Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Traumatized ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiß Kreuz. It all belongs to Project Weiß. I just use them to train my writing skills and to amuse others.

Author's Note: All right, the corrected version of the first chapter. Yay!!! I promise I'll try to finish the second chapter this week, but I've got more fics running and I've got to write a short story for a couple who are married 45 years next week. Bleh… >< Anyway, it's gonna be either this week or next week.

Have fun!!!

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Yaoi and vicious language.

Summary: Aya has been sexually abused as a little boy. It has left him shy and uneasy among other people. When Yohji tries to make clear that he likes - and possibly even loves - Aya, the redheaded assassin finally understands what his father has done to him. Will he ever get over his trauma and learn how to love again?

Text written in italics represent Aya's (Ran's) past.

T R A U M A T I Z E D

Chapter One

The feeling of guilt was awful. It was always there. Every day, every week, every minute of his life. Guilt and shame. Could he have stopped it? Was it all his fault? Wasn't he supposed to have died, so his sister would be alive?

He overlooked the things again, trying to see if he hadn't missed anything that could've warned him, only to conclude he had failed. And the failure was even bigger, because he didn't know where he had failed.

The door of his room opened and his father came in. He tried to remain calm, though his face revealed his immense fear for this man. If his father hadn't been here, his sister wouldn't be dead. Or perhaps it was his entire fault. If he hadn't been here, then perhaps his sister would've lived. He didn't know. He never would. All he knew right now was that he had to keep his father pleased.

He got up and reluctantly began to undress himself as his father approached him and bit softly onto his pale neck…

* * * * * * *

Yep, we're all back. Or at least I am. Looking around, I sometimes wonder if the others are really here as well. Omi's always thinking of school - that kid really LOVES school, something I'll never understand - and he has even managed to address me as one of his teachers. It's very flattering, of course, but I just feel a trifle uneasy when someone calls me 'sensei'.

I suspect Ken is always thinking he's with some kids playing soccer. He walks around with that dreamily smile of his, the one you usually come across when a guy is in love. But Ken always smiles that way when he's watching soccer and I won't be too surprised if he wears that smile as well while playing soccer. I even once caught him kicking against an imaginary ball.

And then there was Aya…

I glance at the redhead, who's doing flower arrangements again. That's his favourite job. Deep in concentration, not noticing what's happening around him, he places each stem carefully to the flower arrangement, balancing it until it's in perfect harmony with the rest. He has made an art of doing flower arrangements.

Aya… He always seems to be here, but it's very hard to tell. Even now, while no one pays attention to him - well, except for me, of course - he doesn't show any signs of emotion. He's always wearing that emotionless mask of his, always avoiding other people, even us most of the time. As if he's afraid to be among others.

"Yohji-san?" A melodious voice interrupts my quiet observation of Aya and I turn around to face a beautiful young lady with long dark hair and dark brown eyes. She has a pale face, perfect red lips, revealing perfect white teeth. A good-looking body. She's about my own age. An angel sent from heaven to bring relieve to men like me.

I smile charmingly.

"Can I help you, miss?" I ask, immediately forgetting about Aya.

"I was looking for some flowers," she tells me, though it seems to me she's singing it.

"They told me you could help me." I glance over her shoulder to see Ken grinning broadly at me. 'I thought you would appreciate it,' his lips form soundlessly. I wink at him then return my attention to the lady before me.

"Then you've come to the right place and the right person," I smile. "What kind of flowers were you looking for?"

I help the lady with finding the right flowers for a funeral. I flirt outrageously with her, since Omi and Ken would think I'm ill if I don't. Not that I mind doing it, of course. It's one of my hobbies.

I manage to get her telephone number and promise her I'll call her for a date as soon as I've got some time off. I give her a nice red rose, one I've just snatched from the flower arrangement table, fully well knowing Aya will be mad at me for doing so, and she leaves the shop much happier than when she entered it. That's my job, actually. Not selling flowers, but making other people, especially women, happy.

I turn around to apologize to Aya for snatching the rose away, before he starts glaring at me and refuses to listen to me, when I find out the chair is empty. Thinking Aya probably got up to fetch a new rose, I turn back to the shop, but there's no sign of the redhead. This is rather strange.

"Ken?" I ask when Ken passes me. "Do you know where Aya is?"

"He was doing the flower arrangements just a minute ago," the soccer fanatic replies. "Perhaps he needed something from the store or he went to the bathroom. Excuse me." He hurries to a fairly young girl; perhaps five or six years old, and is probably buying flowers for her mother. Ken adores little children almost as much as he adores his soccer. He's a bit peculiar sometimes.

"Right." I decide to drop the matter and return my attention to the female part of our customers. I smile and charm with everyone who's female and grin mischievously at Omi. The young boy sighs and rolls his eyes upwards before he turns his back to me. I chuckle, knowing my partners don't really approve my way of working. But at least we have many customers and I know that deep in their heart, they don't really mind it. Everyone has their hobby and we know each other well enough to respect that. Of course, we like to tease each other with our peculiar habits, but we're never offending.

After ten minutes, I turn around again for a second attempt to apologize to Aya - he won't stop glaring until I've done that - but the chair's is still empty. I take a quick look around. "Aya?" Then I notice the small note.

'Be right back. Aya', it says. Aya is out? Aya is out??? Where to?

I stare at Aya's neat, regular handwriting. 'Be right back' suggests he won't be gone for long. Perhaps there's some special delivery. Or he has a girlfriend. I start laughing. That guy, a girlfriend… No way. He can't have a girlfriend. It's already almost impossible to imagine Omi and Ken with a girlfriend. Aya and girlfriend simply doesn't fit.

"Hey, Omi!" I call to the blonde. "Do you know something of a special delivery for today?"

"No, Yohji-kun," the boy replies, casting his ocean blue eyes on me. "Why do you ask?"

"Aya's off to somewhere," I say, showing him the note. "Since he's not the guy to leave without telling us, especially when he has shifts, I thought he might have some kind of delivery."

"I don't know where Aya-kun is," Omi says, giving back the note, "but you know Ken-kun usually does the deliveries. I guess he has some appointment or so with someone. We can ask when he's back."

As if Aya would give an answer. Knowing the guy, he will probably glare at us for daring to ask him such a 'personal' question, then walk away, locking himself up in his room and not coming out for the rest of the day. That guy's so freaking cold, it's a wonder we don't freeze all to death when he's around.

"We'll see. I think someone's waiting for you." I point at the black-haired girl, who has just entered the shop. "She's all yours, Omi." I quickly turn to another customer.

"Yohji-kun!"

Omi wants to say more, but the high-pitched voice of the girl interrupts him. "Omi-kun, I want you to help me," she demands.

"Hai, Ouka-san. I'm coming." He puts on his cheerful mask, but as he passes me, I hear him mumbling, "Baka…"

I cast a sunny smile on the boy. Helping Ouka-san is one of the less nice tasks and whenever Omi's around, she wants him to help her. I think she kinda likes him. It's good for the boy to have someone of his own age to talk to.

The day wears on and I'm busy with writing down telephone numbers for my huge collection than with what I'm supposed to do. I have forgotten all about the rose and Aya's disappearance - it's not that important after all - and around five o'clock, I call Omi to say I'll be gone. I have a date waiting for me in some nice, cosy restaurant and it would be very impolite to let her wait for too long. She might think I've ditched her.

The boy nods, saying he and Ken will close the shop. Ken makes some teasing remarks about my one-night stands. I wave them off, retorting he's only jealous, 'cause the only girls who really fancy him are not older than ten.

I glance at Aya, who's doing his best to ignore me, concentrating even more on his flower arrangements. I guess he's still angry with me. Oh, hell… I'll apologize when I get back.

* * * * * * *

It's dark when I return. For once, I'm not that drunk that I can't even recall my name. The pretty lady I was dating didn't have a high opinion about alcohol, so I only had a few glasses of wine. The experience of being relative sober isn't even that bad, I conclude as I try to find the keyhole in the dark. We used to have a lamp above the door, but it broke down ages ago and none of us has really gotten around fixing it.

I close the door softly, locking it again. The hallway's dark, I guess they're all off to bed. I hang my coat on the chair we use as hallstand, realizing we have to fix that as well one day, and head on to the kitchen. It's nice my partner doesn't like alcohol, but if I want to sleep tonight, I need some more of it. I know the others really disapprove my drinking habit, that they're even concerned I drink myself to death, but hey, it's my life, right? If I want to throw it away, then that's my choice.

I pick out a can at random and close the door of the refrigerator. Cool liquid flows down my throat and I turn off the light as I leave the kitchen. I put my can down to light a cigarette and for a moment, I stand still, just enjoying the quietness. The girl was really nice, I muse, staring into the darkness, but I'm not fit for such a health freak. I'll see her again and I'll break it up during that date. Or I'll be even a bigger asshole by simply not calling her. No, not a good idea, she knows where I live. Better call her one-day to break it up. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do. Next week or so. At least not tomorrow.

Quietly, trying not to wake the others, 'cause I know they'll kill me if I do, I walk upstairs, heading for my room. As I pass the balcony, I hear a soft sigh. I stop, wondering if I heard it correctly or if it was just my imagination. As far as I know, everyone's asleep.

Just when I want to move on, I hear someone shifting his feet and a loud squeak from the old rusty railing. Another thing we still have to fix. As soon as we have time, of course.

Being curious now, I walk to the balcony. It's far past eleven; nearly twelve o'clock is my estimation. Who else would be awake except for stupid, usually drunk me? A flash of dark red hair is my answer. I relax and walk to the redhead.

"Mind if I join, Aya?"

The question seems to startle him. Or perhaps he didn't hear me stepping onto the balcony. Either way, his eyes reveal a tinge of fear inside them. Then, ever so slowly, the fear fades away, leaving an emotionless Aya staring back at me.

"Hn," is all he says. I take that as a yes and lean slightly against the squeaky railing. The silence returns as we both look out into the night.

"Still have to apologize for this afternoon," I say, breaking the silence. I watch the smoke drifting away. Aya doesn't reply. I wave a bit with my hand. "Sorry for snatching that rose away. Didn't have anything else to give her." The silence stretched on. Gosh, he must be really mad at me if he doesn't even react on that. "Hey, are you listening? I'm trying to apologize here!" Still, there is no answer.

I glance sideways. Aya is looking down onto the street and the people passing by. His eyes are half-closed. Standing like that, dressed in tight black pants and a white T-shirt, leaning slightly against the railing, he looks like he has just stepped out of a painting. He doesn't move and I even wonder if he's alive, but God, he looks gorgeous. Yeah, that would be the right word to describe him right now. Gorgeous.

"Aya?" I ask softly, placing my hand on his shoulder. The redhead stiffens, then impatiently shakes my hand off. I frown, but let it rest. I lean back against the railing, inhaling in another smoke.

"I heard you," I hear him suddenly saying.

I burst out laughing. "Glad I know our leader can still hear us," I chuckle. Aya glares angrily at me and I stop laughing. Right, wasn't funny. Should think before I act. Talking is not Aya's strongest point. I should be happy he says something. "Sorry 'bout that," I apologize.

Aya stares down onto the street again. "Never mind," he mutters so softly, I can barely hear him. A sudden sympathy for him wells up and I offer him my half-empty can. My job is to make people happy. Right now, I've got a feeling Aya can use some happiness. Offering him something to drink may seem nothing, but it's all I can offer right now.

"Here." For a moment, I expect him to refuse it. But he shrugs and accepts my offer. I can have another drink later. I raise my eyebrow as I watch Aya taking a gulp from the beer. He notices I'm watching him and returns the gaze.

"What?"

"Nothing. Would you like a smoke as well?" Since we were on it anyway…

Aya nods and I hold out my pack of cigarettes and a lighter. This promises to be an interesting night. He accepts them and tries to light his cigarette. I notice he doesn't really know how to do it and I take the lighter back. "Here, let me help you." I lit his cigarette and mine as well. Aya inhales deeply, slowly relaxing. He must've smoked before, since he doesn't choke. This is strange, since he doesn't allow smoking in the house. If I want to smoke, I have to do that outside. Even in winter.

But I don't ask about it. It somehow seems inappropriate to break the silence with such a question. It's not even my concern.

We both look down on the street, smoke drifting into the air. This reminds me of the days when I was a detective. When I worked together with Asuka as private detective. We lived together in a small apartment, and during the summer evenings just like this one, we would stand outside on the small balcony, watching the people passing by and telling each other what kind of person they would be.

I point at a businessman, all dressed up in one of those business suits and carrying a small suitcase. "You see that guy? I bet he has an affair with his secretary or he beats his wife up. They're all the same, you know. The better they're dressed, and especially businessmen, the worse they behave when they're at home. They have many dark sides the rest of the world doesn't get to see."

I hear a strangled cry and I spin around to face Aya. He has turned even paler and I can read the fear in his amethyst eyes. He drops his cigarette and steps back. I reach out for his arm, to calm him down, to ask what's wrong, but he flinches, turns around and runs away.

"Aya?" He doesn't reply. "Aya!" I follow him back inside and see him closing the door of his room.