Note: In writing this chapter, I realized I'd stumbled on my own timeline (forget that of the show... just working with the manga, I'd still taken liberties). I went back and changed a couple of the dates in the last four chapters, so if you notice the incongruencies, that's why. They should all be fixed, now. Sorry! ^^;
The Kid's Dangerous
by Utopian Trunks
Chapter 5
Warm... soft. Those were pillows, a bed! Not his, because the sheets were too coarse... and he was wearing a plastic bracelet and what felt like a napkin.
"I'm in the hospital!" Youji exulted, snuggling into his blankets and immediately finding every sore spot he had. "That hurts..." A familiar pair of hands closed over one of his. Youji's eyes opened, a smile lighting his every feature. "Ken."
The man seated by his bedside smiled back, looking uneasy. "I don't deserve that, I just came in a half hour ago." He gave Youji's hand a brief squeeze before releasing it. He nodded to the side. "He's been here all night."
Youji blinked, then struggled to half-sit up. Sitting on Youji's other side, Aya was asleep, head pillowed on his arms near Youji's knees. He was still in mission gear, less the trenchcoat, and sporting a paper hospital garment in lieu of the shirt he'd torn up.
"Geez," Youji said, lowering his voice. "You guys should've taken him home." Aya looked peaceful despite his uncomfortable position, but paler than usual.
"He was being difficult. And the nurse said he might as well stay after the transfusion." Youji looked up sharply. "The two of us split it--you'd lost a lot. You'll be fine, though, you're just in for observation till tomorrow."
Youji leaned back into the pillows, looking Ken over critically. "Otherwise, the three of you are fine?"
"Thanks to you," Ken frowned. "We were planning to cover for you last night. Instead I nearly got you killed."
Youji shrugged. "I could've saved you without injuring myself if I hadn't been drunk. How pissed off was Kritiker?"
"Eh..." Ken settled in his chair, throwing one arm over the back. "Birman did seem a little ticked. We're forfeiting pay on this one."
Youji winced. "Aya won't be happy." Ken rolled his eyes. "Not sure when I finally passed out. What happened, anyway?"
Ken shrugged. "We were extremely uncool. We hid until they finally gave up and left. Luckily for us they must've been paranoid about the police following. They were making a lot of noise, even for that neighbourhood. We regrouped outside and got you to the hospital. Eheh... went home and got a bit of a lecture from Birman. That's about all you missed."
"Oh." Youji was suddenly aware of the patch of warmth by his legs. He was trying not to look directly at Aya; he didn't trust his face in front of Ken. He felt tired. Too much to summon another question for Ken. It was the same exhaustion that'd kept him out the day before, after making deliveries. Mental, not physical. From hours of telling himself he had nothing to do with Aya not showing up for work.
Now he was pretty sure that wasn't true.
"You tired?" Ken asked softly.
Youji's gaze flicked up from his lap where it'd fallen. He nodded. "Think I'll take advantage of the downtime, sleep a bit more. You guys gonna be okay with the shop?"
"It's closed till tomorrow afternoon," Ken said as he stood up. "So you rest." Youji caught a breath in anticipation as Ken reached towards him, but his hand only fell on his uninjured shoulder, giving him a short pat. Youji caught it as Ken turned to leave.
"Ken..."
Ken's eyebrows lifted, his face open and willing but completely uncomprehending. "Y'need somethin'?"
Youji looked at him for a moment, holding tightly to Ken's larger, heavier hand. Yeah, but... "Nah. Enjoy your day off." His thumb traced Ken's palm slowly as he released his hand.
"Yeah, right. I'm stuck doing advance arrangements because I was careless," Ken made a face as he opened the door. "Be glad you're missing the work. I'll see ya tomorrow." He raised one hand as he slipped out.
Youji waited a minute after the door had closed before shifting under the blanket so he could lean down towards Aya.
"Baka," he said quietly. "There's another bed, what're ya doing there?" Youji lowered his eyes. "Or maybe I should stop askin', huh?" he said under his breath. "'Cuz I don't really wanna hear the answer, do I?" He reached out to lightly stroke Aya's hair. "Baka..." he repeated. Aya turned his head slightly under the caress and Youji's fingers brushed his face.
I wish I'd been awake last night, he thought, leaning back finally. He looked from Aya to his own upraised hands. Seems like having someone else's blood oughta feel like something. His eyes narrowed at the blue veins running just under the skin of his left wrist. Right there, yeah? He pressed two fingers to the pulse, digging down till he could really feel it. "How much of that is you?" he asked the sleeping assassin. How long's it take before it's mine? Till I'm not-- He huffed. Even that... they'd shared it. Till I'm not carrying the both of you around with me?
He dropped both hands with a sigh. Nothing's ever simple, is it?
Aya had gone when Youji awoke the next morning. Manx came to drive him home in the afternoon. The doctor's parting instructions were bed rest for another day, so Youji didn't see any of his teammates till dinner. When he got down to the kitchen, Omi informed him that Aya and Ken had already taken trays to their rooms. Disappointed, Youji declined to join Omi and took up a tray, himself. It remained untouched.
The next day Youji had the opening shift with Ken and closing with Omi. After asking him if he felt alright, Ken's behaviour was fairly normal. Omi was as solicitous as he always was when any of them were injured. He fussed over what Youji ought to be lifting, tried to get him to sit down for as much of their joint shift as possible, and inquired after Youji's condition every quarter-hour, or so it seemed. It would have been annoying if Youji hadn't been, after his 'nap' between shifts, deathly exhausted. He accepted more offers of tea or water from his younger teammate than his pride normally would have allowed, and let himself, for the most part, be confined to the register.
By the time Omi pulled down the shutters, Youji was nearly nodding off behind the counter, dreading the thought of cleanup and bookkeeping, when Aya arrived.
"I'll relieve you. Go back to bed," he said, after looking Youji quickly over.
Youji frowned, but the automatic protest didn't make it to his lips. It would have rung hollow, if he looked and sounded anywhere near how he felt. "Thanks," he said, slowly pushing hismelf upright.
"Thank you, Aya-kun," Omi echoed. "It's a good idea... wait just a minute, Youji-kun, I'll come up with you and bring some soup. I had it on the stove--" his voice trailed off as he hurried into the kitchen.
Youji turned his eyes to Aya, who was donning his apron with his back to him. "Yo, Aya... thank you for last night."
"We're teammates," Aya said.
"Yeah. But..."
"Go lie down." Aya's face was neutral when he turned around. His violet eyes lingered only a second on Youji's face before he went past him, heading for the refrigerated display. "You didn't sleep earlier, did you?"
Aya was right. Omi had sent him up to nap during the middle shifts, but all he'd been able to do was toss and turn. At the hospital he'd slept like the dead. His rest after returning home had been short and fitful at best, though simple weakness had kept him in bed. Now the old insomnia was back. Aya knew.
"Omi can stay with you, I'll handle the rest down here."
He even knew why. "Hey," Youji started. He heard the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and finished in a hurry, "I need to talk to you. Will you come up when you're done?"
Omi reappeared with a steaming bowl of soup and a small kettle on a tray. "Alright," he said brightly. "Let's go, Youji-kun."
"Aa," Youji said, still looking at Aya. The redhead met his eyes for a moment before giving him a slow nod. Youji smiled back and then turned to follow Omi.
"Ne," Omi was standing by Youji's newly-made and turned-down bed when Youji emerged from the bathroom in his sleepwear. "Get in and I'm going to watch you eat this before you sleep."
"Hai, hai," Youji said, all too willing at this point to submit to a little mothering. He came over to sit on the side of the bed near Omi.
"Go on, go on," Omi prompted, tapping at Youji's knees lightly until he slipped his legs under the covers. "Ah..." his blond brows pursed. "Is it alright? How does it feel?"
"Fine, fine," Youji assured him hastily, covering the scar on his shoulder with his better hand. The wound had been stitched at the hospital, but for Omi's sake he should have either left the bandages on or worn the top of his pajamas for once. He pulled the blanket up to his waist. "How 'bout that soup?"
"Careful, it's hot."
Youji didn't care; the aroma alone had kicked over a day of starvation to the forefront of his mind. Omi sat and watched him as he ate. The bowl was still half full when he put it down on his nightstand.
Youji winced. "Think I went at it a little too fast. If you leave it here, I'll finish it when I wake up." He ducked his head quickly with a smile. "Thanks, Omitchi."
Omi stuck his tongue out at the nickname. "I'll put it away." He stood up and pushed Youji back into the pillows with one small hand. "You lie down like Aya-kun said."
"Y-yeah," Youji agreed, subsiding as Omi pulled the blankets up to his neck. His eyelids were already heavy. He blinked quickly, trying to keep them open. I oughta set my alarm or somethin'... so when Aya comes up... He glared at the radio-clock perched out of reach on his dresser and decided it wasn't worth the trip. He tried to roll onto his right side, winced, then settled for the other.
Omi came out, glanced at him and turned off the overhead light.
"Not asleep yet," Youji mumbled, lifting a hand just over the covers to wave Omi over. "Hang out a bit?"
"Sure." Omi pulled up a chair to the side of the bed where Youji was curled, back to him. "You'll feel better soon, don't worry Youji-kun."
Youji laughed quietly. "Yeah, I know. What would we do without you, Omitchi?"
"Everything wrong, probably."
Youji chuckled again, letting his eyes fall shut. "I believe that. Huh... It's a lucky thing for us you were born so damn smart. Otherwise we'd'a messed you up somethin' awful."
"That's not true," Omi said, voice soft and soporific. "Why would you say that?"
"We're such a lousy example," Youji said, voice falling to match Omi's. "In every damn way."
"No you're not."
Youji sighed. "Y'know where I was when we were supposed to be ready for a mission? Out tryin' ta pick up a date."
"Mmhm?"
Youji shook his head slightly against the pillow. He already felt almost too drowsy to speak, but somehow he needed to. "It doesn't... hafta be like that for you, ya know, Omi. Like me and Ken, I mean. When you... well, I'm not sayin' soon, but..."
"I know what you mean, Youji-kun. But I don't think you're wrong, either."
Youji snorted. "You don't know enough, then. I'm a terrible guy."
"You think you're unfair to Ken-kun?"
"I... guess so. But... y'know, he never once questioned my right to keep dating women."
"He always let you be free."
"Heh, yeah. Free. I guess that's what I am. He thought maybe Youji wouldn't be Youji anymore if someone tried to hold him down. ...Or he just didn't wanna."
"Youji-kun... did you want him to?"
Youji paused. "If he'd ever said anything--just the smallest objection--I would've stopped."
"Youji-kun..."
"Maybe it's 'cause I didn't stop myself that he doesn't think I'm worth it."
Omi sighed.
"Eh... sorry," Youji forced a laugh. "What a bunch of useless adults you've got, Omitchi."
"Not useless," Omi said softly. "Just terribly confused."
"Whussat?"
"Nothing, Youji-kun. Go to sleep."
It was the middle of August, last year. One of those unbearable afternoons when you could almost cup the air in your hands and splash it on your face. Aya had trudged upstairs after his shift and noticed Youji's door was open.
He walked over to investigate and stopped dead.
All the covers were on the floor, bed bare but for pillows and fitted sheet. And spread out over it in a careless sprawl of endless, smooth golden skin over sleek, lean muscle, was one extremely naked Youji.
"Y-You--" Aya sputtered, violet eyes wide. "You live next to Omi!"
Youji's head lifted far enough to aim a sleepy emerald gaze at him. "Hey." He smiled and let his head fall back. "Come on in." Aya stepped inside. "Ah-ah! Don't close it," Youji admonished, lifting one arm to wag a finger at him. "We need the cross-breeze." He curled the finger at Aya before dropping his hand again. "C'mere."
Aya came in further, casting a doubtful glance at the open door. Youji displayed like this could only be described as glorious. Aya felt a tightening in his groin, an extra heat gathering in the bottom of his stomach and across his face. "It's too hot for that," he muttered petulantly, because it was, no matter how much a certain part of him was arguing otherwise.
"Ba~ka," Youji drew the word out, his rich voice in itself sounding luxurious. Those green eyes slitted catlike at Aya as he stopped by the bed. "Of course it is. Just join me."
"I need a shower."
"You'll be sweaty again in five minutes," Youji replied, reclosing his eyes and stretching lazily, beautifully. "It's not that kinda day. All you can do is sit, and sweat, and wait for nightfall." He chuckled. "Don't fight it."
It wasn't the heat Aya was fighting, by then. He started to sit.
"Take those off," Youji ordered, with an annoyed click of his tongue. "You're making me hot just looking at you."
I should be the one saying that. "Your eyes are closed."
Youji's lips curved slyly. "If you strip, I'll be watching."
"Not with the damn door open."
"Aya. Ken and Omi have the last shift today. Ken has soccer practice right after, and Omi's getting picked up by Nao-kun's mother. Noone is gonna come up."
Aya frowned once more at the door, then slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it over Youji's chair. The slight breeze gusting through the room against his bare chest felt much better already. "All of it," Youji insisted, turning his face towards Aya. His eyes ran appreciatively over the skin already bared. "You'll feel much better once you do."
Aya's fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans. "Not with you like that, I won't."
"Aww, Aya, you flatter me."
"Shut up." Aya gave up and complied, feeling Youji's gaze on him as he unbuttoned and slipped his jeans and boxers together over his hips. He stepped out of them and left them on the floor.
"Saa," Youji almost purred, moving to the other side of the bed and stroking the sheet beside him. Aya joined him and stared at the ceiling.
"You could get a fan."
"No good without proper cross-ventilation."
Aya stretched out a little, enjoying the air travelling through the room slipping over his naked body. It wasn't cool air, but at least it was moving. And Youji was right--naked and supine felt a lot better. He huffed. "You're a hedonist."
"And you're easy to corrupt."
"Huh."
He heard something slosh and clink on the nightstand nearer Youji, then flinched as ice-water dripped over his chest. Youji handed him an ice cube. "Rub it across your wrists, your throat, inside your elbows, and behind your knees."
Aya held the ice for a moment, shivering at the sharp contrast in temperature.
"Pulse points," Youji clarified. "Go on, before it melts."
Aya complied, though it melted before he got to his knees. Youji handed him another. The effects of that little ice were startlingly large.
"Better, na?"
"Aa," Aya agreed grudgingly.
Youji sighed softly and was silent.
Aya lay. He wasn't sure how long; he drifted in and out of sleep for a while. Finally, light began to wane outside, receding from the door towards the west-facing window from which it spilled. Aya roused to find Youji's fingers tangled with his, their hands between their pillows. He spoke without looking over, eyes on the ceiling as they had been all afternoon. "So this is what you do in the summer?"
"Nah. I'm not out to traumatize Omi."
Aya lifted an eyebrow at the extinguished overhead lamp.
There was a smile in Youji's voice as the fingers laced through Aya's tightened a little. "But today I knew you'd be the only one upstairs."
_______________
"Hey." The soft utterance brought Aya's head up from the pillow of his arms. He blinked slowly, disoriented. He'd been not quite asleep, but definitely not awake, and the room he opened his eyes to didn't immediately allign with the one in which he'd closed them. The sun had set, and only a trickle of light was making it down the stairs in back to illuminate the darkness of the closed shop. The worktable in the corner came reluctantly into semi-focus. What was he doing here again?
He noticed the four long-stemmed roses beside him with a small exhalation of annoyance. Oh. Ruining another bouquet of expensive fowers, apparently. Omi would not be pleased.
He blinked again as he realized he hadn't woken up by himself. Youji was standing next to him, a pale silhouette swathed in shadows. He sat up more fully, trying to will away the drowsy atmosphere of that dream, still clinging to him. He might almost have still been asleep, here in the semi-dark and quiet, except that the contentment of his dream was gone.
"Workaholic," Youji said, breaching the stillness without puncturing the atmosphere. He spoke so quietly. Maybe it was late. "You always overdo it. You said you'd come up, remember?"
"Yeah," Aya agreed, not listening. "I dreamt."
Youji leaned his head to one side. "What of?"
"Last summer," Aya said, thinking aloud more than really speaking to Youji. "I haven't dreamt in a while."
There was a pause.
Youji cleared his throat finally, stepping closer to Aya. "Listen, I know what you're gonna say, but I wanted to thank you. Really, I mean it. For everything. I--"
"Stop," Aya whispered.
"I just--"
"Stop," Aya interrupted him again, voice low but carrying.
Youji blinked, drawing himself up slightly in surprise. "What...?" He leaned forward, squinting at Aya through the shadows. "You alright? Aya, you're..."
Aya flinched back from Youji's outstretched hand. He averted his eyes from the hurt that clouded Youji's face. "The dream..." he offered, by feeble way of explanation.
Youji's expression softened. "Shakes you up, huh? Dreams."
Aya swallowed and held himself immobile as Youji approached. No... you don't understand. Not a dream like yours. Not at all. He closed his eyes as Youji's fingers brushed his face, slipped caressingly into his hair. Don't.
"It's all right," Youji whispered, coming so close his body heat was like a physical touch. "I'll put it out of your mind."
A small, bitter smile tugged at Aya's lips. "You can't," he said. But he let his arm fall around Youji's waist, leaned up to kiss him. Because this is the nightmare. The one I wake into, not from. He raised a hand to cup the back of Youji's neck. You don't know how you make me fear myself. His fingers spread against the small of Youji's back, his arm tightened, drawing the brunet still closer. If this goes on, I'm afraid...
I won't be able to let go.
I won't be able to work with Ken.
I... I'll kill him for touching you, I don't know...
But I won't be able to control it.
He felt a sudden chill as their lips parted.
And I wouldn't care.
The cold grew as he gently extracted himself from Youji's arms.
If I could only convince myself...
That it was what you wanted, too.
But...
He was frozen by the time he stood. And yet it made the words no easier to speak.
I know you too well.
"Work it out with Ken," he said, turning away. "Make him treat you better." He was already making for the stairs, not wanting to see or hear Youji's reaction. "It's him you want."
Youji watched him leave, too surprised to call after him. He stayed rooted to the spot, looking at the staircase like an incomprehensible calculus problem. Absently, he lifted one hand to touch his cheek. His fingers came away moist. Tears. Not his own. Then that was actually what I saw? Aya was--Aya was...
Saying good-bye.
The shop seemed to expand in the darkness around him, every corner a pitch black abyss, himself isolated for miles on every side.
So it's over.
They would still see each other. Every day. Fight side by side.
But three years of something more had come to an end.
Just like that.
He buried his face wearily in his hands. After risking his life for him. After what Aya had said that night. And now-- "Just like that my ass," Youji snorted humourlessly. It would be you who'd give me the answer. Whether it was killing you or not.
So now everything made sense.
Himself. Ken. The four of them.
Everything was going to be alright.
"My god, Aya," Youji whispered to the clustering darkness. "I am so sorry."
"He took off?" Ken gaped.
Omi looked at his hands. "No, he asked and I said it was alright."
"Alright how? It was hard enough running the shop with him half-there yesterday. How long is he staying?" The back of Ken's neck prickled and he spun, expecting to find Aya's eyes burning a hole through it. Aya's attention was squarely on an arrangement of orchids, though.
"Can't be more than two days," Omi said. "He only has two sick days left. Really, he wasn't well enough to have been working yesterday. He deserves a bit more time to rest."
"Tch. Yeah," Ken subsided, grumbling. "It's only today that'll be much of a stretch anyway." He huffed noisily. "Don't see why he had to leave, though. He can sleep just as good upstairs as anywhere else."
Omi shrugged. "Who knows. I suppose it feels more like a vacation this way. Any case, I've got school, so you two have the shop till I get back, ne?"
"Yeah, we'll hold down the fort," Ken sighed. He waved as Omi slung his schoolbag over one shoulder and backed out the door.
"'Bye, Aya-kun!"
"Aa," came the sepulchral response--Aya lifted a hand in salutation without looking up.
Ken sighed again. This should be fun, he thought dourly. He wandered over to the register and checked the drawer, then headed into the back room for change. Luckily Aya and Omi had already made most of the preparations for opening. There was still a half-hour to go, though.
Aya was storing a finished bouquet when he returned. The redhead went on to move some of the displays up near the shutters. If they actually opened the shutters early to put them on the sidewalk, they got the schoolgirl crowd on their way to morning classes, and no one wanted that. So they got everything ready to go at exactly nine o'clock.
Ken glared at the clock. Business was going to be slow till noon, and it would be bad enough being alone with Aya then, but this half hour with the shutters down? Ugh. It wasn't like Aya was usually talkative during their joint shifts, but that was the sullen silence Ken was used to. Today there was a fight lingering in the air that neither had apologized for, turning easy silence into tension. Well... I'm not apologizin'. He damn well started it. Ken humphed to himself, and headed into the kitchen to make an attempt at breakfast.
He actually hadn't spared it much thought in a few days. The mission had been disastrous enough to take his mind off everything, and the last couple days at the shop had been so busy without Youji that the issue was crammed to the back of his mind. But, here it was. He had a problem with Aya now.
"Well, shit," Ken muttered, filling the coffee maker and sitting down to watch it. Ken didn't do well with issues. It made dealing with people complicated. It meant he had to watch what he said. He wasn't good at that. And he'd avoided it for years now. Really, though he'd be the first to say that Aya was foul-tempered--he did yell at customers, he did get pissed when the other Weiß were late for work or fouled up a mission--Aya didn't really start arguments, would never draw one out very long, and he never came to blows with anyone over anything. As far as missions were concerned, you couldn't hope for anyone more reliable to watch your back. And come to that... Youji had taken a bullet for him on Monday... Aya had pushed him out of the way of the next. It wasn't the first time either of them had saved his life.
"Murgh." Ken removed the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He glanced at the fridge, then decided it was a black coffee morning.
If he thought about it... Aya had to have been hurting pretty bad to lose his calm like that. And how the hell did I miss it? Am I that oblivious? How long's he been mooning over Youji that he blew up like that? It brought him back to what he'd thought before. Maybe Youji really would be better off with him. He'd said it to Omi. He half believed it. But seriously thinking about it, it left a bad taste in his mouth. It wasn't something he wanted.
It didn't really matter. Youji's with me... And Aya and I are both gonna have to deal with it. The two of them had never been friends, but comrades they definitely were, and Ken still wanted to be. It was worth at least some kind of effort on his part.
Ken stood up, stretching. Exactly what kind of effort that would be... He turned around and noticed what was on the kitchen table for the first time. "Heh." What would we do without Omi setting it all out for us?
_______________
Aya frowned blearily at the empty coffee mug in his hand. Twenty minutes till opening, and he was still only half awake. He'd slept long enough the night before, but his sleep had been dream-ridden and never deep. Mercifully, since he could guess at their theme, he didn't remember any of
his dreams.
He collected a bundle of long-stemmed roses and returned to the worktable, determined not to waste the time remaining. He concentrated on arranging them in a vase, went to gather some Baby's Breath and ferns. It was a simple arrangement, one any of Weiß could have done in their sleep.
Youji left because of me.
"Tch..."
Aya shook his head. He would have needed complex ikebana to distract himself. What else could I have done? We had a balance. I destroyed it. I had to end it all before things got worse. He won't be bothered by it for long. And neither will I.
Yes, he knew he was lying to himself.
But I live with other lies.
Aya reached for his mug before realzing again that it was empty. But why did I do it?
Was it even a month ago he and Youji had trysted in the mission room, after Youji's disastrous experience in parenting? Then, Aya had mentioned taking Youji away from Ken. It had slipped out; it was nothing he'd ever meant to say, or even considered a possibility. Youji had taken it as the joke Aya assumed it was.
Had things changed so much since then? Why had the situation suddenly become insupportable to him? Even if he had always, somewhere in his subconscious, felt more deeply than he realized, why now? Suddenly Ken could tell what he was thinking before Aya himself knew. Suddenly Aya was stupid enough to let Youji realize what he actually felt.
He was the only one who had changed, wasn't he? Ken and Youji were the same as they always had been. His role as interloper hadn't changed a bit. And yet suddenly it wasn't enough. And maintaining it was too much. So he'd ended it.
Youji will be better off. I meant what I said. Aya frowned hard at the Baby's Breath in his hand that didn't seem to be going anywhere. Maybe without this complication, he will make an effort with Ken. It's not impossible.
He shook his head again, slumping back in his chair. It's not my business anymore. Youji and I were friends first. We can be so again.
They never should have been more. Introducing such a potentially explosive rivalry into such a small team was suicidal... but at the time, Aya had barely spared it a thought. It had been less his team back then, and Youji was the first one he got to know, so Aya's first loyalties had been to him. And... there was something about him.
Youji had lived through times as bad as Aya had. If he had been withdrawn or spiteful, Aya would have understood. Youji made the effort not to be, and Aya admired him for that. He understood there were darker feelings beneath Youji's good-humoured exterior, without falsifying that exterior. It, too, was real--it was the part of Youji that would have been Youji no matter what his life was.
But there was something else. The reason, in the beginning, when Youji was the only one trying to get through the wall he put up, that Aya never pushed him away hard enough that he wouldn't come back.
His smile.
Not his habitual one, the one he could pull out on any occasion and wear as easily as any garment. No, the one he smiled when something made him happy.
It was a subtler thing, that smile. It started small, didn't always get that big. It was a soft, slow curve to that wide mouth. The expression reached his eyes, and his whole face softened, lit up...
Youji could mean a smile with his whole being. The strangest thing was, it didn't take anything momentous to reveal it. A favourite line of poetry or the perfect ending to a story could bring it out. Something as trivial as Omi passing him a cup of his favourite import coffee one morning. Small things. He was ridiculously easy to please.
It was as if he had his own store of happiness, and kept it near the surface, so that even in times when other men would have given in to despair, Youji could still find it in himself to be completely happy about small things.
Being with him was like getting close. Just seeing Youji smile, Aya could touch, however briefly, the contentment he thought he'd lost years before.
That was how it had started for him.
It can be the same, Aya thought. Just as long as he smiles that way, it doesn't matter who for.
Aya's musings were cut short by a loud interjection from his stomach.
"Hungry?" Ken laughed from behind him. Aya started up, turning. "Hey, you do still blush!"
Aya felt his face heating further as he scowled back at Ken.
"Oi, oi. Quit it, you'll freeze that way." Ken was grinning as he held out a very familiar-looking plate of rice balls. "We'll split it half-each, then."
Aya stared back at him, a trace of confusion creeping into his expression. What is this, Ken?
"G'wan, G'wan," Ken prompted, pushing the plate further towards Aya.
Aya's stomach growled again and he snatched one of the onigiri.
Ken nodded, looking satisfied.
"Thanks," Aya said sullenly, scowling at the food in his hand.
Ken shrugged. "Omi made 'em."
Aya gave up and took a bite before his stomach embarassed him any further. Did he have to say anything? Or was this it? Was peace going to be as simple as it had been that first morning?
Aya glanced sideways at Ken. Ken had set the plate down on the counter and was leaning against it, munching away.
Maybe it was that simple. It was Ken, after all. Being straightforward was one of his good qualities. Aya didn't have to tell him he'd given up--Ken didn't know there had ever really been a competition. Now he'd never have to. They could repair the hole Aya had put in their team. Once Youji was back, Weiß would be a well-oiled machine again, just as it should be.
So that's one good point. Aya snorted to himself as he rose to take another rice-ball. Ken had managed to win Youji's affections, and hold them for five years despite failings and trespasses Aya would never have forgiven in Youji's place. When this has blown over a bit, Aya thought. I have to ask Youji what the hell the others are.
"It's time," Ken said.
Aya nodded. He lifted the shutter, flooding the shop with sunlight.
It was chilly in Weiß's mountain cabin; only a little better by the hearth, where a huge fire was blazing. Youji was sitting on the couch, which he'd pulled up closer to the grate, his legs folded beside him, an open book on the armrest. A bottle of Scotch stood on the coffee table, capped, one shot missing from it. That shot sat untouched in a glass beside it, being slowly thinned by melting ice.
Youji folded his arms over the book, couched his chin on them and stared into the fire. He'd been rereading page twenty-three for what seemed like hours. He'd done little all day but rebuild the fire a few times, attempt to eat, attempt to drink, and attempt to read. First thing that morning he'd told Omi he was taking his sick days and getting away to think. But he hadn't even attempted that. He knew he needed to. But first and foremost, he'd needed not to be in the shop when Aya came down and acted like nothing was wrong. He couldn't take it.
Sometimes you let it show, Youji closed weary eyes. But it's so rare. It'd be so much easier if you just... just... Hell, even when you make it easy for me, I can't play it that way. Damn.
Without a doubt, Youji had started this mess.
The second time he'd seen Aya's face, he and Ken had been sprawled out on the floor of the Koneko. The shop was in chaos, the two of them were roughed up, fairly obviously by each others' hands. Youji had known the scene. The exact one he'd woken up to two years earlier. He looked them over quickly and decided neither was any more than bruised and exhausted. And then between his boyfriend and a complete stranger, he'd lugged Aya up to his room, treated him and given him his bed for the night.
And with a choice that simple, he'd thrown it all into motion.
Had there been more behind it, at the time? Yes. It wasn't just that Ken deserved a night on the floor for repeating his 'Welcome to Weiß' routine. Ken had spent the last three days coaching soccer and repairing his bike. Youji had just come back from a bar he'd attended alone. That was a large part of how the redhead earned himself a softer place to sleep. Another? Youji was alone, so he knew he wouldn't be sleeping; someone else might as well use his bed. Finally... Aya was pretty. And Youji had always been weak to that.
He watched him sleep. Dozed off a little himself, in the chair next to his bed. He was strangely impatient for the sleeper to wake. When he did, he was an ill-tempered, rude, combative bastard. And Youji liked him immediately.
Why was difficult to say. Maybe it was the name he'd said over and over again in his sleep that made Youji suspect they had something in common. Maybe that was why he'd felt compelled to tell his story in hopes of learning Aya's. Why it had frustrated him that he hadn't gotten it out, that Aya had asked about Birman instead. Maybe because he'd caught Aya actually listening to him though he was trying not to show interest in anything he said. Maybe because when threatened and angry, Aya had grabbed Youji and yelled at him--and then listened to reason and backed off. Unlike people he could name who punched first and thought after. Maybe for the utterly lost look that had entered his eyes those few unguarded moments.
Maybe it was none of those things. Maybe all. This much he knew; Ken couldn't have laid hands on him the way Aya had and gotten off without a fight.
And the last words they'd traded before Aya left. When Youji had given him that unfortunate name and he'd taken it, Youji had understood. That he and Aya were the same.
Youji had felt privileged, retrospectively, when for the next month Aya barely spoke to any of them. Prize for most words exchanged went to Youji. Of course, it was his profession to get people to talk to him. Still, he felt smug. And that was why he'd dared to plop down across from him at the breakfast table one morning, and add insult to injury.
"Aya~n."
Aya actually lowered the newspaper he was reading. He levelled a baleful glare at Youji, raising one eyebrow.
Youji beamed back at him. "It's your nickname." He nodded, cheerfully picking up his coffee mug. "We've all got one. Omitchi, KenKen, I'm Yotan," he grimaced slightly. "And you're Ayan."
Aya looked at him for a moment longer, went back to his paper. "You are as stupid as you look."
"I win again." Youji sipped his coffee and waited. It took Aya a moment.
The paper lowered again. "At?"
"You gave me more than a one-word answer. That puts me a couple more points up over Ken and Omi."
The second pause was a mite shorter. "Keeping track?"
"You bet."
Aya looked conflicted as to whether or not to satisfy his curiosity or to do the unthinkable and add to the 'tally.' He succumbed. They all did sooner or later. "Why?"
"I like winning contests my competitors don't know they've entered. Because I'm petty and childish."
Aya was silent for a long moment before opening his mouth and then closing it. Youji smiled. "I won't count words, if that's what's botherin' ya."
Aya set down the newspaper. "You get along with them."
Youji smiled. Conversation. Goood, red. "We manage. We have our rough spots, too."
"They actually let you call them those names?"
"Heh. Well, Ken doesn't try to hit me anymore. Omi's just cute when he's mad."
"Hn." Aya frowned. "Don't belittle my name, I won't butcher yours."
"But it's cute! And it fits you so perfec--whoah." He grinned, holding up both hands. "Alright, alright, maybe you need ta know me a little better first." His smile widened. "Don't gimme that look. You're gonna. Whether you like or not."
Aya sighed quietly. "I think you're right."
Had he been flirting even then? ...Likely. No, definitely. Damn it, that was just the way he was. He couldn't help himself around the cute ones. But it wasn't purely physical attraction that'd made him hound Aya till he was forced to talk. Youji was friendly by nature. He liked to have good relations with the people he had to be around. Coworkers, neighbours, whoever. He barged in on Ken and Omi's private time, too, whenever he felt they were working too hard or worrying too much. Or when he simply felt like it. But not quite so much as he took it upon himself, in gradually increasing doses, to bother Aya.
That was because Ken and Omi could take care of themselves. And from the beginning Aya had given him the distinct impression that he was going to drown. He would never let on, he would never ask for help. But he would isolate himself, and he would lose track of why he was killing, and he would sink.
So Youji simply wouldn't leave him alone.
"What's readin', Ayan?" Youji draped himself across the mission-room chair, across from the sofa where Aya was seated.
"Liaisons Dangereuses," Aya butchered the French words after sparing an annoyed look for the nickname.
"Ho~" Youji sat up a little, immediately interested. "Whose translation?"
"Dupri," Aya answered, without checking.
"Ah," Youji frowned. "That's not a good one. The guy was good at Japanese for a foreigner, but what you really need is Matsubashi's version."
"I've read it," Aya said. "I agree the language is better. But Matsubashi's French obviously wasn't perfect. Reading this version, you can tell there are things he missed."
"I may have to give it another shot," Youji said. "I knew you read, but I didn't realize you were a connoisseur." Aya shrugged. "Dunno if you noticed that time, but I've got a small library in my room. You're welcome to it."
It was the first time Youji had seen Aya smile. The first time any of them had, for that matter. It was small, it was subtle, but it was there. "I'll take you up on that," Aya said. He really was beautiful when he smiled.
Chalk another one up for me, Youji thought, feeling inordinately triumphant. "Good," he said. I'll make you smile more often, if I can.
Aya was a voracious reader. He was as well-read, if not better, than Youji, and though he couldn't speak either, he could read French and English. So he went through Youji's British classics collection first. He had little to say but 'thank you' at the beginning, but as the days scrolled by, he started to comment on each book he returned. Soon they were discussing novels at length. Before much longer, they had other things to talk about. Bit by bit, Youji drew Aya's story out of him; from his time in Crashers, to the bombing that had taken his family, to Aya-chan, to the life he had lived before. Aya in turn started making an effort to get to know Youji, asking a pointed question here and there. Youji would over-answer, true, but Aya always listened.