Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate Him ❯ Since you came wandering in ( Chapter 2 )

They all looked at each other with the ability to understand each other's intentions better than spoken words pouring through from their old mission days. There was a mutual break and Omi was already at the sink filling up a bowl with warm water while Ken was off for towels. Yohji was left to brush Aya's bangs out from his swelling eyes and prayed; prayed that it wasn't as bad as he thought it was. Yohji wanted to ignore the feeling of cold dread in his stomach but could only feel faintly sick with horrible anticipation.

Yohji moved closer to Aya's feet and reached for the pants slowly as he tried to make his movements minimal as possible. Aya's bruised knuckles tightened, but took those fingers in his and lifted them away, letting them jerk and grip painfully around his own hand for a moment. Aya moaned with the pain, a sound that made Yohji just want to hold Aya despite his being a complete asshole. The fingers relaxed their grip and Yohji took the arm gently as possible and let Aya relax on the blanket.

Yohji switched his view for a moment, glancing up at Omi as the boy began to soak a hand towel. He wrung it out and began to dab at Aya's face, trying to clean up the blood. Ken was running his hands over Aya's arms and chest, feeling for broken bones and more immediate injuries before hissing loudly and moaning over Aya's wrists. They were bloody, torn messes, flesh ripped and pulling away from open wounds. He had been struggling. Yohji looked at his hands, the fingertips red with blood that had likely come from those bird-like wrists.

Well, it wasn't like he could delay it any longer. Yohji reluctantly unzipped the front of Aya's pants before hooking his fingers in the belt loops and begun to work them off Aya's hips. Despite trying to be gentle, Yohji was still shocked and sick when they stuck and the light tearing sound that followed. Even his underwear was gone and the slacks had dried to Aya's body from the blood. Could it be that…? No, Yohji viciously squashed that little thought before it could even come to the forefront. Maybe it was from a different injury. Maybe there was chance that blood was from his back. Yohji felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. He knew. He knew what happened, had seen it before on far too many girls with their futures completely ruined by it.

"Yohji?" Ken asked in a hushed voice as he opened up the first-aid, glancing up from checking Aya's ribs for breaks. Yohji pulled the pants completely off of Aya's legs and jerked them off harshly in anger. Aya's heels rocked on the table with a light thud even though Yohji hadn't meant to be rough. Something was building up inside of him, bitter and hurt that Aya was so badly fucked up. Yohji wondered if it was at all like the feeling Ken had before he berserked. Yohji had never wanted, straight out desired, to kill something more then this moment. Even more then anything he had experienced, Asuka, Noin, whatever love or pain he had felt in his life, he wanted someone to die for even looking at Aya wrong. Yohji hurled the pants into the corner, not even looking to see if something was hit. The metal crash that followed told him he had thrown it into something he shouldn't have.

"I'm okay," he murmured to Ken and Omi's concerned faces as he grabbed a spare towel to lie over Aya's hips without even looking at the mess someone had made out of Aya's groin. He was fucking not 'okay.' Aya was half-dead on their kitchen table, and Yohji found his legs shaking at the thought. He hoped that Ken and Omi hadn't seen the… crime below Aya's waistline. Yohji looked down at the mess that was Aya, mentally checking off all of the cuts and bruises forming, the thin towel barely enough to cover legs covered in small scratches. Yohji could see a large, red circle with yellow puss hardening on the edges on the outside of Aya's upper thigh.

Someone had put a cigarette out on Aya.

Omi's brows crunched together uncharacteristically, his sweet face instantly filled with worry when he saw the look pure rage on Yohji's face. This was too much, even if Yohji hated the guy. Nobody deserved this. Aya didn't have any normal mission wounds, but marks of a torture. Yohji wanted someone to be dead for hurting his friend like this, like… this… Feeling slightly sick, Yohji licked his lips and tried to steel himself for a very reluctant closer look. He didn't want his intuition to be right, didn't even dare to think of a name in case he jinxed the whole damn thing. With more gentleness than he used on his favorite women, slowly out of a fear he might wake Aya up, Yohji put his hands over Aya's bruised knees. They were the only relatively safe place to hold as he pushed two very thin, white legs apart.

"Yohji-kun!?!" Omi yelped, sounding offended, embarrassed, and confused all in one. He paused in cleaning Aya's face with a soft terry cloth to stare at Yohji like he might be trying something suspicious. Or the even worse that Yohji was dreading. He couldn't tell them, not now. Please, just be a bullet wound or something, Yohji wished futilely in the last minute before he put a hand on the towel, now prepared to look closely. He lifted up the white towel with one palm braced on Aya's knee as he glanced between Aya's thighs, praying that he wouldn't see what he thought was coming. This couldn't have happened, not to Aya.

The inside skin of Aya's legs from the knee to the groin had been torn open or striped with bloody rends and half-moon cuts from what could only be fingernails and teeth. White flesh stood out brightly between the huge red and purpling welts, at least that which wasn't covered in blood that was still shining dully with wetness. Large bumps of varying colors from red to yellow were forming up and down his legs, more so toward his groin and knees from people holding Aya down. Closer toward Aya's rear and opening, more blood came, but it was mixed with another fluid, one that Yohji had seen in the middle of many nights out. No wounds gave a source for the blood, but Yohji knew in his soul that it was coming from Aya's insides from his anus. Yohji closed his eyes, knowing for sure now. Raped. How long ago had this happened? It was still fresh, making Yohji wonder how far Aya had had to walk to get back to their place.

"What are you doing?" Ken snapped, as if Yohji was trying to make this into some kind of perverted opportunity to fondle Aya. Yohji felt tears sting his eyes, wanting to argue and explain what was going on, but the words stuck in his throat. What right did he have to cry when he'd tried to hide it underneath the towel like a coward? What the fuck was he doing, falling apart when Aya had just been through so much worse, gone through what no man was ever supposed to. Yohji knew that it had to have been rape from the pure brutality that had left behind marks on every part of Aya's body. Yohji couldn't even imagine someone who was fucking sick enough to use sex as a weapon. He didn't want to think that somewhere, the people that had done this to Aya were walking around and probably giving each other high fives. Yohji wanted to kill.

"Yohji-kun?" Omi started again, but Yohji ignored him totally. There was no way he'd be able to talk right now, words useless to explain how horrible it really was. Rape didn't cover it, not when Aya looked like he'd be lucky to even walk again. With a much more somberness, Yohji put Aya's leg back down on the table gently. He pulled the towel back over Aya's hips safely, hiding the evidence from Ken and Omi as the two stared at him, waiting for explanation. Yohji sighed heavily, feeling like he was either going to vomit or cry, neither of which he had done in years. Nor did he even have the right to, far batter off than Aya was now. He couldn't picture their invincible leader getting up from this one. He couldn't picture Aya at all right now; just choking on the realization Aya had been raped.

Yohji felt like an idiot now, regretting that he had never tried harder to get Aya to loosen up or to bring him along to the bars when Ken and he went out at times. Even now, seeing Aya laid out on the top of their kitchen table reminded him of the times he had selfishly wanted to see Aya naked, and felt like a pervert for considering it. It was unfair, so goddamn unfair that this had happened. Aya was a walking vision of beauty that got thrown into a mundane world of assassins and florists. He was fucking gorgeous and didn't even know it, making people look whether or not they were male or female. Hell, the male ones probably thought Aya was a lady from those inhumanly good looks and the way he walked like he owned the street. Yohji had found himself stuck helplessly like an animal in headlights when Aya walked through a door, staring at the unattainable when he knew it was better to just look away. He never once worried or fretted about the one or two wet dreams he had with Aya as a focus. Ken had admitted to having one or two himself, but that was only after a couple of drinks. Dreaming of having sex with Aya was like dreaming of having sex with some kind of porno star. It wasn't that Yohji was gay, bi, whatever; it was that Aya was beautiful.

And now it looked like Aya had been thrown into a blender ass first. The next person to breathe in Aya's general direction was going to wind up choking to death if he had anything to do with it. Aya hadn't done anything to deserve this, no more than the rest of them. Yohji released the fist he never knew he had made, knowing that this empty promise and anger meant nothing now when Aya was still bleeding. The only thing Yohji could do was clean him up, get him in a bed, and hope for the best. All he was really good for was damage control, picking up the pieces after everything had blown to hell. Just what kind of friend let the guy waste away without saying a word when he was right across the fucking hall?

Yohji grabbed a clean towel from the pile Omi had brought in and dripped it in the large bowl half-full with warm water. Ken set his own towel down and started to focus all of his attention of Yohji, his face getting dark as Yohji squeezed out some of the excess water. Yohji couldn't even pay attention to that right now; far to focused on the job he had at hand. It was a dark blessing that Aya was unconscious so they could handle him without any fighting. Without even lifting the towel that was already covering Aya's privates, Yohji reached between his friend's legs to clean off blood and… sperm from the looks of things. It was much harder than murdering someone in cold blood as Yohji tried to keep his hands steady and stop himself from screaming out loud. That wouldn't help things one bit, even though it might make him feel better.

"Yohji . . . What are you doing?" Ken asked very slowly, in an obvious effort to control himself. His hands were splayed out in front of him on the table with the muscles in his forearms jumping as they flexed, relaxed, then flexed again as Ken tried to not kill Yohji for no reason at all. Ken didn't know what was going on, hadn't seen girls on the street before who had gone through the same thing Aya had like when Yohji had working as a private detective. How was he supposed to say it out loud and give a reason when he wasn't even sure what was going on himself? Yohji didn't want to tell Omi, who still looked too young to even know what 'rape' meant; to see his face drop when it was said out loud. He didn't want to see Ken's brows dig together and his lips pull back in a snarl that he was unaware of when that surge of vengeance ran through him. There wasn't another word Yohji could thing of to get it out loud, and tried to concentrate on how he was going to make the bastards who had done this to Aya pay. He just closed his eyes, his hand closing tight over the towel with the back of his hand stuck to Aya's bloody leg.

"Yohji. Aya's been raped . . . right?" Ken got out slowly with his eyes level to Yohji's, the silent plea to cut the bullshit evident in his face. Omi gasped and jerked his head toward Ken's face, as if he was hoping it was a bad joke Yohji half wished it was as he nodded, unable to speak. He closed his eyes again, though not as tightly, a little bit relaxed by shock and comfort that he wasn't the one to say it. Raped. There was utter silence for a moment as the confirmation sunk in with all its horrible implications as well. Ken broke it as he half-sobbed and growled at the same time and threw down a fist on the table, making Aya's body shake along with the table. Ken froze when he saw Aya's unconscious movement, then turned around and stomped to the wall so he could kick it hard before slamming his forehead against it and staying there in silence.

"I wanna get them. I wanna know who did it," Ken swore, his sense of honor and justice demanding blood for what happened. He felt no differently from Yohji, more than disgusted at what had been done and needing to murder for it. However, not everyone seemed to be able to give into the anger when there was something much more horrifying. Fear, shame, everything that went bump in the night, especially the thought of loosing a teammate could strike the youngest member of them all right to the core.

"Wha . . . Why . . . To Aya-kun?" Omi choked, one hand shaking as it made his way to his face, as if in an attempt to block out part of the world. Yohji opened his eyes, looking at the damage it had on their group. Omi's poor, horrified face was still so innocent despite everything the boy had been through, making Yohji feel sorry he had even said the word. Ken's rigid back as he stayed against the wall in an attempt to control his temper. They didn't need any more outbursts now, not when they had to deal with Aya first.

"Just . . . don't think about it right now. Let's clean him up and see how bad it really is," Yohji suggested, though it was more of an order. He tried to rationalize to them that the blood was probably making everything look worse than it really was, but couldn't even get the bullshit out of his mouth. Omi nodded shakily, but didn't make another move beyond the shaking of his shoulders that gave away the boy. Yohji tisked, not about to slap Omi over Aya's unconscious body, but not sure how else to get him to wake up. They had more important things to do as Yohji finished rubbing the towel down the inside of Aya's thigh and briskly, with a hell of a lot of fear, over the top of his groin before taking it out from under the other one working as Aya's only piece of clothing right now and wetting it in a bowl. Immediately the water turned a deep pink and a few hairs that definitely weren't Aya's swirled around on the surface. We should really just use a bath, Yohji thought with a grimace as he took a quick glance at Aya's blood-covered body. Yohji squeezed out the towel under the water and a fingernail bobbed up, making it very hard for him to not cover his eyes with his hands and break down like Omi. Aya had been in the hands of a very sick bastard, maybe even several from the looks of things.

"Why?" Omi asked louder this time to demand an answer out of them, trying to understand why there were people this cruel in the world, so close to his makeshift family. Yohji didn't even know himself, couldn't picture someone who was depraved enough to force themselves on another person, but couldn't deny they existed. No fucking way could he pretend that they weren't in danger now that the same psycho might come here looking for Aya to finish the job, that men didn't get raped. He couldn't tell Omi why Aya had been singled out today, but it wasn't anything new to this city. It was just the first time it had happened to someone they knew, someone they cared for.

"Omi! Don't ask that right now! Focus on Aya, okay?" Ken ordered in a much louder and demanding voice than Yohji had used as he turned around from the wall. Yohji didn't think that Ken was any closer to controlling his temper now, but at least he came back to the table to help find broken bones and other serious injuries. Omi jerked at the words and stared at Ken as the brunette who was suddenly at his side and being decisive when he'd been hiding against the wall almost a moment ago. Yohji was half expecting the kid to start crying harder, but surprisingly Omi only scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand before taking up a towel again. Omi hesitated to touch Aya, a moment's pause where Yohji could tell the kid was thinking about Aya differently now, and then he joined them. They worked on in silence after that until the night faded into a soft gray-blue haze drifting in from the kitchen window, barely any more then a glow in the corner of Yohji's eye. It was the worst morning of his entire fucking life.

* * *

"Any reports from the hospital personnel yet?" he drawled out, lighting up a cigarette at the end of it. He sat in a leather chair comfortable behind the long wood desk with the monitor and the organized piles of paper in front of him. He was sure to hear that their precious Red had crawled into the closest hospital. It was amazing that the man had been able to sneak out at all, and had somehow avoided the eye of the security cameras as well. It made him burn all the more over the fact that the man had dared to break their contract when he had only just begun to introduce the fine and androgynous man to the real working world. He had thought everything had been going fine and customers had been reporting there had been a little less resistance this time.

The man he was questioning swallowed nervously and adjusted his tie, sweating visibly like the swine he was as he glanced back at the two hired guards at either side of the door. He was well aware that his answer could greatly change the course of his career in this establishment, and his life as well. He didn't want to hear that Red was in some poor funded hospital getting stabbed by pre-med students. This idiot should have known well enough to get any of their employees transferred to the correct hospital. He wasn't so inhuman as to not provide medical services, even if the bills did have to be worked off. Red wasn't getting away, not yet.

"Sir, we have not heard any reports. There is an all clear, no serious injuries that could match if he was someone able to even disguise himself. No emergency red-lights reported in any of the local hospitals, one red-light reported at a hospital in the next prefectures," the man stopped babbling as he realized he was not telling him anything of importance. The pale, thin little brown-noser sniffed, doing his best to look like an average businessman and coming off as even more of a suspicious and dangerous person in a nondescript black suit. He waited patiently for the man to tell him about one of their agents following him. There was no way Red would have been able to get far, not after what they all had done. Red should learn his lesson now after last night and be finally have a submissive attitude to match those sweet features.

"You don't know where he is? No hospitals? Didn't someone follow him?" He questioned impatiently, truly wondering if this idiot had thought of the obvious yet or not. He let a stream of smoke out though his lips as he waited for the answer, trying not to look infuriated. He couldn't remember exactly why he had hired this idiot and deduced that it must have been because of money or something, because this fool obviously had no skills or common sense. He took another drag before turning around in his chair, smirking at the other man welcoming. It wouldn't do to seem upset now, because then information would be even harder to drag out of the timid and shaking man in front of him. He was surprised the man wasn't pissing himself from the trembling taking over his entire body

"No, sir . . ." The man said slowly, obviously fearing the wrath borne by the messenger. He sucked in a deep breath of clean air, trying to remain calm. Red wasn't supposed to be this good. He didn't have anywhere to go, and all the tails that had followed him had only managed to narrow it down to loosing the man somewhere at the edge of industrial. He doubted a wounded and severely traumatized whore could still figure out how to lose a follower in the state Red was in. Though, they still had yet to decide if Red's silence was a stubborn challenge or a sign of retardation. He still screamed readily once he was hurt bad enough, which was far beyond the usual stragglers he had found. Red had been surprisingly desperate for love once one got past that icy attitude.

"Interesting. I wonder where he could go?" he mused out loud, sounding as if it was a game question. He didn't want to seem threatening, because this fool could still prove to be useful. He doubted he could either, barely an hour after waking up from the mess in his office from his own private session with Red before throwing him back to the crowd. His own pressed shirt was unbuttoned at the top two to reveal the beginnings of his muscular chest. One didn't get around this business without proving his own strength, but now he was dead tired. The sweat had dried on his face, and he knew the place reeked of sex, but the maid had only been able to clean up the worst of it. He was very pleased from the night's activities, positive that he would be hearing about Red very soon if he played his cards right. He didn't want to lose his most valuable worker when he had just been tempered into a real prostitute. At least, he was sure this night had broken Red, but the man had a surprising resistance to letting the pressure get to him, always icy cold once the passion had died down.

"I . . . I don't know, sir," the man stuttered out, confused that his opinion would be important. It was understandable, since he was known for having little patience with those who worked underneath him. He could see the man thinking desperately, trying to find out what the boss wanted to hear so he could save his own ass. Sometimes, it was just as humorous to see these fools sweat it out as they tried to please him when the situation was hopeless. It wasn't the first time a whore had run away, but it was the first time anyone had survived the 'Sweetest Goodbye' as some of the boys had named it long ago. It was rare to find anyone who could tolerate pain like Red could, and he wasn't about to let that slip past his fingers.

"You don't know," the man echoed back as if he was talking to a particularly slow child. The man winced and looked behind at the two guards in obvious terror, expecting some kind of punishment now. Just how barbaric did his employees think he was? He only beat the prostitutes to death, and was very careful to let the more important employees live… That was, if they proved to be useful. This was this man's last chance to prove himself, even if he didn't know it. Red was the most important thing right now, because none of the sluts he had compared to the rare physical beauty they had been able to find in a man, nonetheless. He had never regretted snatching Red off the streets.

"Interesting. I don't know either. If someone could find him for me, that person would have good things ahead of them for that," he suggested, dangling an important position before this lower being. Last chances always had to be made worthwhile, so a reward would be more than enough to draw the best out of the shallow fool. Sure enough, his eyes widened in realization that he could become more powerful. He had no doubts that this man was fantasizing about being able to control others below him and finally strike fear into people, since he was nothing but a complete spectacle. He doubted the man had any idea how much face he had lost last night after letting Red get away.

"Sir, I might be able to help find him, if it would please you," the man hesitantly agreed, licking his thin lips in anticipation. He wondered if this fool might actually be able to do it and keep a watch on every doctor in the city. It was the only sure way to be able to catch Red. He motioned to the trustworthy guards, and one opened up the door for the man's departure. The fool was able to read the hint and left the room, no longer an eyesore. He really did wonder why he had employed that man, unable to remember as he started to smoke again. Red wouldn't get away so easily. He had people watching everywhere.

"This might get exciting," he said slowly, making the last word drip from his lips. He couldn't wait to see Red again and the damage they had wrecked on the man. There couldn't be recovery, not even for the current favorite icy redhead. He'd find that poor soul and make him get back to work as soon as everything had healed. He had a business to run, and Red had already accumulated a few special customers that needed to be pleased. He'd find him.

&nb sp;

* * *

"We need a doctor," Ken stated as if it wasn't already obvious enough. Yohji couldn't respond to that as pulled the feather comforter up on Aya's chest, thinking about things that were more important than a doctor. Had Aya even had sex before this? Had he even been on a date with another decent human being? Yohji found himself doubting it and the answers he came up weren't any prettier. He stood back from Aya's bed as the first bit of dawn started to creep in through the windows. What sort of karma could allow something so horrible happen to their friend and former leader? He didn't deserve this, no matter how arrogant and smug he was. Even Yohji felt his stomach turn when he thought of the injuries they were barely managing to keep in check with the few bandages and what they could find in the first-aid kit. It still wasn't enough by a long shot, not from the sick paleness that was bad even for Aya's normal white pallor and the blue-grey tinge to his lips and fingers. At least the digits that weren't swollen were bruised purple from the broken bones. Still, even now his face unconscious was better than the blood smeared and haunted face Aya had worn outside when he had first found him.

"We need a doctor that won't talk. Nobody can know that could take it to someone who was listening," Yohji reasoned, unable to argue with Ken when Aya's left cheek was covered with a big white square of gauze taped at the corners to his disfigured face. Screw Aya's breathy plea that had taken so much for the man to get out. Yohji wouldn't let him die. Aya should have known that before crawling back here half dead without even the decency to tell them what the fuck was going on. Yohji would have slapped Aya if he wasn't certain it would kill the man. Where had that invincible, indestructible, and righteous son of a bitch he knew so well gone and left this husk of an Aya in his place? The old Aya wouldn't have let this have happened, no way in hell. He would have bitten his tongue off first before… and then it occurred to Yohji that Aya had probably been dealing with the type of people who didn't care if the victim was alive or dead. The thought alone made it all worse, the pain more poignant than before. It was all his fault.

"I'm gonna call Kritiker," Yohji told Ken casually as he took his current pack of cigarettes off the side of the bed stand along with a lighter. There weren't enough cigarettes, liquor, or women to make this situation any better. Nothing could make him forget tonight, not for a long time. He should remember to thank Aya for adding to his list of personal nightmares.

"What?!" Ken half-yelled before he bit down on it for Aya's sake with a guilty glance at the silent occupant in the bed. Yohji tried to suppress the urge to strangle the idiot. Ken just never knew when he should shut the hell up and forgo yelling in a dying man's room. Yohji refused to let Aya slip away so easily and he didn't give a damn what it would take either. Anything was better than losing another person that had managed to get past all the armor and bitterness to actually mean something. He wouldn't let anyone else important to him die, even if it was Aya. Selfish assholes still counted in his book, because to cross them off would be damn hypocritical of himself too. Yohji wouldn't deny the fact that he was rather used to getting his way, especially in times like this.

"We need a doctor. Kritiker's people aren't even alive by any records, much less known as doctors. Whoever Aya thinks is listening on the street won't even hear that a doctor's been walking around in our general area, much less treated him," Yohji explained very slowly for Ken's benefit, taking the time to control his voice despite the tempting urge to start yelling at the idiot. They had run out of options long ago and if Ken felt any shred of affection for the redhead, he would understand that this was the only choice that ended up with Aya alive. A normal hospital could get the poor bastard killed just as easily from the sound of things, though what Yohji had heard was pitifully small. He couldn't figure out exactly what was going on, but he knew damn better than to rush to the proper authority like a good little sheep. Being an assassin had its small benefits as well at times like this. Whatever bastard that was hounding Aya was going to be quite surprised when they found out who he was.

"What if they make us do missions again? They're not going to do anything out of the goodness of their hearts," Ken argued, mentioning the very thing Yohji had been concentrating on. He knew that by asking for a doctor, he'd have to do something for them too. It was common knowledge that you had to scratch someone's back to get them to scratch yours. He bet Kritiker hadn't counted on them coming back so soon, and Yohji didn't give a damn if he had to get down on his knees and beg. His pride was a small thing when it came to Aya's life. It didn't matter that Aya would never do the same for him, because he wasn't doing it just for the icy jerk-off. His own conscience would never allow him to not doing everything in his power to save Aya right now.

"Then find a doctor who won't talk," Yohji snapped back, way beyond frustration after having already tried to grind an answer out long ago. They were paranoid. They were going fucking nuts. Aya dying could really be the last straw, and it frightened Yohji to know he was still so close to the edge even now. He knew it was the assassin part of his mind that working right now to run over the scenario and hide Aya from the public, even though there was no clear reason for them to do so. Had Aya covered his tracks? Should Yohji even be standing next to Aya after they had tucked him into bed, or out on the streets to make sure he hadn't been tagged? Yohji didn't even want to think about the possibility that Aya had been followed, not now. His brain was already going to explode and Ken's presence wasn't helping things in the slightest bit.

"Fuck it, Yohji! You know I can't do it again! I don't want to give my life away! I don't want to kill anymore, didn't we decide that?" Ken whispered despite a voice choked with emotion, trying to remain quiet for Aya and yet ready to explode. Yohji could appreciate the effort Ken was putting forth for Aya's sake, but now it just seemed like too little too late. They hadn't been there for Aya when he had really needed them, which could have only been last week for all Yohji knew. When had they gotten so distant from Aya, not that there was anything to really start from these days.

"I know. I'm not expecting a favor without paying a price. It's just me asking, so I'll do the mission," Yohji returned to Ken as he lit up the cigarette and began to smoke again. He was too nervous to do anything else, scared to death that Aya just might stop breathing in the middle of the night like the doctor had warned. Yohji didn't want to think about some dirty job from Kritiker when Aya hadn't even made it through the night. The deal had been in exchange for Aya's continued treatment, and that was damn hard to do with a dead patient. If Aya died because of anything that doctor had done, Yohji would be certain to get that physician to make one last visit. He blew out some smoke with that thought, letting it curl slowly out of his mouth in the lingering and savoring way that he knew Ken hated. Aya didn't even say a word now, and Yohji found himself guilty of enjoying it. Fuck, relishing the chance to not get yelled at by the fierce redhead.

"You shouldn't smoke by him right now," Ken sighed, repeating himself so many other times when Yohji hung over Aya's bed like death. He couldn't help it, worried positively shitless because he'd grown fond of the bitter young man and also because there was nobody else to actually give a shit for him. Yohji would like to think they were friends, but it was times like these that showed how very little he actually knew. He just wanted Aya to be better and everything back to normal, because he didn't have a clue how to deal with this. He couldn't phantom what it must have really felt like to be raped, or how stoic, silent Aya was going to deal with it. Poor fucked up Aya.

"You're right," Yohji said, looking down at the burning end of the cigarette raised to his lips. He shakily put it out in the ashtray on the top of his dresser, because it would be just his luck if Aya actually got secondhand smoke while he was already so helpless and broken. Ken blinked and raised an eyebrow, surprised that for once he was actually being listened to. It was just because Yohji was fretting away that he was actually listening to Ken. The threat of really losing Aya was outright horrifying as the thought of Omi being hit by a truck. He'd never admit he was worried though, only replying by lighting up a cigarette and suavely asking Ken if he was a little too worried, sexual sarcasm always biting since it was the only way he knew to disguise the real feeling.

"You're just going to take care of it all by yourself along with all the blame, huh?" Ken accused as he crossed his arms and glared at Yohji. Ken had full right to accuse Yohji of trying to take all the responsibility, but wasn't that what he owed Aya? He couldn't understand what had driven Aya to allow this to happen to himself, but somehow it had been because of what he had said or done. Yohji didn't have a clue to what was going on anymore, and he could only concentrate on Aya making signs of recovery right now. Aya was stronger than this; there was no way he'd just kick the can in the middle of the night, but then again Aya would just to spite them all. He was a little prick like that, as reliable as clockwork.

"Shut up, Ken. If Aya can make it to this noon, no doctor. If he starts going down in the slightest, I'm going to make the call," Yohji snapped as he moved away from his bed, not wanting to argue so close to the sleeping occupant. He walked over closer to the closet and smoked furiously in the meantime, trying to gain himself some sort of calmness. It was impossible, not when he was still boiling with anger about how Aya had been so mistreated, violated, when he had assumed Aya never had sex since the redhead was so damn uptight and frigid when it came to the topic. Look where ignoring the silent little shit had gotten him. Yohji didn't think he could feel any worse than he already did, so he foolishly thought that Ken wouldn't be able to say anything that could get him mad.

"Fuck you! You wanna ruin your life again? We can just take him to a hospital! Nothing will happen!" Ken yelled out loud, forgetting all about Aya in his anger. Yohji could kind of understand it, but Ken didn't have to drag Aya in back door. He wasn't the one who had barged in on Aya's room this morning. That was mostly the reason why Yohji had insisted on giving Aya his bed, since the self-centered prick had a bed that was about as comfortable as rocks… and his entire room was covered in women's clothing. No woman had done this, and Yohji didn't want Ken and Omi to start asking questions. He knew Aya would think that he had told them something and get bent all out of shape. Yohji just wanted to deal with Aya's recovery, and then he could beat the shit out of the asshole until his got answers.

"He said: 'no hospital.' I'm going to respect that as best I can without letting him die. So, don't you fucking argue with me, because I already know what I'm doing!" Yohji hissed back at Ken as carefully as he could, not wanting to disturb Aya any further, even if the redhead was so jacked up on drugs that it was unlikely he'd be waking up for a while. They both looked at Aya, both of them feeling guilty that this had happened to their friend while they should have noticed something or felt something, not watching bad movies all night. When Aya had been getting hurt, Yohji hadn't given another thought to it, just figured the selfish bastard was out with his new and mysterious girlfriend. How could he have been thinking like that when Aya had been getting raped, beaten to near death, and still made it back to their house? A lot of very fucking cruel things had happened to Aya, and Yohji owed him a fair chance at pulling through

Ken was left without words, so Yohji turned from the speechless man and stalked to his closet without looking at his bed, because he knew he'd start crying if he looked at Aya's battered face. He ripped open the sliding door to his closet, making it bang to give him a small sense of satisfaction. Ken choked and was trying to come up with words to return, but Yohji ignored him as he ripped a coat off of its hanger, making the hanger flip up and then off the clothing bar. Yohji slammed the door again and turned around as he shoved one arm into a sleeve angrily. He couldn't stay in this room a moment longer, not with Aya dying and Ken bitching at him. It was more than Yohji could handle right now, so it was pretty easy to figure out what to do. He had to get in contact with Kritiker and save Aya.

Ken looked fit to strangle him. His face was all pressed together as Yohji stalked past him to the door. Ken knew where Yohji was really going. He wasn't going to wait around while Aya only got worse and worse. He couldn't wait for noon to get around, because Aya would probably be dead by then. None of them were surgeons by any standards, and Aya was desperately lacking blood, plasma, whatever the fuck a doctor would know that was killing the man right now. Yohji couldn't let Aya die like that, just like he couldn't leave Ken and Omi to suffer painfully and slowly. It hurt just to look at Aya with agony still so evident on his sleeping face.

Yohji exited out of the room through the open door and heard Ken not far behind, in fact right on his heels as the brunette stalked after him. Yohji didn't give a damn about it, not about to be intimidated by the short soccer player. If Ken tried to stop him right now, he'd punch the idiot so hard there wouldn't be any more questions. They went down the stairs with Ken only one or two after him, still quiet as he tried to think of something that would actually change his mind. Yohji had to admit that Ken could be smart some times, because at least he understood that there was nothing he could say to change Yohji's mind right now. He couldn't stay in the house without doing anything a moment longer. He had to get out of here and find a doctor for Aya. He remembered where the old contact spot in case of emergencies and figured it was a good enough place to start.

"So, you're just going to leave Aya to find him a doctor you know he wouldn't want anyway?" Ken growled behind him as they entered into the kitchen. Omi blinked up from washing the bowls they had used to clean Aya up in the sink. The boy was up to his elbows in dirty soap water as he craned his neck to see just what they were arguing about. Yohji pulled on the sides of his jacket, doing his best to look like nothing wrong. If Omi caught wind of this, he wouldn't even make it to the front door. Omi had this tendency to over exaggerate and worry, but Yohji supposed one of them had to. Still, the kid would give him hell for going to Kritiker for help. Any sane person would, but Yohji couldn't afford to be sane right now when Aya was dying for whatever fucking reason.

"I'm going to get some breakfast, all right? I'll be back in an hour," he snapped to them both, even if he didn't really need to give Ken an excuse. There wasn't a point anymore and Yohji was sure that the moment he got out the door Ken would spill the beans. In fact, the son of a bitch was glaring at him right now for trying such a ridiculous excuse. Of course he would never leave Aya's side right now for mere food, but Omi nodded and turning back to the dishes without a thought. The boy could be blissfully oblivious some times, and Yohji wasn't about to waste it as he quickly went for the back door.

"Yohji-kun! If you go out, bring back some band-aids, please? The big ones?" Omi called out from the kitchen when Yohji was just about to slam the door close. Of course the little shit always had to ruin the moment with his happy smile and nice attitude. Yohji would slap the short smart-ass if he wouldn't feel so bad about it later. Yohji snarled at Omi's request and threw the door closed between them, gaining an even better exit. Then, as the heat of the moment died down, he was left wondering exactly what point he had proven to Omi. Fuck, it didn't even matter right now. He was going to go meet a Kritiker agent soon if he had any luck, so it was time to kiss soul and morality goodbye.

"Fuck, fuck! I'll get your fucking band-aids, you lazy ass punk!" Yohji whispered to himself, any request at this point making him angry. Just where did Omi get off demanding things left and right? Yohji closed his eyes, moaning as he realized it was for Aya. Just where the fuck were his brains right now? He was going to need to be on the tip of his toes right now, and all he could think of was that the next time he so much as blinked; he'd see Aya's bloody and swelling face that was burned into the back of his eyelids. He was too angry, too worried, too fucked up to deal with this right now, but there wasn't any other choice. And it was so fucking nice of him to take it out on Ken and Omi in the process.

"Shit . . ." Yohji moaned before slapping his forehead in an exhausted irritation. He couldn't really be mad anymore. He just felt numb and tired and walking suddenly seemed much too hard and laborious to even consider. It only took a second's thought of Aya lying in his bed, breathily weakly and slowly as he got worse and worse. And it was his fault. He had to go get the doctor before he would have to make that awful call to Aya-chan that her brother was dead. Yohji didn't think he'd ever be able to tell her the details, because there were some things that sisters shouldn't know that their older brother had been through. Yohji didn't want to have to explain things when he could barely accept the fact himself. Feeling sick again, he started to walk down the street without any hesitation in his destination

* * *

Ken was caught leaning over the bed and concentrating on Aya's face to make sure that he was still breathing properly. He couldn't be too sure right now with Aya's color getting even worse when he had thought it would have been impossible. Aya's skin had the tone of dried-out tuna where it wasn't beaten bloody. The right eye had completely swollen shut and the left one was just shy of closing as well, both bulging out like ping-pong balls in his face. If it hadn't been for his hair, Ken wouldn't have even guessed that the man was Aya underneath all that damage. They had covered the small scrapes caused by Aya's face being slammed into a floor with medical tape and a band-aid for the split skin over his right eye. A huge bandage was taped to Aya's left cheek, where the skin been broken and pussing from repeated blows. The corners of his mouth were covered with yet more tape; the skin ripped from his mouth being forced opened more than it could go. The bottom lip was split twice and Ken had to make sure that air still passed through the bruised lips, even though it was beginning to seem like a lost hope. The white comforter was tucked over his shoulders, the white bringing out the pale, alabaster color Aya's skin had as if he was already turning into a corpse.

Omi coughed politely so he wouldn't be startled and Ken glanced up at Omi who was standing in the doorway uncertainly with a gentle smile on his face, though his eyes betrayed him. Ken could tell that Omi was ready to cry at any moment. He didn't have anything to say right now, not while Yohji was off ruining his life for Aya when they could just take him to a doctor. Ken couldn't understand why they didn't just call an ambulance, not about to give a shit if some mysterious thugs were going to come after Aya. If 'they' even found out Aya lived here, they'd still have to go through three professional assassins before dealing with the worst of them if 'they' wanted Aya.

"How is he doing, Ken-kun?" Omi asked softly, his voice lacking the usual energy and cheerfulness. Ken chewed at his lip, not really sure if he could meet Omi's eyes right now and say everything would be all right. It was just such a huge, stinking fat fib that Ken couldn't even thinking of any words to say. Omi's face was openly begging for Ken to tell him that Aya was okay. Omi wanted the superficial comfort that they both knew would be a lie. Ken glanced back down at Aya guiltily while Omi waited for an answer. How could he say anything when underneath the comforter Aya was broken in half? There wasn't a single bone that hadn't been bruised or broken, with one shoulder completely dislocated. Both wrists were heavily bandaged, one badly sprained, but Ken should be thankful it wasn't worse. Three fingers were broken on Aya's right hand with only his thumb and pointer finger spared. Yohji had taken one look and with devastating calmness figured out that someone likely stepped on Aya's hand. His left ankle had been twisted and was bandaged and propped up on a pillow. The other ankle was bandaged as well, Aya having struggled with bonds around his feet as well. Ken had found it hard to keep from running out the door to find someone to kill, but the list of injuries was much longer. Aya's chest was covered in bruises and welts as well as two broken ribs. Ken was surprised to find that Aya didn't have a punctured lung when he saw the heavy bruising along his sides, shocked that Aya had managed to walk in this condition. That wasn't even considering the marks that were as painful but much worse in a different way, physical scars that Ken wasn't really sure if they would heal or not. Teeth marks covered indecent areas from Aya's neck and chest to the few he could make out from the bloody mess on the inside of Aya's legs. One nipple had been mutilated and Ken wasn't sure if someone had cut Aya or bitten a chunk off, but it was safely covered by a gauze bandage. Either way, it made Ken sick to his stomach that someone had used Aya in such a way, the harsh red lines from fingernails all over Aya's body. Yohji had been the only one to take a good look at Aya's groin and now he was off to find a doctor. Ken already had enough to haunt him and he respected Aya's privacy too much to go peeking even if it was to see if there was anything he could do to help. Aya was way beyond his hands now.

"He's starting to get a fever. Omi, I have to tell you that he's pretty messed up," Ken tried to say it in a soft way as if it could make things better. Avoiding the truth wasn't lying, exactly. Omi stared at that answer and then tried to smile before it quivered and fell, his face turning into a sad expression as one tear welled up at the corner of his eye. It made a slow wet trail down the side of Omi's face before he sniffed and another joined the first. Ken wanted to open his mouth and say something, but he couldn't think of thing and by then, Omi was already starting with full, unfretted sobbing. Ken coughed and his own words seemed to choke him, nothing sounding good enough to try comforting Omi with. He wasn't really sure what to do when Omi, who was always smiling no matter how bad things got, couldn't keep himself from crying. He wasn't good with words. Ken figured anything he said would probably make Omi cry even more. He took two steps toward Omi and reached out a hand to comfort him, then stopped, hesitating. His hand clenched. He wanted to just hold Omi and tell him everything was all right, just like he would with a girl. Omi wasn't a girl. Omi could handle the truth.

Still, those tears kept coming. Was he just supposed to ignore it because Omi was a guy, no matter how girly he acted sometimes? Omi's pain was just as real and hurtful as Aya's, which was the reason why the kid was crying in the first place. Ken licked his lips, struggling to come up with a solution before Omi realized he was standing in front of him like an idiot. Tears were always a killer, scattering all his coherent thoughts. All Ken knew was that Omi was upset, so Ken reacted and grabbed the kid by both shoulders. Omi gasped and jerked his hands away from his face at that, surprised enough to look straight into Ken's eyes with his big watery blue ones. Ken didn't even think about it as he did what he would do with any other person who had started crying in front of him, which had been all women: kissed Omi hard until the tension left his shoulders underneath his hands. Then Ken adjusted his arms to hug Omi close, trying to press some of his feelings into Omi, to tell him that he cared and there was no reason to keep on crying.

Omi's hands reached around and fisted up Ken's shirt, trying to find someone to hold onto as he began to sob in earnest. Ken had meant to stop the tears completely, but decided this was just as well if Omi needed to get it all out right now. He rested his chin on top of Omi's head, closing his eyes as he held the blonde a little closer. Things were too messed up to not accept any kind of comfort, and Ken realized he didn't mind giving it to Omi at all. It felt nice to get to hold onto someone else again, and he didn't want to let go of Omi, not for a long time.

* * *

Yohji staggered a bit before he finally managed to wrestle off his left shoe with one hand and had to rest for a moment as the floor spun beneath him. Using his shoulder to balance against the wall, Yohji got the other shoe off and picked up the grocery bags, one full of a several dozen or so Band-Aid boxes and the other stuffed with assorted hard liquor. The guy at the check-out stand almost didn't accept Yohji's credit card, and he had to admit it was kind of a crazy buy. But, he didn't have time to give a fuck with Aya's life ticking away along with the seconds. He had put down half a bottle before going back in the house and was already pleasantly disorientated and warm. It was much better than the cold rage he had felt after meeting with a Kritiker agent.

"I'm home," he called out into the empty house, feeling very calm, or maybe it was drained. Yohji didn't know. He just was too tired to be angry more. He couldn't find any energy to be mad with or to worry with or to get depressed with. He let the alcohol burn in his stomach and the familiar nausea washed away all of those thoughts. Yohji managed to get the brown bag on the kitchen table before the floor tilted slightly as gravity tried to get the best of him. Being very experienced in handling himself even when drunk, Yohji caught himself on the counter with both hands. Once his legs were back under him, he reached into the bag and pulled out the bottle he had already started on and twisted the cap off roughly. He tossed it in the general direction of the trash can and without looking to see if he made it or not, Yohji took off for his room with the bag of alcohol in hand and bottle in the other. He was so focused on getting back to Aya that the stairs weren't even half as hard as he thought they would be, but he didn't notice Omi until the boy was stomping down past him like he was trying to flee the scene of a crime.

"Oh! Yohji-kun! You're home, uh . . . Aya's upstairs . . . with Ken. I was just, uh, checking on them," Omi rushed out, just as surprised to see Yohji as he was, his hands coming up and flying in the air as his face blushed red. Yohji couldn't help the eyebrow that rose up in a silent question at the behavior. Yohji noticed that Omi's eyes were slightly red and watery, like he had been crying. The way he was blushing and trying to deny being upstairs, though there was nothing wrong with it, made Yohji very curious.

He slammed a hand into the wall by Omi's face. It was harder then he meant it to be, his weight drifting more then he thought it would with his own intoxication. Yohji swallowed while waiting for Omi to come in focus again and then leaned in to an uncomfortably close distance, sure that the kid would be able to smell the alcohol on his breath. Omi only blinked back at Yohji, not the least bit intimidated, but certainly confused as all hell. It was a state Yohji had become intimately reunited with for the past few hours. No one seemed to have an answer for his questions these days.

"Now, what were you up to while I was gone, mmm?" Yohji whispered as he let his voice drop to a suggestive low. Omi suddenly blushed red and even the tips of his ears began to burn at the inquiry. Yohji tilted his head, wondering for a moment if it was even possible that Omi had actually done something. The list of suspects was very narrow, in fact, it could only be Ken. Just what the fuck had the bastard done to get the kid worked up like this?

"N, n, n, n-nothing!" Omi spattered, obviously dying of embarrassment that only confirmed Yohji's belief that he had something to hide. Yohji smirked and opened his mouth to add on more, but Omi yelled right in his face and kept on shouting as he ran down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen. Yohji couldn't wait for the day that Omi finally looked too old to pull off this little-kid shit any more. It wasn't fair that he had to breathe out a sigh of relief that Omi hadn't noticed the open bottle in his hand. Yohji took another drink just in case before climbing up the rest of the stairs.

"Thanks for the band-aids!" Omi's voice screamed from the kitchen at Yohji's back, making it sound more like a death threat than a 'thank you.' Yohji smirked, only finding himself amused at Omi's reaction now when everything else was so goddamn bleak. Doctors and an agent with his new target file. Everything was fucking wonderful. Yohji shook his head as he walked into his room and set the bag down on the cabinet before he even realized he had walked past Ken. He hadn't noticed Ken standing still at the foot of his bed watching over Aya in Yohji's absence. He moved closer to the man and discovered the guy wasn't moving an inch with a dazed expression as he stared at a point on the ceiling. It looked like Yohji wasn't the only other person to not realize someone else was in the room.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Yohji asked, irritation creeping in on the sides of his favorable numbness. He had been working his way up to being completely drunk and Ken had to go ruin it with his impression of a deer in the headlights. He shouldn't be staring off like an imbecile when Aya was in danger of not breathing! That was a little fucking more important than daydreaming about whatever lame ass ideas were in Ken's tiny brain. The said brunette's gaze slowly rolled over to Yohji's face and locked on, as if taking the time to match a name to the face. Then, Ken seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, blinking around at the room in disorientation. Yohji found it very hard not to slap the man right then.

"Where's Omi?" Ken asked, his voice sounding funny and strained as if it took effort just to sound normal. Yohji decided not to answer that immediately so Ken could visible stew as he took a slow drain from the bottle. Ken watched in silence, knowing better than to say anything until Yohji answered him after all the arguments and outright physical fights they managed to get in. He finished drinking and smacked his lips loudly before turning to face Ken, who sighed impatiently at the whole act.

"Downstairs. What have you two been doing?" Yohji drawled as he finally grew sick of teasing him. It wasn't deserved, but Yohji was very pissed that Ken as demanding his attention when he could just get more drunk and watch over Aya some more. There wasn't anything like a good guilt trip and plenty of alcohol to fuel the fire, and Ken was the only thing standing in his way-

"I kissed Omi," Ken interrupted his thoughts calmly, as if only saying it out loud so he could review what had happened. Yohji stared at him for a moment, the gears in his head grinding and shifting as he tried to fit the facts into place. Omi was upset and embarrassed downstairs, apparently after which Ken had let his intentions be known. Ken was gay… bi, Yohji corrected himself as he remembered the several girls the man had a serious relationship with. Even so, Omi didn't look anything like the usual women Ken went for, all small and boyish. There was no fine way to tiptoe around that. Yohji wasn't even sure what Omi was thinking from the way he had fled the place. He wondered what Aya thought of it all, unconscious in the bed that was in the same room as where those two idiots had started sucking face. He'd been raped. Why did Ken have to do this sort of shit at the most inappropriate time? Ken and his goddamn hormones.

"Did you go further with him or something?" Yohji asked carefully, aware it would do damn little to get upset right now. Maybe if he could think of a way to fix this mess, he could avoid future disasters. If it had been only a simple kiss, then why was Omi hiding downstairs from Ken? It was almost kind of surprising to hear that Ken hadn't already made a move on the shorter blonde, startling to learn that they really had been just friends for how well they got along. He had thought Omi and Ken had been together before this, for some reason. He had to admit they sort of complimented each other… And now wasn't the fucking time to play matchmaker, Yohji reminded himself, shaking his head in frustration.

"No! I did not do . . . something, you sick fuck," Ken snapped out in denial while his face flushed a fine pink underneath the tan. He had obviously been thinking about those activities, but hadn't done anything about it yet, Yohji concluded. Ken had never been the type to hold back and actually stop himself from going too far, so Yohji couldn't imagine that he'd stop at just a kiss. Yohji waited to hear the rest as Ken looked around the room in embarrassment, the story definitely very juicy.

"He was crying so . . . Well, I dunno, I just kissed him!" The worst explanation ever. Perfect. Ken rarely ever thought about what he was doing, so Yohji could understand that he might just go ahead and kiss someone. But why Omi, and when he was crying? Was that supposed to make things all right? Ken had a strange thought pattern and acted like a utter fucking moron most of the rime, but he was usually smarter than this!

"Why?" Yohji asked, curious as to why Ken thought the best place to get a first kiss was in the bedroom of their teammate and friend who had been raped and beaten nearly to death. His annoyance was growing, anger drifting in. Aya was on his last limb and Ken was causing trouble with Omi. Just what he fucking needed.

"I thought he would stop crying! It works on girls, and he was… You weren't there," Ken snapped back, trying to defend himself without sounding like a pervert. Yohji didn't even have to say a word for Ken to know that it sounded like a pretty stupid excuse. What a fucking idiot. What happened to a good old fashioned pat on the back or hug? Yohji thought Ken would have punched Omi in the arm to cheer him up before kissing him. Had he been watching a lot of television lately or something?

"Ken, no matter what he looks like, Omi is most definitely not a girl," Yohji explained very slowly so Ken would be sure to catch it all. Yohji knew that he didn't have the right to patronize the brunette, mainly because of several separate occasions when he had brought home someone who turned out to be the opposite sex he was aiming for. Ken and Omi had come running in at the scream once when the clothes had come off and Yohji felt something he had not expected, making an awkward scene even worse to say the least. Still, it never really stopped him when Yohji had a perfectly willing partner in the same bed, but he supposed mistaking gender had happened to the best of them. That didn't mean he wasn't ready to kick Ken's ass for taking away from his opportunity to get hammered by dropping this little bomb on him.

"You think I don't know that? I don't even know why the hell I try I talk to you! I'm going downstairs," Ken snarled before he turned on his heel and walked out of the room with his shoulders visibly tense. Yohji shook his head at the mess Ken had landed himself in, knowing there was no way to escape from it when he lived with the two people involved. Had he really thought that a kiss would have solved all the problems like a magic trick? Ken was a fucking idiot, as he demonstrated time and time again.

"Have fun. Omi's in the kitchen," Yohji alerted Ken, perhaps getting a little too much satisfaction when Ken blushed about the same color red as Omi had been on the stairs. How could he not push that button right now, needing someone, anyone else to laugh at, or he'd just start crying. Aya wasn't supposed to be bedridden and dying. Yohji hadn't planned on killing another person for Kritiker, but there were few other options. At least in the end, Ken was a dumb ass and made it all better by screwing his own life up miserably. Yohji could still claim that at least he wasn't as bad off as the ex-soccer player. He still had enough common sense to run whenever he saw Aya with his 'anything-you-say-is-reason-enough-to-kill-you' look… wait a second, Aya didn't even have another expression.

"God, you are such a fucking pervert!" Ken yelled before slamming the door hard, likely to keep Yohji from shooting off anything else that was smart. The only picture hanging on the wall, a framed shot of the four of them from the opening of the new flower shop, dropped straight down to the floor before flopping down face first with the sharp crack of breaking glass. Yohji scratched his nose, staring at the broken picture as he considered cleaning up, then grabbed a fresh pack of cigarette and tore it open like it was Christmas. He lit up over Aya's unconscious form, forced to stand awkwardly at the side of his own bed and considered praying to a God he hadn't thought of in years that Aya would make it until the doctors got here.

* * *

Omi heard the door slam and nearly jumped out of his socks, dropping several of the band-aid boxes Yohji had bought. Omi couldn't believe how many the smoking jerk brought back, more than enough to last the rest of their lives, especially since there were no more missions. Omi bent down and began to pick up the boxes he had meant to put away before dropping it all over the floor. How could he be so stupid some times? Why did he have to cry in front of Ken? Omi felt himself choke up and clenched his eyes closed; trying his best to think about anything but what had happened only a few minutes ago. It was a complete failure.

Just when had he become the idiot? Omi always thought that Ken had a few parts loose in his head, but after he'd cried and gone running to the first person in sight. He certainly hadn't expected Ken to kiss him! Ken liked girls and had yelled at Yohji when the teasing had gone overboard after a male customer had obviously been giving Ken the eye. Ken didn't like guys, so why was he going around kissing them? Omi had been sobbing his heart out like a girl, but that was because Aya had been looking so broken and hurt. It had just happened and it wasn't all that bad… Geez, you kissed another guy! Omi yelled at himself. What was he supposed to do about this?

"Ken's probably going to hate me," Omi muttered to himself, the scene playing over and over again no matter what he looked at. He was going to die of embarrassment, frightened to death of the thought of having to talk to him again. Omi ran his hands through his hair, trying to clear his thoughts. Why would Ken do such a thing? Had he done something to invite it or make Ken think that it would be all right? Omi couldn't understand it, couldn't even begin to grasp it, but was even more scared of the fact it had been kind of nice. Because that meant he'd stop thinking of Ken as a friend, and that would be awful. He didn't know how he was ever going to talk to Ken normally again, but of course the soccer player stormed down the stairs and into the kitchen before freezing and turning to Omi as if he just realized he was there.

Ken stood there without saying a word and his usually soft green eyes wide and open as if Omi was a rabid animal. There was no way to even pretend that nothing had happened, and Omi found himself feeling even more uncomfortable than he had imagined. Ken had probably come down to kick his butt into next week for obviously enjoying the kiss. Ken wasn't into guys, certainly not his own roommate. Omi could see in his face that Ken was regretting it already and trying to figure how to tell him. It was times like these that Omi wished Ken could actually talk.

"Hey, um . . . Hey," Ken started out lamely, making the silence that followed even more charged and incredibly embarrassing than when he first came in. He laughed lamely once, making it more of a bark, before he looked away and started scratching the back of his neck in a nervous habit. Omi wondered if he could just drown himself in the sink. This had to be the worst time of his life. He couldn't remember when he had felt worse, wanting to be anywhere but in the kitchen with Ken, another guy he had sucked face with. Maybe he could lie and say Aya needed something to escape from Ken, but his mind seemed to be working in circles around Ken. Why did he have to break down like that? Why did he have to actually like it?

"So . . . mmm . . . You look . . . upset?" Ken questioned slowly, each word seeming to come out on its own, disjointed from the rest of the sentence. Just what game was he playing at?! Ken obviously didn't want to be in the same room as him. Yohji had probably forced Ken to come down after seeing Omi run down the stairs. Why was he such an idiot going around openly crying? How dare Ken come and try to comfort him when he didn't even want to be in the same room as him. Omi wanted to punch Ken right across that 'caring' face, angry and hurt and really not giving a damn right now about anything Ken could say, glaring harder at the man as he said nothing at all. Ken swallowed loudly and looked away for a moment, his eyes going over to the counter for no reason other than to avoid Omi's eyes.

"Cause . . . um, I just wanted . . . To, uh, tell you that . . . Well," Ken fumbled as his hand still rubbed the back of his neck unconsciously, keeping his eyes away from Omi's face. Omi realized then that he wasn't the only one who was nervous. Each pause seemed to stretch out into an agonizing forever, waiting on Ken's words because he was too afraid to say anything himself. Omi couldn't say anything right now, not until he heard out what Ken was trying to say right now. He half-wished it was all a misunderstanding and they could pretend nothing had happened and go back to being friends again. This awkwardness was horrible.

"Well, that, ahem," Ken cleared his throat before looking straight at Omi, locking onto his eyes. "I didn't mean to, like . . . just go and uh . . . kiss you . . . Like, if it . . . Well, if you're mad at me, that's, uh, okay . . . Let's just say I was trying to make you, um, feel better. Ha. Stupid jock me," Ken laughed, his humor fake and brittle as he put himself down, desperately trying to change the subject. Omi felt floored, doing his best to keep his jaw from dropping open. So, he hadn't been the one to kiss Ken? Ken thought that he had kissed Omi and he had been responsible for it all. It didn't even matter if Omi had enjoyed it or not, because it was Ken who had started it. He liked guys. Did that mean that he had wanted to? Omi's painfully short experience with romantic relationships didn't give him any answers. Just what could possibly be running through Ken's mind right now?

"It's okay, I mean, it wasn't a bad kiss, or anything, at least," Omi tried to joke pitifully as he laughed a bit at the end just to show he meant no wrong by it, since Ken's face dropped into utter horror for a moment. Omi couldn't even stand the sound of his own voice, breaking and cracking with nervousness, all because of Ken. Did Ken think a kiss was the same thing that Omi thought it was? Was he just missing something crucial and over exaggerating? Omi didn't know; wanted to keep his mouth shut in case he said something stupid, and just hoped that Ken would be able to explain himself well… That was almost funny enough to make Omi feel slightly better.

"Oh, so… That's good, right?" Ken laughed back just as stiffly, both of them failing at attempting normal conversation. Did Ken really think that they could just ignore what had happened? He wished they could pretend that they hadn't done anything, so there was no reason to be so uncomfortable with each other, right? The excuse sounded feeble as it echoed inside Omi's head, Ken's eyes boring right through him to see the humiliated boy underneath the civil conversation. Why couldn't everything just work out if they started talking about… the weather or something else safe like that? Nobody stopped being best friends over the weather. Kisses were another matter entirely.

"Because, uh . . . I'd kind of, you know… like to do it again, sometime . . . Maybe! If that's all right with you, I mean! No offense, so just don't get mad!" Ken rushed out as he shook his hands furiously in denial, as if trying to erase what he had said before. Omi couldn't have been happier then at that moment that Ken was always so blunt and honest without giving a single thought to what was coming out of his mouth. Ken had wanted to, and wanted to again. Omi was trying not to fall to the floor at the knowledge, so relieved that Ken actually thought he was someone whom he'd want to make out with. Omi wasn't a fool as to what had happened, but he had been ready to pack his stuff and move out from fear that Ken would be angry, then the brunette complete surprised him with the exact opposite. Thank God that Ken was so truthful as usual, or else Omi might have even gone to Yohji for help with this one.

"Ken-kun, it's okay! I… I want to, too," Omi admitted before he even thought about the words coming out his mouth, just as shocked as Ken looked. Omi's mind froze up, not sure where they were supposed to go from here. All he knew was that he didn't want to lose his friendship with Ken, but this was also something that felt good. The kiss still gave Omi the shivers just to recall it, and that was more impression than any of the times spent watching bad movies without Yohji or Aya. Omi almost regretted it, just thinking of poor Aya all beaten up and sleeping upstairs, but he just had to get things settled with Ken first. And if he just didn't mess up, this might turn into a good thing.

"Alllllrriiiighhtt," Ken said very slowly, obviously trying to buy time to think a little bit more. He took two hesitant steps toward Omi, his eyes looking to the side as thoughts ran through Ken's head, clear as day across his face. Was this for real, not a joke? If it was a joke, he wanted to die before he could even start to damage their friendship. Sex had never been far from the top of the list, but when it came to Omi, he was pretty sure he liked the friendship part above a sex thing with the kid. Omi didn't look anything like the usual girl he went for, so he couldn't understand why he should feel anything at all. Besides, what about the age difference? Was he too old? Only by several years, but with Omi now just a minor, it felt like he was taking advantage of him. Besides, did Omi even know what he was asking? Maybe it was a misunderstandiB

"Ken-kun, I can see you thinking," Omi teased just as easily as Yohji did at Ken's obvious distress. He felt strangely confident now, assured that Ken wasn't disgusted with him at all and that everything would be okay. How could it not be if Ken liked him? Omi couldn't really process it on top of everything that had been done to Aya, but it felt like a wonderful thing. Maybe tomorrow, after a long good night's sleep, he'd actually be able to comprehend everything that had happened; but, right now, he could only feel alleviated that Ken wasn't going to beat him up. Instead, they could do other things, maybe when everything had calmed down. Right now, Omi was too overwhelmed to even think about what was going to change between Ken and him.

But, apparently, Ken didn't have the same thoughts as he made the short trip to come closer to Omi, in fact, was standing only a hand's breath away and much taller than Omi had remembered. Ken put one hand hesitant on Omi's shoulders, ready to both shove and pull at the same time, just in case. Omi didn't even move, too unsure of himself to even try doing anything with his hands. He could only smile weakly, concentrating on looking like this didn't scare the living daylights out of him. There was silence as Ken didn't make a move, his eyes heavy with emotions that Omi couldn't identify, was too tired to even figure out just what to say. He just lifted up on his toes, still a little too short to reach Ken's face with ease, but remembering what that first kiss made him wonder what would happen if he actually tried to kiss back or actually move his lips.

"Where is he?!" An unfamiliar woman's voice roared out into the kitchen as the back door slammed loudly against the wall. Omi grabbed at Ken's arm in surprise as a complete stranger walked in on red high heels that barely looked comfortable, much taller than he. She was very thin and pretty for the white doctor's robe she wore over a small black-mini skirt and a barely legal silk red top that looked several sizes too small. Her black hair was pulled back severely into a smart and exact bun, showing off the long neck. Everything about this woman was skinny and elongated and she might have been a supermodel or actress had she not been glaring hard enough to make Aya jealous. Ken and Omi stared at the slight resemblance to their very own sour-tempered but fine-featured leader, too shocked to even notice as several rushed and stressed voices were suddenly audible as three more people followed behind. Two of them were young looking men, perhaps interns or nurses by the way the both were dressed in light-blue scrubs and one even had a hair-net over a blonde dye job. Both of them were burdened down with duffel bags and large coolers hanging by straps from their shoulders, as if coming into their house unannounced for a picnic. The last one was obviously a doctor, a short and slightly over-weight man who was certainly beyond middle age, but Omi thought it would be too rude to call the man old. He was wearing a similar hospital gown over a set of blue operating clothes that even matched the paper booties on the man's feet. A stethoscope was hanging from around the man's neck and he looked flustered, glancing around the room as if expecting to find psycho murderers instead of two normal looking men holding onto each other in the kitchen.

"Sorry about this interruption, but we got a call that there was a critically injured teammate here," the doctor explained to them politely as Ken blinked down at Omi in surprise, as if forgetting that he was even so close. They both pushed at each other at the same time, ended up on opposite ends of the kitchen, Omi too embarrassed to even start to feel guilty yet. He was having a hard time simply believing his ears right now. How would a doctor just know to come to their house? Had Ken called the hospital some time when Yohji hadn't been looking?

"And just who the hell do you think you are?" Ken suddenly snapped, finally recovered from the initial astonishment at the crew that had just invaded their kitchen. Omi took a few feet back and maneuvered around the edge of the room until he was behind Ken instead of across the room with four strangers in between them. It was pure tactics, and Omi was not about to be caught off guard by such a suspicious group of people. Besides, he was more than happy to let Ken handle this as he pleased, since he looked ready to fight at the interruption. Omi just wanted them all to leave regardless of if Aya needed a doctor or not. He had a feeling that he couldn't trust these people, and that rarely ever happened. It was just to good to be true.

"That's a fine way to greet us after begging for a doctor," the woman snapped back, making Omi dislike her immediately, and he never made a judgment like that with other people. Omi just couldn't believe how rude she was after not even knocking on the door. Just what was this woman talking about anyway with her said 'begging?' Omi was pretty sure Ken didn't beg over the phone, and Aya was certainly in no shape to pick up a phone, much less carry on conversation. Yohji had been deadest against letting Aya go to the hospital, so just who had pleaded for a doctor?

"Ken, Omi, I called them. He's in the second bedroom on the right," Yohji called from the stairs, not even climbing down the last few steps as he hung out at the edge of the light from the kitchen. Omi's mouth dropped open wide, trying hard not to choke at Yohji's hypocrisy as the blonde turned and went right back up the stairs to led their guests to the bedroom. The woman and doctor followed without another word for Ken or Omi and the two male nurses were already hustling equipment up the stairs. The quiet emptiness of the kitchen afterwards almost hummed in the midday brightness, for a moment everything so normal that Omi almost couldn't believe that Aya was upstairs in the bed beaten very nearly to his death.

"Well, that kind of ruined it," Ken growled with a little bit of humor in his voice as he looked back over his shoulder to give Omi a small grin. Was that all Ken was thinking of: a destroyed atmosphere between them over Aya's current state? Just how could he possibly be so at ease when Yohji had called in doctors just like he ordered they shouldn't? Didn't this mean whoever had hurt Aya so badly would now know where he was, if the monster was checking hospital records like Yohji seemed to be paranoid of? Unless… Unless… Yohji hadn't gone to regular city hospital like Omi was assuming.

"Ken-kun, who did Yohji-kun call?" Omi asked slowly, trying to hide his irritation with a smile and soft voice.

"Kritiker," Ken answered back without even turning around. Omi closed his eyes, wondering why he was so surprised. It only made sense to go to Kritiker if one didn't want anyone to find records of Aya being treated for his wounds. What didn't make sense was why Yohji hadn't told them, or why he hadn't talked about it first! He should have thought before making a decision like going back to work for Kritiker in exchange for Aya's medical treatment. Or, Yohji wasn't thinking about them at all, because he was probably planning to work it off all by himself. Omi should have seen that one coming as well. Of course Yohji would take full responsibility, since he was the oldest and had the least to look forward to, according to the many drunken rants Omi had been forced to listen to on those rare occasions when he didn't get away from Yohji quick enough after he returned home from the bars alone.

"Well, let's make sure Yohji-kun doesn't get in the way," Omi laughed, completely ignoring the nasty little fact that they were accepting help from Kritiker, knowing how overprotective Yohji could be when it came to any of their safety. He seemed to take a special interest in Aya as well, as if trying to offer a family since they both had none. Aya stayed firmly distant from them all, no matter what they did, and would like start yelling at Yohji the moment he woke up for placing him in Yohji's bed. Aya could be very picky about certain things, but it made sense to use Yohji's comfortable king-sized mattress rather than Aya's small, hard full set. It was no secret that Aya's bed was the worst out of all of theirs from the few times Omi had sat down on it.

"Yeah, I can't wait for him to meet that raving hell-bitch," Ken said with obvious sarcasm as Omi passed by to go to the stairs, making him smile despite the somber mood. At least Ken could make him forget how bad things really were, if just for a moment. He could be happy until they hit Yohji's door and had to see Aya's mutilated body again. For now, he could be comforted by Ken's heavy steps on the stairs behind him, relieved that the older man didn't hate him, and that Ken actually wanted to kiss him again. Omi couldn't wait until then, but first there would be Aya to deal with.

* * *

Stable. Physically stable. There had been a little bit of bleeding in the spleen from the rape, but remarkably a small amount of internal bleeding, considering. The doctor's prognosis had been surprisingly hopeful, as long as Aya didn't move until he got at least another pint or so of blood in him. They'd tucked him in tightly with the sheets underneath the first mattress of Yohji's own bed. He didn't regret giving it up, not when there was still a long thin tube peeking out from the top of the covers that was connected to a blood drip. It was the only thing keeping the formerly indestructible bastard alive right now.

Those fucking doctors had finally left. The doctor and the two nurses worked about Aya like some bizarre college class, all of them being very professional and crisp. Yohji had been disgusted that they could remain so removed from how much agony Aya had to be in, how inhuman the beating had to have been. He wanted to give them a black eye to compare to Aya and then see how they would handle it. Yohji was angry that they didn't show a single bit of emotion beyond a cheerful politeness like they were still guests even though the doctor's hands were red with blood from handling Aya without even flinching. They had prodded Aya there, used way too fucking many shots in his opinion, and a hell of a lot of painkillers. Yohji didn't think Aya would be able to see straight for the next week with how many drugs they had given him. The doctors had left a portable IV unit in the bedroom and two packs of blood were in the refrigerator waiting when this one was finished. Yohji watched as the small filter inside the plastic bag pumped the liquid down the long tube and into the inside of Aya's forearm since they hadn't been able to put it into Aya's wrist because of the damage to his joints. One of those damn nosy male nurses had gotten all friendly with Omi and had given the boy directions for the IV and the bag of pills that Aya would need to take. Yohji had wanted to cuff the kid and demand to know why he was getting nice with people who worked for Kritiker, which by association made them the scum of the earth. Then again, everyone was always friendly with Omi. At least Ken had taken the broad downstairs since it was obvious Yohji was very close to killing her. That had been after he'd almost brawled with another of the male nurses again, shoving one away from Aya before Ken managed to stop him.

Ken had been mad, which was understandable. He had never wanted these doctors in their house but Yohji had demanded it, and then he had wanted to throw all of them out just for doing their job. Ken had yelled a few choice words here and there, calling him a martyr and playboy and a few other things Yohji had never really considered a part of his personality but still stung nonetheless. Ken could be just as good as the rest when it came to throwing around insults. Of course, Yohji had been yelling things back that might have provoked Ken on, but he had been more than a little upset at the time. Now he was more than a little drunk now too, but at least Ken hadn't still been mad in the kitchen. If anything, Yohji was the only one who had been thinking about it now with his mind fixed on the worst right now.

Yohji still had his watch on, his fingers playing with the release for the wire in his own pathetic way, wishing there was something to kill. He supposed it was how Ken felt when he berserked on a mission. Yohji just didn't feel safe to take it off yet; damn sure that Kritiker was watching them a lot better. He couldn't take it off until he was certain that the assholes had backed off their territory after he caught sight of a few obvious, low-class agents on the other side of the street out front. He didn't like the thought of a return visit from those doctors to check up on Aya and the 'agent' broad to see how his mission had gone. Yohji could only speculate on who they had chosen as a target, out of the loop for too long to know who the 'bad' guy was now. He wasn't ready to take a look at the folder, not yet prepared to look at the man he was going to kill. He hoped it was a real sick bastard, so that way he wouldn't feel so guilty about it later on.

Yohji could only stare at Aya now, disgusted with himself for not noticing or saying something sooner. Now that Aya was half-dead and unconscious, Yohji could recall all the times he had seen Aya and just not paid any attention the asshole since that was what the redhead seemed to want them to do. He knew now that he'd just allowed himself to ignore Aya and stay focused on his own miserable self-guilt. Not that he'd let any of them get wind of it, or they'd all be up his ass about the nightmares. Now that the thought of Asuka didn't hurt so much, it had let in all the other demons he'd forgotten to pay attention to. There were plenty of people to haunt his dreams, hundreds of guilty and innocent people, and he'd be damned if he let Aya die and join them.

It was hard to believe that Aya would make a recovery when he looked at the slender redhead now. That delicate face had swollen up past recognition, skin that had always bruised too easily was enflamed red and splotched with inhuman black around his bulging eyes. His lips were slightly parted to barely form enough space to push out air, the split lip beginning to scab over in an angry purple. At least the blankets had been tucked up to Aya's professionally re-bandaged neck to hide the rest of his body. Yohji knew that underneath there was much worse, but he was still grateful that they hadn't needed to operate.

Fucking doctor and his goddamn employees. Yohji hated the way the doctor had examined Aya slowly and emotionlessly like he was some type of experiment. Yohji wanted to kill him when the asshole only grunted at the damage between Aya's legs. He still couldn't comprehend how he hadn't cared, just leaned into naked skin to stitch what they hadn't been able to. Yohji had wanted to kill the perfectly cheerful doctor and his whole fucking ensemble of stuck-up bastards. He'd gotten yelled at and pushed to the open doorway, since Yohji refused to actually leave the room. He wouldn't leave Aya alone with those snakes for a moment, even if Ken and Omi were in the same room. Those two were a pair of over-trusting idiots and left the room constantly to take another swig from the whiskey. Ken had already accused Yohji of overreacting. Ken had already accused Yohji of being a martyr. Yohji was more then fed up with Ken. Omi had also told Yohji he was overreacting. Omi was also still running around like a mother for Aya. Yohji was fed up with Omi. He was sick of them both. Yohji let his eyes focus again on Aya.

It was the late afternoon, the sunlight filtering in through the white curtains, a building's shadow darkening a side of the room. Everything had a nostalgic orange glow about it, like the end days of summer, making Aya's developing bruises shine in the light. Yohji scrubbed at his nose, finely disorientated with his own buzz that made him think so romantically. Yohji felt his stomach burn as the alcohol mixed around inside to make him feel a little more numb, a little less homicidal. He was sprawled in the chair he'd dragged over from Aya's desk in the redhead's room, considering it was only fair since Aya had taken his bed, with the back of his skull resting on the top of the seat and his legs splayed in an attempt to keep himself balanced. He just couldn't be sober, not when he still remembered Aya on their kitchen table a little too vividly. Christ, it's your fault for yelling at him like an idiot, Yohji cursed at himself, knowing that if he had handled things better he wouldn't have driven Aya out of the house and into this major fucking accident. He had been a detective once, so how could he have started yelling questions like an amateur? Fucking stupid of him, as usual.

"Are you done yet?" Yohji asked himself, his voice rough from a few too many cigarettes. He looked into the bottom of a glass he'd found leftover in his room, full of clear red poison to make a small blurry round window to frame the floor and one of his shoes. The liquor sloshed over the rim and hit his knee to soak his jeans, providing a bit of proof to being too drunk. He just felt so damned responsible for it all and was now like a drunken little shit, but it was all Aya's fault for deciding to run head first into a meat grinder. And he had thought that he had known Aya the best off all of them; and assumption he'd been dead wrong about. So now he could mope by Aya's bedside and study each and every facet of his guilt and anything else he'd fucked up in the past few hours. It didn't take very long to get a good list started, to which he raised the glass and finished it off. Yohji slammed it on the bed, holding it there in case the glass decided to tip in the next few seconds. When it didn't, Yohji tried to lean back into his chair and nearly toppled out of it before he caught himself. He couldn't even sit upright, but he could still feel like shit. Why did Aya have to say that it had been for him?

Yohji settled on staring at Aya again, every single weak breath rattling long enough in his lungs to seem like the last. Funny that he had thought Aya was invincible once, because he resembled the shell of a hard-boiled egg that had been dropped on the floor with his skin split and bleeding with open skin that was barely held together by bandages. Screw Aya's demand for no hospitals, because a Kritiker doctor wouldn't even be listed as alive by any records and there was no way any rat would be able to find out he had treated Aya. The sadistic bastard's identity had been destroyed once he entered the organization, just as Yohji and everyone else's had been. Sometimes, it felt like he had died back there with Asuka as any death record and newspaper would read. Here he was, empty and drained next to what could very well be Aya's deathbed if he didn't improve in the next few hours as the doctors had warned. The thought of the redhead dying scared him a lot more than he ever thought it could, much more than when they had even risked their lives for each other in the line of duty. This time, Aya was a friend.

He laughed at himself, recalling that he could usually hold his liquor better than this. He wasn't a friend, not even a roommate if he hadn't noticed Aya deteriorating away into a thin husk of what could be a human being if it weren't so damn skinny and gaunt. Aya didn't consider any of them to be good enough friends to tell any of them what was going on. Yohji thought that all those times they had hung out and gone to bars, though it was mostly Aya nursing a drink at the bar while he picked up some new and interesting girl, had actually added up to them being slightly more than passing acquaintances, which was how Aya wanted to keep everyone in the entire world. Yohji wouldn't doubt if the little nutcase had a social disorder with that temper and severe solitary habits. The only time he even showed the ability to feel anything was with his little sister, and Aya-chan had long since left the country. That had left the three of them in charge of Aya as the only people who actually knew his full name and insurance in case of emergency, but damned if they knew what his favorite color or food was. Aya was a mystery unto himself, and they had done a cracked-up job of trying to figure it out. He'd been too late, and now Aya would be lucky to heal completely. It was too soon to say anything, according to that goddamn doctor.

He licked his lips, wondering if it would be daring if he tried to smooth Aya's hair back from where the bangs had fallen into his swollen eyes. It looked like it must irritate him if not hurt, but Aya would kill him if he knew he'd been touched. Yohji licked his lips and figured Aya would be unconscious and unaware either way, so he wouldn't even wake up with how jacked he was on painkillers and sedatives right now. It took a lot of concentration, but Yohji was sure to be careful and gentle as he leaned in, forcing himself to ignore the alcohol and the desire to tilt to the left along with the rest of the room. His fingers suddenly seemed huge and dangerous as he carefully pushed the long and ragged bangs away to expose the bandage and stitches through Aya's eyebrow. It didn't help that Aya's hair was still soft despite how wild it had gone, hanging further in his eyes than ever before. Yohji found himself wondering if he was enjoying it too much and snapped his hand away as if burned. Aya didn't even stir at the jerky movements as Yohji tried to settle back into the chair and act like nothing had happened even though his heart felt like it might explode out of his chest.

What had happened to Aya? He knew damn well; that dark, unspeakable act that he'd like to ignore. He could only wonder how the human icicle would deal with it when he woke up. The doctor hadn't given them any advice, but left two cards- one for a Kritiker therapist and another for one with no such connections depending on their preference. Yohji didn't give a fuck about either one because it would be a joke to bring Aya to a complete stranger so he could talk about his 'problems.' Who would know where to even start, and that was if Aya actually started talking. Grunts weren't any way to deduce a clear answer from a person, but that seemed to be the only way Aya would communicate. Still, despite his inability to actually talk to a person, Aya managed to be charismatic. Yohji wouldn't be sitting next to his bed for no reason. He couldn't deny caring for the heartless piece of shit and it tore him up to see the younger man so beaten…. Tortured. There was no point in trying to tiptoe around that barbed truth that was evident with one look at his body. There would be scars without a doubt, if Aya managed to make it through the next few days. The doctor had warned that Aya's sort of victim had a tendency to lose the will to live, so things were still touchy. Yohji could only hope that the fact Aya had made it back home meant he had wanted a fighting chance at living. He hoped.

"You better not give up, you fucking hear me?" Yohji ordered, since he was the one responsible for this whole mess. He wouldn't let Aya die, not until he got the chance to apologize. He wasn't going to live with that on his consciousness, no way in hell. Aya wasn't going to get to be a selfish bastard like usual this time after settling all the blame on him. If only he hadn't said that it had all been for him, then he wouldn't have to feel like a royal piece of crap right now. Aya was lucky that alcohol existed, or Yohji might have ending up smothering the man in his sleep despite it all. It was just like Aya to get so horribly mutilated just to prove a point in his own sick way, even if no one dared accuse him of such to his face. Yohji hoped the ass was happy now that he had gotten so fucked up.

Yohji could remember how striking Aya had been from the first time he had seen the man sprawled on the floor of the shop. Now that he thought about it, Aya had worn bruises and scrapes since the first time he had meet the man properly. Even if Aya had stormed out, they had found he warmed up easily enough if given the time. Yohji had even hit on Aya up before he knew better and had found himself deliciously surprised with a blush, and then a furious rejection. The second time had chipped a tooth in his mouth and Yohji didn't care to find out what happened on the third try. Since then he had figured that Aya just didn't know what sex was since the man didn't seem to care about it at all, and now this shit had to happen. Ironic in a way, but so cruel Yohji didn't know if he should laugh or cry. He felt too numb to do anything at all, completely worthless as always. Why would Aya have wanted to even do anything for such a miserable loser like him? When was the last time one of his relationships had lasted more than two weeks? Even the sex was turning stale these days, mechanical and repetitive without anyone to really care about. Maybe he was starting to get old.

"Fuck," Yohji repeated, just to make sure he had covered everything.

* * *

Breathe.

In.

Out.

It hurt worse than he had ever remembered any kind of pain hurting before. The back of his throat burned like hell, sore beyond all belief with the back of his mouth swelling up from so much bruising so that he could barely even wheeze in the harsh and hot air to fill constricted lungs. Aya could barely get his organs to work around the tight pressure of his own chest, his ribs aching and bruising his insides. Aya took another breath without even thinking about it, the simple effort making him sending little slivers of pain through the nerves wrapped around his brain. He wanted to scream with the agony, kick and struggle at the overwhelming pain just like an animal. It hurt and it was dark, so black and depthless that Aya began to wonder if he was dead.

Death wouldn't hurt this much. Only being alive could make every nerve in his body electrified with pain while he still breathed, or at least this excuse of it. He didn't even want to, but another short lungful of air was needed just to survive. His lips felt incredibly dry, blistered and throbbing hard enough to make his jaw cramp. Even his teeth hurt with his tongue swollen and dry like a beached whale in his mouth. Aya closed his mouth slowly, moaning again with the effort as he weakly tried to salivate and bring back a small bit of comfort. Heaven or Hell- it was too damn real to be the afterlife. He wouldn't die, not just yet.

Aya tried to open his eyes. One did, and only barely. His left eyelid cracked opened enough to allow him a hazy view of shadows and lights, no real shapes. At least, nothing he could connect to a recognizable shape. Aya felt like he was seeing and feeling everything through a fine haze, drifting off… They drugged me! Aya realized in a panic, not knowing who, where, when, or what this was before his left temple throbbed and pain rocketed through his face, stabbing from his skill, under his cheekbone and to his jaw until it continued all the way down his neck and spine. The daze was gone as his body started to truly throb, ache, hurt, and there was nothing to buffer the pain. He gasped, panicked now that he couldn't see anything. He tried to grip something with his fist and only came up with soft fabric, barely yielding to his grip. It was a comforter.

"Aya?" A voice asked softly, a heavy and unfamiliar sound in his confusion. Someone touched the top of his head gently to check for any sign of his awareness since Aya still had yet to move. No matter how much he hurt right now, his body immediately reacted instinctively to work even if he couldn't get his eyes to open. He flinched away... And screamed loud enough to rip the dry skin in the back of his throat. His whole body tore apart at each joint; muscles ripped, tore, bones crunched and scabs opened. His ribs rattled around his lungs, stopping his breath until his vision wavered and grayed. His blood turned into acid, burning away his veins to eat at his body from the inside out.

"Aya?" the same voice, a touch louder. Just who was it, how did they know his name? The hand was still on his head; feeling for a fever despite the fact Aya felt like his body had just melted. He hadn't even been able to move away from it, and slowly Aya realized that his scream had never been voiced, his throat too dry to produce any intelligent sounds. One tear trickled out of the corner of his eye and made a sticky, hot path down his face, over a raw cut. How much more pathetic could he be, sobbing and mewling on the bed like a child? It hurt, it irritated him, and he couldn't even wipe it away.

Someone else did for him. The hand on his forehead lifted up and the tip of a finger barely even skimmed across the delicate hairs of his face with spectacular gentleness, merely putting enough pressure down to let the tear move to his finger instead of Aya's face. It was the only thing that didn't hurt, didn't feel like salt on open wounds, didn't feel dangerous. It was almost familiar, like the few good memories from his childhood that he couldn't quite recall. Aya smelled a dull mix of a clean aftershave and soap and cigarettes. There was a light smell of alcohol, and suddenly the voice clicked along with the scent.

"Y . . . Yoh . . . ji?" Aya croaked, his voice barely audible, much less understandable. He couldn't open his eyes to see if Yohji was there or not, wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch someone real. He couldn't be sure if this was a dream or not, especially if he had been drugged. But, he couldn't move or even whimper a complaint, all of his energy spent just on saying Yohji's name. He didn't like this darkness or the fear that was starting to well up in the bottom of his stomach because of it.

"It's me. Your eyes are pretty much swollen shut, so don't think you're blind, all right?" Yohji informed him with his voice uncharacteristically soft for Aya's aching ears. The man sounded like if he said something too loudly he would break. Aya couldn't say it was too far from the truth with even his toes aching like they wanted to fall off from his battered body. Aya wasn't exactly sure what he had even done this for, just regretting his own stubborn survival. He'd be better off dead.

"Aya, you're probably pretty fucking high right now, huh? I bet the painkillers are doin' wonders," Yohji mused to the air, obviously not expecting an answer from him. What painkillers? What had they done to him? Was he at a hospital? Aya tried to open his other eye, begging the already open one to focus on something. Please, not a hospital. He had worked too hard to end up in a hospital, where they could find him. It was all over, so he could finally start a real, clean life… Or, at least that had been the plan! Why the fuck did Yohji have to interrupt things and ruin it all, like usual?

"Wh . . . e?" Aya couldn't form the words. He was exhausted just from trying. The pain in his temple increased and he made noise somewhere between a whine and a groan. He didn't want Yohji by him right now. He couldn't deal with it. He hurt too much. Aya wanted to die. Everything was so raw and sensitive. He just wanted to find a warm, dark place and die. Just die. Now that he was awake, he could vaguely remember what had happened, and along with that came a shame that overwhelmed any sort of physical pain. It was all over, wasn't it?

"You're in my room, okay?" Yohji explained as two hands pulled the covers up around Aya's neck. Aya felt tears form again at the helplessness, the pure humiliation of being babied by Yohji of all people. He was helpless, he couldn't move, he couldn't see a thing. Yohji was leaning over him smelling like booze, his weight causing the mattress to slump toward him. Aya felt like he was going to slide down and into Yohji, be swallowed up whole. Aya wanted to die, to fall back unconscious, something, anything that would make him not be here right now. He didn't want to wake up to Yohji, the reason why this all happened in the first place.

"God, what the fuck happened? Why? Shit, Aya, you're scaring me right now. I don't want you to die," Yohji rambled, his voice getting a little panicked and louder as he forgot to speak softly through his panic. Yohji was scared? He could fucking see. Yohji could touch his own face to wipe away tears. Aya was furious at Yohji for presuming to worry about him when he was fully capable of taking care of himself. Just why did he think that Aya even wanted pity from him? He wished Yohji would leave him alone to lick his own wounds, everything about Yohji's simple presence rubbing him the wrong way.

Yohji leaned back from the bed and the mattress lifted up slowly, expanding back into its original shape. There was silence for a moment and Aya wondered if Yohji had left the room. He suddenly didn't want Yohji to be gone anymore. He hated Yohji, he wanted to kill him, but he didn't want him to leave him alone right now. Not when he couldn't move. He wished Yohji would speak again. He still wasn't sure if this was home, but if Yohji was there it would at least mean he was safe. There would be someone else with him, another person to be his eyes when Aya couldn't do anything for himself.

"Don't mind me, okay? Keep sleeping. Because you're going to get better or I'll shoot you in the fucking head," Yohji snarled, as if he could bully Aya into living or dying. It was so ridiculous that Aya smiled, weakly, in his own mind if not on his face before the large colors faded and he went back into oblivion.

Author's note: Sorry this took so long! I'm sick . . . Really, ask my friends. I'm making out a will right now. But, anyway, a few notes to everyone! About keeping Omi's >-kun's for everyone, I tried writing it without it but it just didn't sound the same in my head. I read fics and I know I get irritated sometimes because the way people write a Japanese word into a fanfic feels like they're just trying to show off . . . Um, sorry if that offended anyone, I just wanted to explain in case anyone shared this opinion . . . And! This is rated NC-17, right? It hasn't been NC-17, right? Well, next chapter, I will write my first sex scene . . . And I promise it won't take so long . . . Really! I'll write as . . . much . . . as possible . . . cough . . . so sick . . .

Major kudos to chaosfirestar for reading through this all yet again so I could get a draft I'm finally happy with… I think.

And if you reread it… OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU! It… It really means a lot to me!! (SNIFF: grabs big box of Kleenex and some Amarillo)