Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Zerbrechliche Seele (Fragile Soul) ❯ HOME ( Epilogue )
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.14.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 844 | Status: Completed
(Fragile Soul)
HOME
Ken pulled into the driveway and parked the black jeep right beside Aya's white Porsche. The sports car gleamed in the light of the moon, making it seem as ethereal and unreal as its owner. The other three Weiß members got out of the jeep, but Aya didn't move. He just looked at his car with a detached expression. Ken and Omi unloaded their stuff and disappeared into the house after a gesture from Yohji and one last concerned look at Aya. They felt relieved that they had gotten their team mate out alive, but then again... they weren't so sure anymore that all would be well.
Yohji stepped into Aya's sight and opened the door, slowly, to give him enough time to lean back before falling out. "Come on. Let's go inside. Your bed is waiting." He smirked at the younger man. When Aya didn't react he sighed. He felt like reaching out and pulling Aya into his arms, but he didn't, knowing the redhead would only back away. There had been times he knew he'd had his hands chopped off for just reaching out to him, leave alone even touching! or be killed by a mere glare. Somehow he knew though that now was different. He saw it in the turned away face. And it hurt him more than any withering glance he'd ever gotten from Aya. Careful not to come too close to Aya Yohji reached past him and took the katana, then left him alone to follow in his own time. The front door of the house was left open after Yohji walked inside.
Aya sat unmoving in the backseat of the jeep, staring out onto the ground. For a long time all that could be heard was the sound of the waves rolling up the beach, and all that moved were the shadows caused by the silver moonlight as the moon slowly descended from the night sky. Aya didn't feel the chill of the night air seeping through his trenchcoat, didn't feel the fabric dampening from the humidity in the sea breeze. He was even colder than all that inside. When he finally did move and got out of the car he almost stumbled, his knees giving out from underneath him, and he grasped the car door to steady himself.
Slowly Aya raised his head and his gaze lifted to the house. He really didn't want to go in, didn't want to meet their eyes, didn't want to see their pitiful gazes, didn't want to hear their soothing words, didn't want their careful behavior around him. He knew it would be coming and he didn't need it. He needed for them to be normal, needed them to act as if nothing had happened. Maybe for that he'd just have to show them his usual facade - as if indeed nothing had happened. He squared his shoulders, schooled his features into a mask of indifference, and stiffly marched up the stairs and into the house.
Yohji, Ken and Omi sat in the living room, waiting, none of them daring to just go upstairs and to bed, knowing Aya was still outside. Omi sat on the couch, one leg curled under him, the other knee pulled up to his chest. He was worrying his lower lip, gaze of huge blue eyes darting to the door every once in a while, then to his other two team mates, watching them in their own method of fretting. Ken sat on the couch across from Omi, nervously playing with his bugnuks, watching them snap out as he triggered the mechanism, and snap back again as he released it. A constant click, clack in the unreal still of the room. Yohji paced in front of the fire place, taking long pulls from his cigarette, burning it down to the filter in no time, just to grind it out on the granite mantelshelf of the fire place and light a new one. Neither of the other two complained about him smoking in the house this time...
When they heard the soft click of the front door their heads snapped up in unison to stare at Aya. They didn't quite believe what they saw. This was their good old Aya, the ice cold, indifferent, emotionless, frigging arrogant, ill-tempered killer they knew and cursed every day! Yeah, Ken definitely did. Even after years of working with him he still came to blows with the equally cold and hotheaded bastard almost on a daily basis. Yeah, even Omi did. Even though the boy admired Aya's strength.. even he sometimes got sick of the stiff, emotionless, seemingly uncaring attitude. And yeah, also Yohji did. Even though he'd long harbored feelings for the ever dominant, ever reserved redhead - which he just admitted to himself only a couple of days ago - he really, really hated this frigid 'don't-dare-touching-me' behavior. They weren't even allowed to slap him on the shoulder, for crying out loud!
How often had they wished something would happen that would change Aya. But all of a sudden they all wished they could just go back to cursing the damn redhead, because that would mean the terrible happenings of this night, of these past few days had only been a nightmare. The horror was truth though, and the familiar and so often cursed CCC expression so wrong. Even though they wished it would be right, would have given anything for it to be right - it wasn't. This all too familiar facade felt so wrong, it looked so wrong on him now. And somehow Yohji knew it was just that - a facade.
Without a glance at his team mates Aya crossed over to the stairs. Before he reached them though Yohji was between him and the refuge of the upper floor, and he literally felt the other two closing in from behind. He swallowed and gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides as his whole body tensed to keep it from shaking. He didn't meet Yohji's eyes.
"Step aside." His deep voice sounded hollow.
"No," Yohji just said. The moment Aya had demanded him out of the way by the means of spoken words Yohji knew for sure the cool was only a facade. Had Aya really been unfazed by the recent happenings he would've simply commanded him by the means of a withering glare. And after his refusal to comply at the latest he would've stared Yohji down, simple as that. But he had used words, meaning he didn't dare to meet his gaze. He stepped closer. "It's us, Aya, your team mates, your friends. You can drop the mask. We're here to help."
As soon as Yohji had taken a step towards him Aya had taken a step back. His violet eyes flashed, but he still didn't meet Yohji's gaze, rather fixed on a point somewhere behind the older man. "I don't need help."
Yohji sighed. "Aya, please..."
"I'm fine."
He was fine. He had to be. For the sake of his sister. So he could continue to do what he could for her.
He was fine. He had to be. For the sake of Weiß. In order for the group to keep functioning he had to lock up his trauma in the darkest corner of his mind and throw away the key.
He was fine.
He told it to himself over and over again, like a litany, convincing himself of it.
He was fine.
Nothing was farther from the truth...
Without another word Aya slipped past Yohji, went to his room and quietly shut the door behind him. Ken and Omi watched their teammate's display of calm with bewilderment. This cool after what had just happened... They couldn't quite believe that even a guy of Aya's caliber could put such an experience aside just like that.
Yohji knew he couldn't. After taking a deep breath he quickly climbed the stairs and silently stepped up to Aya's door, a mere moment after it had closed behind the redhead. He reached out, really intending to walk in, but something stopped him and he just stood there, listening. What he heard broke his heart - and he wished he would've never had to witness it...
When Ken and Omi came sprinting up the stairs Yohji just raised a hand to keep them at bay, although the pained expression on his face was already enough to stop the two younger ones in their tracks. Helplessly they stood and listened, knowing as well as Yohji did that they weren't able to help anyway...
Aya leaned on the closed door for a moment, head leaned back and eyes closed. When he pushed off and crossed the room, the shivering started, developing into a severe trembling that shook his whole body. He didn't even reach his bed before his legs refused their support and he dropped to his knees. He was shaking violently, the hysterical sobs that had been bit back and swallowed now welled up to spill out. The hot tears that had been blinked back flowed freely, leaving searing paths on his bruised and cut cheeks. And all the cries, all the screams confined in his chest and threatening to burst his ribcage now broke free with all their pent up force.
He didn't even realize that his team mates probably heard him, too caught up in his childish belief that nothing could get past the closed door, nothing would leave the privacy of his room. And he laid on the floor in front of his bed, curled up into a miserable ball, crying, screaming, until he had no tears left, until he had no voice left, until nothing was left but a lifeless shell...
A lifeless shell filled with nothing but ice cold hatred and the need to kill...
OWARI.......?