Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight Youji ❯ heart wraith ( Chapter 2 )

Twilight Youji 3/?

By Nix Winter

Disclaimers: I don't own Weiss Kreuz.

Warnings: Occult and yaoi

Notes: Ne… come see my stuff at www.onepinkrose.com

Twilight Youji

New sunlight filtered unevenly through the windows. Youji hadn't washed them well. Aya ran his thumb over Youji's lips. He didn't care that Youji hadn't washed the windows as he'd been nagged to. "We need to get him upstairs. Omi, put that plastic sheet on my bed. We need medical supplies. Do we still have any blood left?"

Probably the only florists in the world to keep half a hospital crash kit in the attic. "Why not take him to the white room?"

"We'll move him to your room," Ken said watching Aya's expression closely as he said it, "After we've got him patched a little, uh?"

"Why my room?" Aya snapped, unaware, or covering, that he'd said his room in the first place. "Ken, get him from that side."

Aya already had his arm under Youji's, one hand firmly gripping the waistband of his pants. Ken grunted, either words mangled behind his teeth, or Youji was heavier than he'd expected, as he got into the same position as Aya, arm under Youji's hand on his back, fist full of pants. "Yeah, Aya. On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

They stood, hauling Youji up between them. Youji's head rolled in Aya's direction, then his chin went down to his chest. He whimpered, a soft delicate sound, as if his breath were as delicate as cigarette smoke. "Fuck me," he groaned. "I did not drink enough to feel like this much shit."

"You got hurt," Omi said, following them along, as he tried to catch Youji's moving feet. "We're taking you up to the white room."

"Oh, no," Youji whined. "I hate that room! It's not that bad. Just let me down."

"You," Aya snarled, not the slightest tenderness, unless you knew hot to read him, "Are the only person I've ever known who can whine about being helped. It is bad. You've got a whole in your side the size of a golf ball."

"It's okay, Youji-kun," Omi said, lifting Youji's feet, one booted leg under either arm. "We're gonna get you fixed right up!"

"Good," Youji with cheerful sarcasm. "I got first shift in the dungeon today."

"Shut up, Youji," Aya said, kicking the door at the top of the stairs open.

"Oh man! I gotta fix that now," Ken growled. "It's not my fault he got hurt and now you got this whole nurse's heart thing going on! Careful with the house, will you?"

Youji tried to look at Ken, but all he managed was getting his head back, dangling sort of, eye half crossing, not focusing. "I'll try not to bleed, Ken-kun."

"You do that," Ken snapped, shifting his hold on Youji until the man cried out and they all stopped dead in their tracks, Youji panting hard a new sheen of sweat over his face, back. The sweat made him slippery, but he was bleeding again. Bright red on pale skin. "I'm sorry, Youji."

"Hurry up," Aya urged, moving again. They had one more set of stairs to go up. Putting the white room in the attic was their subconscious protest that they'd never need it, despite what they did for a living, Aya guessed.

By the top of the stairs, he knew for a fact that Kuduo Youji was heavy! They had to count to three again, to lift him high enough to get him on the table. Thoughtfully, it was a table with one of those little moats around it, to catch the blood. Aya hated this room.

Youji's opinion didn't matter as he'd passed out again, leaving the three of them standing around, silently arguing over who was going to do what. Omi broke the silence. "I'll start the IV. Ken, we should try to clean the wound. Get those bottles of saline. Aya, take his boots and, uh, pants off."

Aya went pale this time. Everything within him went mission oriented. Boots first, he unbuckled the straps at the top, mid calf, and ankle. Youji wore lavender socks; silk knit, traditional Japanese socks which clung to the big feet as Aya tugged. The socks turned out to be a laundry accident, lavender splotches mixing with purple and the very slightest hint of white. Aya threw the sock towards the back of the room and went to work on the other boot. This sock had drying splotches of red at the top that seemed entirely surreal. A blond killer with ruined bloody socks. "I need something to cut his pants."

Omi, who was looking for a second vein to try in Youji's hand, pointed towards a wall of sterile sealed tools. He found a pair of scissors, meant for gauze or so, but looked strong enough to take care of Youji's black stretchy pants. "We don't really know what we're doing."

"Sure we do," Omi said, now putting a bit of tape over the needle he'd gotten into Youji's hand. "We all had the classes. And look! I've got the IV started. Do you remember what blood type he is?"

"No," Aya said, trying not to grind his teeth. He was good with sharp objects though, and one leg of Youji's pants lay open to the waist, including the slender purple velvet string that had held Youji's thong underwear in as much place as Aya thought those things could hold. "Use the info cards, Omi."

"Do you think he needs blood?" Ken asked, being very careful as he irrigated the wound with a square plastic bottle of saline. "It doesn't look all that deep to me. And I think the bleeding has stopped."

"Look at your shirt," Omi snapped.

Too much snapping going on, Aya thought. There was a lot of blood on Ken's shirt, trailing in to the white room, pooling in the ridiculous little moat around Youji. That much blood should be fatal, Aya thought, numb, distant. He'd just finished opening the other side of Youji's pants, but not started peeling them away, when he got to where Ken stood. Refusing to have expectations, he took hold of Youji's, counted his pulse. Seventy wasn't so bad, and even though he'd tried not to have expectations, that wasn't what he'd expected. The wound, as Ken rinsed off flakes of dried blood and more of the black ooze, did not look as deep as Aya had expected either. He leaned, scowled.

From the very center of it, there was a trickle of shiny black pus. The rest looked like clean meat. He wondered if Youji's intestines were punctured, and that was the source of the black. Watching very carefully though, he was fairly certain he could watch it fill in. "Ken, stop."

Youji took a deep breath, calm and painless. Aya looked at his face, moved closer to the head of the table. Glassy. Youji's skin looked glassy, his lips shiny like when he'd gone clubbing that time, his lips looking like some magazine model. Aya checked his pulse again, at his throat this time. Seventy-six, but steady, strong. Impulsively, Aya reached out to touch Youji's hair, to move it away from his face. "Youji, wake up."

He simply took another breath and leaned into Aya's touch. Aya wanted a moment then, just to pull them out of time, he and Youji, to have them both well, awake, for just one moment so they could be completely fearless and tell each other what truth's lay in their hearts. The heart, it was the seat of the soul, and Aya wanted to open his to this man, even if only for a moment.

The air nearer to the door they'd come in shimmered like a heat mirage, then opened. Soundless, the shift caught all their attention. A woman formed in the mirage, curvy, in blue jeans and a tee-shirt, brown hair laying around her shoulders, those same glassy lips. "Where is it," she asked, stepping into the room and into the appearance of solid flesh and blood. Her accent was lisping, a little New York, a little Irish. "I know it's been used, and I need it back. Give me Akron's heart."

"What are you," Omi asked.

"I was," she drew the words out, "an angel."

Youji groaned, a bare heel digging in for leverage against the metal table he lay on, then slipping so he fell back against the surface. His heart rate was high again. Aya could see the pulse hammering at his throat, under impossibly pale skin. "We haven't got it," Aya said, one hand reaching back for a katana he'd not had time to take off. "Schwartz took it."

"But I can smell it," she said moving closer, bare feet walking, but not touching the ground. "I can smell it, in him. He smells," she paused to look for a word, stilled in her movements to close to Aya that he could see the black veins under her skin, flashing like little black lightening strikes. "Angelic," she finally decided. "Angels don't use the Akron. Where is it?"

Aya's blade made no sound as he pulled it a little from the sheath. "We told you. Schwartz took it. Do not touch Youji."

"Or you'll what," she purred, her eyes brown, honey brown and snapping with bits of black lightening. She shoved a finger into Youji's wounded side and he screamed, back arching, cut pants falling away, as both his hands clawed at her unmovable arm. The scream sank into sobs as he couldn't draw enough breath to scream.

Ken charged her. She held up her hand and he flew back into the wall, hit hard, and sank to the floor.

"Ken!" Omi yelled, already on his way over the table to attack their intruder.

Her hand circled over her head and Omi froze, one foot on the table, his punch pulled back, like a snap shot of an endlessly awkward pose. Even Youji's scream froze, mouth open, head thrown back, fingers frozen into claws. To Aya she spoke, as if she were imparting a great secret, chin down, eyes snapping in a black lightening storm. "Do you know what a wraith is?"

"No." Aya said, forcing himself to breathe.

"Your friend is not angry enough to become a demon. He has too much love and hope within him. He has too much pain to become angelic. He will become a wraith, feeding on those full of anger, killing any he touches." She tilted her head, stirred her fingers slowly in the hole in Youji's side. "Does your friend like to touch? Imagine if he can not die and yet he kills everyone he touches? He will become a heart wraith and eventually, in a century or two, he will become a demon, preying on those like he tried to save tonight."

Aya said nothing. If he believed her or not, it made little difference.

"If you bring me my husband's heart, I can free both of them from this curse. The object called Akron can do nothing good within this realm. Bring it to me within forty eight of your hours and I will free this one from the wraith curse. Just get it. I will return to you if you get it within time. The closer to the deadline you get, the less I will be able to lift the curse. So hurry little hero, but don't let him touch you."

She pulled her fingers out of Youji; fingers clean of blood or any foulness. Time snapped back in place and Omi went over the table slugging. Aya stepped out of the way just in time as the youngest one of them hit the floor and skidded. Aya was more interested in Youji though, who was laying, panting, and awake. His lips were so glassy as to hint at transparency now.

"Aya?"

"Youji."

The hole in Youji's side was healed without even a scar and his curls fell around his face, shimmering and clean. "I'm hungry."

Aya tucked his fingers under his arms as Youji sat up. How did one tell the only person you wanted to touch that you die if you did. "Youji, listen to me."