Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ When Blood Soils One's Hands ❯ A Clown After the Pantomime ( Chapter 4 )

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! Oh! And there might be bad language. Yes, I've made Ken swear. }:p

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When Blood Soils One's Hands

Chapter IV

A Clown After the Pantomime

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// I just don't understand how,

You can smile with all those tears in your eyes

When you tell me everything is wonderful now

Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now //

Wonderful / Everclear

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We finally arrived back at home around 6:30. I'd never had a calmer ride. I do admit that you'd have to be nuts or to be Aya to be on the road at four am. We hadn't even laid foot on the pavement that Aya was already getting the shop ready to run. I decided to utterly ignore him and dropped on a bench. Omi said something about making coffee, but I didn't listen too much. I was lost in `la-la land'; dead to the world.

"What day are we?" I asked, curious, knowing I still had a weekly schedule I had to follow.

"We are September the 24th" Omi replied. I knew he'd be the only one to answer. Who gave a damn anyways?

"Not what date! What day are we?" I asked anew, adding a small bombast to the word `day'.

"Thursday, I think."

Thursday. . . I recited mentally what was written on the weekly calendar the hanged on the wall in my room. Thursday: 10:00 to 11:30 coach soccer, 12:00 to 16:00 begin shift at Koneko, 16:00 to 18:00 relax and wallow in self-pity because of boredom (try to find Omi to bother him while he tries to do his homework) after helping close the flower shop, 18:00 to 18:30 prepare diner, 18:30 to 19:00 eat diner, 19:00 to . . . whatever appeals to me.

Alright, my plans for the day were meticulously arranged. Now, to follow step by step. First of all, I'd have to get out of this assassin outfit. Second, maybe a long and soothing bath, cleanse myself from my sins, though that never seemed to work entirely. Third, eat breakfast and then get to the park and reassemble the kids to play some ball.

"Ken, I've put some bread in the toaster, want me to put some out for you?" Omi asked from the other side of the wall. Well, why not eat right away. I can always take that long and soothing bath later.

"Sure thing, Omittchi. Arigato!"

He also called Yohji and Aya, telling them their toasts and coffee was almost ready. Aya replied by saying he'd eat later since someone had to get the shop ready and the `blond-freak' answered with a very drowsy grunt. From the way he sounded, you could effortlessly speculate that he'd gone straight to the couch to catch some of his missing sleep.

"Yohji!" I called none to friendly, "you're on duty this morning. Get your lazy ass off the couch and get ready."

Childishly, another fight erupted -erupted just like a volcano:

"Well, look who's all mighty and motherly-like."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't hafta be like this if you weren't such a lethargic couch patato."

A head popped out from the side of the couch and a very annoyed Yohji retaliated:

"You're a nuisance for the human race, did you know that?"

"I'd rather be a nuisance than a good-for-nothing-gooey-eyed-puppy-lover!"

This time, an entire upper-body appeared in my field of vision.

"Who's a gooey-eyed-puppy-lover?"

"Are you always this deaf or is it just at present? Must be it's an alternate effect due to the blueberry-face."

Well, that got him off his ass and in fighting position. His whole body movements seemed to silently declare war. . . or at least say `you want a piece of me?'. What a macho! He slowly walked in the direction of the kitchen where Omi was finishing up the toasts and coffee and where I was seated. I hide my punch underneath the table, ready to even the score if ever he dared to touch me. An two eyes for an eye and a whole lot of teeth for a tooth. That's my new and improved version of the ancient saying. Never take revenge lightly.

Just as he raised his fist and I mine, I loud and cheerful voice broke the party:

"Peanut-butter, jelly or both?"

Yohji was the first to react. Keeping his supposedly intimidating stance, he merely turned his head towards the intruder.

"Omi," he wined, "can't you see we're in the middle of something here?"

Looking falsely ashamed and kind of sad -he even had the abandoned-puppy-look- he explained:

"But the toasts'll be cold."

Relinquishing -you can't win against Omi , Yohji sat down at the table and yelled out an exasperated:

"Jelly."

I soon followed with:

"Both."

Two large jars were dropped on the table, accompanied by four plates four knives and four cups. Omi then walk towards the counter to get the coffee, almost tripping over his own feet and I could only laugh. Guess the old Omi was back.

"Alright then! Here's the coffee and the toasts."

He threw two very hot piece of bread in every plate somehow managing not to dance around the room chanting `hot hot hot' with his burning hands. I then clearly noticed the fourth plate at the end of the table and thought of Aya who wouldn't, be joining us.

"Omi, you've got one plate to many. Aya's down at the shop, but I can sacrifice myself and eat his toasts."

With a jovial smile and a faint giggle, he cheerfully replied:

"I'll get him to eat. Don't worry. Skipping breakfast is the worst way to start a day. Well, at least I find so-"

I turned to Yohji and whispered:

"He's been listening to the cafeteria people a little too much, hasn't he?"

A simple nod approved my assumption and I went on with my meal. From the corner of the eye, I saw Omi take Aya's plate and apply a thin layer of peanut-butter on each slice of bread. He then walked away with the plate in hand.

Once finished with my delicious breakfast, I left the table with a warm bath in mind. I knew I wouldn't be bothered since no one would be there. Omi would be going to school soon and Aya and Yohji would be down at the shop. That's the life!

I turned the hot water faucet on to its maximum and the cold water to half. Soon, the humidity caused by the water's heat filled the air all around. Yep, this was the life.

As the bath filled itself, I started wondering about Omi. What would have happened if the gash he'd received had been deeper? Would he be dead by now? What if he hadn't bit that man's tongue? Would he have finished his job? I couldn't imagine it. Omi was ours, I mean. . . in a way. He was a part of us just like -I guess- we were a part of him. That was just how it work around here. I save your ass and you save mine and don't sweat about it. It wouldn't be the same without him. Yeap, Omi was ours and we -or at least I, cause I don't want to speak for the others- were his!

When the water filled the bath approximately entirely, I slowly removed my shirt, noticing the few new bruises, and then my shoes and pants. Rustling my hair, I sat on the counter and removed both of my socks. I lightly tipped my toes in the water, testing its temperature. Judging it quite acceptable, I let myself drop, splashing the surroundings.

Just as I had comfortably settled, I heard a knock on the door. Just when you think nothing can go wrong.

"Nani?"

No answer. Had I imagined it? I repeated a new, in English this time:

"What?"

"Ken-kun?" asked a frail voice. "It's Omi. I didn't brush my teeth. Would you mind if I-"

Reaching for the opaque shower curtain, I cut through his one-way conversation. I already knew what he was going to ask.

"Hai, Omittchi! You may enter the lair of the great Ken."

I then sung a very royal tune, my voice imitating the sound of a trumpet, and heard the door screech as it opened.

"Hey, Omi?"

"Nani?"

"Aren't you going to be late? I mean, you're usually gone by this time."

"You in need of privacy Kenken?" he mocked and I could only imagine the broad grin that was most probably plastered on his face. He always likes to tease me about my modesty. Hey, I don't run around naked, alright!

I suddenly wondered:

"Hey, Omittchi?"

"Huh?"

I don't know why but I found it difficult to ask this question. I tried to gather as much of courage -though it wasn't really courage I needed- and as much guts as I could and simply spat it out. I hope my nervousness didn't show too much, though I had the impression it did.

"How are you holding up?"

The water that had been running from the sink unexpectedly stopped as did the brushing sound and a bothering silence installed itself. I was glad to finally hear him answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," I picked up the washcloth and poured some liquid soap onto it, "I mean. . . Well, you know. With everything that happened and that bully and all the rest. You feeling alright with all of it?"

Again it took some time for his answer to come, but the brushing began again, so I guess the tension was sort of dispelling though it didn't seem like it at all.

"I'm alright" he said at first. Then, in a lower and almost stifled voice, he added: "It's my job to be alright, isn't it?"

I would have wanted to say something else, but I couldn't. As soon as he finished his sentence, he was out of the room. He almost ran out if I recall correctly. I'm sorry I had to bring up the subject. I really was and still am. So, even Omi had his mask. A cry of the mind. It was kinda of like a clown who'd sob behind the curtains, after the pantomime.

I got out of the bath, all restfulness having left the atmosphere and went to my room, a towel loosely tied around my waist.

I dressed myself in my usual soccer attire and walked to the kitchen. There, Yohji was still seated. I think he'd fallen asleep on the chair. At least he'd taken the time to remove his plate from under him.

I didn't feel like doing anything anymore. Didn't feel like playing with the kids. Didn't feel like eating, drinking, working -who ever feels like working- or sleeping. I wanted to talk with Omi. I had to talk with him. I knew it would have to wait until tonight, but if it were only of me, I'd go directly to school and wait for him. We really needed to talk.

A cry of the mind. It was kinda of like a clown who'd sob behind the curtains, after the pantomime. We all have our masks. Even the purest. Even the restless. Even the angels. Even the unsullied. Even the harmless. Even the innocent. Even Omi

It was kinda of like a clown who'd sob behind the curtains, after the pantomime.

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