Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ When Blood Soils One's Hands ❯ Sunblock Motel, Room 23 ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimers : Sniff… Why? Oh why can't I own Weiss Kreuz? Just for one day, an hour, a minute… Pweez!!! Alright, alright! I don't own it and never will. *goes of pouting*.

Title: When Blood Soils One's Hands

Author: Black Mirror (stone_devil_666@hotmail.com)

Pairings : Just wait and see! I'm not gonna spoil the fun.

Summary: A mission goes wrong, teenagers from a certain school start missing, love is refused… welcome to Weiss!

Type: Angst and Romance

Rating: PG-13

Status: Work in progress

Warnings: YAOI!!! Partial child-rape, blood, murder… All those lovely things we like. Don't say I haven't warned you!

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When Blood Soils One's Hands

Chapter II

Sunblock motel, room 23

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// Alone between the sheets

Only brings exasperation

It's time to walk the streets

Smell the desperation

At least there's pretty lights

And though there's little variation

It nullifies the night

From overkill //

Overkill / Men at Work

~*~

After a long merry trip through the valleys and woods, making sure we'd discourage anyone to follow us -even if we knew no one would, we arrived at the motel where we had reserved a room. One of the cheap `we-cost-less-then-the-motel-next-door' kind of motel. The kind that never inspire me confidence. Sunblock motel. . . tacky and ill-chosen. I loath this habit of Aya's to unceasingly spend the less money possible. It is always count down to the very smallest of pennies. Oh! Looky! Cheaper by a dim. Not a looney, a dim.

The motel was practically invisible against the sky and natural environment. Everything seemed to have been plunged in a basin filled with steel-tinted paint. A decor fit to welcome any black and white horror movie. I could just imagine Chucky running down the fog-covered street with his knife in hand, his mocking smile merely visible.

It must have been around midnight and since I'd forgotten to bring my watch -it's highly recommended to bring nothing but the weapon while on a mission. No `non-essentials' that would allow the victim to recognize you later on -if you should fail that is.

Yohji's roadster stopped and the driver's window opened soundlessly in a regular motion. I halted right beside him so that Aya was in front of the door.

"Where are we at?" the blond asked loud enough too override the clattering caused by the drops of rain when they collided with the ground or the car-body making.

Aya raised his visor and answered in an equally powerful voice:

"I have to go see the manager. He said he'd only give me the keys when we arrived."

He passed his left leg over the bike and marched towards the small cabin that served as `check-in desk'. Curiously, it wasn't even attached to the rest of the building. It usually was, right?

We could barely see him through the window because, not only was he not exactly in front of it, there was also this dense fog blocking our sight. This was getting boring. I hate being bored. Did you ever notice that when a person is bored all he thinks about is how bored he is? It's true. It's not like it matters much, but it, nevertheless, remains a fact.

All right, might as well try another subject.

I turned off the ignition off and lowered the stand. I then walked over to the roadster and knocked thrice on the window. I had to know if Omi was alright. I knew his injury was not life threatening, but who could blame me. The kid's like a brother to all of us. Don't know what would happen if he wasn't there. Poor kid deserves a lot more than this damned life. A hell of a lot more!

Again, the window opened in a most fluid motion. Yohji's tired face soon appeared followed by the cloud of smoke his continuous smoking had caused. The same smoke he'd been carrying all through the night. He didn't dare open the windows or open the hood a little, he would get wet. Hey! This is Yohji we're talking about.

"Sheesh, Yohji! You want him to die from lung cancer even before he passes over from blood loss?"

He turned towards me with a face devoid of expression. I just couldn't believe it; even at night he wore his sunglasses to drive. Well, keeps his death glares from striking at me.

I walk to the other side of the car and slowly open the door. Carefully, I place myself in a way that would prevent Omi from falling to the ground in a bone-breaking heap when the door would be fully opened. I caught him as he started to slip and repositioned him in his seat. I check his vitals and delicately remove the express handmade bandage that covered his wound. Struggling to remove my hands from his chest, Omi whimpered and inhaled a sharp breath. I knew it would be best to reassure him so, my voice filled with conviction and calm, I said:

"Maa, maa… Daijoubu, Omi. Daijoubu."

Still, he made a pitiful attempt to cover himself with his arms, but they did not seem to obey him. I looked up at his face and noticed his eyes were now wide open and filled with pain, but there was no recognition at all. He didn't even seem aware of my presence, his vision passed right through me as if I were a mere shadow of my former self. An intangible spirit or something of the sort.

"Omi, calm down. It's ok. Everything's alright, it's just me. Ken-kun! Remember?"

Hearing my words, he relaxed a little, but his muscles remained tensed and he would flinch at my touch. I felt my heart squeeze at that. It was awkward having Omi flee my hands.

Pushing away all thoughts, I removed the bandage completely and that's when I understood what all his fussing was about. The `room' we had been held in earlier not being very clean and since his injury had remained uncovered for quite a while, it was infected. How it could have infected so quickly, I had no idea, but it surely was infected.

"Hey, how's Omi doing?" Yohji shoots out at me -I still can't conceive how he can talk with a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. I wondered if he had checked on him at all throughout the travelling. Three thumbs way up for Yohji!

"Seems to be doing ok" I managed to reply, replacing my armful of Omi in a more comfortable position. "Slight infection in his wound and a fever, but nothing too major."

"Good news then?"

"Presently, I wouldn't call it good news, but it isn't all that bad."

Omi's eyes fall shut and, leaving the door wide open, I sit beside him, taking as little space as I can. I remove my dripping jacket not to wet him and make a hood out of it. I place it in a way that makes it cover the car hood and the upper part of the door. When it kept on slipping off, I abandoned this invention and threw it at Omi's feet.

Starting to feel the late hour fatigue fall on me and blur my vision, I press both indexes on my temples and stretch the back of my neck. This was one heel of a night to be stuck outside waiting for Aya. All we'd need to make it the perfect night would be thunder and lightning.

"Hey Kenken…"

"Don't call me like that" I snapped not bothering to let him finish.

Well, since I didn't bother listening, he didn't bother to apologize:

"… what are we gonna do `bout the shop? Who's gonna greet those lovely ladies?"

Exasperated, I just can't believe that's the only thing that's always on his mind, I reply in a `don't-ask-me-anymore-questions' tone:

"Yohji, shut up."

"Room 23" said a monotonous voice beside me. As I turned me head around, keys were thrown to me. I catch them clumsily and push myself out of the car.

Aya -god forbid we should disobey a silent order- patiently waited, already seated on my bike. I was wondering why we couldn't simply walk. Room 23, how far could that be. I looked around on the nearest doors to find their assigned number and, when I spotted one, had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. 506!

I hopped on the bike and toss my helmet to Aya. It was getting hard to see with the visor always wet. That's when I realized something: this day sucked.

Yohji started his engine and I imitated. With a `vroom' both were off and racing. Slowly, too slowly if you want my opinion on the matter, the door numbers decreased, going from 506 to 505 to 504 to 503. . . you get the picture, right?

I looked around; a mere glimpse. I was curious to know where we would be spending the night. Every room looked the same -well, at least from outside it did. My only bases for this assumption were the old-fashioned curtains that hung in front of every window. Seemed ancient and dusty enough. The road we used -if you can call a bunch of pebbles thrown over a sand ground a road- was uneven and bumpy, giving me a headache but, nevertheless, preventing me from falling asleep behind the wheel. Sleep. . . just the word sounded appealing.

Aya tapped on my shoulder to draw my attention. My gaze traveled along his outstretched arm and I follow in the direction his index was pointing in. A number. 23, finally. Can't wait to jump in the bed and burry my face in that big fat pillow.

After stopping the bike's engine and roaming about a little, trying to get to the door without falling and obtaining a few starches and bruises, I entered the small room that was to be our living area for the night and perhaps partially tomorrow morning.

Just when I was getting settled in the bed, I rough voice woke me up, to some extent.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

I turned around, my sleepy eyes still miraculously obeying my commands, only to discover Yohji's ringed eyes staring at me intently.

"Wha?" I barely had time to ask before I was cut off again.

"You're sleeping in my bed, that's wha" he riposted in a slightly irritated voice, mocking my use of term.

"Your bed?"

"Yes!" he answered in all modesty "My bed."

Just as I was going to ask him in what way he had overpowered me to have the bed, Aya cut through our conversation.

"Actually that's my bed."

We both turned to look at him with jealousy written across our faces. Why did he get the bed? Apart the fact that Aya is our all mighty leader, there's no reason why he should get the bed instead of us.

"Yohji, you sleep on the couch. You're used to it anyways."

The blond answered with a merely audible grumble and let himself drop on the couch. A shrilling scream came from the springs in the cochins and I heard him sight. This was going to be a very long night. An extremely long night, indeed.

Wait a minute! Where do I sleep?

Expressing my thoughts aloud, I echoed them exactly:

"Wait a minute! Where do I sleep?"

"You get the pleasure of sleeping with Omi" Aya replied with an aggravating calmness.

"But. . . but. . ." I hesitated "Omi's wounded. . . "

Aya pushed down the covers of his bed and removed his assassin coat.

"The bed is big enough for the both of you."

He unclad himself until the only piece of clothing that remained were his boxers and slipped inside the covers. A similar high-pitched shriek came from the mattress he lay on.

Sighing, I tried to reason with him again:

"But. . . but Aya-"

Too late. He was already in the `I-don't-fucking-care-and-I'm-pretending-to-be-asleep' mode. That could only mean one thing: I was not to bother him or risk my neck trying. I knew I'd lose in the end -I always did- so I abandoned from the start and sighed again. When Aya's involved, there's usually a lot of sighing.

I finally decided to undress and do as I had been told. Follow the orders.

As I slipped my shirt over my head, I found myself wondering about Omi again. I don't know why though. The lesion wasn't life-threatening or anything like that and the color was already returning to his cheeks. Why was I worried?

I removed my boots and let them fall to the ground beside the bed on which I sat. I then lowered myself down until my body made full contact with the rough material of the mattress. Slowly, not to wake up the sleeping angel -angel? Where'd that come from- beside me, I pulled the covers up and wrapped myself in them.

This was going to be a very long night.

Suddenly, I hear Yohji. Thought he was awake at first but then. . . the snore. That relentless snore.

An extremely long night, indeed.

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