[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Walking on Hell
Scribblemoose

Never forget:
We walk on hell
Gazing at flowers

Issa

Chapter 7 - Ghost

Aya had just finished clearing away the supper things when he heard the back door open. He looked up; Ken came in first, grim satisfaction and a natural, friendly smile on his face.

"Hey, Aya. Good to see you."

They clasped shoulders briefly and exchanged nods. Then, and only then, did Aya look at Yohji.

He was wearing a ridiculous cowboy hat, and he'd changed his hair again. Cut short, dyed daffodil-yellow. Aya hated it. He wore a lilac silk shirt over dark pants, a small, silver cross at his throat. Still.

Aya's fingers unconsciously went to the larger, bolder cross tied around his own neck on a leather thong, and remembered Yohji putting it there one foolish, sentimental afternoon in Kyoto.

"Aya," said Yohji, his lips curving into an irresistible grin.

"Yohji," said Aya, with a nod.

And the hint of a smile he couldn't catch in time.

Ken was already out of the room, lugging his huge kit bag up the stairs. They were alone, although Aya was certain Yohji wouldn't have cared if they hadn't been. He stalked across the room, looked into Aya's eyes for a moment before he kissed him, hard. His fingers wound around the thick plait of Aya's hair, as their tongues wound together.

"I need to fuck you, Aya," Yohji said, his voice low and husky as he pressed his hips against Aya's. "Your room or mine?"

Aya hesitated, for the barest moment. Yohji didn't want him, not really. It meant that another woman had come and gone, and Yohji couldn't face the nightmares alone. Nothing had changed, in all these years.

Except...

Aya had changed. As Yohji drew back Aya chased his mouth with his own and kissed him back. It didn't matter any more. He'd made his choices, for all that they'd lead him straight to Hell. He'd told Sena that he cherished his human weakness now, and it hadn't been a lie.

If this was part of his weakness, a vestige of humanity for him to cling to, he had no intention of casting it aside. Yohji felt good in his arms, beautiful and desperate as always, and Aya led him upstairs, ignoring Sena's squeak of surprise as they passed him on the stairs. He dragged Yohji to his room, and threw him on the bed.

Yohji let himself be thrown, green eyes glittering at him through long lashes.

"Pants off, Kudoh."

Aya watched Yohji undress out of the corner of his eye as he retrieved the necessary things from a drawer and chucked them on the comforter next to Yohji's pale, slender form. Noticed new bruises, new scars, the awkward way Yohji held his left arm.

"Broken?" he asked, frowning.

"Cracked, turns out. It's okay." But he winced as he shrugged.

"What happened?"

"Fell off a building."

"Clumsy," said Aya, settling himself on his knees between Yohji's thighs.

"Bitch decided if she was going to Hell she'd try and take me with her."

Aya knelt there, one hand on each of Yohji's knees, and looked into his eyes properly, for the first time in months. "You never learn."

Yohji tipped a glance to his left shoulder, and the tattoo that was etched there. "Famous for it."

Aya dropped his head to kiss Yohji's knee, and licked a line down his inner thigh. Taking satisfaction in the gasp it produced from Yohji's lips, the subtle arch of his spine. Yohji's cock was already half-hard, easily roused to full erection with a few swipes of Aya's tongue. His fingers teased the sensitive ridge of flesh between Yohji's ass and balls.

Aya was breathing hard, his head buzzing, his whole body alive and wanting. Nobody could do this to him like Yohji. Nobody. He slicked them both and deftly rolled the condom on, needing to sink inside that perfect body as soon as he could. Before it all fell apart again..

Before Asuka reclaimed him.

He told himself he didn't care.

He kissed Yohji's mouth, and barely stretched his hole before he nudged inside. Yohji grunted approval, even though it must have hurt a little; and pressed his feet against Aya's back, drawing him irresistibly inside, inch by glorious inch.

Once he was completely buried in the hot, tight tunnel of Yohji's ass, Aya paused. Gave him a chance to get used to it. Whatever this strange thing was that he and Yohji had, it wasn't to do with punishment. Not now. Now it felt more like refuge; familiar lust laced with the promise of bitter disappointment.

"Ready?"

Yohji nodded, taking Aya's braid again, twisting it around his arm like a lifeline. "Fuck me. Hard. Like you mean it."

As if he didn't always mean it.

He gave Yohji what he wanted: fast, brutal thrusts, slamming into him over and over, watching Yohji's tense, screwed up face, listening to the grunts that accompanied every thrust, louder and louder each time, until Yohji came. Very fast, long before Aya was ready, long thick ropes of it striping his belly and splashing against Aya's chest. Aya held still, gritting his teeth against the fierce clench of Yohji's spasming ass until he'd done.

Then he dipped his head, and kissed Yohji's flushed lips, slid his tongue into the warm cavern of Yohji's mouth to soothe and calm him; slow and sensual, caressing his tongue, swiping inside his lower lip and pausing to nibble at it. Brushing noses, kissing Yohji's eyelids, his hair, sucking gently on the fleshy lobe of his ear. Trailing kisses down his throat, licking the clean angle between shoulder and neck.

"Fuck, Aya... oh... damn, I only just came and already..."

Aya smiled softly to himself, and started to move again. Slowly, this time, his own natural rhythm. He dabbled his fingertips in the cooling streaks of semen on Yohji's belly and spread it around, swirling it around his nipples, wishing it was safe to taste it. Yohji's eyes fluttered open and he visibly relaxed, arching his back and offering himself to Aya with all his old sensuality and grace, the beautiful man that Aya had made a fool of himself over so many, many times...

"So good..." Yohji murmured, gazing at Aya with an oddly innocent expression on his face. He captured a length of Aya's hair that had escaped his plait, and twisted it around his index finger like he used to do with his eartails. Gazed at it as if he'd never seen hair before. Smiled a tiny, genuine smile for a moment; so sweet it stole Aya's breath. But it was there for only an instant: it was as if there was some demon in Yohji's mind that watched for his tenderness and stamped on it, switching off the smile and replacing it with the mocking, sexy grin that Yohji normally used. Beautiful, but false.

Aya could feel his pleasure mounting, even though he held it back as long as he could. He slickened his fingers with Yohji's come and wrapped them around his cock, watched him gasp and moan and whimper as he stroked him.

"Faster," Yohji breathed. "Please, Aya... faster..."

Aya considered denying him, torturing him for a while, making him beg. But it was a little too close to what he wanted himself for him to resist; he picked up the pace, not a lot but enough, his thrusts still slow but more purposeful, each ending with a shuddering pause, buried deep in the incredible heat of Yohji's ass, until he felt the tell tale throbbing of Yohji's cock. Then he let himself go, filling the condom he wished wasn't there, suddenly sad, a sharp spike of regret amidst the euphoria.

Aya slumped, panting, his head drooping between quivering shoulders, his eyes closed. He listened to the rhythm of Yohji's breathing as it slowed to normal, and the fingers clutching his hips relaxed their hold.

"Aya... fuck, that was good. God, I missed you."

Aya pulled himself away, avoiding Yohji's gaze.

"Aya?"

"Don't say things you don't mean, Yohji."

"I do mean it." Yohji caught the end of Aya's long plait and tugged on it. "I always miss you."

Aya snatched his hair out of Yohji's hand, and rolled off the bed. He crossed the room to his desk, grabbed a handful of tissues and started to clean himself up.

"I can see you didn't miss me." Yohji sighed heavily.

Aya spun around to glare at Yohji, and threaten to beat some sense into him, but the picture in front of him stole his breath. Yohji, stretched out like a spoiled cat, languid and beautiful and dangerous as ever. There was no point trying to change him, after all. There never had been.

"It's good to see you," he admitted. He snagged a towel from the back of a chair and threw it at the vision on the bed. Yohji caught it deftly and set about cleaning himself up.

"I was sorry to hear about Kyou."

"Yes," said Aya. "Sena hasn't taken it well. They were close."

"Poor kid."

"He's thinking of leaving."

"Leaving Weiss? Do they allow that now?" Yohji dropped the towel over the edge of the bed. He made no sign of putting his clothes back on.

"I allow it," said Aya.

Yohji raised an eyebrow. "Who died and made you Persia?"

Aya glared at him. "Things have changed. It's not like it was when we started out."

"Really?" Yohji looked far from convinced. "We still kill people, right?"

"What happened in Europe, Yohji?"

Yohji avoided his gaze, fiddling with the corner of the towel. "The usual. We came, we saw, we killed everyone. Stole the data, blew up the building. Didn't you read Ken's report?"

"That's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant. Are you clean?"

"Yes." Yohji glowered at him like a rebellious teenager.

"Drinking?"

"Not much. Not enough." He pulled himself to sitting and reached for his shirt.

"Who was she?"

Yohji shifted uncomfortably, stuffing his arms into his shirt. "No-one important."

"Did she-"

"She's dead."

Another ghost to add to the collection. Aya knelt on the bed, took Yohji's hand and twined their fingers together. Yohji stared down as he did it, then looked up sharply, and for a moment Aya saw the full intensity of fear and panic and self hatred in his beautiful green eyes.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine," Yohji snapped, wrenching his hand and his gaze away. "Do we have new orders yet?"

"Tomorrow," said Aya, sadly, watching as Yohji reached for his pants. "Yohji-"

Yohji ignored him.

"Yohji, don't go."

"What?"

"Don't go. Stay here tonight. With me."

Yohji froze in the act of reaching for his pants, and looked at Aya over his shoulder. He looked surprised, but pleased. "Really? You mean it?"

Aya couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face. "Yes, baka. I mean it."

"You're always so pissed off with me these days. I didn't think-"

Aya tugged him close and kissed him silent. Tried to forget the impossible fact that Yohji was lost, a million miles from him, trapped in his own madness; that as soon as he, Aya, had found something like peace, Yohji had spectacularly fallen apart. Because Yohji felt too good in his arms, kissing him back with all the passion of desperation and fear, for him to resist. And maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

He drew back, and watched Yohji's eyes slide open, lust-haze disguising the usual melancholy guilt.

"Stay?"

Yohji pushed him back on the bed, a grin spreading slowly across his beautiful face.

Aya took that as a yes.

* * * * * * *

There was a knock, and Aya looked up from the books and papers scattered over his desk. "Ken?"

Ken stuck his head around the door. "Hey Aya. Are you busy?"

"No, just finished. What is it?"

Ken edged into the room. "I wanted to ask you something."

Aya took off his reading glasses, and set them on the desk. He stood up and started packing his things into his bag for the following day's lessons, with considerable satisfaction. He liked teaching. He wondered if it might have been the career Ran was destined for, if things had turned out differently.

"Is it about the mission?" he asked.

Ken shook his head, and Aya realised he was looking unusually nervous. He hadn't seen that expression on Ken's face for a long, long time. "It's about Yohji."

Aya's heart sank.

"What about Yohji?"

"Are you and he... are you back together?"

No wonder he looked so nervous.

"Together?"

"Yes, you know, like... before."

"I don't know," said Aya, honestly. "Does it matter?"

"I don't want to see you get hurt." Ken choked out the words as if he ready to start regretting them any moment. "Yohji's a mess, Aya. When I found him before... the girls, and the drugs, and he's still drinking..."

"He completed the mission in Europe."

"He only managed it because of Shell. If she hadn't straightened him out..."

Aya gave a short, bitter little laugh.

"I know you don't want to hear this," Ken continued, "but I don't think we can trust him. The way he just fucked off on a date tonight, leaving you to do his job, directly against Persia's orders..."

"It's not a problem. Yohji's having a hard time. He needs-"

"Fuck what Yohji needs." Ken's voice was hard with anger. "What about you, Aya? All these years you've looked after that stupid sonofabitch while he's done nothing but whore around on you and feel sorry for himself. He hasn't once-"

"That's enough," said Aya, coldly. "You don't know what you're talking about."

He turned to glare at Ken, expecting to see hostility in his eyes. But he didn't. He saw something else, that shocked him to the core.

"Ken... It's-"

"It's none of my business. I know. I... just..." He chewed on his lower lip, either thinking hard or trying to stop himself from saying something, Aya couldn't tell which. "I went through Hell when Omi left. I still I miss him. I know how much it hurts, when someone you love changes... if you need me... to talk, or-"

"Thanks," said Aya quickly. "But there's no need. Whatever it is between me and Yohji... it's between us."

Ken opened his mouth to say something, but Aya silenced him with a look.

Conversation over.

"We should get going," Aya said. "It's getting late."

"Alright," said Ken. Still worried, but the edge worn off his temper.

"I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes."

Ken turned to leave; Aya watched him thoughtfully, until he reached the door, one hand on the polished brass handle. "Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about Omi. And... thanks."

Ken cast him a sad look over his shoulder. With just a trace of a smile.

* * * * * * *

It was less than a week later that Aya found himself waiting for Yohji on the roof of the school, wondering if a hurriedly passed note in the staff lounge was enough to summon him.

It did. And strangely enough, Yohji seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

"Aya," he purred. "Fancy meeting you here."

Aya glared at him.

"You look a little stressed. Ninth grade playing you up? I find telling a few jokes gets them in the mood. Or is that cute little redhead playing hard to get?"

Something in Aya snapped; it wasn't Yohji's flippant tone, or his infantile teasing. It was the pretence, the grinning and playing it cool when Aya could see every inch of his soul laid bare, pain and misery etched into his very core. He pushed Yohji hard against the wall, pressed up against him so close he could almost taste Yohji's skin, and the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and coffee engulfed him. He set about hurting Yohji the best way he knew how. By pretending it was about Weiß.

"Why did you fail to report last night?"

*Why didn't you come home?*

Yohji's eyes hardened. "Yeah, sorry," he said, with forced casualness.

"And the night before that, too."

Yohji caught his gaze, and hurt him right back. "If you can make love on a schedule, you do it. She's waiting in the car. Let's hurry up and finish this."

Aya snorted in disgust, let go of Yohji and took a step back. "Let's hear it."

Yohji started to report, as if it didn't matter. "Tsujii Mayumi. She's been teaching at Koua Academy ever since the school was established. Her file seems to be completely spotless."

"You can't trust paper records."

"Tough to please, aren't we?" Yohji had the audacity to wink; Aya ignored him. "She seems to own a mansion or something near the school campus."

Aya frowned. "That's-"

"Information I obtained from a non-paper source."

Aya choked down jealousy and covered it with cool anger, determined that Yohji shouldn't see his real feelings. He suddenly wanted more than anything for the conversation to be over. "I'll investigate the papers here in the school. Keep in contact with her."

"You're starting to sound like Persia."

Aya forced himself to breathe, fists clenched at his sides. "If you don't like it-"

"Ken's getting irritated. Explain the situation to him, will you? I'll see you around."

Yohji gave an infuriating little wave, and brushed past Aya on his way to the stairs.

"Yohji," said Aya, his voice coming out as little more than a strained whisper. "What about you?"

Yohji stilled for a moment, his eyes closed.

Then he left without a word.

* * * * * * *

If things had been different...

If things had been different, Aya might have given up on Yohji then.

If things had been different, Aya might have fallen in love with Asami, not simply respected her for her dedication and her love of life.

If things had been different, Aya would have been looking for Asami, not Yohji.

If things had been different, Asami would still be alive.

* * * * * * *

He found Yohji in the Art Room, in the end, and he could see in those deep green eyes that he already knew about Tsujii.

They went up to the roof and Yohji headed straight for the edge; for a moment Aya thought he would leap off. But he didn't. Just lit a cigarette and leaned over the railing, looking out at the sunset.

"What happened?" Aya said.

"What do you mean?" Yohji kept his back to him, and Aya kept his distance.

"Is it something you can't even tell us?"

He couldn't be certain Yohji had heard him. There was a brief pause, before he spoke. "Hey, Aya. Have you ever wanted to erase your past?"

A cold chill ran down Aya's spine. "No-one can do such a thing."

Finally, Yohji turned, leaning back against the railing, his eyes cast down, examining the roof. "Have you ever wanted to, though?"

"No. I never have."

Yohji gave a cold, humourless laugh. "Thought so. You're the strong one, after all."

"We must all carry the weight of our memories as we live on," Aya said. "We are Weiß. What happened between you and Tsujii?"

Finally, Yohji looked up, and met his gaze for an instant. Then Yohji's eyelids lowered, his expression closed, secretive. "Not much," he said, his mouth twisting into an ironic smirk.

"Yohji!"

And then Yohji was walking towards him -- no, not towards him. Past him. Leaving.

"I said nothing. Don't worry, I'll complete the mission. So leave me alone."

Aya stayed perfectly still, an evening breeze ruffling his hair, and listened to Yohji's footsteps as they faded into the distance.

* * * * * * *

Aya heard Asami screaming, and knew it was too late.

He saw Tsujii in the midst of carnage, and a bitter rage leapt like bile into his throat, the like of which he hadn't tasted since Takatori.

She'd taken Kyo, and Asami. And Yohji.

Asami gave him what Weiß needed with her last breath, and died in his arms.

Another ghost.

Aya wept.

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