Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Halcyon ❯ Chapter 12 ( Chapter 12 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: Halcyon (Ch. 12)

Author: Genuinelie(s)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is not mine.

Pairing: AxY

Summary: The boys are finding that until death, all ends are just masked beginnings.

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"I thought I'd just stop by. You know, for old time's sake." Ken gave a disdainful look to his glass of water, and set it on his coffee table, sans coaster. Ran didn't have anything stronger to offer him, other than cranberry juice or coffee.

"It's good to see you," Ran said, genuinely.

Ken gave him a look. He had never been good at hiding what he was thinking, and it was clear that he was surprised to hear that statement from Ran.

"So, anyway, man. Like I said, I've been teaching the kids, and it's been great. It makes me feel like I'm worth something, you know? And seeing them - they have their whole lives ahead of them. They can do anything." Ken was looking past Ran's shoulder, out the window. A wide smile graced his features. He refocused. "But I think I'm going to go to Australia now. Always wanted to see it, so I'm going."

Ran's eyebrows raised.

"I guess I just thought I should - I don't know. Omi - Persia-" Ken said the name with a light sneer, "Told me where you were living. So I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing, you know? Not that I think you'd care, so thanks for letting me in."

xxxxx

He ran a hand through his hair after Ken left, and frowned at the stain on the wood top of the coffee table. A perfect circle of damage, right next to the coaster.

Ken had said it was only a visit, his trip abroad. He loved his job at the school, but then again, they had schools in Australia.

A small smile ghosted on his lips.

It had been good to see the soccer player happy. Prison had been good for him.

Being away from Weiss had been good for him.

It seemed his former teammates had moved on. The question, he supposed, was had he?

Was this how the rest of them felt? The people they strove to protect? Wandering around blindly, chasing after memories and ideas, struggling to find meaning in a constructed, blind existence?

Existing. Struggling to find an occupation while they waited.

Or maybe his life as an assassin had simply trained him to see the destination more clearly. Maybe the rest of humanity simply didn't realize that they were all on a single train, waiting to get off.*

He didn't try to remove the stain on his furniture. It would be an exercise in futility.

It had been good to see Ken again. He honestly hadn't been sure he ever would, or have a reason to, after Weiss.

Perhaps he was still counted as a friend.

Ran was surprised to find it mattered.

xxxxx

Omi, Yohji reflected, had become quite the bitch in his old age. He looked at the payphone he'd just hung up disgustedly.

And he employed Schwartz now, no less. All of those bastards, not just the little one. Opportunistic son of a-

Son of a Takatori. He wondered if Ran had seen this coming, all those years ago. He felt that the man had a better grasp on the inner workings of Kritiker and the family that ran it than he did.

But you respected Omi enough yet to work for him, didn't you? They all had, during that fiasco of an assignment that had cost Yohji his life.

Or maybe that was wrong. The amnesia had actually given you the life you had wanted, Yohji mused. The problem was, it wasn't his bag. Turned out he didn't want it, once he remembered who the fuck he was.

Didn't even want Asuka. At least, not that version. Model 1.3.

It was almost funny, or it would be, if he wasn't painfully aware of how tragic it was. All he wanted resided in that damned past of his. The one he'd wanted so badly to forget.

Shit. Was Ran psychic? It seemed the man had once been aware of their futures without even realizing it. Warning Omi that he was a Tsukiyono, trying to tell Yohji he'd regret losing his memories.

Fate was a bitch, too, it seemed.

He adjusted his beige cowboy hat and strolled onto the sunny Tokyo side-street.

xxxxx

"It was hard to find you."

Ran, buried beneath the covers of his bed, started like a cat surprised out of his nap. He watched as it took Ran a split-second to locate him with his eyes, to grab the sword from beneath his bed, to press the katana to his throat. Yohji didn't move; he had been expecting it. He tipped his head back, exposing more of his skin, and kept his gaze even beneath the rim of his hat. The cold metal against his neck felt like memory.

It had been damned hard to find Ran, actually. With his memories back though, there wasn't much Persia could say to keep them apart.

A white, early morning sunlight was starting to tinge the sky outside the window to his left. It hadn't yet slipped through the blinds into Ran's room, but there was just enough light to see.

Ran was wearing boxers, nothing else. His chest heaved, smooth skin rising and falling like the beat of a butterfly. It recalled things that would have made Yohji's breath catch, had he allowed it.

He'd almost lived out the rest of his life, without remembering him. The thought brought a touch of panic.

It was painful to know that he might not be allowed to touch Ran again. The understatement of the century.

Not that he would be able to blame him. It had been a long time. They were no longer Weiss teammates, there was no necessity or boundaries putting them in the same box.

Even when I didn't remember who you were - you're like a black hole. You drew me right back to you.

Those clear, piercing, familiar violet eyes searched Yohji's face thoroughly. He kept his own gaze blank. Ran deserved that, at the very least, after knowing where Yohji was for over a year, and saying nothing.

"Who are you?" His old teammate hissed. Lying through his fucking perfect teeth.

"Don't you know?" Yohji countered easily. "That's why I found you, you see. I think you know me."

He leaned back further. Ran looked alarmed. Yohji put his arms casually behind his head, staring evenly at him. "So, tell me about myself, baby."

xxxxx

Ran's own breath rattled in his ears.

How had Yohji found him?

Yohji was wearing a ridiculous cowboy hat, and an equally nostalgic, unfortunate pink shirt with embroidery on the lapels.

He didn't look like the businessman he'd observed watching him while he worked. He looked painfully like an old friend.

He's someone else now. He's not Weiss. In his head, he never was Weiss. And he doesn't know who you are.

Ran was probably like an echo to him. Something that reverberated, but no longer existed, in his awareness.

"How did you find me?" Ran spat. "I could have you arrested."

"A little bird told me," Yohji's lips held a familiar smirk. "Maybe I was a detective in a past life."

xxxxx

Ah, that got a reaction. A slight flick of the eyes to the left.

"Was I? I don't know. I've had amnesia, but I think you know that. Your sister called me by another name." Yohji fished. He ignored the blade still pressing against his throat.

Just admit it. Say you don't care that I was wandering around asleep, like a zombie. Let's get this over with.

"I don't know you!" Ran snapped. There was a surprising touch of honesty to his eyes. "Get out!"

He backed up, the katana finally lowered.

The sight of him took Yohji's breath away. He was almost completely undressed, and yet he still looked as if he could kill.

A parallel to the naked blade in his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, I still need answers," Yohji answered, leaning forward intently. "And I still think you're lying."

xxxxx

Yohji had been completely unfazed by his threat. Was that instinct? Or could he still read people so much that he knew Ran wouldn't carry through?

He wasn't leaving. Yohji's arms lowered to rest on his legs, and he leaned forward. Settling in.

It was a nightmare come to life. Yohji had made Ran want him, first, he had made him realize and acknowledge a connection he'd known would bring him this pain from the start. Then Ran had told himself no more bedside vigilence, no more waiting for someone he loved to wake up. Never again.

What was this, except that?

He'd come to Yohji, that night in the alleyway, and then Yohji had left Weiss. Yohji then returned to a new Weiss, only seeking to forget.

He'd gotten his desire.

Yet Yohji's return twice burned the memories and the feelings into Ran, despite his efforts to move on. Feelings he never would have called into awareness in the first place, without Yohji's persistence. It was like tearing open a healing wound. The hint of things that might have been, but never were, and now couldn't be, ran like fire through him. How could this much time have passed, and yet he still felt that same pull to the man?

How much longer could he sacrifice himself to see Yohji happy? When would he have nothing left?

"If I did know you," Ran hissed finally, "What difference do you think it would make? You're not who you were. Move on with your life. Leave old ghosts to rest in peace!" He threw his katana to the side. It clattered across the floor. "You're better off not knowing."

He closed his eyes. It was becoming painful to look at the echo sitting on his chair.

"I was married," the voice was conversational. "Her name was Asuka. It didn't mean much to me, her name."

He would let Yohji say what he felt he needed to, so he would leave. His voice continued in familiar tones.

"She was a good woman, but the divorce was finalized a few weeks ago. Sometimes things just don't mean what they're meant to, yanno?"

Ran's eyes flew open. Yohji's green ones were clear, and serious.

"I'd put Asuka's ghost to rest a long while ago. The real Asuka, that is. That was why her name meant nothing to me, when I couldn't remember the real woman. But you, Ran - I couldn't shake your ghost. I kept seeing you there, and every time I did I kept stopping. Sometimes for an hour, just to watch you, did you know that? I had to tell Asuka I'd worked late."

Ran stumbled backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he sat.

"Ran?"

"You remember." His own tone was flat in his ears.

He looked up, and found Yohji had moved to stand by the bed. His face was grim. It contained a trace of that same world-weary expression that he wore during the stint at Kua Academy, but also more of what Ran had remembered from before. A light humor that had at the time been a farce for the flowershop.

"Why didn't you tell me, Ran?" And there was that familiar pain.

"You were happy!" Ran growled, and was alarmed that his voice broke. He launched to his feet, fists balled. "Don't you understand - how long have you known who you are, Kudoh?!"

xxxxx

There was the old Ran. The one that still had fight in him.

Pain was scrawled across his features.

It made Yohji wince.

"Only a few weeks, I had to get things with Asuka and inside my head sorted out. I'm sorry." He said, and realized he should have said it a lot sooner. It stopped Ran mid-yell. He raised his arms by his sides, hands spread. "I'm sorry, Ran."

Ran looked like he was fighting with himself, silently.

The damage of the years was starkly, immediately clear. Yohji's voice was soft. "I had chosen to remember, don't you remember? I said I would live. I didn't choose this."

"Who are you now?"

It took Yohji by surprise. What was his name? Which version was he? Which identity would he keep, Ryo or Yohji? There were a lot of things, he figured, a question like that could mean. "Not everyone's favorite Yohji Kudoh," he said with a wry smile.

The war was still going on. He could see it in those violet eyes. The rest of Ran's face was as still as death.

The sunlight had turned yellow, and was sneaking across the floor to brush against their legs. It was striped with the shadow of the blinds. Now that Yohji could focus, he saw that Ran's room was as much like a moritorium as it had ever been, back when he was Aya.

Haunting ghosts.

Was that what Ran thought of himself? Just an empty body? He could see it in his face, in the decisions he was making.

"Dammit, Ran!" He suddenly snapped. "Aya!"

Those eyes locked on his face, flatly devoid of anything but anger.

"I see it now. You've given up on yourself, and so you gave up on me. No, don't fucking argue. I don't care what you thought you were doing. Guess what, Fujimiya. Weiss is over, and somehow, we made it. We're alive, and here I am. I fucked up, and I must have fucked you up while I was doing it. But somehow I was allowed to find you. Let yourself fucking care about this!"

In retrospect, he should have seen the punch coming. He held onto his jaw, looking reproachfully up at Ran. He straightened quickly at his expression.

"I'm sorry, Ran-" he said quickly. "Shit, shit. Ran, wait!"

The other man was turning away from him. He grabbed his arm. Ran turned toward him, his eyes reproachful.

They were glistening, in the early morning light, with unshed tears.

"I'm not-" Yohji's voice caught.

When are you gonna learn, Kudoh? When the fuck are you going to learn? Why the fuck do you even bother, when nothing good is gonna come out of anything you fucking try -

"Fuck. Ran. Let's go back to the beginning. It was a long time ago, but I knew, I knew this was going to happen. That we were going to destroy each other, or save each other, and God help me, I'm never gonna learn, and we both fucking know it, but I hope it's the latter." Yohji swallowed heavily. His fingers were shaking on Ran's bicep. "I want it to be the fucking latter!"

Suddenly, the room spun, and he found himself flat on his back on the bed. Ran was crouched over him, arm across his windpipe. "You can't leave," Ran asserted.

Yohji almost laughed, but the statement held a reminder that was all too somber. While he had slept, at least he'd had a wife. His voice was soft. "Never again, Ran."

The other man seemed to turn his answer over in his mind, checking for loopholes. His body was tense, and hard.

All of it, Yohji noted. Thank God, at least his body wants me...

Ran's eyes refocused. "Maybe I should have said it, before." His mouth was drawn down in an unhappy line. "I don't think I knew, Yohji." One thumb suddenly brushed his cheek. Yohji bent his head into the touch, and Ran immediately drew his hand back to rest on the bed, as if he'd frightened it away. "I love you."

Breathe, you idiot. It took a second for his body to heed his command. "Oh, fuck, Aya," he said. "Ran. Goddammit." He gave a shaky laugh. "You can't get rid of me. I love you. Fuck. I love you, Ran."

They were silent. Ran seemed to forget that he didn't need to hold him down any longer. His eartails hung in front of his face, which seemed to be trying to look hopeful. It wasn't quite succeeding.

Yohji grinned at the younger man, despite the prospect of getting punched. "Nice position we're in."

Ran thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision. A smile, a real one, crept across his face. "I think so."

The smile turned feral.

Ran bent down, and Yohji lifted up. They fell down as their lips met, bodies coming together frantically, trying to catch up from lost years.

xxxxx

*The reference about the train is taken from Lermontov's "A Hero of Our Time"

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Fin.

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