won't leave if you love me. Fucking tell me you love me, damn it!”

 

When Aya didn't respond to this, Ken would either fly into a passion and fuck him until he was raw inside, or he would fall into a rage and beat Aya senseless. Most often, later, Ken couldn't even remember doing either of these things, and it obviously scared the hell out of him that he would lose control so utterly. The next day he would care tenderly for any wounds he'd dealt Aya, and he wouldn't speak at all, except to say that he was sorry.

 

Aya bore it all with the same detachment he felt from the rest of his life. Though a part of him hoped that, one day, Ken's rage would carry him far enough to beat him to death. In fact, it seemed inevitable sometimes that this would happen eventually. It was the only thing Aya looked forward to, and would save him the hassle of suicide, which he couldn't muster enough will to even attempt. Suicide would mean that he cared whether he lived or died, and for the most part it just didn't matter to him.

 

However, it did matter to Ken, and Aya couldn't be completely uncaring about practically damning his lover to kill the one he loved most in the world.

 

Aya realized that he'd come to a decision, which surprised him since he hadn't been trying to make one.

 

The front door rattled, and Ken soon breezed in and dropped steaming bags of delicious-smelling food on the coffee table. “Oh, Aya,” he breathed, dropping to his knees and pulling Aya into a tight embrace. “It's good to see you.”

 

Aya mustered up a smile for him, and Ken beamed.

 

“You're so beautiful when you smile, Aya,” Ken remarked, and then his own headlamp grin faded a little. “Even though it doesn't reach your eyes.” He sighed, and shrugged. “Let's eat, baby!”

 

Dinner was normal; the food was very good and Ken chattered all through it about the teams he coached, and last year's world cup, and this and that. It was pleasant enough.

 

After they finished eating, Ken got up and sat on the sofa. Turning hungry eyes on Aya, he quietly purred, “Come up on the couch with me, baby.”

 

Aya felt his body react to the promise in Ken's tone, but as ever it didn't penetrate his mind. So it was fairly easy for him to say, “No, Ken,” instead of going with the flow as he always had before.

 

Ken went rigid. “Aya?” he asked, eyes wide.

 

“I'm going to stop being your lover for now,” Aya clarified. He scooted across the floor and lifted himself into his armchair.

 

Ken was silent for a long time, staring at Aya. “For now,” he said slowly. “What does that mean? For now, this evening? For now, a week or two? For now because you can't say forever?” Ken's voice broke on the last word, and he began visibly shaking.

 

Aya gazed helplessly over his knees at Ken. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I don't think being with me is doing you any good,” Aya murmured.

 

“Oh, right.” Ken barked out a very bitter laugh. “You're doing this as a favor to me, are you? Breaking my fucking heart…” he trailed off, and looked suddenly shocked. In an instant he was off of the couch and kneeling in front of Aya's chair, staring up at him, clenching Aya's ankles in his fists. “You're not doing this, are you? You're not really saying what I think you're saying? Tell me you're not dumping me, Aya, please!”

 

Aya felt a sort of sick misery descend on him. “I don't know, Ken. Maybe.”

 

Ken seemed paralyzed, staring at Aya with a stricken expression.

 

“I'll move my things into the spare room toni—“

 

“I can't even ask what I did,” Ken interrupted, not seeming to hear him. “I can't ask what I did wrong because there are just so many things I did wrong…”

 

“Ken, it isn't your—“

 

“I swear I'll kill you here and now if you say `It's not you, it's me,'” Ken growled. “Don't you dare.”

 

“Umm…” Aya elected to stay silent for the time being.

 

Ken buried his face in Aya's shins. Aya briefly considered petting Ken's hair, but decided it might be counterproductive. After a minute or two, Ken turned his head and leaned the side of his face against Aya. When he spoke his voice was choked with unhappiness. “I…I even went to see Dr. Takinishi about medication and therapy and stuff, so that I won't…lose it anymore…”

 

Aya was astounded. “You went to the psychiatrist?” he asked. “Voluntarily?” Ever since he'd been released from the Kritiker psychiatric facility, Ken had displayed only hostility toward any sort of psychiatric care. Aya wasn't sure why - naturally, being locked away was unpleasant for most people, but he still didn't understand Ken's staunch refusal and anger at any suggestion of psychiatric maintenance outside of the facility. He hadn't been taking any medication or going through any other treatment, and now suddenly he went to the psychiatrist on his own, with no prompting? Aya wasn't sure he believed it.

 

Ken got up and walked over to his jacket, hung on the wall near the front door. He pulled out a couple of small orange bottles, and walked back to Aya, tossing them onto the chair.

 

Aya picked them up and examined them. An anti-convulsant and an anti-depressant.

 

“He says we'll start with those and see if we need to add an anti-psychotic or not. Aya,” Ken pleaded, kneeling in front of the chair again and taking his hands, “baby, I want to do this for you. I want to be a better person for you. I never want to…to hurt you again, I want to be good to you. I - “

 

“Ken,” Aya sighed, “you shouldn't do this for me. You need to do it for you. I'm glad you're doing it regardless of why, but it's not going to change my mind.”

 

Ken started trembling, closed his eyes. They snapped open a moment later, and Aya could read cold fury in them. “So Omi, that little rat bastard Takatori, called you even after I asked him not to, huh.”

 

Aya frowned. “Omi hasn't called. Why would you ask him not to?”

 

But Ken was hearing nothing. “So the ex is coming back to town and suddenly you don't want to be with me anymore, is that it? Have you just been waiting all this time since Aya-chan left for him to come back to you? Marking time with the dumb brain-damaged jock? Well, fuck both of you, because he'll have you over my dead body!” Ken finished with a roar, and sent his fist smashing through the coffee table. It was a thick hardwood table, and Aya was impressed in spite of himself. But still confused.

 

“Ken, I haven't heard from Mamoru. The only person I can think of that you might be talking about is Yohji, and you know Yohji is with Schuldig now.” Aya knew they were still together, since he'd heard it from Omi, who'd heard it from Brad, who'd heard it from Schuldig. He almost smiled at the thought of this peculiar little grapevine.

 

Ken snorted. “No one could possibly love Schuldig more than you.”

 

Aya nearly laughed. He knew it would be pointless to argue, so he just said, “So you are talking about Yohji. Yohji and Schuldig are coming back to Japan? Did Omi say why?”

 

“Aya.” Ken's eyes bored into his. “Give me an answer. Do you love me? Am I in your heart?”

 

Aya closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “No. I can't love anyone, Ken. I'm sorry. You should know this already. I haven't made a secret of it.”

 

Ken's eyes opened very wide, and his hands around Aya's became vice-like. Aya winced. Ken released him and slowly stood up. He backed slowly away from Aya, his expression unreadable. All at once he turned and fled, and Aya heard the front door open but didn't hear it close. With heavy limbs he dragged himself out of his chair to go and close the door, but then he heard a voice and the door closing. It wasn't Ken's. Aya paused, listening.

 

“ - And don't lose him, please, Nagi,” Mamoru was saying, as he walked into the room talking on a cell phone. He waved at Aya, who sat down again. “I know, I know. I forgot who I was talking to. Thanks.” Mamoru hung up the phone and smiled at Aya. “Good evening, Aya-kun.”

 

“Mamoru.” Aya inclined his head in greeting. “I didn't know you were coming. Help yourself to some leftover Thai, if you want.”

 

Mamoru shook his head. “Nagi and I just ate, thanks. I asked Ken to tell you I would try to make it here this evening, but from the way he just flew past me looking homicidal, I take it you two are fighting right now.”

 

Aya shrugged. “Nagi is following him?”

 

Mamoru sighed. “Yeah, I didn't like the look on his face. I don't want him to get into too much trouble. Nagi will just knock him out if he gets out of control.”

 

Aya nodded. “Ken mentioned something about Yohji coming back to Japan.”

 

“Yes. I got a call from him several hours ago, from southern France. It seems he…” Mamoru trailed off. He seemed to be in the midst of an internal debate.

 

“He what?” Aya prompted.

 

“I'm not sure how to tell you this; I don't want to upset you.”

 

Aya waved off his concern. “Don't worry. I'm not easily upset these days.”

 

“I know,” Mamoru responded wryly. “Alright, I'll just say it. Yohji bumped into Aya-chan today.”

 

Aya felt a momentary jolt of…something, and waited for joy or misery or anxiety or any sort of emotion to come crashing down on him. But nothing came; he was still as empty as ever. “That's… unexpected.”

 

Mamoru was silent, watching him intently.

 

“Was she doing alright? How did she look?” Aya asked finally.

 

“Yohji said she seemed well. Better than she had any right to be,” he added, his eyes hard.

 

Aya frowned at him.

 

“Well, it's true, Aya-kun! Abandoning you like that and then touring around Europe at your expense, acting like she has every right to do so and not feeling the slightest bit remorseful - “

 

“Why would she feel remorseful?” Aya asked. “She's free of me. The money is hers; it was always hers. She can do what she likes with it. It's fine if she's enjoying herself.”

 

Mamoru sighed heavily. “It's not fine, Aya,” he muttered. “But I'm not going to argue with you about her. I'm here to tell you that Yohji was understandably concerned when he found out that Aya-chan had… anyway, he's really worried about you.”

 

Aya shrugged. “Tell him I'm fine. Or tell Crawford to tell Schuldig to tell him,” he amended with a tiny grin.

 

Mamoru smiled sadly. “I can't tell him you're fine, because you're not. And don't argue with me,” he added as Aya opened his mouth. “There's no point. I've already told him about your current situation, and he and Schuldig are going to come here to see you. They should be here in about three days.”

 

Aya tilted his head, puzzled. “Why?”

 

Clenching his hands in his hair, Mamoru growled in frustration. “Because he's worried about you, Aya! I'm worried about you, too! Since your sister left you've been…I don't know, soulless and heartless. You're not all there, Aya-kun!”

 

“You're right,” Aya confirmed, nodding. “She was my heart and soul. Since she's gone, so are they. That's not going to change, Mamoru.”

 

Mamoru just stared at him. “Somehow, Aya,” he finally began, “one of us is going to get through to you. I don't care who it is, or how, but you're going to come back to us, Aya-kun. I swear it.”

 

Aya shrugged. “You're being a bit melodramatic,” he chided.

 

Mamoru sighed again. He sighed a lot when talking to Aya, and Aya wondered, not for the first time, why Mamoru still bothered with him. “I don't think leaving you alone with Ken-kun tonight is a good idea, judging from the look on his face when he left,” Mamoru was saying, deftly switching topics. “What did you argue about, if you don't mind me asking?”

 

“I said I was going to stop being his lover,” Aya answered, eyes lingering on the ragged-edged hole in the coffee table.

 

Mamoru followed his eyes, and scowled. “Nagi and I will stay here until Yohji and Schuldig arrive,” he announced.

 

“I don't need babysitters,” Aya responded automatically.

 

“You might, and you might not. Ken, however, definitely does. You know how dangerous he is. And if you've broken up with him, well… the situation is just too uncertain. We're staying here.”

 

Aya sighed, and flopped back in his chair. “Do what you like, Bombay,” was his vague assent.

 

“Right. I'm going to go make some tea. Want some? I'll make you some chamomile-ginseng,” Mamoru announced, without giving him time to answer, and he strode off to the kitchen.

 

Aya stayed in his chair, pondering this recent flurry of information, trying to digest it. His sister was well and apparently happy. While good news, this failed to rouse any particular feelings beyond a very faint sense of remorse. Yohji was coming to Japan with Schuldig, apparently just to see how he was doing. He shook his head, smiling to himself. He'd missed Yohji, he realized, vaguely surprised. He thought maybe…just maybe it might actually be nice to see Yohji again.

 

Even if he was practically married to that obnoxious pest of a telepath.