Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ You're Joking, Right? ❯ Chapter 14

Aya slid down the wall and sat on the cold concrete floor of the garage, dimly registering the reflection of lights from the street, filtered through the dirty windows. His nose was still bleeding a bit, but he ignored it. He was nauseated from swallowing blood and thought occasionally of making himself vomit, but he ultimately decided to ignore that, too.

 

Aya put a lot of effort into ignoring how miserable and fucked up he was. It was a difficult balancing act, and Crawford had just blown it all to hell.

 

He stared at nothing for a while and didn't even try to think. He was crying, he noticed eventually. The added discomfort of the itchy tears on his face and mucous dripping down his throat was what brought him out of it. He didn't know what to make of Crawford's revelation, but God damn it, he had to do better than this.

 

Hauling himself up, Aya forced his mind into calmness -- blankness, rather. There used to be a difference, but the distinction had gotten blurred. He forced himself into survival mode. He wasn't safe to be out right now. He'd go home and figure out what he had to do.

 

**********

 

Yoji was waiting right in the middle of Aya's bed, and he half-hoped the crazy red-haired mother-fucker had something to say about it. Yoji had finally gotten something like what he wanted from Aya, only to be dismissed with a curt "I have to go to work." The sneaky bastard had stolen his cigarettes again, too. It had been his last pack, and since he wanted to be here when Aya returned, he couldn't even go out for more.

 

Yoji thought Aya had told him the truth, as far as it went. He couldn't help wishing Aya would actually confide in him. Fucking stupid -- Aya wouldn't have told him anything if he hadn't been forced into it. Aya needed back up, not a boyfriend. Another boyfriend, he reminded himself.

 

Well, it could be worse. At least he needed something Yoji could give him.

 

The back door banged loudly, and Ken was yelling something. Honey, I'm home, Yoji thought wryly. Aya's antagonistic silence or quietly devastating reply -- Yoji couldn't hear that well, but either was equally likely -- was followed by outraged roaring from Ken, punctuated by fluttery counterpart from Omi.

 

"That's my baby," Yoji muttered to himself.

 

He was surprised, though, when Ken's screaming was suddenly drowned out by Aya, who never raised his voice in exchanges like this. It was a control thing, an "I'm more of a badass than you are" game. Not this time, though. Aya was losing his shit. He was bellowing and, what the fuck, throwing furniture or something. He sounded as hateful and out of control as Yoji had ever heard anyone sound, and that was saying something. It must have even gotten through to Ken, who shut up and let Aya move on. A brief, stunned-sounding silence was followed by Aya's surly, heavy-footed pounding up the stairs. He burst into his room, slamming the door behind him, then stopped dead in the center of the floor when he saw Yoji lying on his bed. Yoji sat up, slowly, half-kneeling, half-crouching, ready to defend himself if he needed to. Aya might have him by the balls, but he hadn't completely lost his mind.

 

Aya just stood there, his chest heaving. The light was too dim to make out details, but something looked wrong. Yoji turned on the lamp and looked at him. Aya was filthy, face covered with dried blood, through which the tracks of tears were clearly visible. There was blood spattered on his shirt and streaking the sleeve of his jacket. His lips were swollen and crusty, he had a black eye, and his expression smoldered with rage.

 

"Aya." Yoji said it quietly but assuredly -- can't let a half-mad dog sense any fear, everybody knew that. "Aya, come here."

 

Aya didn't move, didn't seem to understand. Yoji waited. Finally, Aya's mouth opened, formed a word. There was no sound, but Yoji heard his name.

 

"Aya -- come here." He put a little more command behind it this time. Then, gently, "Come here, baby."

 

And Aya lurched forward and sat heavily on the bed. "Oh, God," he whispered, voice ragged and shaky.

 

Yoji came up behind him and put his arms around his shoulders. Aya leaned back into him, anger completely defused. Yoji slipped his hand into the pocket of Aya's jacket, feeling for his cigarettes. He pulled out the packet and found it empty, so he tried the other pocket. There was his lighter, but no cigarettes. Son of a bitch. Yoji fished Aya's cell phone out of his inside front pocket, flicked it open and dialed Ken's number. He faintly heard it ringing downstairs, three, four times, before Ken picked up.

 

He didn't wait for a hello.

 

"Ken, I'll do your laundry and take over all your shifts for the rest of the week if you'll go out right now and get me a carton of cigarettes and bring it to Aya's room."

 

"Yoji, what the fuck is going on with him?"

 

"I don't know, but I'm out of cigarettes, and just give me a fucking break this time, OK, Ken?"

 

After a long, long silence -- especially for Ken, whose style was more to just starting throwing the words out first and let the thoughts catch up as they would -- Ken said, "Yeah. And tomorrow, you and me are going to have a long, painful talk. If I even think you're trying to weasel out of it, I'm going to kick your ass. You with me?"

 

"All down the line. Now move. And if you get menthol, I will kill you, no joke. You with me?"

 

Ken laughed grudgingly. Ken was that kind of guy. "Yeah."

 

"Thanks, Ken." Yoji meant it. He disconnected the call and lay the phone on Aya's nightstand.

 

"You going to tell me anything about this?" Yoji asked, turning back to Aya and lightly rubbing his thumb over Aya's lower lip. It came away with some blood on it, which Yoji sucked off contemplatively.

 

"Don't you have any dry cleaning you need Ken to pick up, or something?" Aya's voice was deep and smooth and reassuringly normal-sounding.

 

"Find another way to play it, Aya. I'm not in the mood."

 

"Mmmm. I'm a little off tonight."

 

"I see that. I'll keep it simple for you. I want you to tell me the truth, assuming you give a God-damn what I want."

 

"I..." Aya stopped and gestured helplessly. He didn't bother to try again.

 

"Who called you out tonight?"

 

"I can't tell you that."

 

"Kritiker?"

 

"I can't tell you." He swallowed loudly and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. He took the coat off and let it fall to the floor, then turned back to look at Yoji. "No. Not Kritiker."

 

"What kind of job was it?"

 

After a long pause, Aya said, "It was just a meeting."

 

"Must have been one hell of a meeting. But I guess you know some pretty fucking dangerous people, don't you?"

 

"Here I am," Aya said mildly.

 

"Flattery won't get you out of this. Was it your boyfriend? Because you're fucking upset. You couldn't even hide it. Something bad happened."

 

Aya nodded slowly. "Yeah. Something bad happened. Farfarello had nothing to do with it. And I'm not going to tell you anything else."

 

Not for the first time, Yoji wanted to throw Aya up against a wall and beat him bloody. And obviously he wasn't the only one. Also, Jesus Christ, how long was it going to take Ken to run over to the corner and back? He needed a God-damned cigarette, right now. And Aya was just staring into space, looking all tragic and shit. A little gory, and a lot beaten down. But not, Yoji suddenly realized, even remotely displeased at finding Yoji in his room. That was... Ah, hell. That made him happy.

 

"I love you, baby." He kissed Aya's ear and pulled him down onto the bed. Aya's breath caught, and Yoji was suddenly feeling more protective than pissed off or curious or even hot for him. He turned Aya toward him and held on tight, stroking the small of his back under his shirt.

 

"Yoji, don't..."

 

"Shut up." He lay down on the bed and pulled Aya down with him, one hand sliding down over his ass and the other tangling in his hair. Aya's eyes were closed and his face was pinched with pain, beneath the grime. Yoji kissed him gently. "I love you."

 

"Stop it." Aya spoke quietly, with no force behind the words.

 

"I said shut up." Yoji rolled over and lay partly over Aya, as if he were shielding him. Protective. Why not? Crazy bastard needed someone to take care of him. "Open your eyes." Aya complied reluctantly. His eyes were amazing, dove gray and blue that combined to look almost lavender, when the light was right. "I love you."

 

Aya felt something when he said it, probably something he didn't even understand. It hurt a little, to see that faint stirring of something in Aya's eyes.

 

"Jesus Christ, is Ken drying the tobacco himself?" Yoji suddenly laughed, picturing Ken out in a field somewhere, meticulously harvesting the tobacco by hand, then drying it over a small flame.

 

"Speak of the devil," Aya murmured. Yoji listened and heard Ken's footsteps in the hall, moments before the door all but exploded open. There was a brief pause as Ken took in and presumably was annoyed by what he saw. "I hope this does you a lot of good," Ken snarled, hurling the carton at Yoji's head with malevolent intent and excellent aim. Aya snatched it out of the air just before impact. Ken shook his head in disgust. "I don't get it, Yoji. I don't get it at all." He slammed the door just as loudly on his way out.

 

Yoji sat up and tore open the box, then ripped into one of the beautiful, crinkly packets. Aya pressed his lighter into his hand just when he needed it, then got up and disappeared into his closet, rummaging around for something. Yoji wondered what he was doing, and he'd ask, just as soon as he smoked a little more of this cigarette.

 

Having found what he'd been looking for, Aya emerged from the back of his closet and returned to the bed. He handed Yoji a black plastic bag with something heavy inside. "Here. I have something for you."

 

Probably wasn't a box of chocolates. Yoji felt a tinge of foreboding. He sat there and smoked the rest of his cigarette, conspicuously not reaching for the bag.

 

Aya lay it on the bed next to him and watched, waiting patiently.

 

"Do you have an ashtray?"

 

Aya looked around, then brought him an empty saucer. Gross. "Aya, I'm going to explain something to you. You smoke. You may not think it counts, since it's always my cigarettes, but it does. And as a smoker, it's your duty to have a God-damned ashtray. Cans are not ashtrays, and plates are not ashtrays." Yoji wrinkled his nose as he stubbed out his cigarette butt in the saucer. "Or do you figure I should bring you an ashtray, too? Fine. I'll get you one. And then I'll expect you to fucking well use it. Are we clear on this?"

 

Aya was staring at him in obvious surprise, and Yoji realized he had perhaps gotten a touch... vehement. Well, damn it, this was a stressful situation. He looked at the bag, sitting quietly next to his thigh, and picked it up, sighing. Might as well get it over with. Yoji reached inside and pulled out a malignant-looking little black pistol. There was a slightly larger box inside, probably ammunition. He looked up at Aya.

 

"You'll need a gun. You can shoot, right?"

 

Yoji nodded vaguely as he looked at the gun. "It's a Glock."

 

Aya looked a little pained. "I know; it's fucking ugly. Wait until you shoot it, though. It's a 26. It's light, but it doesn't have a bad recoil, and it takes ten rounds. Light trigger, too." He paused, frowning. "I have a Walther. Couldn't find one for you, though."

 

"It's OK," Yoji said, smiling. "I don't need a Walther. I don't need to be James Bond."

 

"I'm not playing games, Yoji. It's my mission, and I have to make sure you're..." Aya paused and seemed to lose his momentum. "Get in some target practice in the next few days," he finally said. "You're going to need it." Aya sat down heavily. He looked exhausted, staring straight ahead, eyes glassy, shoulders slumped.

 

Yoji watched him unabashedly, wondering, yet again, what the hell was going on. They sat in silence for several minutes, Aya staring blankly in the direction of the wall, Yoji staring at Aya and idly fingering the gun.

 

"Aya, do you even remember what it was like to be a normal person?"

 

Aya made no acknowledgement, and Yoji assumed he wasn't listening. Lost in his own thoughts -- no, more than that. It looked like he was... astral projecting, or something. Aya had a knack for looking like he'd already left you far behind.

 

"No," Aya said suddenly. "Do you?"

 

Did he what? Oh, yeah. "Um, kind of. A little bit. Sex is good that way, you know? I could be anybody, any time, anywhere when I'm fucking. It could be five years ago, before any of this shit happened." He thought about it some more. As far as he could remember, this was the first personal question Aya had ever asked him, so it deserved some effort. "And, you know, sometimes I'll wake up and just be lying there in bed, and it takes a few minutes before I remember. Stuff like that." He was watching Aya carefully for some reaction, but there wasn't any. "You really don't remember at all?"

 

"No. I try sometimes. I remember scenes, things that happened, but not how it felt."

 

Yoji closed his eyes. Quietly, he asked, "Have you ever been in love, baby?" Whatever answer Aya might have to that question, Yoji was pretty sure he didn't actually want to hear it.

 

"Yes." Aya responded immediately this time, obviously not having had to think about it.

 

"Yeah? Tell me." Yoji put the gun into the bag and shoved it under the bed. He lay back against the pillows and grabbed Aya's elbow, urging the still-distracted but surprisingly talkative object of his obsession to lie next to him. Aya didn't fight him and even settled into Yoji's embrace, his head resting on Yoji's shoulder.

 

"It would have been better if it had never happened." Aya swallowed. "I wish I couldn't remember how that feels, either."

 

Yoji nodded, his chin coming to rest against Aya's hair. "I think that sometimes. Well, just a little bit is OK -- I fall a little bit in love with people all the time. It passes the time, you know? Keeps me human. But really, really in love?" Yoji reached for the cigarettes and lit two, handing one to Aya. "Tears you apart," he finished quietly.

 

"I..." Aya took a deep breath. "I try not to feel anything."

 

Yoji snorted. "Uh, huh. Looks like you're having a lot of success with that." When there wasn't any answer, Yoji moved his head so he could check out Aya's expression. He was surprised to see it was perplexed rather than stony. "Oh my God, do you really think you're unemotional?" Yoji would have laughed if it weren't so fucking pitiful. "Aya, you're..." Yoji sighed. "Never mind," he muttered. "So, Farfarello? That's who you're in love with?"

 

"No. I already told you that."

 

"I remember. I just don't necessarily believe anything you say." Yoji didn't expect any response to that, and he wasn't disappointed. "Too bad for the boyfriend, I guess; not that I feel especially bad for him. Who is it, then?"

 

"I'm not going to tell you about that."

 

Yoji was instantly on alert. That was exactly the tone of voice Aya used when he refused to tell Yoji about his mysterious collaborators. Almost the same wording, too. Aya must be even more befuddled than Yoji had realized. He didn't seem to have any idea how much he'd just let slip, either.

 

"Well, he's a lucky guy," Yoji said. He'd tried for a gentle, teasing tone, but the words had come out flat. Well, you couldn't expect miracles. "It's a guy, right?" Seemed like a given, as much as Aya liked to get fucked, but people could surprise you with things like that -- and Aya, of course, was just full of surprises. "Does he even know? Because having you in love with him, that would have to feel like something else."

 

"I would die for you," Aya said, his voice a cracked whisper. "Isn't that enough?"

 

Yoji kissed the top of his head. "No, baby. I'm afraid not."

 

Aya grunted, nodding. "I already knew that."

 

"Yeah. I'm sure you did. So -- who beat you up tonight, Aya?"

 

Aya shook his head no.

 

"What the hell do you have to lose? I'm not going to betray you -- you know damned well I'm not. Just give me an idea of what I'm getting into, OK?"

 

"It was just a disagreement over... procedural questions. It's nothing. I'm fine."

 

"Was it about this job I'm going to do with you?"

 

Aya was playing nervously with the blanket. Yoji watched his long, thin fingers worrying at it. He sensed weakness and knew now was the time to move in for the kill, but he couldn't quite do it.

 

"This person you love -- does he like your pout as much as I do? Because I think your pout is about the most beautiful thing in the whole world."

 

That earned a weak but relieved laugh. "I guess that's lucky for me, then."

 

"You didn't answer my question."

 

"I didn't answer it because it was a line, not a question. Can't you even tell the difference any more?"

 

"It was not a line," Yoji said, feigning offense. "It was the honest-to-God truth. A little sappy, maybe, but a legitimate expression of my innermost feelings. And don't roll your eyes at me."

 

"OK, I was rolling my eyes near you. And you didn't see me -- how do you know I rolled my eyes, anyway?"

 

"I sensed it."

 

"Ah. And did you sense that?"

 

Yoji smiled into Aya's hair and hugged him. "I love you, baby."

 

"That's what you said. It's not going to do you any good."

 

"Oh, I know." Yoji was suddenly very, very tired himself -- and he hadn't even gotten his ass kicked tonight. Not physically, anyway. "Let's just go to sleep, OK? We'll talk about the job tomorrow." He kissed Aya's temple and sighed. "And just... You don't have to try so hard with me, Aya. You've got me. Just save it for... whatever. OK?"

 

Aya took so long to answer Yoji thought he'd already fallen asleep. "We'll see," he finally said, his voice deep and slightly slurred. The muted insolence was followed quickly by quiet snoring.