Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ This is Not My Life ❯ This is not at all about you, It's about me ( Chapter 12 )

“Funny how I couldn't see;

This is not at all about you

It's about me.”

 

--Yohji—

 

I'm so screwed.

 

All this time I thought I needed a vacation. I thought I towed Aya along out of a simple process of elimination. I thought I knew everything I knew.

 

My subconscious apparently had a hidden agenda.

 

I didn't want a vacation; I wanted one-on-one time with Aya.

 

Oh my god, I have a thing for Aya.

 

You don't get much more screwed than that.

 

While my subconscious was stupid enough to develop this unhealthy infatuation, it at least had the foresight to realize that it was condemning me to a one way trip to miseryville. So my treacherous subconscious has kept those sentiments nicely buried. Which would have been just swell if Aya hadn't thrown the notion of us being `together' in my face and forced me to think about it.

 

I did a lot of thinking in the shower this morning. I found that while I was extremely offended by the nature of Aya's accusations, the subject matter didn't faze me in the least. In fact, to my surprise, I found myself wishing he hadn't woken up so soon, because I'd been rather enjoying lying in bed and for once not feeling alone. Aya obviously did not enjoy the company, which leads me back to being screwed.

 

It doesn't take an expert to predict that Aya wouldn't go for me. Aya hasn't especially gone for anyone. The closest he came to expressing that kind of interest was in a girl. A very young, pretty, naïve, vulnerable girl, might I add. Notice how I don't exactly fit into any of those categories.

 

For those of you not paying attention, let me reiterate. Screwed; that which Yohji Kudoh is.

 

So what am I going to do? I can't let him know. By all means, fessing up to him would be like writing my own death warrant, signing it in blood, and then handing it to the executioner, first person. Exaggerating, I am not. After this morning there is no way in the depths of Hell that he'll take the news and actually believe that I had no dubious intentions when I nicked him. I'll be back to being some kind of creepy predator in his eyes. Thanks, but no thanks. I'd like to stay on speaking terms with the guy, if at all possible.

 

It's a good thing I've had so much practice acting cool regardless of the situation. Otherwise I wouldn't be screwed, I'd be dead.

 

I can't tell if he's on to me or not. I don't think he is, luckily my reputation pretty much only applies to girls. So assuming I convinced him of my innocence this morning (and I think I did, he looked thoroughly guilty when I got out of the shower,) I should be safe. Should be. Now I have to watch my every move and word I say. Because if I accidentally let out something with any sort of double innuendo, I can trust Aya to instantly pick it up and take it the wrong way. Looks like I've got my work cut out for me.

 

The fact that every second he thinks I'm not looking he's spent staring at me is NOT helping. Especially since I wanted to stare at him, and now I can't, damnit.

 

I just dragged him into a café. He admitted to having a headache, but I suspect the hangover probably has him sick to his stomach too. He might not know it, but he needs to eat. He apparently finds my insistence on this weird, and it's only increased the staring. I don't know if I will make it through the day.

 

“So, what do you want?” I ask, pointedly looking everywhere except at Aya. He makes a noncommittal grumble and continues to visually bore a hole through my head. “Oookay….” I say, and order some melon bread and coffee. This buys me a reprieve, as he is now staring at the melon bread; obviously not what he would have ordered. Oh well, I suppose he'll live…even if I don't.

 

I nervously go through three cups of coffee and he's barely touched his one. His attention is focused on shredding the bread beyond recognition. This suits me just fine, because with his attention on the bread I'm free to have my attention on him. And boy, is it ever on him….

 

There's such a contrast between now and last's night's drunken Aya. Now that he seems to be himself again, it's safe to dwell on when he wasn't. I always suspected that Aya had a lot of stuff pent up inside, but it proved to be much worse than I'd imagined. But he only gave me enough of a glimpse to see it was there, whatever he was crying about remains cryptic. I want to know exactly what he was talking about last night. I want a clear view inside Aya's head. I want Aya to come to me and cry without being drunk. Ha. Like that will ever happen. Oh man, I've got it bad.

 

And…was he always that attractive? I suppose he was, I just didn't let myself notice. Oh hell, even the way he's grumpily mutilating his breakfast is incredibly hot. I don't think I'm going to be able to handle this. I should probably just end this whole thing and take us home. But. But I don't want to. If we go back to the shop he'll have no reason to talk to me anymore. He'll be able to ignore me until it's time for him to yell at me for whatever I've screwed up at work. I'll have to make sure I go out every night because being around him and being ignored will be unbearable. No. I definitely don't want to go home yet. Hello rock, hello hard place. I guess I should just settle down and make myself nice and comfy.

 

Oh crap. He's gone back to staring at me, which means he just totally caught me staring at him. Busted. I need something to divert my attention…ah; a waitress. He'll totally believe me staring at a waitress.

 

I'm trying very hard to watch the waitress. But, quite frankly, she's a total dog. I've never been so uninterested in a waitress as I am right now. She's so perky. Every time she smiles at us I want to cringe. But I can't cringe because I'm pretending to be interested in her. And she has curly hair. I hate curly hair. I can't believe I used to have a thing for Manx with those gravity-defying curls of hers. But she had the fact that her hair was red going for her. Yeah this waitress would totally look better as a redhead. And she needs to lose the pink dress. She'd totally improve her look with black. Everyone looks better in black. Except for Aya. Although he usually wears black (and looks quite smashing in it I might add,) Aya looks good in any color. Even orange. How someone with his coloring can pull off orange is beyond me. I can't even pull off orange. But Aya does, and looks damned sexy in it. Oh shit, I am doing the worst job ever of not paying attention to him.

 

It doesn't look like Aya intends to touch any more of his food, so I signal for the check. The check comes with a slip of paper with a phone number on it. This time I'm not able to stop myself cringing. Well at least my acting fooled someone, though it was entirely the wrong person. My reaction causes Aya to snort. Well I'm glad he's amused, because I'm sure as hell not. I pay our bill and the waitress winks at me. I should hit on her or something to keep up appearances, but knowing that she'd go for it, I can't bring myself to do it. Aya's smirking. He can tell I'm completely weirded out and he's enjoying himself, damnit. I want to wipe that smirk right off his face. No I don't. I want to kiss that smirk right off his face. Gaaaah. I need to get out of here.

 

“Let's go to Nara,” I find myself announcing. Where did that thought come from? Oh well, a change of scenery would be good, I suppose. Aya looks surprised and then shrugs. He doesn't seem to care one way or another.

 

So, in what seems no time at all we're checked out of the hotel and back in my car. Nara's not far so I don't have to worry too much about the long awkward silences which are inevitably coming.

 

I need not have worried about silences at all, as I find myself unable to shut up. Sometimes when I'm nervous I just start talking. Half the time I don't even know what I'm about to say. Like now. “Let's go camping,” I spontaneously declare. Aya gives me a strange look and then shrugs. I don't know what made me think of camping, but it suddenly seems like a good idea. Camping is totally macho, and I'm quite good at it, if I do say so myself.

 

Yeah!

 

I can't believe I never thought of it before.

 

The ruggedness! The survival!

 

Aya will never pick up on the true nature of my feelings if I'm busy chopping wood and building manly fires!

 

And—ooh! Maybe a bear will show up and I'll get to save him from—

 

Hold that thought Kudoh. The point of this expedition is to keep him from suspecting me, not to seduce him. Anyway, like he'd need me to save him from a stupid bear. Hell, he'd probably end up saving me.

 

….

 

Oh Hell. I'd really like it if he saved me from a stupid bear.

 

“Wipe that creepy grin off your face.”

 

Huh?

 

I turn to find Aya glaring at me. What'd I do now?

 

My puzzlement must be visible, because he adds, “Should I be worried about whatever aspect of camping it is which causes you to grin like a lecherous wolf?”

 

“What?” To say that I'm horrified by Aya's perceptiveness would be an understatement.

 

“You look like the cat that just ate the canary and the goldfish,” he says dryly, “it's kind of weirding me out.”

 

“No I don't.” Wow. I just reached a new low for `lamest comeback ever.'

 

He sighs. “You need to learn when to give up, Kudoh. You're the worst liar I've ever met.”

 

“I suppose you're a professional,” I mutter, trying to steer his attention away from me.

 

“Compared to you I'm a gold medalist.”

 

“Prove it.”

 

“Okay, I will.”

 

“Go ahead then,” I egg him on, “lie to me and make me believe it.”

 

“I love camping,” is his deadpan reply.

 

“Ha, ha,” I mutter, “a liar and a comedian, I've hit the frickin' lottery.”

 

“You're the one who bought the ticket,” he mumbles and then turns to go back to staring out the window.

 

Not sure how to answer that, I remain silent and turn my attention back to the road.

 

A sudden rustling of paper interrupts my concentration. Aya has mysteriously produced some kind of map out of thin air.

 

“What's that?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but not sure of what else to say.

 

“A map.”

 

Duh. I was hoping for a little elaboration there, Aya-babe.

 

“Of what?”

 

“Kyoto and the surrounding prefectures,” he mutters.

 

“Where'd you get that?”

 

“The café had a rack of tourist brochures next to the front desk,” he rolls his eyes, “but I suppose you were too busy visually feeling up the waitress to notice.”

 

“Hey! I wasn't—” oh wait. I'm supposed to be convincing Aya I like waitresses, not giving myself away….

 

“Wasn't what?” A skeptical arch of an eyebrow….

 

“Wasn't—erm—looking for brochures.”

 

“Of course you weren't.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Aya has a real talent for insulting you without actually using insults.

 

“Are you going to argue with me if I claim that planning ahead is far from being your forte?”

 

I open my mouth to protest, make brief eye contact, and then shut it. He has a point. Time to change the subject.

 

“I suppose you're picking out temples to visit,” I ask, with forced resignation.

 

For a second, I almost think I catch him crack a smile, but the veil of seriousness is back in place so quickly that I might have imagined it.

 

“There are some very important historic sites in Nara,” he says softly. “It would be a crime to miss them.”

 

“I'm sure,” I make sure to sound bored, I don't want him to notice that I'm actually interested—merely because he's interested. “So, what tediously educational establishments are you planning on dragging me to this time round?

 

I'm met with a frown. “I never said you had to come with me.”

 

“I never said I didn't want to.”

 

“Yes you did!” The frown deepens.

 

“No I didn't.”

 

“You just implied—”

 

“Implied what?”

 

“That you'd be bored,” he exclaims in exasperation.

 

“Anticipating boredom and desiring social exclusion are entirely different matters,” I announce.

 

“You're impossible,” he sighs.

 

“I work hard at it,” I reply smugly.

 

Aya shakes his head and refuses to answer.

 

“You still haven't told me where we're going—when we're not roughing it, of course,” I remind him.

 

“Oh.”

 

If Aya were any normal person, I would have said that he's rather flustered at this point. But Aya, being Aya and not any `normal person' is only `moderately less composed than the status quo.' I'd be lying if I said I didn't take some perverse pleasure in causing Aya to lose composure. It's developed into somewhat of a hobby of mine.

 

Aya folds the brochure and points to a photograph of a gigantic wooden Buddha statue.

 

It's pretty familiar looking; I think I learned about it in school at some point. Though damned if I can remember more about it than the fact that it's really, really old.

 

Still pointing at the Buddha, Aya makes eye contact with me and says casually, “I've always wanted to visit Asuka Daibutsu.”

 

With the name `Asuka' barely out of his mouth, I find myself having a horrible and rather vivid flashback.

 

I don't think I need to tell anyone of the subject matter.

 

It only lasts a moment, but when I snap back to reality, I find Aya yelling at me for some reason.

 

The reason doesn't remain a mystery for long.

 

Returning my attention to the road finds us in the wrong lane of the highway. And if I'm not mistaken, those headlights in front of us belong to a semi.

 

Well, shit.