Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Sous-Chef ❯ Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter's a lot heavier than I meant it to be. I hope I did alright with it - well, I suppose I'll hear about it if I handled it badly.

 

 

 

Chapter 6

 

Yohji put his arm around Schu's waist as they left the bedroom, and was glad when the German didn't throw it off. Schu gave him a half-hearted smirk.

 

::Ready?:: Schu asked as they entered the living room.

 

::Hope so,:: Yohji replied, and looked away from his lover to see Mamoru sitting on the couch, and Aya in his armchair hugging his legs, his face buried in his knees. A few butterflies in his stomach fluttered, but mostly it was painful to see Aya - strong, stoic Aya - in that position. “Hey, we're back!” Yohji hollered with false cheer, hoping that Aya would uncurl.

 

“Great!” Mamoru exclaimed. “More coffee?”

 

“That'd be good, but I left my mug in the room,” Yohji said as he flopped down in the center of the couch, and Schuldig sat beside him, unusually subdued.

 

“You can have mine,” muttered Aya, who had put his feet back on the floor.

 

“I brought you tea, not coffee, silly,” Mamoru chided, and Aya shrugged. “I'll go get another mug and put some more coffee on.” He sprang up and flounced to the kitchen.

 

“Sheesh, what the hell's he so cheerful about?” Yohji said to no one in particular. ::And what are you so worried about? Is it…what we were talking about?:: Yohji had been trying to focus on anything other than Aya, not quite trusting himself or his hormones.

 

“Maybe he's found another half-cousin to make mutant children with,:: Schuldig surmised. Yohji scowled at him. “What? Problem, dumpling?”

::I'll tell you what the problem is when coffee-boy gets back.::

 

“Be nice to Mamoru, would you? Or at least civil. We came here to try to help, not to get our asses tossed out on the street ten minutes after we got here.” Schu snorted at the slight reprimand, and Yohji scowled again and looked away from him, his eyes settling on Aya's face. At first, his heart was filled with the beauty of it, and he felt Schuldig snake a finger through a belt loop on his hip. He shook off the sensation and looked again, trying to see Aya objectively.

 

What he saw made him ache inside.

 

Aya looked older than his 25 years, almost haggard. Though his body was sleek and muscular, his cheekbones were more prominent than they should have been, and he didn't look healthy. His hair was clean but completely disheveled, as though he hadn't bothered with it since rolling out of bed, and it looked brittle. His eyes were slightly sunken and his gaze was empty, as though he didn't know or care who was in the room. Yohji remembered the desperation in Aya's eyes as Aya had let go of him earlier, and thought that even that terrible glance was better than the blankness. It was like he could see through Aya's eyes into the wasteland of his mind that Schuldig had described. Yohji realized with dismay that looking into Aya's eyes was very similar to looking into the eyes of someone who was about to die. He was very familiar with that look.

 

Yohji also noticed a set of fresh bruises on Aya's upper arms, only partially covered by the sleeves. It looked like marks left by hands that grabbed a lot harder than they should. He frowned. If anyone at Aya's construction job was hurting him -

 

“Here we are!” Mamoru said, as he came back into the room with coffee and a plate of onigiri. “Eat up, and if you're still hungry after this I can make something else.”

 

“Fantastic, I'm starving,” Yohji exclaimed, grabbing two of the rice balls and busily munching one. Anything to occupy his mouth so he could think instead of talk. ::What the fuck is going on here, Schuldig?:: he asked. ::Can you get it from Mamoru?::

 

::Already done. Just listen,:: Schu responded. “You're not very happy that I'm here, are you, Mamoru,” he spoke.

 

Mamoru sighed and put down his coffee. “Why do you ask questions you already know the answers to?”

 

“It wasn't really a question,” Schu retorted, sneering across Yohji to Mamoru, who leaned against the armrest so he could look Schuldig in the eyes.

 

“No, I'm not happy you're here. I have no reason to take pleasure in your company aside from the fact that you're Nagi's former teammate and Yohji's current lover, and that's just not enough. In fact the only person whose company I would enjoy less is probably Farfarello.”

 

Aya looked like he was about to speak, but closed his mouth and folded his arms instead, watching. At least he looked like he was there in the room with them, observing if not participating, Yohji saw with some relief.

 

“Hmph. I'm sure Farf's not going to lose any sleep over that. Yohji, do you realize that Mamoru is hoping - no, not hoping really, he's expecting you to resume your relationship with Aya?”

 

Yohji's head whipped around to catch the fleeting guilt that passed across Mamoru's face. “What? Damn it, I didn't come here for that! I came here because Aya's hurting and I'm his friend - Aya, I'm really sorry I've been so out of touch,” Yohji continued, turning to face Aya, who was watching him impassively. “I…these past couple of years, I…shit.” He took a deep breath. “I came as soon as I knew about what happened with your sister, and if I didn't come soon enough to be of any help to you, Aya, I'll never forgive myself.”

 

There was silence, and Yohji was sure he could hear the ticking of a clock, even though none of the clocks in the house made any noise. Aya looked at him for a while, and then dropped his eyes. “Mamoru said you told him she looked okay,” he murmured.

 

Yohji's eyes hardened. “Yeah, she did,” he growled, his voice harsh as he remembered her walking away from him, self-righteous and carefree. “She looks like she's having the time of her life, the little - “

 

“Scheiße, Mamoru, where'd you learn to make coffee? This tastes like you scraped it off the railway tracks,” Schuldig cut in, preventing Yohji from insulting Aya's little sister and possibly alienating Aya altogether. Yohji was grateful, but he was still fuming.

 

::Like I said before, you're wasting your time being mad at her. There's someone else you can direct your anger to.::

 

::Yeah, there is,:: thought Yohji, turning back to Mamoru. “You know perfectly well that Schuldig and I are a couple, and we're going to stay together. Always. Nothing, not even any of your machinations, is going to change that.”

 

Mamoru eyed him shrewdly. “You still love Aya-kun, though, don't you?” he asked, pressing his fingertips together and resting his chin on his thumbs. “Don't you owe Weiß a little more than you owe Schwarz?”

 

“Then why don't you dump Nagi and shack up with Ken?” Yohji sniped, becoming truly incensed.

 

Mamoru's face darkened. “Don't even joke about that,” he growled, his hand visibly tightening on his mug.

 

“Then get this notion that I'm going to leave Schuldig for Aya out of your head!”

 

“Who said I wanted another lover anyway,” Aya interjected, and Yohji looked at him. Aya had a slight smile on his face, and the anger and frustration drained away. He took Schu's hand and smiled back at Aya.

 

“Right, Aya's a big boy. He can take care of himself, right, Mamoru?” Schuldig said, his voice icy. Yohji looked over at him in surprise, and then looked at Mamoru, who looked livid.

 

“What are you implying, Schuldig-san?” Mamoru's voice was wary, but the cold fury in it froze Yohji's spine. He'd rarely seen Mamoru so angry, and feeling the rising tension between his lover and his former leader was making him angry, too.

 

“Aya, do you know what they're talking about?” Yohji asked as gently as he could.

 

Aya snorted. “Probably,” he said, waving away the question as if it wasn't important.

 

“Does it have something to do with the bruises on your arms?” Yohji continued, and felt Schuldig's and Mamoru's eyes on him.

 

Aya, who had been leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, flopped back into the armchair and exhaled loudly. He ran his fingers through his long, messy tresses, his eyes tightly shut. Then he leaned forward again, and - to Yohji's utter astonishment - opened a drawer in the coffee table and took out a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and an ashtray. He offered the pack to Yohji, who nodded dumbly, and Schuldig, who declined. Putting two cigarettes in his mouth, he lit them both and handed one to Yohji. Aya flopped back in his chair again, puffing slowly.

 

“Um…I thought you loathed cigarettes, Aya.” Yohji stared at the one he'd been given, still unable to wrap his mind around Aya smoking. Even occasionally - it couldn't be too often, because the house didn't smell like cigarettes -

 

“Don't change the subject, Yohji,” Schu admonished. “Tell him who gives you bruises, Aya. Tell him who breaks your ribs, splits your lips, knocks you unconscious - “

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck!” Yohji yelled, turning to Mamoru. “You know about this, Mamoru?”

 

“Aya is a trained assassin, Schuldig,” Mamoru said, as if Yohji wasn't there. “Those kinds of injuries are common when one takes on the kind of solo missions Aya does. He also works in construction where injuries are common. I didn't know it was Ken until very recently.”

 

“What?” Yohji's voice squeaked, since his throat had closed up the moment Ken's name was mentioned. “KEN hurt you, Aya?”

 

Aya's response was to snort and blow smoke at him.

 

“Bullshit, you didn't know it was Ken. You suspected it. Nagi suspected it. Aya's too good on missions to let himself get that badly injured. You knew Aya wanted Ken to kill him and you didn't want to interfere!” Schuldig's voice got louder and louder until his shouting made Yohji's ears vibrate. Yohji barely noticed it, though.

 

“Aya? It's true?” he asked, his voice trembling a little.

 

“I HAVE RESPONSIBILITIES!!” Mamoru roared. He and Schuldig were standing now, facing off. “I can't always fix everything! When I knew for certain it was Ken I offered my help to Aya and he refused it - “

 

“Oh, yes, people who are self-destructive will always accept help when they need it, won't they? These excuses that you make for yourself are pathetic, Takatori. You have your own life in Tokyo and you didn't want to get involved in major personal crises - “

 

“Stop talking like you know everything, damn it!” Mamoru screamed, stepping around Yohji to get in Schuldig's face. “Just because you steal some information from my brain doesn't entitle you to make judgment calls - “

 

“I'm well enough informed to judge that you're a fucking coward!”

 

“You son of a bitch - “

 

Yohji's eyes were on Aya during the entire argument, his mind in chaos. Aya smoked casually, looking completely unconcerned, until he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, stood up, picked up his armchair and threw it hard at the big window that he'd been staring out of when Yohji and Schu had first arrived. The glass exploded outward with a startlingly loud crash, and the chair tumbled into the garden. Schuldig and Mamoru fell silent, their eyes like saucers. Yohji imagined his own were the same - that chair had to have been heavy, and Aya had lifted it like it was an empty cardboard box.

 

“Um, Aya?” Mamoru sounded a little timid, now, and Yohji almost snickered.

 

“Shut. Up. Everybody just shut the fuck up. Whatever you're going to do with me, wherever you're going to put me, just decide it and get it the fuck over with so you can leave me in peace.” Aya sighed, as if making that little speech had exhausted him, and he got another cigarette out of the pack, lit up and lay down face-up- on the carpet.

 

There was silence for a few moments. Yohji lit another cigarette and crawled around the table, stretching out on his back next to Aya. “Ahhh, I know whenever I throw a chair through a window I always like to have a smoke and a cold beer afterwards. Schu, why don't you make a run to the store?”

 

“I'm not your errand boy,” Schuldig sulked.

 

“Please? I'll worship you forever.” ::I want to talk to these two, and you and Mamoru shouldn't be breathing the same air for a while, you know?::

 

“You should be able to worship me forever without the aid of alcohol, but fine. I'll go.” ::No monkey business while I'm gone,:: he warned.

 

::There won't be. And Schu…please don't listen in, okay?::

 

::Fine. Have secret conversations with handsome men while I'm not around. Well, a handsome man and a -- ::

 

“Thanks, Schu,” Yohji cheerfully cut him off. Schu made a dismissive motion with his hand, and left.

 

Yohji sat, smoking and looking at the place where his lover had been standing. There was a noise, and Yohji turned to see Mamoru sitting on the couch with his face in his hands. Mamoru looked up after a minute or so. “Aya,” he began softly. “What…do you want to be in an institution? Is that what you're saying?”

 

“Do I have a choice?” Aya asked, still staring at the ceiling.

 

“Of course you do, Aya,” Mamoru asserted, getting down from the couch and sitting on Aya's other side. “Whatever you want, I'll do my best to make it happen, you know that. Except - “ Mamoru's fists clenched.

 

Aya sighed. “I don't want anything from you.”

 

Yohji cut in before Mamoru could answer. “Why do you offer, Mamoru? Why do you ask, when you know what the answer's going to be? Why don't you just do what needs to be done?”

 

Mamoru bristled at him. “And what needs to be done, Yohji? You think Aya should be institutionalized?”

 

Yohji rolled his eyes. “For such a brilliant guy you're really an idiot. I mean separating Aya and Ken.”

 

“We're working towards that now,” Mamoru responded, a little defensively.

 

“Don't work towards it,” Yohji said, trying hard to keep from raising his voice, “do it. Aya,” he said, looking down and taking Aya's hand firmly between his own. “I want to include you as much as possible in our decisions about what's going to happen, but you're not capable of looking out for your own best interests at the moment. So we are going to make some decisions for you, but no one's looking to lock you up anywhere.”

 

“Yet,” Aya added.

 

Yohji kissed Aya's hand. “If you become actively suicidal, we'll have no choice, yes. Even then it wouldn't be forever. Aya,” Yohji whispered, leaning closer and putting a hand over Aya's heart, “I want to bring you back. I don't want you to leave this world defeated; that's not your style.”

 

Aya looked at him as if he was speaking some crazy moon-language.

 

Mamoru whispered something. He was kneeling, his hands fisted on his knees. “What, Mamoru?”

 

“I said Schuldig was right,” Mamoru said a little louder, looking up at Yohji. “I am a coward. It's just…do you remember, in the hospital after the tower fell, when Ken kept having all those seizures?”

 

Yohji nodded. He remembered it vividly, to his unending chagrin.

 

“You remember when he kept waking up and attacking the staff? He could never remember doing it, afterward. He was scared, so scared that he might end up hurting someone he cared about…” Mamoru's breath hitched a little. “Aya…even back then it was Aya, you remember?”

 

This, too, Yohji remembered all too well. The first time all three of them, having recovered from their various injuries from the fight and the fall of the tower, had gone to visit Ken together was Aya's first time seeing Ken in hospital when he was conscious.

 

Aya had hung back by the door, but Ken had waved him over so insistently that Aya had finally come to stand by the foot of the bed.

 

“Come over here, silly,” Ken had said, indicating the space next to him.

 

Aya had reluctantly complied. “What is it, Ken?”

 

“Aya…” Ken's eyes were like a summer sky, shining up into Aya's. “I saw you, when I was drowning.” He sat up and seized Aya's hands, which obviously startled Aya, but he remained silent. “I looked up while I was sinking… I couldn't move my arms or my legs… I knew I was dying. It was alright, I was okay with that, but… “ he trailed off, and tears began to further brighten his eyes and fall gently across his face. “I wanted… “ He shook his head. “I looked up and I could see the moon, shining through the water, and I thought, that's not such a bad last sight. So I kept looking up, and suddenly you were there above me, Aya, with your coat spread out around you like wings, fallen angel's wings… “

 

Yohji rolled his eyes inwardly. Ken's such a cornball, he thought.

 

“You saved my life, Aya,” Ken said, suddenly pulling Aya closer and throwing his arms around him, fisting his hands in the back of Aya's sweater and burying his face in Aya's belly.

 

Aya appeared to be in shock. Ken had never acted like this with him before, had barely ever touched him at all, so Yohji could understand it. He felt a flare of jealousy at the sight of someone embracing his lover, but by that time he had known Aya was going to leave him, so he couldn't feel much else besides despair.

 

“I want to save you, Aya,” Ken was saying. “I want to protect you now… but I can't,” he bit out, a small choked sob escaping him. “I can't, because I don't know what I'm going to do anymore, I don't know who I'm going to hurt… I can't stand it, I hate this…” Ken started crying in earnest, and Omi walked up next to Aya and started rubbing soothing circles on Ken's back. Aya looked like he wished he was anywhere else, but he didn't move as Ken clung to him. Yohji just watched and wished he had a cigarette.

 

Finally Aya sighed, and put a hand on the back of Ken's neck, rubbing gently. “It's not your fault,” he said quietly. “I'm… sorry this is happening to you. But I don't need you to save or protect me. We all watch each other's back; we've all saved each other's lives. You don't owe me anything.”

 

“One day you might need me,” Ken insisted through the tears. “What if you need me and I can't help you? What if you need me to help you and I end up hurting you? How can I live with myself? I want to be able to do something good for you, Aya, something - “

 

“Alright, that's enough,” Aya snapped, trying to dislodge Ken's arms from around his waist. Failing that, he settled for holding Ken's head in place, staring coldly down at him. “I saved you because I'm your field leader. In every mission, part of my job is to make sure everyone makes it home. So get these ridiculous fancies out of your head. I don't need your help. I don't need you to save me. I won't ever need you to save me. So stop blubbering and face what's happened to you.”

 

“Yohji?” Omi inquired, sounding a little concerned.

 

Yohji looked over at… no, it was Mamoru. He shook off the memories with a little difficulty. “Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said.”

 

“I didn't want to believe that he would ever hurt Aya-kun, so I…” Mamoru took a shuddering breath.

 

“Yeah, I understand,” Yohji sighed, breathing on Aya's hand - were Aya's hands always this cold? He didn't think so. He looked at Aya. “You told us we all watch each other's backs, and you should have been right, but no one had your back when you needed it. We failed you, Aya, all three of us.”

 

Aya yanked his hand out of Yohji's with an exasperated groan. “Quit the pity party, would you?” He threw his dead smoke in the ashtray, and grabbed an onigiri. Nibbling on it, he said, “I make no excuses for Ken or myself. If you want to have an intervention, fine, you've intervened. Do what you feel you have to do; I won't argue with you. I'll accept your decisions provided they're reasonable and not stupid, like taking me to Disneyworld or something.” Aya made a face as he leaned back on one elbow, still nibbling.

 

“You know, that actually crossed my mind?” Mamoru said with a soft chuckle. “I mentioned it to Nagi and he said, `sure, take him to a noisy, hot, crowded place with thousands upon thousands of young children, where he'll get to stand in line for hours listening to them whine. He'll end up stealing a sword from an animatronic pirate and, if he doesn't manage to kill any actual children, at least he'll have fun hacking the heads off the seven dwarves.'”

 

Yohji laughed - not very enthusiastically, because he was a little bit wrecked from the day's revelations, but it was good to be able to express some form of mirth, finally. “Nagi really said all that? He never seemed that verbose.”

 

“Well, I'm paraphrasing a little, but he said all that, yeah. He talks, you just have to get him into bed first.”

 

Yohji's jaw dropped, and Aya made a sound that could have been a laugh, or a small cough. Mamoru smiled wickedly. Yohji closed his mouth and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “I taught you so well, Omittchi,” he said fondly.

 

“I learned from the best,” Mamoru said, grinning, not seeming to mind the old nickname.

 

Aya groaned again and threw the remains of his rice ball at Yohji. “Don't make him sentimental. I won't be able to eat for days.”

 

“So cold, Aya,” Mamoru mock-pouted, as Yohji popped Aya's onigiri into his mouth. A weird electronic melody began playing, and Mamoru pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Persia,” he said, all business. Then he smiled. “Hey, Nags. Where are you?” His brows drew together. “Alright. Yes, they're here. Schu's out running an errand - oh, he contacted you? Oh, I see. Right. Okay.” He closed up the phone.

 

“Schu never mentioned contacting Nagi,” Yohji said, frowning. “Was this after he left on the beer run?”

 

“He didn't contact Nagi, Nagi contacted him,” Mamoru explained. “Telepathically.”

 

“Well, yeah, I figured. How did Nagi manage that if he's not telepathic?”

 

“Schuldig never explained Schwarz's team link to you?” Mamoru sounded surprised.

 

“Of course he did. It's still active, after all this time?”

 

“That's why Nagi was trying to contact him, just to see if he could. He said it was easy, so Schuldig must have kept the link open all these years.” Mamoru looked thoughtful. “I wasn't lying when I told Schuldig that Nagi was looking forward to seeing him.”

 

“Huh.” Yohji looked down at Aya, who had his eyes closed. He took Aya's hand again. “Well, Schu will love seeing him again, that's for sure. He talks about Nagi like the guy's his kid brother.”

 

“Nagi usually calls Schuldig the mother he never wanted.” Mamoru chuckled. “Apparently Schu and Brad used to fight over how to raise him.”

 

“I've heard a couple of those stories,” Yohji said, smiling.

 

“We ought to swap anecdotes later,” Mamoru said, his face growing serious. “Nagi called to say they're about -“ he checked his watch, “—about 10 minutes away, now.”

 

Aya's eyes snapped open. “Yohji,” he said, squeezing one of the hands that held his own.

 

“Yeah, Aya?”

 

“Don't punch him.”

 

Yohji squeezed Aya's hand, wishing the lump that kept forming in his throat would take a hike. “No promises, babe,” he managed.

 

“I mean it. He's not stable, you know that. I bear as much responsibility for all this as Ken does. I knew what I was doing.”

 

The lump got twice as large. “So Schuldig was…he was telling the truth when he said you…” Yohji swallowed hard.

 

“Hoped Ken would kill me, yes. But he hasn't, and now you're all here and you won't let him, so forget it. He's hurting enough now, and I don't know what he'll do or who he'll do it to if something sets him off. So let him be.”

 

“I don't know if I can do that, Ayan,” Yohji whispered, pressing Aya's hand to his cheek.

 

“It's your funeral. But I won't have him vilified.”

 

“And I won't let you defend your abuser.”

 

“Do you honestly think he could have done it if I hadn't let him?”

 

“That doesn't matter a bit, Aya. If - “ Yohji cut himself off as the distinctive roar of an approaching motorcycle drifted in through the broken window.

 

“Moment of truth,” Aya mumbled, glaring at Yohji significantly.

 

Yohji wasn't sure what Aya meant by that, but didn't want to start another conversation just then. He stood up. “I'll get the door, Mamoru,” he called as he walked toward the front hallway.

 

“Um…okay, Yohji-kun,” he heard Mamoru say, “but he'll be coming in through the garage. The door's in the kitchen.”

 

Yohji smirked at himself. “Thanks, bishounen,” he answered, changing direction and heading for the kitchen as the sound of an automatic garage door opening drifted into the living room.