Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Walking Your Own Path ❯ Scream in the Night ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: last time I checked…no.

Author's note: Thank you for your support in writing a second part. Um…this is going to be a series style kinda thing, not just a oneshot. And if you want to use it on your site, can you just email me and tell me where it is and whatnot? ^_^ I'd be glad to have my fic on it.

Walking Your Own Path: Part One

Scream in the Night

Ken drove in a straight line, paving his path on the way from where he was to hell. The tears that had slipped from his eyes had long dried in chalky streaks in face of the unrelenting sun that shone with brutal cheer throughout the day. Why couldn't it be raining? Why did the goddamn world have to smile at his pain, why was the wind laughing when it should have been screaming? Damn, damn, DAMN....

The bike was running out of fuel, sputtering in protest as it tried valiantly to do as Ken urged, and go another mile…another two miles…anything to get away from the flower shop and…and…no, better to forget. Better to forget than live his whole life in pain and regret. Finally, the motorcycle heaved once, then stopped, exhausted, in the middle of the street. Oblivious to the curses and shrill yells of the other drivers that veered off wildly to avoid collision, Ken sat on the leather padded seat, hands clenched together in fists as he tried to come to terms with what he had done.

"Hey, you fucker, move to the side of the road!"

"Bastard, you're gonna kill someone!"

"MOVE IT!"

The blaring of car horns and a wave of cigarette smoke accompanied the harsh, taunting voices, washing over him in a choking cloud of acrid fumes. He closed his eyes from the sting of the dust particles, but made no effort to move out of the way of the incoming cars. All he could feel was numbness…no there as more than numbness there because he could also feel pain. And the pain was…

The gales from the passing autos buffeted at his jacket, almost knocking him off the bike, causing him to finally return to reality, and he looked around, bemused. I should…get away from this traffic…someone might get hurt…

Slowly, he reached to flash the emergency flashers, getting off to walk to the dead bike the sidewalk, but then a car screeched to a halt by him, and the driver's side window rolled down to reveal a friendly face.

"Hello, need some help?"

Startled, Ken looked up…and felt his jaw go slack. "Yur-yuriko?"

Blue eyes mirrored his surprise as Yuriko tipped down her sunglasses for a better look. "Ken-kun!? What are you doing here?!"

***

The teacup was set back on the oak table with a slight chime before Yuriko turned to regard the man sitting across from her with solemn chocolate brown eyes. "You're a long way from the flower shop, Ken…"

"Uh…hai. I had some…some…" Ken turned away, fist clenched so tightly that the Darjeeling spilled slightly over the sides of the porcelain. "Oh, shi-I'm sorry, I'll-"

"Don't worry about it!" Yuriko replied quickly, handing him a napkin. "You know me, I live like a slob anyway…must come out of working with bikes all the time, right?" She flashed him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She studied Ken with hidden anxiety as she reached for her tea again. It didn't take a genius to see that he had changed for the worse…he had grown thinner; the older laugh lines that had once touched the corners of his snapping cerulean eyes had been eclipsed by dark rings of stress and sleepless nights. Dark mahogany hair, once so fine to touch, had become lanky and oily from lack of attention…but it was his expression that really tugged at her heart. His perpetual grin and easy charm were gone, replaced by the face of a bewildered, haunted wraith that neither knew what he was doing in this world, nor cared.

"Uh…Ken…" Yuriko said carefully, "You look like you could use a place to crash a few nights."

Ken's lips turned up in a rueful grin as he raised his head from moping up the remains of the tea, "I look that bad?"

"Uh…" Yuriko smiled helplessly as she admitted, "You look like hell."

The momentary humor in Ken's eyes disappeared as he stared at the napkin as if it would reveal to him some divine truth that he needed to know. Brushing his hair back, he stood up and bowed slightly, "I don't want to intrude."

Yuriko laughed, waving her hand around the empty apartment before cocking an amused eyebrow at Ken, "On what? Don't worry Ken, you're not intruding."

He hesitated for a second more before surrendering, eyes cast downward to fix firmly on the creamy-white carpet. "Arigato, but…I can't tell you…it's personal-"

Yuriko shook her head quickly, getting to her feet as well, "Baka-Ken…don't worry about it. What are friends for?" She smiled, taking his arm and yanking him out of the room when he seemed reluctant to move.

Kun stumbled after her, then he glanced her as she walked into another room, indicating that he should throw his stuff in the corner. "This is your room. Does it meet with your requirements?"

Instead of answering, Ken studied the woman in silence before asking quietly, "Why are you so kind…why are you so kind to me, after what I did…"

"About lying about going to Australia with me?" Yuriko finished, then smiled soberly, "Ken-kun…I realized how much I was asking of you, after a few months only! You had commitments and I was asking you to drop it all for me-"

"No…" Ken began, but Yuriko shot him a stern look.

"Don't lie." She admonished, "But it's been a long time, and…and I'm back, now." She shook her head. "Australia was nice…for a while. But something was missing…and… and I was going to come and see you eventua-"

"Stop." Yuriko's face froze at the harshness in Ken's voice, her eyes shooting up to see pain flash across Ken's features, see the way he stiffened and almost yanked away from her. His whole body was held as taut as a bowstring ready to snap. She had known that he couldn't want her enough to drop everything but this total denial…perversely, she felt hurt.

"But-"

"It can't be like before, Yuriko…everything's changed since then." Ken looked away, hating the way her face went pale, the hurt that flashed in her eyes as easy to see as any book. "I'm sorry for causing you pain…I-I'll be-"

"Nonsense." Yuriko's face had smoothed back into firm concern, although a shadow of pain still lurked in her darkened eyes. "Stay the night. I've opened a bike shop of my own, so maybe you can help me get it off rock bottom." A faint smile played over her lips, and she tilted her head back slightly to regard the taller man. "I'll give you room and board and fix your bike, and in return, say you'll help me pay off a few debts I owe; then we'll call it even, okay?"

"Yuriko…"

She shook her head, hiding the tears that touched the corners of her eyes. "I know. I won't push you to do anything that you're not ready for." But I wish you could trust me Ken…

***

Dark shapes hovering over me…black…gray…who are you? Please, stay away from me…someone...help me…help me please…KEN!!!!!!

"Omi!" Hands were shaking him slightly, brushing the sweat-drenched locks of hair out of his face. "Omi, wake up, kid! Hell, I hate playing nurse…" The last statement more than anything, made his eyes fly open. His body was screaming in adrenaline-enhanced terror as well, but the stiff bandages and body cast wouldn't allow him to move so much as a muscle without hurting all over. His jaw muscles ached from containing the cry that was still vibrating in his throat and his eyes darted about fearfully, looking around the shadow drenched room for the specter of his past that had haunted his dreams, deepening his fever…

"Hey Omi…how about making this a little easier on me, huh?" Yohji's voice penetrated his delirium, causing him to turn tortured blue orbs on the taller man. Yohji grinned reassuringly, wiping the sweat off his face with a cold cloth, gently soothing the lines of fear from parched skin. "Calm down, Omi-kun, we'll have you up in a few days, okay?"

"Yohji…? What happened?" He could hear the weakness in his own voice, the unsteady way it trembled in delayed reaction, and shuddered, one hand capturing Yohji's wrist. "Where's Ken-kun? Is he okay? The last I remember…" Here he faltered as Yohji pushed up his new shades, turning his face away slightly.

"Omi-kun…."

"Ken, where's Ken, Yohji? Is he hurt?" Omi tried to get out of bed, but his own feebleness, compounded by the hampering cloth and plaster of paris, did much in the way of obstructing his movements.

"Hey, hey! Calm down! You'll only hurt your-don't make me restrain you!" Yohji ordered sharply, "Ken's fine, Omi. You're our worst hurt member, that's all."

"Then why-"

"He's not here." Both blondes spun, or tried to spin, around to confront their emotionless leader that leaned against the doorframe, Yohji looking angry and exasperated while Omi looked absurdly panicked.

"Dammit, Aya, don't you have a single sentimental bone in your body? You could have been a little more gentle about breaking the news!"

Yohji's strident admonishment was eclipsed by Omi's more forceful whisper, "What are you hiding from me, Yohji-kun?"

"Omi-"

"Tell me! What happened to Ken!?"

"…" Yohji refused to meet the eyes of the frail boy that lay on the bed. The white cream of the bandages wrapped completely around him made him look thinner than already was, and his eyes were huge with fear above the slender protrusions of his cheekbones.

"Yohji, please…what happened to Ken?" There was a whispered appeal in Omi's child-like soprano that stabbed straight into his listeners' guts, the worry, the anxiety, that no boy in high school should ever have to know, much less feel. Yet it was there, and the older pain was there in his eyes, haunted by the ghost of his father's memory and a dark and hidden past, and the newer agony of uncertainty.

"Ken left Weiss, Omi," Yohji murmured, just as quietly. He couldn't bear to see the sudden wilting of his younger friend as suddenly, Omi's face appeared much older than its fifteen years. "Last week, the day you were hurt."

Omi grew still, his only movement the slight rise and fall of his chest. His fingers, straightened and supported by thin splints, clutched convulsively at the bedcloths, and a single tear fell from his eyes as they flew first to Yohji's averted face, then to the stoic, silence of Aya's. "You're lying."

"Omi-"

"No, you're lying! Ken wouldn't leave like this! He…he wouldn't leave Weiss!"

"He needed some time-"

"NO!" Omi struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the stabs of ice that went up his spine and convulsed the rest of his body in cracked pain, "Tell me you're lying. Tell me; it's okay, I won't be mad. It's all a joke, right? Yohji?" A drop of wetness streaked down his cheeks, staining the whiteness of the bandages. "Aya?"

Yohji shook his head, then stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, yanking Aya out of the room with him. "Baka." He whispered venomously, shooting a glare at Aya. "Fix this, Aya, you're the one who stuck your foot in it!" Then, shoving the taciturn redhead back into the room, he placed his cheerful façade back on as he walked into the shop. "Hell-o pretty lady, buying flowers today…Aya? No, Aya's busy today, maybe I can help you…?"

Omi stared down at his hands, two pale blobs of color, as tears rolled silently down his cheeks. He knew it wasn't good to cry; that it only brought more pain. But still...Fingers, worn rough with practice on a katana, gently eased the younger boy's hands open to receive a cluster of flowers that still retained their deep cerulean-violet brilliancy. For a moment, the significance of that action didn't penetrate Omi's mind and he looked up with wounded eyes touched with confusion. "Morning glories?"

"Hai." Aya confirmed quietly, "He left them on your pillow before he left. Yohji's kept good care of them for you."

Omi smiled waterily, fingering the fragile oiled silk of the shy blooms. "The arrangement is perfect."

"I think he thought the same of you…Omi-kun."

***

Alone now, but for the faint streak of moonlight that passed through the translucent sheen of his window, Omi sat on his bed, fingers still toying absently with the flowers in his hands. "Ken…"

Only Ken would have thought to give him the simple blooms of the bell-shaped morning glories, with their deep bruised sky on the edges that slowly became lighter until it reached the white of the blossom's throat. Purple for magic, love, friendship…white for purity. He understood Ken's message all too well; perhaps, he was the only one who understood it. Then why did you leave?

Omi's shoulders shook with silent tears, wracking his frail body with enough force to cause him to crumple into the sheets like a collapsible paper doll, easily ripped and tattered by careless actions. He felt shorn from the inside out, talons clawing into his belly, into his heart…He curled into a ball, head tucked in his arms in a futile gesture of defense…but there was never made a defense that could withstand pain.

Finally abandoning his silence, Omi threw back his head, tears, salty and cruel, anointing his cheeks, slipping into the lapels of his jacket to trail down his chest. "Ken-kun…KEN! DON'T ABANDON ME! DON'T ABANDON ME LIKE MY FATHER!! WHY DON'T YOU COME FOR ME???"

The cry ripped out of Omi's throat, still raw from the choking and the lacerations, and his hands involuntarily crushed around the flowers, spilling their pungent fragrance into the room with gagging sweetness. Petals fell, stems were crushed, jabbing into the skin, and slowly, crimson began to mingle with the tears and the green sap, sticky and slick.

Two figures stood on the patio, dark shadows against the lighter silhouette of the light that was still shining good-naturedly from the flower shop door. Yohji hunched into his trench coat, bending his head to light a cigarette, his eyes more than a little shiny in the darkness. "Love…is such a sad thing, eh Aya?"

Two points of light gleamed back at him before Aya turned his face away, closing his eyes. "Hai."

"KEN!!!"

tbc……