Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate Him ❯ Every now and then I fall apart ( Chapter 6 )

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kruez and Koyasu Takehito and whoever else may apply . . . As we all know, it's worthless to sue a college student. All I can give you is my cup of noodles.

Yohji opened his eyes, staring at the pillow under his face. Slowly, he rolled onto his side a bit, groaning at the cramped muscles. Aya's bed was as soft as a bed of gravel. Aya's sheets were dry and stiff from the wash, and were impeccably bleached and white. Yohji was considering the floor more often then not after sleeping in Aya's bed. He was used to soft, comfortable things. Yohji was used to a bed being a place of great pleasure. Aya's bed was as comfortable as boot camp.

Yohji scratched at his nose, his hands aching with a dull pulse, fading in from a low, ignorable throb to a sharp pain that made the joints stiffen. Band-aids were wrapped separately around each finger, bandages wrapping around his open palms. It was a wonder that he could move them even now, curling the wounded digits up enough to scratch at his face. He didn't know how he could have continued to work through the damage he had caused for his hands.

That made him worry. Yohji had to consider just how much control he really had against himself. There was just something else inside that Yohji thought he had reigned in. Yohji had just made this second personality, some kind of lower self that he needed in order to live. Sometimes things got grisly and Yohji had to disregard life for a fellow human being in order to survive long enough to complete the mission. Yohji wasn't sure how much of real control he had over slipping into that uncaring, instinctive behavior that he used to live through those `active duty' years.

Whatever it was, it was definitely responsible for Yohji getting an awful night's sleep, again. He was doing his best to avoid Aya like the plague, which was reasonably easy since Aya couldn't move out of bed unassisted. Aya sure as hell wasn't sending word to Yohji, so the past several nights he had been sleeping in Aya's bedroom in his army style bed. Yohji couldn't exactly be in his own room, with it being Aya's official sick bed. The couch had been too hard to sleep in, giving Yohji a crick in his neck, but then again the cushions were soft and malleable, unlike a certain hard ass's hard ass bed.

It wasn't too outrageous to send Omi in for a change of clothes every now and then. Omi wasn't too talkative to Yohji about Aya's state of health, nor anything else. Omi was obviously pissed at Yohji for slapping Aya, but the only way he could know about it was if Aya told him. And Yohji couldn't picture Aya telling anyone that he had allowed a skinny blonde man to slap him like a woman. Slap him, and then kiss him like it was the end of the world.

Ken had figured out that Aya had been slapped, able to recognize the marginal worsening of the bruises around the corner of Aya's mouth as another blow instead of a natural dark bruise that had developed with time. Ken, being the little detective he was, did the process of elimination and was fully prepared to kick Yohji's ass with Omi clinging onto him. Yohji had opened Aya's bedroom door to have Ken roaring accusations in his face only a few days ago.

Omi had been shocked to hear Ken accuse Yohji of hitting Aya and had nearly let go of Ken willingly. However, Omi recognized that Yohji was trying to avoid Aya and feeling extremely guilty and continued to hold Ken back. It didn't mean that Omi had forgiven Yohji. Omi was angry that Yohji had slapped Aya, and even more angry that neither Yohji nor Aya would give the details.

Yohji sighed heavily, not really looking forward to facing Ken and Omi for breakfast. He didn't want to have to deal with them being silent and tense around him, both of them dying for Yohji to tell them what had happened and both of them not wanting to hear anything else from him. Ken had noticed Yohji's hands and had backed down, sensing that Yohji might be going through more pain then he was visibly showing. That didn't mean that Ken and forgiven Yohji. If anything, it meant that he was even angrier.

Yohji scrubbed at his hair, reluctantly getting out of bed. Aya's bed wasn't meant for lounging in. Yohji would prefer to risk Ken punching him in the face rather then stay in Aya's rigid bed covers. If this was what Aya slept in every night, it was no wonder he was such a piss-off. He ambled down the stairs, grunting in disgust when he saw the good Doctor Nomura and his assistant sitting at the table drinking coffee.

Omi was cooking, a blue apron tied around his body as he flipped pancakes. Ken was guarding the coffee machine like he was expecting someone to try and steal it, nursing his own mug. The doctor was wearing his white gown, looking very fresh and clean as he watched the morning news on the television over the counter. Yohji figured he was on the way to the hospital. The secretary was in a black number, like she was trying to dress for her emotions. She tossed a glare toward Yohji for a good morning, sipping at the coffee. The movement made the tight button shirt stretch around her too large breasts, like they were going to rip out of the shirt at any moment.

Yohji glared right back at her, showing some teeth. He was in no mood to be nice and accommodating for her attitude. Morning visits were nothing new from the two who came by regularly to check up on Aya's recovery process and administer booster shots. Yohji hadn't been in the room, but he had heard the fights that went on about the shots, Aya arguing for all he was worth, the occasional crash of something being thrown. Yohji could only imagine what Aya was tossing around in his room. Knowing that little prick, it would be the most valued personal possessions that Yohji had in reach.

"Good morning, Yohji-kun," Omi greeted when nobody else said anything to Yohji's entrance. Omi hissed at Ken, glaring and jerking his head toward Yohji. Ken pursed his lips in irritation then turned to Yohji in distaste.

"Morning, champ," Ken greeted, the comment dripping with acid. Yohji scowled at Ken, stalking over and grabbing an empty mug out of the cabinet. Yohji almost had to shoulder Ken aside in order to get to the coffee pot. Omi flipped the pancake again then dropped it on top of several other pancakes stacked on a plate next to the stove. Omi served up the pancakes to the secretary and doctor as the commercial break ended, going back to the stove to make more.

"Would you like any pancakes?" Omi asked Yohji. Yohji didn't really have much of an appetite. He shook his head, blowing air on the top of his steaming coffee. Omi began to pour a batter on the stove, carefully letting it drip into a circle.

"In other news, the police have finally released confidential information about the sudden cease of activity by a local business," a female newscaster announced as a business tower was filmed, police cars and officers surrounding the building with roadblocks and such. "It was a tragic discovery. The entire business tower had been murdered by a group of militant activists, police report. The trusted stock corporation was found to be dealing with prostitution and criminal activity by records recovered from the building. The attack was very organized and done level by level by a large group of protestors that had army training. No security videos are being released at this time."

The secretary's coffee mug slammed down on the table, her hand clenching around the handle. Yohji tsked at the media's lack of imagination, almost feeling insulted that they were covering it up. Ken and Omi's head whipped around at the lady, shocked that she would be so violent over the television.

"You killed them all?" she screamed, incredulous. "We needed some alive for other operations, you dumb ass!" Doctor Nomura dropped his knife on the pancakes in shock, staring at Yohji in a new light. Omi gasped, the spatula still in one hand when he turned to face Yohji. Ken was staring at the footage on television, his mouth open in shock.

"You killed everyone in that building? My God," the doctor whispered, stunned that Yohji had managed such an act of violence. The secretary was enraged, her face getting all flushed under a layer of make up, the red of her lips matching the red of her cheeks. Omi blinked, looking back at the television in a mix of awe and nausea as the death toll flashed on the screen.

Ken whistled softly. "Yohji, that's just a slaughter house," Ken teased inappropriately. It was the only thing anyone was saying to him right now. Yohji shrugged. It didn't really matter to him anymore. They had all deserved it. Yohji could remember the first killings very clearly, knowing that the men he killed all had done something to earn a sudden death. Some of them deserved a slower death then others. That was just the way it had gone.

"Yohji-kun, why did you, why did you do all that?" Omi asked helplessly, looking very lost, his plate of pancakes forgotten. The stovetop bubbled and hissed while Ken laughed into his coffee mug. The doctor was starting at Ken, shocked that he thought it was funny. The secretary was going to poleax, her face scrunching up in pure irritation.

"They were bad people, Omi," Yohji rationalized poorly. The secretary started growling at Yohji, his excuse not good enough. She wanted to say something, Yohji could tell by the way her mouth was snapping open and close, like she was chewing on the air. Ken was laughing even harder at it all.

"What's so funny?" Yohji snapped, his patience gone a long time ago. Ken managed to stop laughing and suppressed it into small giggles, taking another sip of coffee to gather himself. Yohji could have killed him. Omi was staring, ignoring the warning of smoke beginning to drift up from the pan on the stove.

"I couldn't figure out why you hit Aya, but it had something to do with this, huh?" Ken deduced, jerking a thumb to the television screen. Statistics were flashing on the scream, listing off the number of fatalities and wounded. Yohji was disappointed in the numbers. He had been sure he had killed more then that.

"Maybe," Yohji shrugged. He didn't want to give details out about how he had slapped Aya. That was like kicking a dog. He felt childish and petty and they were only making it worse by talking to him about it. Whoever said talking could help you with your problems needed to be shot. Yohji wanted to go back upstairs and get smashed beyond all belief just so he could deal with the day.

"God, Yohji, you are one psycho bastard," Ken whistling, staring at the television in awe. "I didn't think all four of us could do something like this," he mused and the news flashed the inside of the office tower. Yohji felt a little bit uncomfortable as the television showed various forensic offices sweeping up his mess in the search of clues. Blood was splattered on the walls and floor and tables were knocked over, pictures smashed on the walls from where the hang.

"Ken-kun, stop complimenting him about it!" Omi finally got out, looking very upset and flat out angry. "Yohji-kun, that was overkill," Omi said very slowly, trying to get a point across. Yohji raised an eyebrow, unaffected by the comment as he sipped at his coffee. Omi opened his mouth to say more and Yohji pointed back at the stove as the smoke began to blacken and billow up.

Omi forgot about trying to berate Yohji and yelped, snatching the pan off of the stove and lifting up the lid. Smoke immediately exploded out into Omi's face and he coughed miserably. The secretary and the good doctor just stared at Yohji, not distracted in the least by Omi starting to cry over the loss of a pancake.

Omi opened up the cabinet under the sink and dumped the burned pancake into the trash, sniffing a bit. He took his cooking very seriously, and burning something beyond being edible was very hard for Omi to deal with. Yohji could almost feel sorry for him as Omi slammed the frying pan back down on the stove, his brows coming together as he poured another pancake in, very determined to make the perfect one in order to make up for the burned one. It was hard for Yohji to feel much sympathy toward Omi at the moment. He had barely avoided being chewed out by the kid only moments before.

"You're crazy," Doctor Nomura breathed from the table, holding onto his coffee mug for dear life. Yohji turned to him, not at all willing to take that from a Kritiker doctor. The doctor stiffened, now frightened to be in the same room with an assassin even though he had been wandering around their house like he owned it for the past few days. Yohji took a step forward and the secretary bolted out of her chair.

"Don't you dare touch him," she snarled, standing up between Yohji and the doctor. Yohji looked her up and down, from the black high heeled shoes to the visible clips of her garter belt holding up the tights, then all the way up to the breasts trying desperately to explode out from the small shirt. Doctor Nomura looked vaguely relieved that she had placed herself between them, keeping Yohji away from him for just a minute longer.

"You're going to stop me?" Yohji asked her. He hadn't even thought about trying to inflict bodily harm on the doctor. He had just wanted to give him a piece of his mind. But, after his little rampage being shown on the national news, they seemed to think that he was ready to do violence at any given time.

She nodded, looking very determined. Yohji sighed. If he had wanted to hurt someone sitting at the kitchen table, she wouldn't be able to stop him. She seemed to think that she could, taking a step toward Yohji in an attempt to intimidate him. Yohji smiled and moved forward, slinging an arm around her shoulders before she could even protest.

"I don't want to fight with you," he murmured huskily into her ear. "A woman like you shouldn't have to deal with everything you must go through." The secretary blinked, then smiled slightly as she recognized the compliment. She didn't try to throw his arm off. In fact, a hand slid down Yohji's flank. Omi and Ken were just staring, looking very shocked and sickened that Yohji would even try to hit on her. Yohji couldn't see Doctor Nomura, but he could imagine the man's face, getting the best view of his secretary squeezing Yohji's right butt cheek.

"I thought you were just an asshole," she admitted, winking up at him. The secretary had already fallen under his charm, easily flattered and complimented. The hand on his butt finally settled very comfortable on his hip, like she had gained the right to touch him in a personal manner.

"You're just a bitch," Yohji returned. She snorted, taking a step away from him, sputtering in rage. Obviously she could insult him, but he couldn't give it back to her. Yohji smiled as she growled, tapping her foot so hard that Yohji wondered if the heel would break on the shoe. Ken spat coffee back into his mug, laughing. He was in a good mood today.

"Doctor, is there anything else you need to do here?" she questioned, like a child who wanted to leave as soon as possible. The good doctor opened his mouth as Omi sat a plate down in front of him, smiling like no human should this early in the morning. The doctor looked down at the plate once, the pancakes still steaming lightly, then back up to his secretary.

"Have breakfast, of course," Nomura replied merrily as Omi handed him a set of silverware. The woman growled, stomping one foot down on the ground. Once again Yohji worried about her high heels breaking. She really shouldn't wear half the outfits she did if the woman was going to act like a child. She was bound to either fall down or out of the clothing.

"Yohji-kun, are you going to have anything?" Omi asked, already warm with him again. Omi was always quick to forgive someone. Yohji shook his head, hefting up the coffee mug. That was all the breakfast he needed, besides a cigarette, but no one would appreciate him lighting up in the kitchen. He had been yelled at more then enough for that particular mistake.

"Ken-kun?" Omi turned around to the other man, ready to please everyone. Except the bitch secretary, who was still standing in the center of the room, tapping her heel impatiently as the doctor began to slice away at his pancakes.

"Nope, I've gotta go upstairs," Ken explained, setting his empty mug down in the sink. Yohji raised an eyebrow, more at the fact Ken had cleaned up after himself then his business upstairs. Omi nodded and Nomura hummed some sort of agreement to Ken. Yohji felt entirely out of the loop, confused about what they weren't talking about.

"What? What do you need to do?" Yohji questioned, not one to be left out. Ken glared slightly at Yohji, not as hard as he had before seeing the news report, but definitely still pissed. Omi walked between both of them, planting himself in front of Ken, which would have been more effective if he was taller.

"Aya wants a bath, and Doctor Nomura gave the okay for him," Ken explained grudgingly, like he didn't want Yohji to know about what went on with Aya's personal hygiene. It was everyone's business now, with Aya being unable to walk short distances without being supervised. Yohji nodded absentmindedly as he poured himself another cup of coffee, still not quite up to facing the world naturally.

"Be careful, Ken-kun," Omi warned lightly. Yohji wasn't sure what Omi was referring to, being careful about handling Aya for Aya's sake, or being careful about Aya trying to bite him. It was a definite fear Yohji had. Aya didn't really have the whole set of rules about not pulling hair, biting or kicking. He didn't seem to care about cheating in a good bout of wrestling.

"Don't worry, geez," Ken moaned, ruffling the top of Omi's hair. God, they were still all in love and cuddly. It irritated Yohji. He needed a cigarette. Ken's eyes snapped up from Omi's face and glared at Yohji. He must have made a disgusted noise or the like. Stupid mouth. It always seemed to get ahead of his brain. Ken ignored Yohji again, bending down to kiss Omi on the forehead.

"Ken-kun!" Omi admonished, not really meaning it as he pushed Ken away, giggling. Yohji seemed to have something in common with the secretary, because they both sighed heavily and crossed their eyes at the display of thick, syrupy love. It was almost too much to bear. Yohji was thankful that neither Ken nor Omi was a woman, because the kids would be messed up from too much love. Yohji believed in the broken home approach to childhood, having experienced it himself.

Ken walked up the stairs, winking back at Omi. Little sex freak. Ken had the endurance of a racehorse. Yohji felt sorry for Omi only because he knew the boy had to be sore. Beyond that, he was still a bit indignant that the two of them had been ignoring him for the past week simply because Yohji was ignoring Aya. Yohji took another sip of coffee, trying to stop his pattern of thought. It would only amount to a headache.

"Aya-kun's going to be so happy when he gets clean," Omi said out loud, like it was the latest bulletin in their life. Yohji didn't answer back, still concentrating on making his brain stop working so he could enjoy the coffee. Then, he thought about it. Aya was going to take a bath. So why the hell was Ken going with him? The gears shifted and clicked into place, making Yohji curse himself for not realizing it earlier. Ken was going to give Aya a bath, run the water until the tub was full and have Aya sit in the middle of it. Naked.

"Fuck!" Yohji slammed the coffee mug down on the counter, not caring as the edge of the ceramic chipped. He was already heading for the stairs, taking two at a time, determined to have word with that stupid idiot before Ken got anywhere near Aya. The secretary snapped out something that was probably not very important, so Yohji ignored it.

"Yohji-kun?" Omi called up behind his back, worried. Yohji didn't answer him, the sound of heavy foot falls echoing above Omi's head. The secretary sat down heavily in her vacant chair, not used to being ignored several times by the same man. Omi smiled apologetically at her, and she ignored him, slamming an elbow down on the table and resting her chin on a hand. The doctor didn't say anything, finishing off the last few pieces of his pancake.

"Would you like seconds?" Omi asked the doctor, mainly to stop the awkward silence. The doctor looked up and smiled at Omi. He was the first person to return a smile that day, beyond Ken-kun.

"I'd love seconds," he declared, offering his plate up to Omi.

* * *

The ceiling got boring after a while. All Aya did was stare at it. He couldn't roll onto his sides because the ribs would start to hurt and ache. He couldn't sleep face down into the pillow. That brought back memories of different things, his face being pressed into mattresses against his will. He felt too exposed, with his rear in easy access for anyone who wanted to throw back the covers.

So, Aya stayed on his back, the pillow propping his neck up just a bit. He stared at the ceiling, the flat white surface offering nothing to him. There were a few smoke stains on it, from what Aya didn't even want to think about, but he knew that when he was better, Yohji was going to repaint his room if Aya had to hold him at gun point. Aya couldn't believe anyone would want to live in the mess of a room that Yohji resided in. He wanted to clean it up, badly, straighten the framed poster of a naked woman only because it was crooked.

Aya hated Yohji's room. He hated the line of beer bottles on top of the dresser, because he knew that Yohji had drank that staggering amount all in one night, because Aya had been the one to haul Yohji's pathetic self back to his room. Aya hated the calendar, the foreign woman of the month winking as she bent between her naked legs. Aya hated the soft, black bed sheets. Aya hated the smell of the room, the clinging scent of cigarettes and alcohol that had soaked into the floor. Most of all, Aya hated the man who had made this room his own.

Aya threw his head back into the pillow, frustrated to death, but unable to do more then lie on his back and gain bedsores. It was the worst. He'd prefer to have a bullet wound in his left ball before staying in this stinking, dirty room one more moment. Aya sighed, rolling his head so he could stare at bed stand. Maybe not a bullet wound. Aya would prefer . . . something very painful, but not to such a delicate and important body part. Aya would only admit he was wrong to himself. Everyone else would have to die before Aya would feel safe enough to admit that he had been wrong out loud.

There was the click of the door being turned and Aya lifted his head up, curious to see who it was. If it was the doctors, Yohji's sculpted glass ashtray would do just fine as a greeting. Omi had been sweeping up a lot of fragile objects in Yohji's room because Aya kept throwing them at the doctors. It helped to keep them away, stalling those needles a second longer, and also would cause Yohji grief at some point in time. It was two birds with one stone. Aya was nothing if not efficient.

Someone raised their voice, and Aya took back his previous inner thought. The worst was right now, because Yohji was arguing softly with Ken outside the bedroom door. Aya hadn't seen Yohji for the past week, ever since…that thing. Not that he minded the absence of the man's presence. The ache on his cheek was enough to make him never want to see Yohji again. Their voices were faint through the wall so he had to strain a bit to hear them, surprising considering how well Aya heard Ken and Omi,

" . . . Can't believe this! What are you going to do, stare at his ass the whole time so he doesn't fall down?" Yohji snapped. Aya didn't know what Yohji's face looked like, but he could guess. Yohji got in his little self-righteous moods, and for the life of him, Aya couldn't figure out why Yohji wanted to defend him.

"Yohji, he can't walk on his own. I'm just going to stand outside in case he needs help." Ken explained, sounding very stressed and irritated with Yohji. Aya didn't blame him. Aya would have strangled Yohji for talking back in the first place. An order was an order, meant to be obeyed. Why couldn't Yohji understand that? Ken's patience seemed infinite, because he wasn't yelling or throwing Yohji down the stairs.

"Can't you wait or something, until he's . . . better?" Yohji sighed. That had irritated Aya. What did he mean by `better'? Aya knew he wasn't referring to the physical injuries. Yohji had seemed to take on the task of dealing with Aya's emotional trauma, despite trying to avoid him like the plague. It was ridiculous.

"Yohji…Its going to take time for Aya to get better. He wants a bath, now. Stop the overprotective act." Ken snapped. Aya nodded at his words. Ken could see right through Yohji and was saying something along the lines of what Aya would like to say.

"You haven't even been in his general area for the past week. Just give him some time, okay?" Ken argued, shifting the focus to Yohji's ignorance of him. Aya had felt a bit of anger build up at Ken. Like Ken knew that time healed all and would work on Aya too. Ken was in no position to tell anyone about Aya's state of being. Especially Yohji, who should be dropping dead soon if Aya had his way. Aya blinked, silence in the hallway. Had they walked away from the door? Yohji hadn't returned anything to Ken's comment. There was a thud, likely of something being kicked as Yohji pouted, stomping off down the hall. Aya closed his eyes and relaxed his body, letting himself sink into the warm softness of Yohji's bed. He was the picture of a sickly, weak patient.

The door opened and Aya listened to Ken's steps as he made his way to Aya's bed. There was a silence as Aya felt the weight of a hand on his chest. He couldn't help his eyes flying open and flinching away, knocking Ken's hand away. For one brief moment, Aya had forgotten that this was Yohji's bed in their home and this was his trusted friend, Ken. Instead, it had been someone touching him, which would develop into something more. Aya realized he had curled up defensively on the bed, panting lightly around his ribs.

"Aya, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I totally forgot about the touching thing, I'm so sorry." Ken started apologizing, backing away from the bed to give Aya room. He was sincere in feeling sorry, but the way he had phrased it make Aya angry. `Touching thing?' How dare he put it into words like that. Ken would never understand the pure terror of physical contact, because for Aya it meant that he would be…used, like that again.

"It's all right." Aya grated, even though it wasn't. He'd much prefer to be alone right now, to think about things. Ken looked relieved at Aya's forgiveness and sighed, putting a hand over his chest as he slumped. Had it really been that tense for him? Aya didn't feel any regret, the pressure of Ken's hand still tingling on his chest.

"Well, you ready for a bath?" Ken asked, like he was speaking with a pet, if he could of, Aya would have punched Ken by now. He was touching Aya all over like he was some kind of toy and speaking down to him. It made Aya feel like he had lost some of the respect they had for him. They all saw him as weak and vulnerable now.

Aya didn't answer Ken, because if he did, it would likely turn into something he'd regret. So, Aya just nodded and started to throw off the covers. Started to, because the sheets and comforter were suddenly much heavier then Aya had remembered. Ken stayed back, allowing Aya to struggle and peel back the heavy sheets by himself. He knew that if Ken had tried to help, Aya would likely kill him, but with Ken just sanding back, Aya felt like he was just watching his miserable attempt to get out of bed and laughing. God, it was so humiliating.

Aya managed to get the covers down to his waist before sitting up and looking at Ken. Aya was making it look like that was as much as he had meant to do. In reality, his breath was starting to thin with the effort.

"Can I help you now?" Ken asked. They both knew that there was no way Aya was going to get the bathroom on his own. Aya still appreciated Ken asking to touch him. It was more then Yohji had ever done. Aya nodded his consent to Ken.

Ken moved forward and very slowly put his arm around Aya's shoulders, like he was a wild animal that might try to bolt. It wasn't too far off, because Aya couldn't stop his body from stiffening and trying to jerk away. Ken froze like Aya was going to cough up blood, not moving his arm. It took a long, shuddering breath and Aya closing his eyes before he told himself it was Ken and he didn't want that.

Seeing that Aya was calm, at least as calm as he could be with his jaws clenched and his good hand in a tight fist, Ken pushed the covers down on Aya's legs. He hauled Aya's body across the bed before allowing Aya's feet to thud to the floor. Aya's ankle was jolted in the thick bandages and he ground his teeth together to keep from making a noise.

"Ready?" Ken asked, pulling Aya's left arm over his shoulders. Aya nodded and Ken put an arm around Aya's waist. Ken stood up slowly, hauling Aya along with him. Aya's weight settled on his feet and he swayed for a moment, his knees trembling.

"You okay?" Ken asked, full of concern. Aya straightened up despite the shooting pain in the small of his back and the feeling of his insides tightening, the stitches rubbing him on the inside of his anus. Ken sighed exasperated knowing that Aya was standing on pride alone.

"Here we go." Ken announced, sounding like he'd rather not make Aya walk. Aya grabbed a bit of Ken's shirt with the hand over Ken's shoulder so he could hold himself up as he took one sliding step with his right foot, concentrating on making the knee bend. Ken took a step to match and Aya limped forward, dragging the broken foot along with his body.

It was by the process of one painful step followed by a pathetic hop to favor his foot that Aya and Ken made it to the bedroom door. Aya was already sweating, his mouth open as they continued into the hallway, unable to keep his breath from hitching anymore when his lame foot hit the ground.

"This is stupid. I'm gonna carry you." Ken snapped, leaning forward to hook an arm under Aya's legs. Aya couldn't help falling forward with him, mainly because his arm around Ken's shoulders and the grip on his shirt was the only thing keeping Aya standing.

"Don't you dare," Aya hissed, grabbing at Ken's hair. He was not about to be carried around like a sack of potatoes. Aya looked down the hallway to the bathroom, only one door down. It wasn't far at all. He could make it. If Ken would stop trying to hold him back. Aya gripped his hair tighter, making Ken's hands fly up toward his head.

"Ow! Ow! Okay, let go!" Ken conceded, standing back up. Aya let his hand drop back down around Ken's neck, gaining back that support he desperately needed. He'd much rather walk on his own, but Aya knew that it would mean falling flat on his face. That would be much worse then bearing Ken's touch for a bit longer.

"Christ Aya, you don't have to push yourself!" Ken swore irritably, looking down at Aya's face. Aya shook his head and took another trembling step, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He was going to make it to the bathroom on his own two feet. Even if Ken was already hauling him along with him, Aya wouldn't debase himself by being carried like a woman. He wouldn't allow Ken to treat him like that. Because that would mean that Ken would look down at him, knowing that Aya was much weaker and vulnerable.

"Aya!" Ken shouted, reaching up and grabbing Aya's wrist as he lost his footing. Aya sagged, his muscles trembling and his knees bending against his will. Aya surged up by force of will alone, demanding that his body obey him. Ken was obviously unimpressed, more upset that Aya wasn't accepting the help that was being offered.

They made it into the bathroom by some miracle, Ken cursing the whole time about Aya's stubbornness. Ken transferred Aya to the towel rack, letting him stand up by locking his knees and gripping the bar so he could hold some of his weight off of his feet.

"You want it warm?" Ken asked, playing with the handles in the bathtub. Aya panted for a moment, just staring at the wall. He was concentrating on making the world stop spinning. Ken's voice broke through the exhausted haze and Aya glanced over. Ken was staring at him, pausing in the process of plugging the drain.

"Hot." Aya demanded. Ken rolled his eyes at the bravado, knowing that the only reason Aya was standing was because he was too proud to fall down in front of Ken. The water started to fill the tub, Ken throwing in a bit of liquid soap.

"Ready for a nice bubble bath?" Ken hummed, letting the water mix the solution in a foamy, white mound of bubbles. Aya glared, a step away from Ken but unable to tear his head off. Ken just looked amused and stood up, moving into Aya's personal space. Aya stared levelly at him, wishing that Ken would just leave.

"Do you want some help with your clothes?" Ken offered. Aya most profoundly did not want help. Eating glass would be more pleasant that accepting Ken's help. But unbuttoning and untying clothing had been easier when all his fingers worked and he could bend at the middle. Now stripping down was a daunting task.

Aya nodded, stopping his body from shuddering when Ken put his hands above Aya's hips. Ken gathered up the hem of the t-shirt better than Aya could have ever hoped to do with his broken fingers. Ken hesitated, checking Aya's face.

"Can you let go of the rack?" Ken asked, stopping with the shirt lifted up only a few inches. All he was showing was a small amount of his stomach, but Aya wanted to push Ken away and pull it down. He already felt exposed and a bit of anxiety about being naked from the waist up in front of another man. Even if it was Ken.

Aya reminded himself that it was just Ken. Teammate. Roommate. Just a mate. Was he starting to panic? No, he was just taking a bath. He wasn't afraid. He couldn't be scared of a friend. That was just ridiculous.

"Aya? Arms up." Ken ordered. Aya blinked at his face, realizing that Ken was still waiting for him to help with the undressing. Aya forced his fingers to uncurl around the bar, revolving on his feet to help Ken lift the shirt up over his head. Ken was very careful, making sure he didn't get Aya's head stuck.

The shirt covered his face for a moment and Aya thought for one brief moment Ken was going to blindfold him. He shook his arms, trying to get the fabric off of his face. He had never wanted his shirt off more then right now. He didn't want to be blind.

"Calm down Aya." Ken's voice reassured him before the shirt was tugged over his head and off his arms. Aya stared, breathing heavily, not letting his gaze drift from Ken's eyes, cause he knew if he didn't keep Ken's face in focus, he'd start screaming for Yohji to help him.

Aya froze, not offering a single complaint when Ken started to work at the drawstring of the pajamas. Why had he just thought of Yohji? He hated him. Yohji needed to rot in hell. Aya wanted Yohji to die a painful death. Why had Yohji been the person to come to mind when Aya was starting to panic? Yohji couldn't care less about his well being, and Aya returned the feelings tenfold.

"Fuck him!" Aya snarled, angry with Yohji for entering his private thoughts. Ken looked up from the waistband, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Fuck who?" Ken asked. Aya had half a mind to yell `Not me' and try running. God, when he felt the waist drop from over his hips, Aya thought he would start screaming. It didn't matter that it was only Ken and that he still had his boxers on. He didn't recognize Ken at the moment, only the fact that a man was undressing him. Ken glanced up at Aya's face, realizing what Aya must think he was trying to do.

"Don't worry Aya. I've got Omi for that." Ken assured, grabbing a towel from off the rack from behind Aya. Aya couldn't help it as the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He might really be going hysterical. But Ken's insensitive comment let Aya feel a bit protected. Ken was trying to tell him that he could feel safe, if only because Ken was uninterested.

"Can you hold it up?" Ken asked, wrapping the towel around Aya's middle. Aya nodded, feeling acid in the back of his throat. The water sounded much louder then Aya could remember as he buried his good hand in the fluffy white towel. Ken reached under the drape of the towel and very gently tugged the boxers down, letting them pool around Aya's ankles along with the pants.

"Okay, you ready?" Ken inquired again. Aya nodded and let Ken help him to the bathtub, taking the same weak, limping steps while holding the towel tight around his waist. They made it to the tub and Aya looked down at the curved tile, realizing how tall the bathtub really was.

Ken held up Aya's weight while he lifted one leg over the edge of the bathtub. Aya stood there, swaying on his feet, one leg submerged in ankle deep water, his bad hand on Ken's shoulder for support. Gingerly Aya got the other leg in the bath and stood awkwardly, Ken calmly looking on.

"Could you turn around?" Aya made it into an order, irritated that Ken hadn't averted his eyes already. He wasn't a strip show. Ken looked a little offended, but did so anyways, his back now facing Aya.

He'd never admit how relieved he was that Ken was no longer staring at him. Aya unwrapped the towel and tossed it onto Ken's shoulder. Ken grunted at being used as a stand, but said nothing. Letting his feet slide, Aya put his hand on the wall of the bath and in a very controlled fall, he sank onto the bubbling water. Soap covered up his body and Aya slid until he was waist deep in the warm water.

"I'm going to be outside in the hall. You can call me if you need anything or want to get out." Ken informed him, not turning around. Aya didn't say anything, much preferring to let the water soak his skin.

The door closed and Aya was left alone with the toiletries. Aya sagged into the bath in relief. He liked being alone, especially if he was naked. He glanced down, gazing at the pattern the bubbles were making on the surface of the water. Aya was glad he couldn't see through the bubbles. He didn't like to look at himself, covered with scabs and red lines. All he saw when he looked at his body were reminders of what he had done.

Leaning forward, Aya turned the cold water off. Immediately his feet began to sting with the hot water rushing into the tub, heating up the slightly warm tub Ken had left him with. Aya wanted it hot. He wanted to scald off a few layers of skin. He wanted to burn away the fleeting sensations of hands on the inside of his thighs.

Suddenly reminded of people toughing him, using him, Aya felt vomit rise up. He would probably throw up. That was the main reason why he didn't eat anymore. He just couldn't keep it down, much less swallow in the first place. Food going down his throat made him think of other things that had been shoved down without his consent.

Aya shuddered and reached out blindly. His skin was starting to tighten with the heat of the water. Aya raised the bar of soap up, studying the small bubbles on the surface of the white square. Aya allowed his shoulders to slide down under the water, making his bruised knees emerge out. It was embarrassing, humiliating. He wasn't allowed to bathe without someone standing outside the door in case he needed help. Aya didn't need their help. He wasn't going to drown in a bathtub. Everyone else seemed to think it was a real possibility these days.

Aya's hands wrapped around a loafa, Omi's personal item. He began to scrub at his skin, trying to get it to stop remembering touches from other people. Once his skin was a bright pink and his fingertips were wrinkled, Aya could calm himself down. He panted, raising his hands up out of the water. He had torn off strips of healing skin from his wrists, making little trails of red down his arm. Aya moaned at the damage, wishing he hadn't scrubbed so hard. But his skin was burning and tingling all over instead of feeling phantom caresses from his memory.

Aya relaxed into the hot water, steam condensing all the walls. He let his eyes close and let his head fall under the water. Aya stayed like that until his breath started to burn in his lungs and he broke though the water, taking a deep breath of air. It was nice and calming. The heat of the water was lulling him to sleep. Aya let his eyes flutter closed, for once not thinking of anything but just simply taking pleasure in finally getting clean.

"Aya?" Ken's voice interrupted his bath. Ken had poked his head in the barely open door. Aya wondered of he had been in the bath for that long. He must have been longer then he had originally thought, because Ken sounded worried. Probably thought he had tried to commit suicide in a foot of water. The water was so warm, making his skin feel numb around his muscles.

"Are you ready to get out?" Ken asked, obviously concerned, but not entering in the bathroom yet. Aya let one hand rise up out of the water, soap dripping down his wrist to his elbow. His body was numb, beyond feeling the remembered touches, beyond every thinking again. His brain was swelling inside his skull with the heat, making his eyes feel heavy as they tried to droop close.

"Yeah." Aya drawled, too tired to tell Ken to go to hell for barging in on him. He might just fall asleep right now. The bedroom was so impossibly far away. It wouldn't be that bad, to sleep in the water until it turned cold and icy. Maybe it would freeze him. That could be nice, just a human icicle, frozen away from everyone. Aya liked the idea of being alone for a long, long time.

Ken pushed open the door and Aya looked at him, unable to glare or smile or even mouth out `hello.' Ken didn't move toward him, perhaps a bit confused that his head was still attached. Everyone seemed to think that the only way Aya would associate with them was if it was to be mean. He wasn't an asshole. It was just easier to have everyone mad, because he knew what would happen next.

"I'm not an asshole," Aya told Ken. Ken's mouth opened a bit then closed, one eye narrowing more then the other. Aya looked forward, studying the hot and cold handles of the bath. Ken made a confused noise, not really knowing how to respond. That was all right. Aya just wanted Ken to know that he wasn't completely emotionless. He had a lot of emotions, a whole ton of them.

"Are you okay?" Ken asked, very slowly. Ken was at an obvious loss of words. It was nice that he was concerned though. Aya's eyes closed on him and his chin dipped toward his chest before Aya jerked it up again, making the world spin. Maybe he had misjudged how long he had been in the bath, because he was so warm and tired. Aya's body started to slide down into the water and he closed his eyes, thinking it would be nice to get his hair wet.

The next thing he knew, Ken had him on floor of the bathroom, several bath towels thrown over his body. His feet were still dangling on the edge of the tub, making his legs suspend in the air until they reached his body. Ken was trying to make order of his limbs, dragging the rest of Aya's body out of the bath until he was in a small pile on the floor, the cold tile slick with water from his body. He looked at Ken, a bit confused until he realized he must have passed out in the tub.

"Get off me! Shit," Aya cursed, shoving Ken away. Ken was crouched on the floor and was easily sent onto his back by Aya's weak push. Oh, Aya was angry. He couldn't stop the anger at fainting like some woman, just how they all thought he would. It stung more that everyone had said it would happen then anything else. His body didn't obey him, the headache was throbbing in mockery of him, and Ken was sitting up, glaring at Aya.

"Stop staring! This isn't a fucking peep show," Aya snarled, lifting up the towels to try and cover himself better. A towel slipped, making his bruised and scabbed hip visible to the whole world. Aya stared down at his own white skin, the edges of his vision blurring around the sharp red lines left by fingernails in his skin.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Aya, get off it!" Ken replied angrily, pushing himself back up on the floor. Aya got a towel securely around his waist, his breathing starting to quicken. He couldn't deal with this, not right now. He was still dripping wet, soap starting to sting his eyes, and Ken wouldn't give him the decency to turn around so he could dry off.

"Where do you get off, huh? You almost drowned, you could at least say, `Gee, Ken, thanks for saving my sorry ass!' but, no, you just go on about yourself. Christ," Ken cursed, standing up. He was mad, rightfully so, but Ken's tantrum didn't quite size up to Aya's frustration and anger. It just wasn't fair. Aya didn't know why it wasn't fair or if there was anything to judge fairness on in this situation, but he flat out didn't deserve this.

Ken stepped forward, to help him up or to hit him, Aya didn't know, but he winced away all the same, preparing for a blow. He knew it would happen. Ken was pissed enough to do it. Aya had been hit enough to expect it. Nothing followed immediately, and Aya made a fist in the white, fluffy towels, several fingers refusing to curl up.

"Never mind, Aya. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled, okay?" Ken was apologizing. It was confusing, differing from the usual pattern. People didn't apologize for yelling at him, people beat Aya up for talking back to them. Aya took a breath, one that shuddered in his lungs and did little to calm himself down.

"Its . . . It's okay," Aya had a hard time getting the words out. It was what needed to be said, however much Aya didn't think anything would ever be fine and dandy again. He fainted in the bathtub, he cowered away from verbal arguments. Aya was far from being `better,' just like Yohji said. Aya sniffed, water dripping into his eyes and the corners of his mouth. When he had healed a bit more, at least physically, Yohji was going to get a two by four to the face.

"Can I help you up?" Ken asked hesitantly, doubting how much Aya trusted him now. Aya double-checked the towel around his waist, heisting it up a bit just in case, then nodded. Ken took an elbow and his upper arm, gently hauling Aya up onto his own feet. Aya staggered, one foot refusing to support him, and fell against Ken's locked arms, standing by the grip on his arms alone. It was humiliating.

Ken shifted Aya to the sink, letting him lean against the counter. Ken quickly dropped the lid on the toilet and threw a towel over it, smoothing out the terry cloth on the seat. Aya started to move toward it, refusing to be helped for a distance only several feet. Ken backed up, giving him a wide enough birth to use the sink counter as a crutch. Making a slow, limping progress, one hand on the sink and the other around the towel, Aya fell heavily onto the toilet.

Aya hissed immediately, forgetting the stitches. He leaned forward, hunching over his knees as his vision swam. His jaw was shaking and for a moment Aya thought he would throw up. His cheeks hollowed out and he swallowed painfully, trying to keep his body under his control. A hand touched his back, rubbing out a soothing circle over his spine. Aya heaved before he could stop it, clenching his teeth and wincing at the acid burning the back of his tender throat.

Ken's hand stopped, lifting away from his skin, realizing that Aya didn't receive the same comfort from being touched as most people did. Aya breathed through his nostrils, praying that Ken would just stop trying to comfort him and make everything better and just help him dry off. Aya wanted the comfort of Yohji's bed, the familiar smell of the room.

A towel hit Aya's face and Ken began to briskly rub down his hair, making his head shake on his neck. Aya silently endured it, staring down between his knees to his feet. Why was it always Yohji? It was all he could think of, just Yohji and all of his appalling habits, everything that Aya hated embodied in one person, Yohji's face when he first noticed Aya on the back porch. I hate him, Aya reminded himself. There was no reason to wonder why Yohji cared so much, why he worried constantly about Aya's state of health, why he was the one who always watched over Aya, even if it meant not eating or sleeping. Ridiculous.

Ken began to wipe down Aya's back, obviously not expecting any help. It was degrading, being treated like a child who couldn't be trusted to dry off. However, it would have taken far longer to dry off by himself, so Aya bore it like a man. So he hoped. Ken lifted up one of Aya's arms, brushing off his underarms. Aya resisted for a moment, pulling at Ken's grip, but the move was so weak it was doubtful if Ken even noticed. Aya wasn't going to say anything to bring attention to his feeble struggles. It would be better to sit there in silence then let Ken know just how wretched he was right now.

As Ken began to dry off his middle, Aya felt that dehabiliating numbness that had come over him in the bath return. He wanted to be alert, he wanted to be able to flinch away as Ken darted over his lower stomach, gingerly avoiding his groin, but Aya's head started to loll about beyond his control. He couldn't stop his eyes drifting down and had to keep jerking his head back up. As Ken finished up drying his legs, Aya determined it was a loosing battle to try and stay away.

"Aya? Aya, wake up a bit," Ken called distantly. I'm trying, Aya told Ken. He wasn't sure if he managed to voice it, his throat trying to go to sleep with the rest of his body. Whatever Ken said next was lost as Aya slumped forward onto Ken's shoulder.

* * *

"We should call Doctor Nomura again," Omi announced after he tucked Aya securely into Yohji's bed, smoothing the bed sheets down over Aya's body. After fainting, Ken had the distinctive pleasure of hauling Aya's deadweight back to bed. Aya was still very light, painfully thin and easy to carry. It hurt Ken to see Aya like this. As a friend, he should have noticed Aya's health deteriorating. As a roommate he should have noticed Aya was on the verge of dying from starvation.

"It's all right, I think he just turned the water on too hot," Ken figured. The heat of the water had scalded his hands when he had pulled Aya out from the bath. Aya's skin had still been rosy, his neck white above the line left by the water level. Ken had worried for a split second that Aya had baked his brain out right after Aya had mumbled something about being an asshole. Ken had never expected Aya to admit to it, at least, not naked in the bath.

"You sure we don't need to call?" Omi asked, very concerned. Ken was beginning to regret carrying Aya out the hall without looking first, because Omi had seen him and immediately began to nurse Aya, ordering Ken to put Aya in the bed like this, because that way would be uncomfortable. Omi's worrying was enough to drive Ken nuts.

"Just give him a few hours, okay?" Ken didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did, but sometimes Omi's concern rubbed Ken the wrong way. It wasn't like he didn't know how to take care of an unconscious person. Lord knew he had plenty of practice over the years. Omi looked up from Aya, his face darkening a bit.

"Maybe someone else needs a few hours too," Omi snapped, uncharacteristically short of temper. Ken blinked, more then a bit shocked at Omi's attitude. Omi pushed up from the bed and started to walk smartly past Ken, his feet very loud on the floor.

"What is this all about?" Ken demanded, following Omi out into the hallway. Omi swirled around as Ken closed the door tightly. He didn't want Aya to hear any of this, not when he was trying to sleep. It vaguely felt like the argument Ken's parents used to have right outside his door, believing that their son couldn't hear them through the wall.

"What is it about? Are you serious?" Omi laughed. Obviously, Ken was missing something. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong yet, and Omi was getting even angrier for him not knowing it. Only Omi knew what had crawled up his butt right now.

"Yeah, I'm serious! What are you getting mad about?" Omi stared at Ken like he expected it to be a joke. Ken didn't move from outside Aya's door. He wasn't going anywhere until Omi calmed down enough to tell him what was wrong. It was uncomfortable with Omi raging at him for something he had done. What Ken had done was beyond him. His stomach was tightening a bit with nervousness, wondering if maybe Omi wanted to break up or the like. Ken's luck with relationships seemed to run toward bad endings, usually involving someone dead. Omi wasn't dead, but he was pissed as a cat.

"I can't believe you!" Omi yelled, slamming one foot down on the ground for emphasis. "You just . . . five seconds ago . . .!" Omi couldn't work out the words, too angry to even speak. He just ended up yelling something short and incomprehensible before turning around on his heel.

"Omi, wait, we're not done here," Ken ordered, getting angry himself. He wasn't about to sit back and let someone yell at him for something he didn't even know he did. Omi looked back over his shoulder, his hair curling into his eyes. Ken was ready to tackle Omi and demand that he told him what was wrong right now. Ken didn't care if Omi had to get a pen and paper and draw it out. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

"Yes, we are!" Omi decided for both of them, heading down the stairs. Ken was frozen for a moment, confused and frustrated. Where was Omi coming from? This was a relationship; goddamn it, and he didn't have the right to yell at him for no reason. Ken followed Omi, half jogging down the stairs. This was going to turn into an abuse relationship very quickly unless Omi stopped acting like a child.

"Don't follow me! I don't want to talk to you!" Omi yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Like Ken was going to listen anything he said now. Ken ran down the rest of the stairs in time to see Omi stomp into the living room, trying his best to avoid Ken in their own home.

"Omi! Omi, come back here," Ken yelled, checking into the living room. Omi was glaring at him, the coffee table between them. Omi had a magazine in one hand, like he was going to pretend to read it and ignore Ken. The frustration was turning into aggravation, mainly because Omi was acting like a five year old.

"Omi, sit down and tell me what the hell is going on," Ken demanded. Immediately a magazine hit Ken in the face. Ken's muscles became so tense his neck shook. He would never hit Omi, wouldn't do anything physically to ever hurt Omi, but getting a publication in the head pushed his limits. Omi was still in the position of throwing the magazine, breathing hard with anger.

"You are so . . .!" Omi didn't finish, just trailed off with anger. Ken didn't know if he should be happy or mad that Omi didn't say the rest. Omi fists clenched and he reached down for another magazine. Ken wasn't going to sit back and let Omi throw things at him. He rushed forward and grabbed Omi's wrist painfully in one hand before it even touched the table.

"We are going to talk. Now," Ken hissed. Threats weren't his style, but he was definitely close to it. Omi grabbed Ken's forearm with his other hand and spun very quickly, making Ken lose his balance and fall seat first onto the couch. He let go of Omi's wrist in the fall, keeping himself up right by slamming his palms into the cushion. At least Omi had the grace not to throw him onto the coffee table. Aya loved the cherry wood finish and would kill them both if it was so much as scratched, much less smashed.

"No, we aren't! Not until you stop being irresponsible!" Omi spat at Ken, kicking the couch in emphasis. Ken put a hand to his head. 1. 2 . . . 3- Never mind. He couldn't count right now. Omi was glaring down at him, his hands in little fists at his sides. Ken's patience snapped, completely gone.

"What are you talking about?!" Ken roared, making Omi take a step back in shock. Then, Omi shook his head and fixed his stance, squaring up his shoulders and tossing his head in anger.

"You won't call Doctor Nomura because you don't want to admit you turned the water on too hot for Aya!" Omi's skills of deduction were giving Ken a headache. It was kind of funny how Omi had followed the line back to `Ken must have messed up,' not `Aya is messed up.' He couldn't help it, he just laughed right in the face of Omi's accusation.

"That's it? That's what you think happened?" Ken kept on laughing. Omi visibly wilted, thrown off from the trail he had made. His gaze turned inward, Omi's brows coming together as he tried to puzzle it out. Ken kept laughing, so hard tears were coming to his eyes. It was such a relief that Omi was mad at him for the wrong reason. Ken had thought he had been in serious trouble.

"Ken-kun?" Omi asked, his voice small and apologetic. They were already back to pet names. Ken wheezed, wiping his mouth with his hand. Omi looked absolutely pathetic, compared to that fit of anger he had been in only moments before.

"Omi, Aya turned the hot water on the second I left the bathroom. I just thought that since it wasn't really that big of deal, he wouldn't want his beloved doctors to know about it," Ken explained. Omi blushed, immediately embarrassed. He should feel guilty for jumping to conclusions like that. Ken put his arms up behind his head, feeling smug.

"Oh. Oh! Ken-kun, I'm sorry, I . . . I wasn't thinking," Omi apologized. Ken had to appreciate someone who could admit they were wrong right off the bat. Ken wouldn't admit to being wrong, at least not until a few hours after. Omi looked miserable, putting one hand around his waist.

"It's okay, just don't go off like that again, okay?" Ken requested. He really didn't care about the apology, since the whole fight had been ridiculous anyway. Omi nodded, silently promising to never fight again. Ken would never ask Omi to not fight with him. It would be impossible in the first place, and Ken didn't think he could stand a relationship without a few healthy spats along the way.

"Can . . . Can I make it up to you?" Omi asked, already looking for something to please Ken with. Omi was going to make a great housewife, always ready to cook or clean problems way. He took two hesitant steps toward the couch, obviously embarrassed to be in Ken's presence.

"Omi, the house is already spotless and I'm not hungry. Don't worry about it," Ken waved Omi's offer away. Omi took another small step and knelt down in front of Ken, right between his open legs. Ken blinked, a bit confused. Omi put one hand down on the top of Ken's right thigh, his fingers tickling the skin underneath the jeans.

"I don't mean . . . like that," Omi drawled, blinking up at Ken. Oh. Omi meant to make it up with something a little different then what Ken had originally thought. The hand on his leg moved upward, right to the fly of the pants. Ken's hands dropped from around his head, the gears in his brain starting to move.

"Wait, right here? What about Yohji?" Ken didn't want Yohji to find them here. It was the couch, for crying out loud! Didn't Omi want a bed or something? Okay, Ken admitted to himself, it wasn't like he had the patience to get to a flat, comfortable surface most of the time. Omi unzipped Ken's jeans, looking up at him.

"Yohji-kun went out while you were giving Aya-kun a bath. He's probably going to go drinking," Omi provided. Okay, Yohji was gone for the better part of the day. Aya was still unconscious, and even if he did get out of bed, they'd hear him fall down the stairs long before he could get into the living room. No worries. Ken nodded his head excitedly, more then turned off if Omi wanted to take the lead. It wasn't like Ken had to be in control all the time. It was just that Ken usually got aroused first.

"Come on up," Ken offered, grabbing at Omi's arms as he pulled apart the opening on the pants. Omi gently shook loose of Ken's hands, smiling up at him. Ken was sure one lucky guy. He always felt a surge of adoration for Omi, and contentment that he was all his own. Ken knew that he would be jealous as hell if anyone else had gotten Omi first. It was times like these that Ken wondered why he hadn't moved in on Omi sooner.

"I'm fine here," Omi countered, spreading the opening of Ken's boxers. Ken blinked, then his mouth opened wordlessly as he realized what Omi meant to do. Oh, God. He would be trembling with excitement if he let himself go. He had never even imagined in a million years that cute, innocent little Omi would have the slightest clue about a blowjob.

Ken was pretty sure that Omi, being the semi-virgin only a few weeks ago, wouldn't really know how to go about it. Omi was staring down at Ken's groin with such intensity he shifted his seat. It was a different thing to have someone you love stare at the penis from three inches away. Omi's hands were still locked on the hem of his boxers. Ken wondered how uncomfortable it would be if Omi backed away right now, because he was already starting to come to life, twitching uncomfortable so.

Omi took a deep breath, steadying himself. Then, the tips of his smooth, cold fingers touched Ken, hesitantly wrapping around his shaft with as much finesse as if it were a hose. Ken wasn't really concerned about technique at this point. The mere thrill of Omi having enough initiative to try it himself was keeping Ken shut up. It was almost uncomfortable, the feeling of Omi's hands beginning to warm up to his body heat.

Omi's thumb brushed over the sensitive tip experimentally. Ken bit his lower lip, not about to embarrass himself by gasping out loud. Omi didn't look up at Ken's discomfort, likely more then a bit self-conscious at the moment. Omi kneaded him hesitantly, his movements become a little more fluid with time. One hand dipped down to the base, gently working his balls. For a moment Ken wondered if he had been totally off base by thinking blowjob, not hand job.

Then, Omi took a deep breath and just . . . opened his mouth, taking Ken in as deep as his mouth would allow. Ken shuddered, not really expecting such a bold move, but the warm, wet pressure was Omi's mouth was more then enough to make up for it. He put one hand in Omi's hair, needing something to hold onto. He made certain not to just hold Omi's head still and start pumping, because that would more then likely make Omi averse to ever doing this again. That would not be a good thing, Ken decided, feeling the back of Omi's throat.

Omi drew his head back, running his lips along the rough, rigid skin, his mouth making a slick vacuum. His lips slipped a bit, letting his teeth scrape briskly on the top and bottom. Ken grunted, digging one hand into the couch cushion. It wasn't offering much purchase, so Ken had to settle with throwing his head back over the couch. What was no longer in Omi's mouth was hyper sensitive, the cold air conditioning on the wet skin making his balls tighten.

Omi dropped Ken out of his mouth, kissing the bobbing head lightly. Ken moaned encouragement, not trusting himself to speak. He must have done something good, because Karma was giving him the best blowjob of his life. Omi swallowed Ken as far as he could, not able to take the whole length in his mouth. Ken didn't really care about Omi attempting a deep throat, as long as he didn't stop sucking on him.

"Hey guys, sorry, I forgot my wallet," Yohji said from the doorway, making Omi jerk back in surprise, biting the tip of Ken's head. Ken yelped, half in pain, and ending up releasing all over the couch, a sticky mess right between his legs. Yohji picked up his wallet from on top of the coffee table, blowing a stream of smoke over their heads, not even blinking.

"Okay, now I'm gone for the rest of the day, don't call me," Yohji ordered over his shoulder as he walked back out, completely ignoring Ken and Omi's obvious embarrassment. Ken closed his eyes and moaned, desperately wishing for a hole to die in so he would never have to see Yohji again. Omi was staring down at the cum like it was vomit, his face white.

They were both silent, humiliated beyond talking. Ken couldn't think of anything to say. Nice job Omi, hope Yohji liked it too. He stared at the back of his eyelids, wondering how long he could make the blackness last. A hand ran along the inside of his thigh, making him sigh and look into Omi's flushed face, his embarrassment mirrored right back at him.

"This . . . isn't really the time, but Aya-kun's going to kill us if it stains," Omi warned Ken slowly, his voice unsteady with humiliation. Ken looked down at his own mess, wondering if there was possibly a rewind button for time. He couldn't help feeling a bit indignant at Omi. `Yohji-kun went out' his ass.

* * *

Yohji fumbled with the lock. His key was the right one, this time he was sure of it. Turning the key hadn't ever been this hard. Finally, the door clicked and it opened up. Yohji stumbled in, the door no longer providing something to lean against. He struggled again until the key finally came out of the lock. His fingers slipped and they fell to the ground, impossibly far away. They were inside the door, so Yohji figured it would be all right to just close the door.

The house was completely dark, not a single light on. Yohji couldn't make out the green analog on the microwave as his body pitched forward, even though Yohji had been certain he was standing absolutely still. He caught himself by crossing one foot over the other clumsily until the wall stopped him. Yohji burped, his head rolling on his neck. He smiled as he kicked off his shoes, very content with his latest binge drinking.

He had to use the walls to steady himself, occasionally falling against things heavily. Yohji knew he shouldn't be this unbalanced, because he really hadn't drunk much at all. He was sure that before he had lost count, it had only been half a dozen shots and several colored drinks. He thought. There might have been a beer or two and a needle in between the fuzzy splotches of Yohji's memory.

Yohji put one step on the stairs and tripped, his foot on the edge of the raised flight of steps. He caught himself by grabbing the banister and throwing a hand out, standing up only because the stairway wasn't a completely flat surface. Yohji groaned and crawled slowly up the stairs, using the banister to take it one step at a time. Yohji wondered why they had so many stairs right now. It was only up to the second floor, but he was sure that there were more steps then he remembered, with the floor curling and moving underneath his feet.

Finally, the steady hardwood floor of the hallway peeked out over the top of the stairs, a flat, level area that wouldn't cause Yohji as much grief. He took a step and held it, trying to get his balance. Yohji lost it, falling forward, so he staggered the rest of the way, occasionally reaching out with his hand to hold onto the wall. His door was closed, of course. Yohji didn't like doors anymore as his numb fingers slipped on the knob.

Yohji at length managed to open the door and made a straight line to his own, comfy bed. It was too bad he hadn't picked anyone up at the bar . . . or was it bars? Regrets could come later he supposed, his head pounded and his vision going out again. It would be best to get to sleep before he stayed awake long enough to drink more. His mouth was dry and he did suddenly feel like a drink.

Thankfully, Yohji was already falling into his bed. The mattress gave in underneath him, Yohji not bothering with the small things like his socks or tight mesh shirt. His pants might have well of been painted on, so the struggle to get out of them was too daunting right now. Yohji sprawled out on the bed, grunting when his arm fell across a body.

So, he did bring someone home. Yohji couldn't remember their name. Nor letting them in the house. That didn't matter either, because Yohji nuzzled their neck like a natural, sucking and kissing, giving out little love nips. He was at the peak of sexual prowess, especially when alcohol made his muscles move like water. His partner moaned and curled up tight on the bed. Yohji wasn't about to let them get away with it, rubbing his hardening groin into what he hoped was their hip. Immediately someone yelled and the ceiling flashed by in a moment of clarity before Yohji hit the floor, jarring his aching head.

"What the hell?!" Yohji slurred, his words blurring together. He sat up heavily, throwing his arms over the edge of the bed to steady himself. In the darkness of his room, he could barely make out a fuzzy blob sitting up on the bed. Yohji crawled back on top of the covers, falling face first into the pillows.

Someone shoved at him and he grunted, well and fairly out of it. Sex wasn't so desirable anymore, the fall making his stomach churn. Again, he was shoved, so Yohji just swung out with his hand, batting away an arm like a fly. Didn't they get that he wanted to sleep one off? If they wanted to get it on, the other person should have been more accepting.

"Yohji, get out of here," Aya threatened, his voice ice cold. That sobered up Yohji enough to lift his head out of the pillows, staring blearily up at Aya's angry features in the dark. Yohji stuck his tongue out at him and sunk back into the pillows. It was his bed. What the hell was Aya doing in it anyways? Oh, wait . . . The whole injury thing. Yohji didn't want to move, so getting out of bed was going to be a problem. Aya would have to deal with it.

"I'm fine, here, `kay?" Yohji mumbled into the pillow. He vaguely remembered trying to avoid Aya. His brain chugged along, trying to remember exactly why he wasn't supposed to be in the same room with Aya right now. Nothing came to mind, so he buried his face deeper into the pillow, hoping that he could block Aya out well enough that it wouldn't bother them.

"What are you doing in here? Get out!" Aya demanded, his voice raising. The bass of Aya's voice vibrated Yohji's brain and he moaned in pain, flipping Aya off. Didn't the man ever stop bitching? Aya shoved at Yohji again, making his body rock in the mattress but doing little to dislodge him. Yohji burped, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his stomach. Aya wasn't helping things, shoving at his body rudely.

Yohji reached out blindly, catching Aya around the chest. He hugged Aya down to the bed, hearing an indignant grunt and then Aya's teeth grind sharply in the darkness. Yohji held him down, making sure that Aya wouldn't try to shove him again, before curling up against Aya as he would any lover. He was going to sleep in his own bed tonight, and Aya was going to have to accept it.

"Mmm, sorry, really sorry," Yohji apologized, though he wasn't quite sure what he was sorry for. He was willing to say anything right now if it meant Aya would shut up. There was a definitely awkward silence, but Yohji ignored it, snuggling into Aya's weak body heat. The blankets still separated him from completely spooning against Aya, so there really wasn't anything to worry about. Besides, he wanted to sleep.

"You should be," Aya growled at the man sprawled across his body. Yohji didn't respond, light snoring becoming louder. He had passed out, that much was clear by the way Yohji was reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. Aya tried to push Yohji off of him, but the dead weight didn't budge at all. Aya sighed, trying to shift out under Yohji. He wasn't sure how he'd manage to get to his own bed tonight.

God, there was nothing he could do except lay there. It was frustrating as all hell, and he couldn't do anything about it. Yohji had made himself as comfortable as he pleased, his breath heavy against Aya's ear. He'd kill him, Aya swore it. The minute he got his muscle mass back, Yohji would be out of the bed. The only reason why Aya had managed to shove Yohji off in the first place was because he was too drunk to stop from falling off.

Aya sniffed, closing his eyes. The blanket was between him, and Yohji was still wearing his clubbing outfit. That was probably uncomfortable to sleep in. Then Aya shook his head. Yohji deserved it. Aya hoped those ridiculously tight pants made him sterile. He was too angry to sleep. Besides, if he did sleep, there was probably a nightmare waiting for him. Aya twisted his head, staring at Yohji's uncomfortably close face.

It wasn't completely intolerable, Aya had to admit. Yohji was already warming up Aya's body, if nothing else. Aya didn't have that much fat to work up any kind of heat with, and though he had several sheets and a comforter, it did little more then keeping Aya lukewarm. Yohji's weight was producing heat like an oven, letting his chilled toes shift and warm as his body finally became cozy with Yohji's drunken carcass.

Maybe he could sleep, Aya thought lazily, already drifting off to sleep now that he wasn't shivering. He hadn't been this warm for a long time. Aya refused to ask for an electrical blanket or a heater in the room, not wanting to show another weakness to all of them. Yohji wouldn't even remember this in the morning, Aya thought smugly as he relaxed.

* * *

Ever since waking up with the world's worst hang over, Yohji had somehow managed to get back into Aya's good favors. Well, as good as Aya's favors ever got. It meant Yohji was on a one-syllable conversation level, which was better then nothing. Yohji got his visitation rights back to his room, so he did stay in there, if nothing else just to bug Aya.

He played cards on the bed stand, sometimes by himself, sometimes Aya would play. Aya hadn't known how to play poker, so Yohji had the pleasure of teaching Aya. That wasn't something he wanted to repeat. He had never been accused of cheating more in one hour then he had in his whole life. Once Aya got the hang of the game, things were a bit smoother.

Yohji passed the days slowly, filled with meaningless conversation. Aya didn't say anything back, so it nothing more then Yohji babbling about his childhood while Aya stared out the window. Aya never told him to shut up, so Yohji figured it was as good as it got with Aya. He smoked and drank, pretty much the only way he could stay sane and in the same room with Aya for the better part of a day. He ended up spending a week in his room, leaving only to sleep in Aya's bed. Yohji admitted that he couldn't wait for Aya to get out of his bed.

Yesterday, Doctor Nomura's visit concluded Aya `fit for light exercise and sitting upright for short periods of time.' Yohji had watched Aya's eyes go all hard when he got the medical okay, the smirk on his lips almost frightening with it's determination. Yohji had to call Omi in when the doctor and the secretary had left, because his words along weren't keeping Aya in bed. It took Yohji holding Aya down on the bed with Omi working up tears to get Aya to agree to just a small walk around the room and not try the stairs just yet.

"Oh, Lord," Yohji moaned helplessly as Aya roughly tossed the covers off his body. Aya glared at them, struggling up to one elbow, then to sitting up straight on the edge of the bed, his feet dangling over the bed. Aya had to catch his breath for a moment before he tried to stand.

"Aya-kun, please don't push yourself," Omi pleaded, shaking Yohji's arm. "Why don't you do anything?" Omi accused Yohji, like it was possible to do anything against Aya right now. The only thing Yohji was good for would be holding Aya down physically. That wouldn't be the best way to handle him right now. Aya didn't seem to appreciate bodily contact at all anymore, even more so when he was trying to prove just how tough he was.

"Like what?" Yohji snapped, squirming out of Omi's tense grip. Aya didn't look pleased at all with their conversation. Yohji wondered exactly what biting remark Aya was thinking of. Aya couldn't voice it, because getting his feet on the floor was taking all of Aya's concentration.

Yohji looked on, Omi making small worried gasps when Aya rose to his feet, swaying dangerously. Yohji didn't step forward. If he moved to help Aya, he'd more then likely get punched in the face. He doubted it would hurt much with Aya's strength what it was, but it was still something Yohji would like to avoid if possible. Aya would murder anyone who would assume he needed help now.

Aya staggered and steadied himself on his good foot. His head snapped up, sweat already glistening on his forehead and hairline. Omi froze up, getting the full attention of Aya's glare. With a snarl that would have been more in place on a murderer, Aya started a heavy circuit of Yohji's room. His left leg dragged gamely behind the rest of the body, only used to limp along the floor.

Yohji couldn't say a word, shocked as hell at Aya making it past the first step and pissed at himself for not forcing Aya to stop. This was only going to end up in further injury for Aya. The stubborn little prick deserved it for refusing to stop when he should. Omi looked horror-stricken, one hand fisting up the hem of his shirt in worry.

Aya made one full sweep of Yohji's walls, his hand trailing along the dresser and the walls to steady himself. Aya made it all the way to Yohji's bed and stopped, staring down at the mattress. The bed was in the way, but in Aya's exhausted state, it was too much to walk around without support. So, Aya detoured around the roadblock, turning right back and starting to painfully backtrack, his breathing heavy.

"Aya-kun, please, stop! Please, Doctor Nomura said only light exercise!" Omi sobbed, unable to stand silently as Aya forced his body to move. By the sweat gathering on Aya's forearms and his labored breathing, Yohji could tell that it was only pride holding Aya up. That fierce, irritating attitude that made Aya continue past the pain and piss everyone off in the process smacked Yohji in the face. All he could do was a make a fist at his side.

Aya repeated his path again, much slower then the first time. His steps were painful and limping even worse then before, Aya having to pause before hauling his broken ankle along with him. Aya was acting like Omi's pleas weren't worth answering, but Yohji knew it was really because Aya couldn't spare the words.

Aya made it all the way around again, resting at the bed stand, refusing to put a hand on it to steady his body. Aya stood up straight, thought he had to lean slightly to his right to keep the weight off the ankle. He leveled his eyes to Yohji's face, his gaze still as fierce as it had ever been.

"I can do more," Aya insisted before pitching forward. He wasn't going to make it to the bed. Yohji could see the nosedive starting. He lunged forward, only able to catch Aya by hooking an arm under his elbow and grabbing the waistband on the pants. Aya was out, his breathing already easing.

Yohji and Omi had gotten Aya back into the bed, Aya not even stirring to tell them not to touch his honored body. After a night of an unconscious night's rest, Aya had insisted on opening the shop today. Ken had laughed until tears came when Yohji had told him. He thought it was a joke until Aya shuffled in the door of the shop. The laughter stopped and Ken started to yell at Aya to get back in bed. All their arguments failed, because there they were, Omi and Yohji both standing over a young potted rose tree.

"Are you sure Aya-kun's up to it?" Omi asked Yohji again, as if five seconds might have changed Yohji's mind. Omi blinked up at Yohji, batting those huge lashes at him in a fit of worry. Omi was shifting from one foot to the other, gripping the garden shears tight to his chest. Yohji sighed at the boy worrying to death by his side, scratching at his hair in irritation.

"Omi, same as before," Yohji started, not bothering to hide his irritation. "I think he's going to fall flat on his ass, but I'd have to chain Aya to a solid fixture to keep him from work."

Omi sighed, disappointed in Yohji for not doing anything against Aya's wishes. Aya was checking some blooming flowers, frowning at the lack of impeccable care that only he could provide to his satisfaction. Aya was demanding onto the point of chronic tightening of the anus about floral care. Ken was hesitating over opening the door, the feet of the schoolgirls visible underneath the edge.

"Aya, you're not serious," Ken tried one last time. Yohji and Omi looked at Aya together. Aya straightened, pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen into his eye. He looked like a prince, arrogant and determined far more then he needed to be.

"Anytime you feel up to it," Aya remarked dryly. He made it sound like Ken was some kind of slacker. "Unless you're tired?" Aya quipped, looking hard at Omi. Ouch. Yohji winced at that one. Omi blushed, raising a hand to his face in embarrassment. Ken's mouth was open in shock that Aya had the gall to say something like that after they had been taking care of him hand and foot for the past two weeks.

"I hope you fall down," Ken hissed, throwing up the door. Immediately schoolgirls began to squeal in excitement, a whole mob of teenagers in various school uniforms. Other women were mixed in, varying from smart business suits to sun dresses, all of them not there for flowers. A few men were in the crowd as well, some of them fawning as much as the girls did.

"Good morning, girls!" Ken greeted cheerfully for giving a death wish to Aya only moments before. Shrieks of girls in ecstasy followed, the roar of conversation filling the store as the girls pushed past Ken, the bodies packing into the room close enough to give the fire sergeant a heart attack.

"Lucky! They're all here today!"

"Oh my god, it's Omi-kun!"

"Today is going to be super good!"

The usual cries and praises were dull and uninteresting. Yohji was more concerned about staying upright as he was suddenly pressed against, surrounded by his own personal fan club. Yohji and Omi were simultaneously mobbed by young girls and older women, all of them trying to be heard over the others and gazing fondly up at Yohji and down at Omi.

"Ladies, calm down, please. If you're over eighteen, I'm not going anywhere," Yohji promised. He couldn't help flirting. He loved the game, pretending to ignore the set of breasts shoved into his back. Half the fun was just playing around with them, the innocent hinting that wouldn't lead up anywhere.

"Oh, Aya-san! What happened?!" A girl screamed, very clear and loud over the roar of the other girls. Yohji looked up across the sea of girls, over the tops of their hair and heads until he spotted Aya. There was a small circle cleared around him, the girls learning long ago to give Aya personal space. A girl was standing closer to Aya then the rest, looking very shocked. Of course, talking began to soften, attention being drawn toward Aya.

"He's so skinny!"

"Was there an accident?"

"Look at his face!"

"All of those bandages . . ."

More of the customers were starting to stare at Aya like he was a sideshow, the girls noticing one of their precious flower shop boys was not in the prime of his health. Aya's face looked angry and dark to anyone who didn't know him. To Yohji, Aya looked terrified, scared and frightened with so many eyes on him at once. The girls started to close around Aya in worry, the bodies shifting to swallow Aya up from view.

"Get away from me!" Aya's panicked roar rang out in the shop, followed by a female scream. Someone had tried to touch him, Yohji just knew it. Yohji saw the very top of a distinctive red head fall down out of his vision behind the wall of girls.

"Aya! Move! Outta my way!" Yohji demanded, roughly shoving the crowd out of his path. He had to push through the crowd, shouldering aside the girls that didn't move fast enough. Some cried out, far to delicate to handle being shoved by a grown man. Yohji ignored them, bursting through the rabble until he found Aya.

Aya was on the floor, panting hard. His feet were sprawled in front of him, Aya's shoulders pressed into the shelves behind him, one pot smashed on the ground next to him. Aya's eyes were clenched tightly shut, his body trembling as the girls held back from him, just as scared.

Yohji just scooped Aya up like a child, ignoring the shoves and kicks that Aya attempted. Yohji got them away from the sight of the girls, making a path clear by his glare alone, until they were safely in the storage room. Yohji kicked the door closed behind him before allowing Aya to stand on his own two feet.

Yohji pulled the cord to the single, naked light bulb in the small closet. Aya shuddered in the middle of the shelves of fertilizer and gardening tools, his eyes wide and focusing on something else besides the room Yohji had locked them in.

"Aya," Yohji breathed, unsure of what to say. His voice made Aya jolt and look up at him in confusion. Aya probably hadn't been aware that it was Yohji that had been trying to get him away from the schoolgirls. He glanced around, recognizing the storage closet, then back to Yohji, his eyes narrowing.

"They were looking at me," Aya explained defensively, though his voice was weak. Aya had been rattled by the sudden attention, that was plain enough for anyone to see. Yohji held his distance from Aya, not wishing to intrude on Aya's indefinitely large personal space bubble.

"I know," Yohji agreed. He hadn't thought about how the girls would react. It was just so ridiculous that Aya wanted to work in the first place, he hadn't considered what the girls' giddy, over excitement would do to Aya. It was just so commonplace that Yohji considered it second nature. Aya's shaking stopped as he regained control, his face going hard and emotionless again.

`Shit, Aya, it's all right that you got scared," Yohji cursed, seeing Aya slide back into his frosty, bitchy attitude. Aya went cold, assuming an air of being untouchable, just to cover up the incredible sensitivity and vulnerability that lay right underneath. Aya stiffened, like an offended cat, his brows coming together.

"Scared?" Oh, shit. Wrong thing to say. Yohji had forgotten that Mr. Aya Fujimiya didn't have human emotions. Aya didn't do scared. Yohji started to curse but it just ended up being a wordless yell of irritation. Yohji turned, kicking the door in frustration, making a broom fall to the floor. God, if he even looked at Aya right now, it would turn into justifiable homicide.

"What are you getting mad about?" Aya hissed, like he was the only person with the right to be an out of control asshole. Yohji swirled on Aya, making fists so tight that his bones cracked. He wouldn't hit Aya. He wouldn't let Aya provoke him so easily. Don't hit him.

"You, Aya, I'm getting mad about you! You and this `I don't feel anything' crap. The girls thought you'd been hit by a truck. You're a mess and you won't even admit it, you priceless piece of shit!" Yohji raged. Aya's face went white with anger, insulted that Yohji was even raising his voice in his presence.

"You want me to not care? Fine, Aya, go to hell and take all your fucking angst with you," Yohji growled, turning back to the door. He wasn't going to stay in the same room with Aya one moment longer, even if he was the one to put them in here together in the first place.

`Wait," Aya demanded, very softly. Yohji turned the knob, letting the door open. There was no reason to stay. He didn't have to put up with verbal abuse from a man who had trouble standing on his own.

"I said wait, you bastard!" Something in Aya's voice made Yohji stop. Despite the words, Aya's voice had been desperate, pleading. Aya might be putting out those brave curses, but really Yohji could tell he was breaking down.

"Just wait, please," Aya begged Yohji's back, though the tone of voice told Yohji that if he didn't stay Aya was going to kill him for real this time. Yohji closed the door, his temples throbbing. Did migraines have an age limit? He was too young to have a headache this bad. Well, at least a headache this bad and being sober at the same time. Yohji closed his eyes in an attempt worthy of a saint to remain indifferent.

"What for?" Yohji demanded, turning slowly. Hands gingerly rested on his shoulders. Yohji had enough time to have his eyes fly open to watch Aya's face move toward his own. Warm lips pressed against his own, soft and dry. Two scabs made a rough, tickling pressure against Yohji's mouth.

Aya's mouth widened invitingly and Yohji pushed his tongue in automatically before freezing in the hole of Aya's teeth. Was he taking advantage? Did Aya really just open his mouth to him or did Yohji imagine it. Aya didn't seem like the type to just accept another tongue in his mouth. Aya didn't seem like the type to start a kiss. Oh, God, he was kissing Aya in the storage room. Aya sighed against Yohji's petrified lips, pulling away a bit. He looked up at Yohji from underneath his heavily lidded eyes, a faint flush on his face.

And then a hand connected solidly with Yohji's face, the metal of a finger brace ringing against bone. The force of it made Yohji's head snap on his neck, his face sent to the side. Yohji touched his cheek hesitantly, not believing it. The sharp, stinging pain underneath his fingers told Yohji it was real.

"Now we're even," Aya declared, cradling his right hand against his chest. Yohji hoped the broken fingers hurt like a mother. He should have bit Aya or something when he kissed him. Yohji pressed his hand close to his face, the slap making his skin itch.

"Don't hit him," Yohji's mind repeated, trying to restrain himself. Yohji's nostrils flared and for one moment he thought he might loose control, just be unable to help it and end up beating Aya to death. Yohji lashed out, his fist slamming into the metal of a shelf. A box of snail killer fell from the shelf, the cardboard splitting and the power exploding up into the air as it hit the floor.

"You always have to push me too far," Yohji fumed, his voice waverng because he was trying so very hard not to beat the living shit out of Aya. Aya glared up at him, not looking pleased, not looking frightened, just emotionless and above it all. He was still holding his right hand close to his body, hopefully regretting using it to slap Yohji.

"Fuck you," Aya returned, nothing new being offered in the way of conversation. Yohji wanted to pound out the headache against the wall, the blood pulsing in his head to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

"You're the one who got fucked," Yohji growled right back, dragged into the childish argument despite all intentions. Neither of them could handle not getting the last word. That was probably why Yohji said as many stupid things as he did, because Aya's face went even paler with anger at Yohji's words.

"What did you say?" Aya hissed. He was daring Yohji to repeat himself, Aya's voice very low with anger. Yohji had found himself back on unsteady, dangerous ground. It was where he usually ended up if he spent more then five minutes alone with Aya.

"You heard me, you little prick," Yohji taunted. He wasn't stupid enough to repeat something like that again. He took his hand away from his cheek, the stinging not bothering him as much anymore. In fact, he was completely forgetting about it, instead concentrating on verbally having it out with Aya.

Aya didn't say anything, just reached out with both hands and started to strangle Yohji. At least, as best he could with his worthless fingers and ruined wrists. Yohji could still breathe through the weak grip, though Yohji knew if Aya were in full health, he'd be dead by now. Yohji just smirked down at Aya, the anger leaving him. It was replaced by this sense of being superior and in the right, because Aya was the one overreacting right now.

"Run out of bitchy little comments?" Yohji asked, truly curious if Aya had just given up and started to try and kill him. Aya's eyes widened, surprise and tinge of fear? Shock? Yohji couldn't tell what was in those eyes. He couldn't read Aya's expression as the hands tried to tighten around his neck, a thumb shoved into Yohji's jugular.

It didn't take much at all to brush Aya's hands off. Aya let his arms fall limply, just looking defeated and tired. Yohji was a little bit surprised at the lack of fight. Aya usually came back from the dead just to piss someone off. That fire was gone now, Aya looking down at the floor to avoid Yohji's eyes.

Yohji wasn't sure if violence was a turn on for him, or if it was just Aya. Some women ran their nails down Yohji's back in the middle of sex, but that was nothing comparing to getting into useless spats with Aya. Something about it made Yohji hold up for a moment, noticing that Aya's shirt was hanging crocked off of his neck, the collar sagging down to reveal the line of his neck before hitting the collarbone. It was the most skin Yohji had seen Aya willingly show all at once.

He didn't wonder if it was the smart thing to do. Yohji didn't even hesitate long enough to think about it, just leaned in and kissed Aya soundly. Maybe he was stupid. Maybe he just didn't care, because there wasn't anything more satisfying then Aya squirming out and away from the kiss, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like it had been poison.

"You ready to go back out?" Yohji asked, opening the door again. Aya's eyes twitched. Thank God there were no weapons in the storage room. If they had been in the kitchen, Yohji would have been very careful of how close Aya got to the knives. Still, Yohji eyed the small hand shovel, wondering if he could beat Aya to it just in case. He could probably do it.

"Get out of my way," Aya ordered, though he was nowhere near the door. Yohji shrugged and walked out, smoothing back his hair. There were the girls to think of. The second he was back in view of the schoolgirls, Aya was forgotten behind him as they surrounded him.

"Yohji, you're so nice to help Aya!"

"Is anything wrong with him?"

"Are you free tonight?"

"Oh, come on now, one at time," Yohji gently asked them, amused beyond belief. There was nothing like being adored by young women in their prime to perk your spirits up. Several of the girls fell silent as Aya stalked past as best he could with the limp, glaring at them for noticing him. Yohji ignored Aya, throwing one arm around the closest body. As luck would have it, the girl was over eighteen. Aya glared harder.

"I just might be able to make some plans tonight," Yohji whispered into her ear. He wasn't sure if it was the same person. It didn't really matter, because she giggled all the same and nodded excitedly. Yohji opened his mouth to set up a date.

"Yohji, register!" Ken yelled, stuck at one end of the store. Yohji glanced around. Aya was hobbling toward the center of the store, heading out the door to tend some of the outdoor pots. Omi was making an arrangement for several girls. The register was staring at Yohji, a long line already formed. He was the closest to it, as much as Yohji would prefer to stay with the woman he was currently with.

"Sorry, duty calls," Yohji apologized with a wink and a kiss. Several girls sighed happily as he walked away, settling behind the register. He turned on the switch and the old register hummed alive. The first girl in line held out a small potted flower, smiling at him with shining white teeth.

"Nice choice," Yohji commented, ringing up the price. She giggled and blushed, turning her face away. She handed him a bill and their fingertips brushed together. The girl gasped and turned, grabbing the pot before starting to run out the door.

"Your change!" Yohji yelled after her. The girl was already gone, Aya glaring at Yohji through the window outside the shop. What a way to start the day. Aya looked away from Yohji, bending down to turn on the hose. Aya started to water the plants, ignoring a woman who was trying to talk to him.

"Excuse me?" a voice broke though Yohji's trance. Yohji blinked to the woman. The line had already gotten even longer. She held up a credit card in one hand, a set of potted rosebuds on the counter. Yohji apologized, taking her card from her. He dragged out the old, antique credit sheets from the drawer under the counter, wishing for not the first time that Aya would spring for the ATM machine soon. Something about extra costs for the phone line kept Aya from getting one.

Yohji scribbled down the information, running the block over the card to indent the numbers into the paper. The woman tapped a finger, impatient with this slow task. Yohji was just as impatient as her, having to do it more then once a day. It was irritating as all hell, and he usually got yelled at for not writing legibly.

"Just sign right there," Yohji asked, pointing to the line at the bottom of the form. He handed her a pen and she signed briskly, sniffing once. Yohji was not one of her favorite. He wondered which one of them she liked the best as he tore off her copy, handing it to the woman. She smiled and Yohji put the sheet underneath the drawer, telling her to come back again.

Yohji checked outside only to see Aya gone. He had been there only a moment ago, watering the plants outside, and now there wasn't a trace of him. Aya was missing from the front of the shop, and Yohji knew damn well he didn't move that fast right now. Yohji had only looked down for a moment, taken his eyes off Aya for a split second, and now he had vanished.

It wasn't a normal type of disappearance. Yohji didn't get that feeling. Aya was gone, maliciously snatched up in the bright of day so fast that Yohji hadn't seen it. His stomach was churning as he closed the register, looking at the far windows to check. He didn't see Aya moving in those either. The woman opened her mouth and Yohji was already jumping over the counter, knocking over the rosebuds, the pottery shattering on the floor.

"Yohji-kun?" Omi asked from his arrangement, his head looking up to see Yohji hurtle past him. He didn't have time to talk, didn't have time to explain. Aya wasn't in the front windows anymore. He was going to tear Aya's head off if he was merely out of Yohji's sight. Yohji threw open the door, the bells clanging loudly. He pushed past some schoolgirl, looking frantically up and down the sidewalk.

There. It was a small black limo, parked on the side of the street no more then several paces down. Four men in business suits were huddled very close together, not looking especially suspicious or dangerous. But Yohji caught the flash of red hair and a bare ankle kicking out from between the legs of the men pressed together.

"Aya!" Yohji roared, running down the sidewalk, shoving aside the other pedestrians. Some yelled, some cried out as they fell down, Yohji rushing past them like a football player. One of the businessmen noticed Yohji running toward them with the intent to kill, turning around and breaking the wall they had made around Aya.

Yohji could see Aya's bandaged, white face in the middle of them, panic clear in his features. Aya lunged at the opening they had made, nearly breaking out from the circle of arms and bodies. He reached out at Yohji, elbowing someone in the face. Aya didn't scream for Yohji, just pleaded with his eyes, looking helpless and scared as a hand wrapped around his face and they dragged him into the limo.

The limo was going to try and drive off. The engine started and Yohji turned around wildly, knowing it would be useless to try and chase a car on foot. To his left, two cars down from the limo, a woman had frozen as she got out of the car, one hand on the door as she stared at Yohji in confusion. Yohji grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her away from the car as she screamed in panic and rage.

Yohji closed the door and locked it, reaching to the ignition and finding the keys still in, a lucky bunny's foot dangling. Yohji started the engine, looking behind to see the limo pull out and squeal past. The woman pounded on the windshield with her fist before Yohji tore out, shifting up quickly and cutting off the next car as he chased after the limo.

"You fucking asshole!" the woman screamed after him, waving her arms in the rearview mirror.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gee, it won't end, I swear, cause I keep getting stupid ideas . . .Check out "Ameno" dance remix, very kickin'. All the chapters are titled by lyrics I get out of a song I'm listening to while I post the fic . . . Ten dollars to anyone who can guess the songs. I can't wait; I'm going to quit my job so I can start watching Saturday morning cartoons again! For those who care, I strive for a sense of reality in my writing, so all the sex scenes have been experimented with so I know what's humanly possible! I wrote it before I thought about it, so the Ken and Omi sex scene in the kitchen was attempted, and I had to go back and completely reedit it because Omi's butt was SO not where I thought it would be. Sigh. Um, Ken's above-average height, okay? I wish I could think of a better way to split a scene. Omi and Ken just get it on so I can have a break in the story. They're like a commercial break. Writing this scene was by far the hardest, because I've never given a blow job before (my person feelings= EW! But then again, I'm a girl). So, if you've been on the receiving end and its nowhere close, tell me, okay? I don't want to sound stupid… Anyone who reads this little note thing and keeps up on it (wow, thanks, it's nice of you to read this far), I've developed a mild breathing disorder so now I've got 2 inhalers of my very own . . . stupid body. AND I'm allergic to them so they made it worse!! Nuts! Don't smoke kids, it's bad. Quitting is better though, and that's what I've done! Ah, the morals you get out of these author notes… This may seem like shameless advertising, but I really wanna share something! I made music videos from Boku no Sexual Harassment, Fujimi Orchestra and Level C, if you have WinMX my user name is animegher123, just send me a message and I'll start your download cause I really want to share theses with everyone! Also, a question, maybe someone can help me! Whenever I save my files from Microsoft Word to a web page format to post them, I loose about 300+ words; can anyone tell me what's up? How do I save them so the files don't look funky?