Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate Him ❯ It'd hard to explain what's driving me insane ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: All characters and what not belong to Project WeiB and Koyasu Takehito and all of

his friends, because they certainly don't belong to me. If they did, I'd be filthy rich.

Aya kicked out with his bare foot, the sandal flying off with the force of his blow, getting one of them in the face. The man fell back on the floor of the limo, another man reached out with his hand and shoved Aya's face down against the door and seat. He was pressed into the floor and corner of the limo, the carpet scratching open the scab on his cheek. Aya fought and struggled as best he knew, ignoring the pain caused by half healed wounds. The fear was raw, making his balls shrink as if to hide in his pants. He knew what this was; he knew what they were after. Aya was quite determined to die before going back to that.

His wrists were jerked around behind his back and Aya cried out, the grip on his hair tightening. They were hurting him, holding onto the bandages and pressing their meaty fingers into his wounds. Aya tried to shake them off, starting to get dog piled on in the back seat of the limo. Their weight was hot and restraining, heavy and searing on his flesh. His wrists were sharply pulled together, painfully high as someone pressed a knee into the small of his back. Someone restrained him, using a plastic tie to loop his hands together like Aya was some kind of cattle.

With his arms tied behind his back and someone nearly sitting on his head, the man who had thrown his body over Aya's legs scrambled up. The man jerked the sleeve of Aya's shirt up to expose his bony shoulder. The man reached into his jacket and withdrew a needle, full of an orange, transparent liquid. Aya felt his blood freeze, like it was trying to plug up his veins so the drug wouldn't spread.

Another had to help hold Aya down as he screamed and flailed, renewing his efforts to get away. The needle plunged into his shoulder and there was the sharp sting of a chemical being injected into his body. Aya swore and tried to bite at a hand close to his face, his teeth clacking on open air as the man jerked it away. The veins in his shoulder started to ache and burn. Aya's face was shoved hard into the upholstery, someone rubbing his nose into the ground like a punished house animal.

His muscles started to go all liquidly. Aya couldn't describe it as his body started to go limp around his hysterical orders to move. One moment he had been struggling with everything he had, then the next it didn't seem so important. The fear was still there, cold and building up in his stomach as the men started to back off as the drugs kicked in. He couldn't get his body to move, only his fingers were twitching against his will.

Aya's body wasn't listening to him anymore. He was still thinking inside, scared and near mindless with pain, but the drugs didn't allow him any movement. All he could do was look around the car wildly, searching for help that he knew wouldn't be offered. Small nails were stabbing his brain inside of his skull, the roots of his hair itching. It felt like his pores were on fire, and he couldn't move to stop the burning. His thoughts were starting to become scattered, panicked. He wanted to run away. He wanted them to stop and let him go. He wanted to die.

"Amazing what you can pick up on a drive around the town," a man voice remarked in dark humor. Aya couldn't make his head move the way he wanted it too. He could only stare blindly into the carpet, unable to move even though no one was on him. Someone grabbed him by the elbow and the waist of his pants, hauling his unresponsive body up until he was sitting between two of his abductors, his body falling against one and unable to try and sit up on his own. His head rolled onto someone's shoulder, Aya desperately wanting to tremble, but his fingers were starting to tingle and go numb all the way to the wrist.

Another man was looking unruffled and very pleased, his legs crossed as he watched Aya in amusement. The man was wearing a white three-piece suit, a dark violet tie blazing on his chest. He had a small mustache above his lips, the facial hair thin and weak like a teenager hitting puberty. He was thin and of average height, looking the image of a young, successful Japanese businessman. But the gaudy ring on his finger and the two metal studs in one ear and his big leering sneer told Aya he was no ordinary hard working individual.

"I heard that you had quit and did the whole `live through the night without a hospital' drama that Mr. Stevens was so fond of. I thought for sure that you were dead, and I hate to admit it, but I was pleased because it meant we could get some business back," the man drawled, smiling and waving his hand at Aya. Aya couldn't get away from the other man's shoulder, unable to get his body to hold himself up. His knees were shaking for some reason, though the rest of his body couldn't even shudder.

"You do look like you did a thorough night," the man smirked, gesturing at one of his employees. The man Aya was leaning against rudely shoved Aya up, his head rolling and seeing stars. Aya couldn't swallow his own saliva, his throat so tight he didn't think he was going to be able to breath easily for much longer. He gagged and concentrated on getting air in through his nose, his jaw slack.

"Let's see the damage. I can't believe my luck, I'm looking for a new replacement piece and what do I find? Mr. Fujimiya himself, alive and well," the man stated out loud, bragging to Aya about his good fortune. It made Aya mad, but he couldn't do a thing, just feel his insides go cold, his fingers starting to throb as the blood was cut off. Drool was coming out of the corner of his mouth. He couldn't swallow anymore. He was helpless. He couldn't even whimper.

One man moved from Aya's side to kneel on the floor of the limo in front of Aya's sprawled body. He put both hands on Aya's knees. Aya felt his skin crawl underneath the fabric of his pants, trying to get away from the contact but unable to move. The driver hit a small bump in the road, causing Aya's body to rock. He couldn't get away. He couldn't move. The terror was going to overcome him. Aya felt like screaming until his throat was raw, but he couldn't even make a sniffle.

The man lifted one of Aya's legs, making it rest on his shoulder, leaving Aya's groin open and in full view of the sneering businessman. The man on the floor had a butterfly knife in his right hand, flipping it out in a skilled and professional manner before locking the blades. Aya's jaw started clenching beyond his control as the man cut open the crotch of his pants. Aya was unable to flinch away from the fear of being cut, a brief kiss of cold metal on his inner skin. The drugs were holding his body still, but the sense of touch was heightened, focusing acutely on the feeling of being watched. It made his thighs tremble slightly, Aya flushing in embarrassment.

He couldn't get his body to move away to escape, but it was responding to them. It wasn't listening to him. Useless tears started to fall, Aya unable to blink them away. The hairs on his neck lifted when the man put his hands on either side of the slit he had made in the drawstring pants and ripped them open, using the knife to work the rends open until they were in strips around his ankles. The man cut through the elastic band of Aya's boxers like he was a present, peeling back the wrapping until Aya was exposed from the waist down.

"My, they didn't give you much mercy," the business mused, putting one finger to his lips as he studied the bandages and scrapes on Aya's inner thighs and groin. The man in front of Aya pulled his legs apart, spreading them out so the businessman could get a better view of Aya's privates. Tears blurred in his eyes and started to run down his face, salty and cool on his blistering skin. He was so weak. He couldn't even try to break away when they first surrounded him. He wanted to shudder, to tremble, find a bed and pull the covers over his head, but the drug made his body flaccid and unresponsive. The man's hands burned on Aya's skin, electric and painful, the slightest pressure sending needles through Aya's brain. He wanted to arch away from the fingers trailing along the inside of his legs, but could only pant around the swelling of his throat.

"Is the anus damaged as well?" the man asked, merely assessing the injuries and calculating how long it would be before Aya could get back to work. Aya wanted to sob and cover his face, curl up in a pathetic ball and die. He couldn't have been more ashamed at the moment. They were talking over his dirty, used body like he was a horse to be bought. Aya wasn't going to be able to bear it. He couldn't see straight, the other passengers blurring into the dark of the seats and the tinted windows, the entire world starting to swirl. A hand ran down the length of one of the cuts closer to his balls, pressing down painfully to see how deep it was. Those fingers were visible in Aya's mind, touching him as he howled silently. The drugs were making his skin sensitive, overbearing, the slightest touch of air making the fine hairs lift.

Fingers pressed down on the edges of his small, red entrance, Aya trying to get the muscles to clench so he could try to stop the penetration. His body offered all the resistance of a pillow when the man prodded one finger in experimentally, twisting it around inside Aya to feel for any tears. Aya managed to make a pained, squeaking moan around the tongue that was starting to swell in his mouth. He closed his eyes, unable to think about anything else beyond that man's finger pushing into his unhealed, tender scarring. The man's fingernail caught one of the stitches, causing it to stretch in the mending skin, but not break out. Aya didn't know if he should be thankful or not.

His head lolled on the seat with the nauseating motion of the limo. The car slowed down, stopping at an intersection as the light turned yellow. Aya could see people walking down the streets, none of them noticing what was going on in the limo. No one could see through the smoked glass that the man was spreading Aya apart, shifting to allow more light into the anus to see the full damage. Why couldn't he move those few inches to pound on the window, scream at the people to see him, to help him? The world was hazy outside the window, untouchable.

A young man glanced over at the car, headphones over his ears. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he kept walking through the crowd, looking appreciatively at the large, sleek limo. Aya felt his lips part, begging them to see through the tinting. See me, help me. Fucking notice, you bastard! Aya raged at the man as he continued walking down the street. A car flew by on the side, screeching to a stop so fast that the car spun out into the intersection.

"What the hell is he doing?" the driver asked, staring at the car stopped in the middle of traffic, other cars starting to honk their horns. The seemingly crazy driver's engine growled and the headlights flashed into the windshield, sending light into the interior of the car. Aya wanted to pray that it was someone, anyone, even a drunk who didn't know what he was doing. Just as long as they did something that could stop this nightmare. Then, wheels squealing, the car took the limo head on. The crash threw Aya forward onto one of the men, sending the limo back into the car behind it. Metal screeched and bent, making the man fall onto Aya's crotch, his face buried in Aya's lower stomach.

The man pulled his finger out, making the tender scar tissue tear and burn, sitting up and throwing Aya's leg to the ground. The businessman cursed, turning around in his seat to see who had hit his limo. Aya slid down on the seat, his hips starting to spasm as the muscles responded a bit, seizing up in fear. Aya's body fell down across the seat, stopped from sprawling on the floor by one of his fellow passengers. His legs stayed splayed open, he couldn't get them to move. Aya just wanted to cross his legs. Cross them so tightly that no one would ever even think of his groin again.

The windshield shattered, a tall, dark figure slamming through the glass with a steering wheel lock. Someone was using the Club like it was . . . a club. Aya couldn't help but start to laugh. On the inside. His body wasn't so much as twitching, but within Aya was sure he was hysterical. But, he didn't get hysterical, so it was the drugs. Right? The man still sitting on the seat with Aya shoved him, pressing him further into the cushions. Aya hoped the upholstery would swallow him up. A seatbelt lock dug into his side and Aya started to have trouble breathing, his throat sealed by the drugs and his lungs being prodded by the broken ribs.

The driver cursed and his window exploded in, sending shards into the man's jacket and face. The door flew open and the man was dragged out into the street. Aya couldn't see what was happening, he couldn't lift his head enough to peek out the windows. There were several hard, sickening sounds of something solid hitting a human body. A woman's voice screamed from the sidewalk. People started to yell, cars honking and the sound of shoes hitting pavement echoing painfully in Aya's ears.

The pimp yelled at his men to attack. He didn't even try to take Aya with him, just jumped out of the car and took off running. The three men remaining in the car looked at each other, clearly wondering if they were paid enough to try and fight with whoever just crashed a car into their limo. Aya's body rolled a bit, flopping in the seat weakly to his brain, listening just a bit, however sluggish it was. Aya gasped, finally gaining back a little bit of air, wheezing into the seat. He couldn't consider the situation beyond breathing right now. The doors opened and slammed shut, two men went out into the street, where Aya assumed the attacker was. The other ran after his boss.

There was another yell and that sound again, the whack of metal upon soft flesh, making bones crunch. Aya could hear that over the sound of horns honking and people yelling outside of the car, some screaming for police or the ambulance. He wanted to try and get out of the plastic tie, but his wrists wouldn't tense. Why wasn't anyone checking the limo? Why wasn't anyone coming to help him? Get me out of here. Now. Aya's lips trembled, unable to scream for help.

The door opened again and Yohji was there, filling up the door to the limo, rage radiating off of his body. Blood was splattered on his face, and Aya knew it wasn't Yohji's. He stared; disbelieving that someone had come after him. He couldn't understand it. He didn't even have the time to wonder about it. He never wanted to be out of Yohji's presence again. Yohji grabbed him by hooking an arm under one Aya's of elbows and hauled him off the seat, making the shredded pants slide away from his bare ankles.

Horns were honking and people were screaming outside of the limo, making Aya aware of his undressed state. He couldn't try to cover himself, his body collapsing as soon as Yohji hauled him out into the street, his hands still bound behind his back. Yohji caught him, and didn't even let him try to walk, just threw Aya over his shoulder like a piece of luggage. He could only stare at Yohji's back, his head down with his butt bare and visible for everyone to see, high in the air over Yohji's shoulder. His shirt was sliding down, starting to bunch around his neck, his spine cold as the air hit it. Yohji put an arm up, steadying Aya around the waist before he moved toward the unfamiliar vehicle. Yohji's heavy, fast steps made Aya's stomach turn and his head spin, his hands making fists spasmodically.

The passenger door was opened and Yohji tossed Aya in, not even waiting to see if Aya's body made it before slamming the door closed. Aya breathed heavily, his body slumping down in the seat, the sound of the street cut off. The car was still running, warm air blowing on his body, making Aya realize that he was cold and chilled. Aya wanted to cross his legs, wanted to bring his knees up to his chest, something to keep him from staring down into his bandaged and bruised groin. He clenched his eyes closed, tears starting to run more freely, the drugs letting him go just enough to open his mouth wide enough to sob for breath.

Yohji landed in the driver's seat, closing the door and throwing the car into reverse without a care for the still traffic. Aya was tossed against the inside of the door with the force of Yohji's spin out. He didn't care as his head slammed into the window. It meant they were going away. The car revved once before it shot off into traffic, Yohji weaving between cars without a word.

Aya felt very tired now that Yohji was there. Yohji meant that there wasn't any more of those men around. Yohji meant that this was real, that he wasn't having one of those dreams. Yohji was never in his nightmares. The fear was drained out of him, Aya unable to stay terrified as the drugs lulled him into unconsciousness. He didn't want to sleep now. If he drifted off, it meant someone would grab him again. If Yohji left him alone, they would take him off the street before anyone would ever even notice.

Aya stared out the window, his tears splattering, making small drops on the glass as Yohji's driving made his body rock in the seat. Don't leave me alone, don't leave me alone, Aya wanted to say. Aya looked out of the corner of his eyes, unable to turn his head to look at Yohji. All he could see was Yohji's hands gripping the steering wheel, the knuckles white. Aya was starting to shake now, his muscles going into a mild seizure. He didn't like drugs. They always were too strong. His throat tightened and for one terrifying moment, Aya thought he would throw up, unable to prevent that humiliation.

"A. Y. A," Yohji's voice was frightening, low in tone and very slow, the words drifting in the air, floating around in small circles before they finally hit Aya's ears. They were being followed, somehow they were being chased after and those men would kill Yohji and drag Aya away, back to that life. Aya's stomach was rising up in his throat, pushed up by his muscle spasms. Aya couldn't help but think in panicked circles, all ending up with him back in their hands.

His vision swam, the colors too bright as they flashed by outside the window, the stoplight cutting through the air. Blackness came into the corners of his brain, dulling the pain in his head a bit. Aya tried to scream to keep himself awake, to stop from drifting into that oblivion. He looked out of the corner of one eye, keeping Yohji in focus. If Yohji left him, it meant they would have him. Aya sucked in breath through his nose, unable to stop from fainting into the seat.

* * *

Yohji kept driving longer then he meant to. The plan was to get back to the shop. Omi was probably worried sick with both Yohji and Aya missing without a word. It just didn't feel safe to go back yet. Not when Aya had been snatched up only several hours before from their very home. So, Yohji kept driving around the city in the trashed car, half surprised that it was still running. Aya hadn't awoken from whatever faint he had gone into, his face wan and yellowish.

Yohji pulled over once, dragging Aya's limp body up in the seat into what he hoped was a more comfortable position. He pulled Aya's shirt down over the man's stomach, his hands shaking at Aya's nakedness. Yohji found a fuzzy, light blue sweater in the backseat of the stolen car. He had thrown it over Aya's lap before strapping Aya into the seat with the safety belt. Aya was likely to fall over if Yohji didn't secure him into the seat. Aya only had one flip-flop barely on his foot, the other one likely in the limo that Yohji had pulled him from. The thought of it made Yohji's hands clench around the steering wheel.

Yohji found the real owner of the car's purse in the back seat. He rummaged through it before he found a pair of nail clippers. Yohji pushed Aya forward, lifting up his wrists so he could snip through the plastic strap. Aya had started to moan a bit, though not in that pained way. Yohji froze, thinking he had caught some of Aya's skin in the small, pinching metal. When the plastic strip snapped and sprung away from Aya's thin wrists, his hands fell limply onto the seat, his body as tense as a wet rag.

Yohji pushed Aya upright into the seat, surprised to see his eyes fluttering open weakly to watch Yohji with a glazed, lusty expression. He had assumed that Aya had fainted because he was still weak from his injuries. Instead, Yohji's touch seemed to be pleasurable for Aya, even though Aya wasn't moving a single centimeter. Aya's face was still red and wet with tears, the corners of his mouth glistening. The split cheek was bleeding sluggishly, small parts of the scab ripped off. Yohji used the cuff of his sleeve to scrub at Aya's face, wiping away the moisture and dapping gently at the blood. Aya didn't say a word, his mouth slack and his expression content.

Yohji guessed easily that Aya had been drugged, and with a quick search he found a sore injection mark on Aya's shoulder, red and swelling. Aya didn't move, just started to slump toward Yohji's hand. Yohji had enough time to pull Aya's shirt back into place before the man did a face dive, ending up smack into Yohji's lap. Yohji immediately tried to throw Aya off, more because Aya would kill him because it was Yohji's lap he had fallen into then an actual desire to get Aya off of him. Yohji grabbed Aya's shoulders and shook him, only to find Aya passed out again, weakly breathing against Yohji's hip.

So, Yohji just drove for a bit with Aya's head resting on his left thigh, at least until Aya woke up. He didn't want to bring Aya back home in this state. He didn't think Aya would appreciate sleeping one off in a bed if it meant Ken and Omi would find out about it. He had cruised around the city on the outer roads, more toward the less frequented residential areas then the busy downtown area. Aya just remained sleeping in Yohji's lap, not moving an inch as Yohji watched the scenery change as he began to get closer to the mountains.

It had just been so sudden, so unexpected. Yohji hadn't dreamed that anyone would come after Aya; much less on the first day he had been outside the shop. Yohji was angry with himself for not killing the bastards in that black limo. He couldn't exactly take the time to make sure they all died in the middle of a busy intersection like that. All he could do was grab Aya and drive off before the police came.

That promise he had made to Aya about protecting him had sounded so easy at the time. He had never imagined that Aya would be so well known, so sought after in the world of pimping. That little group hadn't been very big or quick to react to Yohji's crash. The little creep might tell his more effective friends that Aya was alive and well and working at a flower shop. Aya wasn't going to be walking around unattended anymore. It was too dangerous now.

Yohji licked his lips, looking around the street. The sky was beginning to turn red with the pollution from the city, the sun setting down on the mountains, casting shadows across the city's valley. He had rolled down his window for the nice night breeze, letting the sunset be announced by bugs chirping constantly. Yohji was cruising slowly through a small town, too tense to trust himself to drive fast. The street was very empty in the early evening, a few cars and people dotting the area Yohji drove through. A convenience store would be nice. Yohji could go for some cigarettes.

Aya could go for just about anything right now, Yohji figured, glancing down at his sleeping head. The wind was ruffling Aya's hair lightly, one hand curled limply against Yohji's leg. A convenience store might have coffee or something that could rouse Aya. Yohji thought about it, and perhaps some food or the like would be good for him now. A sign flashed by, signaling that he was leaving the limits of this city. It looked like he would have to continue down further or turn around. Yohji decided to keep going straight, considering that Aya was still out cold.

Besides, it was nice, to have Aya so comfortable and relaxed in his presence, even if it was because of drugs. Yohji didn't think Aya would ever accept a small comfort like sleeping in the car with someone else as a pillow if he was sober. Aya would rather jump out a window then be normal and accept someone's care. Yohji didn't get much of a chance to enjoy the softer side of a relationship beyond the sex. It felt very calm and innocent to have Aya sleeping with his head on Yohji's hip, his hand occasionally combing through Aya's soft strands. He felt almost fatherly, smoothing back Aya's hair. Aya's face was pale, much lighter then Yohji would have liked.

Yohji shifted into fourth for the easy cruise on the gently winding road. He let his hand rest on Aya's shoulder, not thinking about anything for once. He had managed to push aside all the events that had happened and was just appreciating the moment, allowing the wind to ruffle his hair. He was finding a sense of enjoyment in letting his hand warm up with Aya's body heat. Yohji squeezed Aya's arm, assuring himself that Aya was still there. It was luck, the most incredible luck Yohji had ever been graced with, that allowed Aya to be safe in the car with him. Yohji didn't want to imagine what would have happened if he had noticed a second later that Aya had been missing.

It was beginning to get dark, the night sky starting to creep overhead. The radio had announced the time only a few seconds ago, but Yohji hadn't really been listening. A song was playing, something that Yohji hadn't heard in a while but still loved. He tapped his foot to the beat, causing Aya's head to lightly bounce on his lap. The eyelashes fluttered delicately on Aya's face, his eyes opening up just a bit in the healing bruises. The green and light blue discoloration only heightened that unnatural violet of his eyes.

"Yohji?" Aya's voice was very soft and strained, cracking on the last syllable. Aya's head lifted a little, but fell back down. Aya was still unable to move. The drugs had probably numbed his muscles. Yohji couldn't even guess at the drug's name, much stronger then the drugs Yohji was casually acquainted with. Yohji was beginning to hate needles as much as Aya, seeing them in far too much use around Aya's person lately. Yohji smoothed Aya's hair, stilling his foot so Aya could go back to sleep.

A city was coming up, lights flashing through the shadows of the trees in the bottom of a valley. Maybe there would be a gas station. The attendant would probably wonder if Yohji was crazy to still be driving the crashed vehicle. He could get some water, cigarettes, and gas station food. Yohji didn't really fear death anymore, the prospect of one of those old, cooking hot dogs not scaring him at all. He was hungry after all of that tension, even though food didn't sound appealing right now.

"Where . . . we?" Aya asked slowly, his voice thick and tired. His eyes were closed again, his face relaxed and his mouth open. Yohji doubted Aya would even understand him if he did tell Aya where they were. It wasn't like Yohji was even sure of their location himself, not really taking the time to go on Sunday drives. The town was flashed out of site as the car curled around the mountain, the road starting to descend into the valley.

Yohji didn't answer Aya, just smoothed his hair down like he was a pet. Aya didn't mind, probably already unconscious again. His breathing was easier as Yohji flicked on the headlights in the growing darkness. One light flashed and died, the right headlight the only one operating. Yohji shrugged, impressed that even one was working. The town was beginning to come into view, the road straightening out as it went through the small gathering of houses and business buildings.

A gas station sign glowed in the evening haze, looming over the road. Yohji signaled, figuring it would work since the crash had taken the front of the car. Unless the signal light had fallen out or shattered. It didn't matter, because Yohji was already turning into the station, letting the car roll up to a pump before parking it. It shuddered, metal creaking as the car was finally allowed to rest. Yohji turned off the engine and looked down at Aya. His face was warm on Yohji's leg and it felt criminal to make someone move from a position like this.

"Hey, wake up a bit, will you?" Yohji murmured, taking Aya gently by the shoulders and propping him up in the passenger seat. Aya's head and body rolled until he met with the door, and he stayed there. Yohji waited, expecting some kind of reaction. There was nothing. Yohji sighed, unbuckling himself from the seat and opening the door to step out into the gas station.

He dug his wallet out of his pants and found his credit card. Yohji pressed the buttons in a varying sequence and waited for the pump to be authorized before filling up the poor beaten car with regular octane. He hummed along to the rhythmic thumping of the gas being pushed through the pump into the tank. Yohji peeked through the windows, making sure that Aya was still in the car. He could see the curve of Aya's shoulder and the back of his head in front of the seat. The handle finally clicked, signaling that the tank was full. Yohji put the nozzle back and walked toward the little convenience store in the middle of the station, glancing back to make sure no one was approaching the car.

The door chimed in a very irritating matter, the cold air of the store making Yohji feel immediately chilled. The store was washed in a bright white light, the aisle looking clinically arranged with snack items and accessories needed for long car drives. Yohji felt eyes on him and turned to see a male clerk staring at him in distaste, short blue hair spiked in neat, meticulous triangles on his head. It was always amazing to see what punks some people would hire. The man probably thought Yohji was going to steal something, the way he had stopped and started gawking in the door, stunned by the cleanliness of the store.

Yohji coughed and nervously continued walking up and down the aisles, picking out a water bottle and staring at the food displays. He started heavily considering the things that Aya could possibly eat now. The donuts seemed a better choice then potato chips for Aya, but Yohji doubted that the richness of the glazed bread would be good either. Ice cream was more then likely to make Aya sick. Convenience store food sucked, and Yohji's appetite fled quickly. Yohji settled on just water, a lighter, and two packs of cigarettes.

The clerked eyed Yohji, like he suspected him of having more then Yohji was paying for. He didn't say anything as he checked the items, studying Yohji's pants pockets. It made Yohji nervous and he scratched his cheekbone, wondering just how suspicious he really looked. The price rang up and Yohji gave the man a twenty, forcing him to count back Yohji's change out loud. That was the only conversation Yohji received as the clerk threw his purchases into a plastic bag, sniffing as Yohji took his leave. The door rang again, letting Yohji back out into the night.

He walked back to the car, too nervous to leave Aya alone long enough to have a quick smoke. The sound of insects that Yohji didn't usually get to here in the big city buzzed in the night. He stopped on the passenger's side, putting the bag on the ground before opening the door. Aya miraculously stayed in the car instead of falling out when the door no longer provided support. Instead, Aya remained curled in the seat, his head nestled in between the body of the car and the passenger's seat, the safety belt running under his chin. Yohji settled on the balls of his feet, sitting back on his heels so he would be slightly eye level with Aya.

He reached out and shook Aya's shoulder a bit, waiting as his eyes opened up into small slits, his pupils dilated to a huge black void underneath his eyelashes. His eyes didn't even open all the way, just cracking open enough to see who was disturbing him. Aya moaned at the shaking and roused a bit, his eyes widening and his hand brushing Yohji's away weakly. The drug was starting to wear off if Aya could move now. It assured Yohji that Aya wasn't as far gone as he had thought.

"Aya? Aya, you want some water?" Yohji asked, unwrapping the plastic cover from the lid of the bottle. Aya watched Yohji's hands, blinking, before looking back at Yohji's face, lifting his head away from the seat a bit. Aya blinked up at the white lights ahead, his eyes watering, before looking down at Yohji, starting to slump forward.

"No . . . Wanna . . . Kiss," Aya slurred, his eyes fluttering down before he shook his head a bit. Yohji froze in the middle of uncapping the water bottle. He hadn't heard that. Because if Aya had actually said that, it meant Yohji was dead and had gone to Heaven out of some cosmic hindsight. Aya smiled, very slightly, so small that it just might be that Yohji needed glasses. Aya was definitely drugged right out of his hazy little mind.

Aya lowered his eyelids a bit, just a small amount of those violet eyes showing underneath the sweep of his lashes. Yohji had never noticed the curve of Aya's cheeks, or the way his eyebrow arched suggestively. Aya was really coming onto him. Yohji couldn't move as Aya leaned down from inside the car, coming closer to Yohji. Yohji was frozen, afraid if he moved Aya would stop, wondering why the hell he wasn't moving anyways. Aya was like a movie star, the light hitting his face perfectly as he leaned in, his lips visibly trembling. Aya's eyes flashed up, meeting Yohji's, and the man hesitated, freezing a hair's breath away from Yohji's face.

Yohji closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain still. It was hard not to just reach out and hold Aya's shoulders so he couldn't move away and kiss Aya as best he knew. But, this was Aya's move. If Yohji forced anything right now, he'd blow any chance he had with Aya out of the water, out of the fucking hemisphere. It didn't matter that Aya was drugged now. Yohji had to remain still, aware of his heartbeat in his ears, his bandaged hands gripping his pants to try and control himself. Yohji didn't know where Aya was, didn't know if he had backed out or was still there. All Yohji could sense of Aya was a warm, soft breath on his chin.

The kiss was so light that Yohji almost didn't notice when it started. It was just a light pressure, a small, tentative brush with Aya's half-healed lips. Yohji felt his stomach tighten and his knees pressed together so that he stopped himself from kissing Aya right back. That would be like blowing an air horn in a mouse's face. Yohji forced himself to stay still and passive, accepting Aya's timid kiss but not even dreaming of deepening it. Aya pulled back just enough to break contact before falling completely onto Yohji's shoulder, almost making him loose his balance.

Yohji opened one eye very slightly. Through the blur of his lashes he could see Aya's cheek and closed right eye, the purple bruising almost looking like eye shadow. Aya was barely moving away, starting to fade back into unconsciousness. Yohji was going to explode with impatience, but he had to remain still. Aya wasn't in the best of shape right now, and sex was so far from the question it was almost funny Yohji had even considered it. His knees kept shaking with the effort. It was like he couldn't stop his body from moving, but shook in place, trying to rein in his lust.

"You're drugged, Aya," Yohji finally said out loud, more for himself then for Aya's benefit. He knew that if they continued, he'd probably do something they'd both regret later. Even though Aya probably wouldn't remember. God, it was tempting. It was hard to just summon the self-control to gently push Aya back into the car. Aya hadn't fainted again like Yohji had originally though. Instead, his eyes opened a bit, Aya looking genuinely hurt for a moment before his face relaxed again, pushed beyond emotions.

"I'mmm . . . not drugged," Aya mumbled, reaching out weakly at Yohji before his hands flopped down uselessly. Yohji only had to watch as he failed to remain aware, Aya's eyes sliding down. Immediately Aya slumped into the passenger seat, already passed out again. Yohji stayed crouched on the pavement, ripping open the cigarettes and packing them down. Aya didn't stir out of his dead faint, the movement of his chest the only sign he was still alive.

Yohji pulled out one of his cancer sticks and placed it between his lips, lighting up in the gas station. Chances in hell did exist. Yohji took a strong drag, thinking hard. Okay, situation number one: Aya was really drugged and didn't know what he was doing. Situation number two: somewhere in his cold bastard heart, Aya felt something. Yohji was much more inclined to number two, but in all reality it was number one.

"God, this sucks," Yohji growled out, standing up. He leaned over Aya, buckling him back into the seat. Yohji closed the door, feeling definitely miserable. On one hand, Aya could really want to start something. Other hand, Yohji was going to get pushed down the stairs if Aya remembered this. The opposite possibilities danced around in his head, taunting Yohji. He gathered up the plastic bag, glancing around the parking lot. Yohji spotted a phone booth, and sighed. He really should call Ken and Omi before they called the police.

* * *

"I'm calling the police," Omi announced again, grabbing the phone off the hook. Ken sighed, unplugging the cord from the phone. Omi stared at him, the cord dangling by his knees, the phone still held to his ear. Ken sat back down at the kitchen table, resting his elbows on the surface. Where the hell could they be?

"Ken-kun, this is serious! They've been gone a long time. Something could have happened!" Omi screamed at him, throwing the phone on the counter. Ken winced, worried that the plastic would shatter. Something could have happened. Something might not have happened as well. He didn't know. There was no reason to call the police over it.

"Omi, what can you tell the police? Our friend just stole a car, we don't know why, but he's chasing a limo. You want to find him?" Ken imitated, even if their phone call wouldn't really be that ludicrous. Even if they could get the police to help, Yohji would get arrested for stealing the car. They couldn't have that happen. If the police tried to look for Yohji's criminal record, they'd end up in Russia thanks for Kritiker. And that paper trail would only make the police keep Yohji longer. They couldn't go to the police.

"But! It's not . . . I mean-They're missing!" Omi stuttered, trying to convince Ken. It wasn't like he was unaware. He was distinctively conscious of the minutes clicking by. Every time the second hand moved, Ken wondered if they were in trouble. He didn't know why Yohji had run off out of the store, but by the time he got out the door, Ken saw Yohji sped by in a car that wasn't his after a black limo. Aya was missing too. Aya hadn't been in the car with Yohji. The possibilities left by the situation made Ken sick with worry.

Ken wasn't the type to fret. He liked to think life would solve itself and run its natural course. If bad things happened, that's just the way it had gone and it was time to move on. He was trying not to overreact, but the past few weeks had been really hard. Putting a disappearing act on top of it all was testing him beyond his usual limits. He glanced up at the clock again, not really looking at the time. All he saw was another minute gone, another minute wasted if Yohji and Aya were in real trouble and Ken wasn't moving.

Omi, however, seemed to love to worry. He was frantic with it, bursting into occasional tears before running outside because he heard a car pass by the house. There was already a small track in the floor from Omi's pacing. Ken was glad Omi couldn't give birth, because he would die if he ever had children. Looking very disappointed and absolutely miserable, Omi plugged the phone cord back into the jack and hung up the set.

"Omi, come here," Ken sighed, opening up his arms. He knew Omi very well, even better then he had in the past. What he needed more then anything else now, more then having the police out searching, more then Yohji and Aya showing up at the front door, was comfort. Omi was already in his lap, hugging him as tightly as his muscles would allow. Ken's breath was squeezed out of him, Omi burying his face into Ken's chest and starting to sniffle wretchedly

"It's okay, they're going to show up soon," Ken reassured Omi, patting his back. They better show up, or else Ken was going to greet Yohji with a sudden death. Ken couldn't kill Aya for worrying Omi, mainly because it would be too easy. Causing physical harm to Aya right now would be ridiculous. Aya couldn't take it right now, couldn't even take a strong wind without being in danger of getting knocked over, he was so thin.

Omi just kept holding on, begging that Ken call the police, get in the car and drive around town till they found them, anything. Omi just needed something that would make him feel like they weren't standing still, just waiting. Ken knew that Omi would prefer to hear that Yohji and Aya got in a car crash, if only to stop the nervous speculating. It was his imagination that would kill him, Omi coming up with worse and worse situations as the minutes went by.

Ken patted Omi on the back, wishing that someone would have the common decency to call. It wasn't fair to Omi that those two were gone without a trace and weren't even thinking of their feelings. Ken didn't mind so much, but seeing Omi chew at his fingernails unconsciously as he paced across the kitchen was painful. He ran his fingers through Omi's hair, combing it back into a bit of order. Omi had been pulling at his own hair earlier in the day, tugging at the strands to distract himself.

The phone rang once. Ken looked down at Omi, waiting. He didn't move, holding on tighter to Ken. The phone rang again and Omi gasped, recognizing the sound. He jumped up, his head slamming into the bottom of Ken's chin. His head flew backwards, stars in his eyes and Omi tripped and fell in his hurry, throwing his body against the counter. There was a struggle, Omi trying to tear the phone off the hook in his rush but only making it harder.

Ken massaged his jawbone with one hand, wincing at the throbbing pain. It rang once before being cut off, Omi nearly loosing his grip as he struggled with the head set. Omi finally managed to get the phone off the hook, clutching it with both hands. Ken rubbed at his chin with both hands, watching Omi answer the phone.

"Hello? Hello? Yohji? Aya? Hello?" Omi questioned, staring out of the corner of his eye into the phone like it was alive. He was silent for a moment, listening, before visibly sagging with relief. Ken raised an eyebrow. Omi mouthed out `Yohji' before turning his attention back to phone. Omi nodded once at whatever Yohji was saying. Then, his brows drew together, an angry look on his face.

"Who? You don't know?" Omi snapped, incredulous. He was quiet again, cut off by Yohji. His face got very hard, but he didn't say anything else, still listening to Yohji. He made an affirmative noise twice, agreeing to something on the phone. Omi's hand reached up, starting to rub at the crown of his head. Ken hoped Omi was getting a large bump or the like. His chin was throbbing like a bitch. It would only be fair.

"What's going on?" Ken asked, standing up. He stood close to Omi, trying to listen in. Omi waved him away, frustrated with Ken's questions. He turned his back to Ken, taking two small steps to the side. Omi wrapped his hands around the receiver as if to muffle it from Ken.

"I got it. Okay. Drive safe," Omi wished Yohji well before turning back. Ken was silent, waiting for the explanation, rubbing vigorously at his chin. Omi hung up the phone, humming to himself. It had to be good news if Omi wasn't crying. Ken stared at him, waiting for the explanation. Nothing.

"Well?!" Ken demanded when Omi remained silent. Omi smiled at him, hugging Ken again. Ken hugged him back, albeit a bit confused. Omi pulled back, still smiling like a complete idiot. Ken hissed, more then a little bit irritated.

"Someone kidnapped Aya. Yohji said he followed them all the way out to the mountains but he got Aya back. He's coming home right now," Omi finally informed Ken. He looked happy, relieved that Yohji had called. Omi was pleased that they were coming home, ignoring that little detail that he had first mentioned.

"Kidnapped?!" Ken yelled, making Omi blink at him in confusion. "What do you mean? Is Aya all right? What did they do to him?" Why didn't Omi ever ask the important questions? Kidnapped. Who would want Aya, right off the street? He had been watering flowers! Who would kidnap a thin, beaten florist? Oh, Shit. Realization hit Ken with all the force of a semi-truck. A pimp, an old customer, a rapist. Those people knew Aya. They would have no qualms about grabbing a man off the sidewalk.

"Ken, calm down. Yohji said he got to Aya before they did anything to him. They're all right," Omi scolded him. He was not overreacting. He was not going to calm down. Only five minutes ago Omi would have forgotten his right nut if it wasn't attached to his body. He didn't have the right to tell Ken to calm down. Then again, getting worked up wasn't going to do anything either. There was no one there to appreciate his temper right now.

"Fine," Ken grumbled, unhappy but listening to Omi's reasoning. If nothing had happened, then there really wasn't a reason to get upset. Yohji should have stopped them before they got to the mountains, though. God, what a car ride, if poor Aya had to be in a car with his kidnappers. They had to have driven at least an hour or more if Yohji was out in the boonies.

"I'm hungry," Ken griped, now that he didn't have to concentrate on being worried or on calming Omi down. Omi rolled his eyes at Ken's stomach. Really, now, he was a grown man. He had all right to be hungry. The body needs fuel to keep going. If Omi were to make something right now, like that omelet, Ken would be very content.

"Why don't you make a sandwich?" Omi returned, not in the mood to cook. Damn.

* * *

One eye cracked painfully open, his eyelashes sticking together with dried mucus. Aya blinked hard until the eye finally widened, revealing the landscape flashing by. His face was pressed against the cold window of a car, the unfamiliar side of the road flashing by. It looked like the mountains, no sidewalks or buildings. The road curved, the scenery changing into a steel barrier and a sheer drop down the side of the mountain. Where was he?

Aya didn't remember getting into a car. He didn't remember how he even ended up in a passenger's seat. Aya didn't feel any panic, or any curiosity, just a bone deep weariness that made his joints stiffen. His mouth was dry, like it had been robbed of all its moisture. His tongue was swollen, the back of his lips dry and cracking. His throat was tight, making it hard for Aya's laboring lungs to get enough air in. Aya shook his head a bit, his muscles sore and screaming in pain at the movement. He dropped back against the seat, twisting at the soreness, only making the throbbing turn into agony. Aya stopped moving, concentrating on holding his body completely still.

The car was warm, the heater blowing air on his bare legs. Aya frowned at that. He couldn't remember getting in the car, but he was sure he had worn pants today. He didn't even own a pair of shorts. He glanced down at his lap. A sweater he didn't recognize was draped over his legs, covering his groin. He shifted in his seat, feeling the fabric of the car seat underneath his naked thighs and flanks. He wasn't wearing pants. He wasn't even wearing underwear.

The panic that hadn't set in at not knowing where he was came alive when Aya only saw one thong on his foot, the other gone. Where it had been lost, Aya didn't know. The last thing he remembered was the storage room, slapping Yohji for trying to hit on him. What had happened between then and the car was lost, a hole in his memory. Aya thought hard, trying not to succumb to the tight knot of fear his stomach was turning into. What had happened?

He remembered a needle. That was very clear in his mind. He hated needles, panicked at the sight of them, because things like this always seemed to happen when they were near him. Who had used it was lost, all Aya could remember was a man. It had definitely been a man. There was the hazy memory of someone lifting up his legs. Beyond that, Aya couldn't even remember where it had been. He threw his head around, looking wildly to the driver.

It was Yohji. Smoking a cigarette, smiling like the world didn't matter, one hand on the wheel, the other out the window. Aya looked back at the road. No signs flashed by to tell him where they were. He was going to throw up. Aya felt the bile in the back of his throat. Oh, God. Oh, God. He repeated it over and over, even though he didn't even believe in religion.

"Aya?" Yohji asked curiously, realizing that Aya was awake. Aya watched the hand reach toward him, like he had the right to touch him. There was nothing to explain it. Yohji had raped him. Aya's mind couldn't work beyond that. He couldn't believe Yohji had betrayed him like that. Yohji. Oh, God, he trusted Yohji. He had thought Yohji would respect him, give him at least the value bestowed on an animal. He had trusted him.

The hand was coming closer. Aya was shaking. He couldn't stop it. How could Yohji do that to him? Why hadn't he paid attention to the signs, Yohji touching him, kissing him, slapping him? Yohji had showed interest. Why hadn't Aya done more to deter him, to keep him away? Oh, God. Why? How had it happened? What had he done? Why did Yohji do that? He had never considered it. Yohji, touching him like that. Why?

Yohji's hand was almost going to touch him, Yohji's face staring to get confused. It was going so slow, Aya trying to desperately figure it out. Why? Had he done something that made Yohji think that he had the right? It wasn't happening. Aya realized it was a dream. Why wasn't he waking up? It was too awful, so horrible it couldn't be happening. Why wouldn't Yohji hold still, just give him some time to think?

Yohji touched him and Aya screamed right in his face, unable to handle the touch. He never, ever wanted to see Yohji again, ever have him near him again. He wished he had never met Yohji. There wasn't anyone left to trust, there was no one to turn to, now that Yohji had betrayed him, violated him, touched him like that. Aya felt ripped to shreds, all those carefully placed barriers coming down where Yohji's hand left a burning, poisonous feeling.

He struck out, catching Yohji in the jaw. The car swerved dangerously, Yohji's grip on the steering wheel jostled. Aya didn't care. He hoped they crashed, he hoped they exploded in one big ball of flame and twisted metal, if it meant Yohji would die. Yohji pulled at the wheel, unable to defend himself against Aya as he hit at Yohji's head and arms, trying to keep him away.

"What the fuck, Aya?!" Yohji roared, grabbing at him while trying to keep his eyes on the road. Yohji managed to catch one of his wrists. Aya screamed louder, using his free hand to throw open the car door. The road sped by beneath the tires, the pavement glistening in the night, welcoming. Yohji cursed, the tires skidding on the road as the wind rushed in, no longer trying to hold Aya off, but instead hold him in from jumping out of the car. Aya scratched at his grip, making large red cuts with his fingernails, tearing at the bandages on Yohji's hand.

The car screamed to a stop and Aya tore at his seat belt, struggling out of Yohji's grip. Yohji wasn't letting go, wasn't releasing him, just holding onto him like a virus, his hand excruciating against Aya's skin. He reached down, grabbing his last sandal, and hit Yohji as hard as he could across the face. Yohji cursed and reached for his face, letting go of his wrist. Aya scrabbled at the seatbelt, his fingers slipping on the release. Yohji was recovering, starting to grab at him again. The seatbelt clicked and flew back.

Aya jumped out of the car, the sweater dropping on the gravel of the side of the road. The night was black, the mountains and trees blocking out the moonlight. Aya couldn't hear a car, he couldn't see any headlights to tell him of someone coming. Yohji was opening up his door, roaring his name. Aya looked wildly down the road. Which way could he go? Where was he? Yohji was getting out of the car. He was going to get him.

It was worthless to try, but there was nothing left to do. Aya ran across the road, taking large limping steps to avoid putting too much weight on the ankle. He didn't have shoes. He didn't have pants. He just ran into the wilderness, cut through only by the road. His only chance would be to lose Yohji in the woods. The gravel cut into his foot, small, sharp rocks digging into the pads of his feet. Aya almost lost his footing, regaining it by some grace and went headfirst into the slope of the ground, the mountain dipping down immediately to the edge of the road.

He fell more then ran, the ground uneven, but the downhill let him slide along with a limp, twigs and rocks scratching him, tearing at his ankles, making each step painful. He didn't care, he didn't care, he heard Yohji right behind him, far more sure-footed and faster and stronger then him right now. Aya screamed, unable to stop the fear, scared to death Yohji would touch him again. He fell down, going face first into the dirt and leaves, landing heavily. Sharp, dried branches and undergrowth dug into his hips and tickled his groin, reminding Aya how defenseless he was.

Aya didn't even have time to regain his footing. Yohji threw his body on top of Aya, holding him down by his weight alone. Aya screamed bloody murder, his throat aching with the force of his voice. Maybe someone would investigate the abandoned car and hear him. Please, hear me. There was small hope that anyone would come by at this time of night. He couldn't risk it though, if someone did come by and he was silent because he didn't think anyone would be there. Help me. Aya couldn't stop screaming.

"Shut! Up!" Yohji ordered, lifting his weight up only to push Aya deeper into the ground. Aya whimpered, praying that he wouldn't do it on the ground. Just give him the grace of something, anything, just not the humiliation of being raped in the middle of the forest. Yohji kept holding onto Aya, his knees pinning his legs down between them, his hands digging painfully into his arms. Aya clamped his mouth closed. It would be just stupid to get hit for screaming like a woman. His teeth dug into the inside of his cheek, skin tearing.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Yohji roared to the back of Aya's head. Aya could smell cigarettes on him. His muscles were trembling, still a bit in effects of the drugs. Or maybe it was fear. Yohji didn't scare him. The hot breath streaming on the back of his neck didn't frighten him. Yohji's strength holding him down securely as any metal didn't terrify him. Aya panted weakly. He wouldn't cry. Someone he trusted was going to rape him again, in the middle of the woods. I won't cry.

"Are you done?" Yohji demanded, his voice cold with anger. Aya screamed again, just to show him he wasn't. He'd scream his head off if it so much as irritated Yohji. He didn't care if he was beaten senseless for it or not. Yohji grunted at the scream, Aya hoping he busted eardrums. He screamed again, hoping that anyone driving by would hear him. Help, help me, he's touching me. Why wasn't anyone coming? Why was Yohji doing this? He was touching him.

"Aya, stop freaking out, it's just me," Yohji tried reasoning. Like Yohji's presence meant anything anymore. Yohji scared him, Yohji was stronger then him. Yohji could easily take him right now. He wouldn't even have to tear his clothes off, having already done so before. Why couldn't he remember? Aya was only more scared, left with his imagination to picture what Yohji must have done. How had Yohji gotten drugs? Why would he use them on him? Why, why, why?

There was no answer. Aya tried to tow his body out from under Yohji, digging his hands into the loose dirt in front of him. His broken fingers screamed in protest, bending back against the fractures. There was no purchase, Yohji pressing his heavy weight into him to keep Aya immobile. He screamed again, losing hope of anyone coming for him. There wasn't going to be anyone. Nobody could hear him. Aya closed his eyes, feeling worthless, helpless, tears burning behind his eyelids.

"Just do it," Aya sobbed, going limp under Yohji. There was no reason to fight anymore. Maybe if he didn't struggle and just accepted Yohji, it would be easier. Maybe Yohji would even try to be careful. Some of Aya's customers would be gentler if he didn't fight as much. Aya hoped Yohji would recognize he didn't want to fight any more. It wasn't worth it. He couldn't stop Yohji, he couldn't stop the world from spinning out of his control. His life wasn't his own, the sooner he accepted that the easier it would be.

"Do . . . What do you think I'm trying to do?" Yohji cried out, disbelief and frustration clear in his raised voice. Aya dug his face into the ground, trying to bury himself. Maybe he could dig a hole in the ground beneath them and disappear. He could hide away from Yohji, from every contact Yohji tried to make with him. Why? Aya couldn't accept it, couldn't fit the fact into his brain. It hurt him, made his heart ache more then his beaten body.

"Aya, do you remember what happened?" Yohji asked in a shaky voice, a little bit quieter now. Like he was scared. He was scared that Aya would remember what he did. Aya didn't have to remember, he figured it out well enough on his own. Aya's chest ached with the knowledge. It wasn't fair. What had he done to deserve all this? It wouldn't do a thing to keep fighting. Aya surrendered, completely. He couldn't fight anymore. It just hurt too much.

"Oh, fuck, Aya, what are you thinking?" Yohji sighed, moved off of him. Aya stayed on his stomach. Any sudden moves could be the end. If he tried running, Yohji would catch him before he could make it far enough away. He might even beat Aya just to make sure he didn't try anything else. That pain, that old familiar agony was drumming along to his heart. If he opened his eyes to see where Yohji was, the tears would pour out. Aya stayed face down in the dirt, the scent of the grass and trees filling his nose.

"Someone grabbed you from the front of the shop, Aya. I chased them, oh, God, what did they do?" Aya was angry. Why did Yohji get to say God's name just like he did? Why did Yohji get to feel anything? Aya's heart was going to burst, pounding heavily in his chest. Had anyone else every felt like this? Aya started shaking, feeling cold. It was so cold. He didn't think the cold could touch him like this. He had always ignored it.

" . . . They?" Yohji's words finally hit him. Aya was trembling with the cold, wondering if it was all a lie. `Someone grabbed you.' Not Yohji. It hadn't been Yohji. Aya shook in relief, the trembling growing stronger, his breathing turning into pants. Not Yohji. Someone else. Someone else? Who? Who wanted him? Who was after him? Were they here now? Aya didn't want to see another human being again. They were out to get him, some faceless group of people ready to tear Aya apart, starting from the inside.

"Do you remember anything? What they looked like? Any names?" Yohji questions were hollow. Aya couldn't remember. He couldn't get that hazy blackness to melt away and reveal his memory. He couldn't do anything. Aya made a fist of dirt, grinding small rocks into the palm of his hand. He couldn't remember. Nothing at all. That had been what led him to think Yohji had raped him. He was so relieved that it hadn't be Yohji, yet at the same time he couldn't stop shaking.

"Never mind, Aya, its not important right now, okay?" Yohji dismissed it, no longer caring about who had picked Aya off the street. It was important right now. Aya needed to remember who had grabbed him. Aya needed to know how it happened. He couldn't live without knowing. Because, if he didn't know, it meant it could happen again.

"Don't touch me," Aya hissed before Yohji could even think of trying to. He wouldn't be able to stand Yohji's touch right now. It didn't matter that Yohji had never touched him like that. Just the thought of it, the fear that Yohji had been the one to do it, made Aya's very soul shake. He wouldn't be able to move past that fear, at least not for a while. He could hide it by being tough as nails, but if Yohji tried to touch him right now, he'd probably start to cry.

"Come on, Aya, it's cold out here. Let me take you home," Yohji tried, his voice reaching Aya. It was cold, so cold Aya thought he would freeze to death. He wasn't shaking from the fear anymore, now it was the chill that was starting to sink into his body. He would like to go home. That would be familiar surrounding, not this scary wilderness that Aya didn't know. The trees were looming over them, blocking out the night sky. He couldn't even see the haze of city lights. He wanted his bed, his own pillow to hold onto so he wouldn't break apart.

"I can't move," Aya moaned, his teeth starting to chatter with the cold. It wasn't winter yet. How could it be this cold? The air and the ground were sucking away at what little heat he made for himself. There was a snap of a branch breaking, Yohji standing up. Aya stayed where he was. It was the truth. He couldn't move right now, his muscles clenching and freezing up again. What freedom the drugs had allowed was gone now, swallowed by him moving around so much, spreading the toxins in his blood again.

"Let me carry you," Yohji asked. Aya shook his head. Please, don't touch me. Don't touch me ever again. Yohji didn't hear an answer. Aya didn't trust himself with words now. They wouldn't be able to convey to Yohji his feelings. They never were able to before. Yohji ignored his silent prayers, bending down next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Sit up a bit," he ordered. Aya did, slowly, Yohji's hand on his shoulder helping him. Aya couldn't really do anything but obey, the command giving him something to follow. He didn't trust his own judgment right now. He was too shaken, his thoughts scattered. Why had Yohji done this to him? Wait. It hadn't been Yohji. Someone else. It didn't really matter. Someone had done it to him again. Just bent him over without a care and drove themselves home. It was nothing new. Even this lack of memory was familiar in it's own frightening way, Aya having been exposed to date rape drugs before. Nothing new. He could deal with this.

Yohji crouched in front of him, offering up his back. Aya stared at the fabric of the shirt, uncomprehending. What did Yohji want? If it wasn't sex, Aya was at a loss of what to do. That was his area of expertise. Yohji patted his own back, like he was trying to convince a pet to come to him. Aya supposed he was Yohji's pet. After this, who could consider him to be a man? He was just a used object. He didn't deserve the respect a man gained through life. He had lost it all when he had first agreed to being a whore.

When Aya didn't move, Yohji backed up with little crab steps until his back hit Aya's chest. He pulled Aya's arms up over his shoulders, shifting a bit to get Aya on top of him. Aya finally understood, wrapping his arms loosely around Yohji's neck. Yohji put his hands underneath Aya's legs and lifted him up into a piggyback, standing up effortlessly under Aya's weight.

"Let's go back to the shit mobile," Yohji announced, starting to tromp back up the hill. Aya held on, closing his eyes as he rocked to Yohji's footsteps, his heart starting to pound less. Maybe he could stand Yohji's touch right now. His skin wasn't crawling like he thought it was. He was too tired to fight it. He wanted to go home.

"The . . . shit mobile?" Aya asked quietly into Yohji's ear, missing the humor. He thought Yohji loved his car. Wait. It hadn't been Yohji's car that Aya had run from. Yohji chuckled, hoisting Aya up further when he started to slide down his back. Aya couldn't clamp his leg muscles around Yohji's middle. They just wouldn't obey him, and he didn't think he could anyways, the move too familiar to other positions he had been forced in.

"Yeah, the piece of crap we're riding in. I crashed it into that bastard's limo. Still runs like a charm though," Yohji admitted, surprisingly jovial for their situation. Aya could see the flat, level surface of the pavement in the distance. One headlight was shining into his eyes, visible through the trees. Aya could see the damage now, the front left side of the car dented in and the paint scraped off.

"What bastard?" Aya asked again. He was confused, lost. He felt alone, even though Yohji was carrying him to the car. He didn't know what happened, was completely bewildered at everything that had happened in the past few hours. Yohji hefted Aya up again as they went across the road, no traffic stopping them. Aya's screams had been worthless, because it didn't seem like anyone had driven by, much less stopped by the abandoned car.

"Oh. You don't remember," Yohji reminded himself out loud. "The pimp who dragged you off. I think I wrecked his limo," Yohji mused, recalling the incident. It sounded familiar, vaguely. Aya remembered being stunned by a violent movement. Where he had been, what he had been doing were things that wisped away from the corner of his memory, gone before he could even think about it.

"Good," Aya grunted, the only satisfaction he could get out of the whole night. Some pimp crying over a trashed car. It wasn't vengeance, not by any standards, but it was enough. It had to be. Aya wouldn't ever want to see the face of the man who had kidnapped him. It would be like looking into the face of hell. It would mean everything would start again.

Yohji let go of one of Aya's legs to open up the car door. Aya's unsupported leg fell, unable to hold itself up. His toes brushed Yohji's pants, his leg swinging in the air beyond his control. Yohji turned around, backing up before dropping Aya back into the seat. Immediately Aya crossed his legs, catching one ankle behind the calf again, covering his lap with his hands. It was the only thing left to him. He could have some dignity, as much modesty as he could manage right now.

Yohji left the side of the car for a moment, walking away to pick up the sweater. He handed it to Aya wordlessly. Aya took it, smoothing it over his lap was as much poise as he could manage, trying to make it seem like he didn't care he was naked from the waist down. It wasn't like Yohji had never seen another man naked. It was that Yohji hadn't seen a naked man with scars forming on the inside of his thighs, band-aids pathetically covering the sore, healing wounds.

"Let's get going. Omi's probably having a going into labor as we speak," Yohji announced. Aya nodded, turning his gaze back to the dark scenery. It didn't matter where they went. Just as long as they were moving, it meant Aya wasn't in one place. Staying still meant that someone could snatch him up just as they had done this afternoon. Yohji shifted, letting the car roll down the hill before accelerating. Aya let his head rest against the window again, too tired to attempt conversation. It wasn't worth it anyways.

* * *

"Hey, ladies," Yohji called out his usual greeting into the house as he opened the door. He held it open, waiting until Aya noticed that he was holding it for him. Slowly, painfully, Aya shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes darting around the house like he had never seen it before. He had tied the sweater around his hips, draping it over himself like an artisan, creating a loincloth that would make a caveman jealous. Omi ran around the corner, his face worried and tired.

"You're all right! Oh, Aya, you're all right," Omi sobbed in relief, launching himself forward. Aya flung himself back, seeing Omi throwing his body at him for a hug. Yohji easily stepped in front of Aya, taking the hug for him, squeezing Omi tight. Omi squeaked, wrapping his arms around a person that he hadn't expected.

"You were worried, huh, squirt?" Yohji crooned into Omi's head as Ken made his appearance. He sagged in relief at seeing Aya in one piece, then his eyes narrowed at Yohji's arms hugging Omi. Yohji flipped him off behind Omi's back, both of them smiling at the familiar antics. Omi stepped back, releasing Yohji to examine Aya with his eyes if Yohji wasn't going to let him near.

"What happened? Where have you been? Aya, where are your pants?" Omi asked the questions in a speed that a news reporter would envy. Aya didn't answer him, visibly cringing away from the concern. His face was still covered in dirt, a small leaf sticking out of his hair. Aya looked like a child called in from a rough play.

"I'll get some pants," Ken announced, jogging away from the kitchen and up the stairs. Yohji wanted to warn Ken not to open up the closet. Ken and Omi still didn't know about Aya's cross-dressing. Yohji didn't think Aya would be appreciative that Yohji had taken it on himself to clean up all the clothes. He couldn't say anything in front of Aya, and just hoped by some grace that Ken wouldn't see anything that would make him ask questions.

"I've been worried sick, you called hours ago!" Omi whined, moving away from Yohji to better examine Aya. He reached up, picking a stem out of Aya's hair. Aya didn't flinch away from it. Yohji felt jealousy. It wasn't fair that Omi wasn't threatening to Aya. He had to admit it was hard to be threatened by someone who was shorter, and a hell of a lot more girly then yourself, but it was still something that made Yohji envious.

Aya shrugged. It wasn't like he knew the details to their little road trip. Yohji felt a bit guilty about the car, parked on the sidewalk. That woman must be flipping out by now. If not, she would when she saw her car. Yohji would have to call a tow truck tomorrow. Frankly, he didn't trust the poor little sport car's endurance past going a mile. Omi lifted up Aya's hands, studying the dirty cuts.

"Do you want to take a nice hot bath?" Omi asked. Yohji's ears perked. If Aya didn't want to, he sure would. Omi made it sound like the best idea to ever grace the walls of the house. Aya nodded weakly, still not speaking. Aya's silence didn't concern Yohji much. It meant Aya was feeling more like himself. As soon as Aya started grunting for conversation, Yohji would consider Aya back to his normal self.

Ken jogged back in, a pair of loose sweat pants in his hands. He handed them to Aya with a smile. Aya held them in his hands, looking down at his pants like he had never seen them before. Omi grinned reassuringly at Aya, reaching out and hugging one of Ken's arm. Omi had definitely been worried over them. Ken smiled as well, pleased that he had fetched the pants.

"Could you all turn around?" Aya snapped irritably. Oh, yeah. Modesty and all that. Yohji had forgotten about Aya's newfound sensitivity to being in a state of undress. Not that he could blame him. Ken frowned and Omi was already turned around, humming as he let go of Ken's arm and started to bounce up the stairs.

"I'll start the ba-ath!" Omi sang back at them. Yohji sighed. Omi was always happy about anything he did, starting a bath or cleaning a toilet. It was annoying and humbling at the same time. Yohji knew he couldn't be that cheerful all the time. Not unless he was constantly on something. It wouldn't be too much of a step, Yohji already finished with the two packs he had bought at the gas station only hours before.

Yohji and Ken studied the walls of the kitchen, both of them uncomfortably silent as the sound of the sweater hitting the tile was audible over their quietness. Yohji glanced over at Ken as he did the exact same, both of them making awkward eye contact. There was a grunt that was stifled as Aya pulled on the sweat pants, painfully struggling with the soft, stretchy fabric.

"So . . . How'd the tournament go?" Yohji asked. There wasn't any conversation to start. He really didn't know the first thing about kicking a ball up and down a field. Ken knew that Yohji wasn't interested in the slightest. They both just needed to start talking to cover up the silence. The water pipes hummed over their heads as Omi started the bath.

"The kids did a good job. They were really trying hard," Ken said fondly, pride in his voice. Even if Yohji didn't care, Ken still was ready to brag. He was really happy with those kids. It was nice that Ken could find satisfaction coaching the little shits. Yohji couldn't handle anyone under eighteen. It wasn't worth dancing around the law. On the other hand, Yohji never really did make friends unless it was going to end up in bed.

"That's great," Yohji commented. They were silent again. When had a conversation been this hard? Yohji couldn't remember the last time it had been so uncomfortable to talk to Ken. He had never had Aya dragging on a pair of sweats behind him, though. Yohji wondered if Aya was as uncomfortable as them with the silence. Probably not. Aya was more comfortable with the silence then any of them. Aya made his own silence.

"I've got the bath running!" Omi announced, bouncing down the stairs. He jumped, flying over the last three steps, before landing perfectly on both feet and throwing his hands up like a gymnast. Yohji applauded lamely for the trick. Ken laughed and rolled his eyes at Omi's antics. Aya breezed past him, limping slightly with his chin up straight and his eyes on Omi.

"Hey, want to try your own bed tonight?" Yohji asked at Aya's retreating back. It was rude to ask, but Yohji wanted his bed. His nice, comfy bed. Yohji wondered why he hadn't named it. He had been away from the bed for so long, it felt like he had lost a sister. Or a lover. Someone important, that was for sure. Omi glanced back at Ken, one hand helping Aya up the stairs.

"Yohji! Can't you be patient? Aya's still hurt. You should have thought about it before you offered your bed," Omi scolded him. It utterly galled Yohji that the little shit could get away with acting like the mother of the household. Just because he cooked and cleaned and took care of the laundry didn't mean he could run the place! The only reason Yohji held back from throttling the kid was because if he refused to do those services . . . Yohji'd be fairly screwed when it came to clean clothes.

"Fine, whatever, after Aya's done, I'm taking a shower," Yohji called dibs. Omi nodded, turning back to help Aya make it up the stairs. Yohji watched Aya climb the stairs, his bare feet covered in dirt and speckled with rusty blood from the ankle down, visibly favoring his left foot. It was painful to see him struggle. There wasn't anything else Yohji could do but ache for him, as long as Aya wouldn't let him help.

When Omi and Aya finally ascended from sight, Yohji turned back to the kitchen. Ken sat down at the kitchen table, his legs splayed out, making the wooden chair seem like a couch. Yohji let out a breath he had been holding. The night had been tough, long. Now that Aya was gone, it didn't feel like he was standing next to a walking time bomb. He could relax a bit. He moved over to the refrigerator and reached up on top of it, behind the basket of potato chips. There was nothing.

"Ken?" Yohji asked, warningly. It had better be a prank. Or a joke. Yohji didn't really care, as long as there was something still in the house. Ken better be the culprit here. Because, if it had been Omi, there was no hope, none at all. If Omi had found the bottle behind the chips, Yohji's whole alcohol stash was in grave danger. Ken shrugged from the table, shaking his head.

"Omi did a search. He dumped it all down the drain," Ken informed him. Yohji was floored. Had he found everything? Even the bottle beneath the loose floorboard? All of it? Ken was watching Yohji, obviously gauging the reaction. Ken glanced at the door, apparently planning out an escape in case Yohji flipped out.

"You sure it was everything?" Yohji asked, praying for a chance that Omi had overlooked something. Ken shook his head, looking sympathetic toward Yohji, but nothing more. If he felt bad, he should go down to the grocery store on the corner and shell out a couple twenties for him.

"Not unless you managed to hide it in the rafters, because Omi's too short to reach them," Ken admitted. Yohji sat down heavily at the table, then pitched forward, slamming his face into the table. No alcohol. It echoed in his head. No cigarettes. He couldn't even smoke the lint in the corner. The house was as dry as a church. No, wait. Churches had that bitter, fruity wine. It didn't sound half bad to suddenly find his spiritual side, if it meant chugging down the bottle.

"Oh, Yohji, a little abstinence never hurt anyone," Ken tried to give him a cheer up speech. Yohji slammed his head onto the table again, hoping that he could knock himself unconscious. Aya better hurry up with his bath. Yohji's skin was starting to itch with sweat and dirt from chasing the bastard through half the wilderness.

"It's hurting me," Yohji moaned miserably. He just wanted this night to end.

* * *

"Yo…Yohji?" Whoever it was must want to die. Yohji opened up one eye. Finding Aya's goddamn red analog clock blinking at him. 3:43 A.M. Oh, someone was going to die. That is, whenever he woke up enough to strangle them.

"What?" Yohji hissed irritably, sitting up in Aya's uncomfortable bed. They better switch beds soon, that spoiled little prick was hogging Yohji's soft bed.

"N…Nothing. Never mind," Aya stuttered. Oh God. Aya was in the room. His pale skin practically glowing in the darkness of the room. Yohji blinked in amazement. Aya looked out of his depth, faint trembles running through his body as he swayed on his feet. Yohji wondered how the hell he had made it to the room without falling down.

"Aya, what is it?" Yohji asked, throwing back the covers. Aya took a step back, shaking his head.

"I…I…I had a …oh, fuck you!" Aya rambled off, wrapping his arms around his body. Aya looked like he was going to fall apart. His eyes wide and scared. Something had happened that was rattling Aya badly. Aya didn't lose his cool. It would take a whole desert to make Aya's icy demeanor even bead with sweat.

"Aya, you shouldn't be out of bed." Yohji insisted, standing up. Aya shook his head, making like he was going to turn around. Yohji noticed a large red blot on Aya's right elbow.

"You fell." Yohji accused him. Aya met Yohji's eyes with a look of shock, like he thought Yohji was watching him. Yohji gestured at Aya's elbow. Aya lifted his arm up a bit, studying the mark.

"Oh, I fell out of bed. "Aya admitted, very grudgingly. Yohji sighed heavily, pissed and at the end of his rope with Aya. Stepping forward, Yohji bent down.

"What are you doing?" Aya questioned, looking a bit frightened. Yohji got an arm under

Aya's knees and lifted him up like he would a small child. No way would Yohji let Aya walk back to his room in this shape.

"Put me down!" Aya demanded, his voice sounding panicked. Yohji started to walk down the dark hall, not particularly concerned with Aya's weak struggles.

"You're not walking, so deal." Yohji snapped. He wasn't in the mood to baby Aya's desire to mess himself up even worse. Aya tightened his lips, looking very displeased in Yohji's arms, but for once not arguing. Yohji was thankful, because this early in the morning he would likely knock Aya's teeth in if he talked back.

Once Yohji got Aya's lightweight through his bedroom door, he noticed two things. One

was that every light was on, from the ceiling fixture to the bed lamp, and small neon margarita glass on the wall. The other was that the sheets were half off the bed, the covers sagging to the floor with one lonely pillow on top. Aya didn't offer any explanations, and Yohji wasn't up to prying one out of him. He sat Aya down at the edge of the bed, picking up the pillow and throwing it to the head of the bed. Aya flinched as it flew past his head, like he expected the pillow to stop and beat him up.

"Bad dream?" Yohji's mouth came up with the answer before his brain did. As he gathered up the sheets from the floor, Yohji started to recognize the signs of a bad nightmare. Aya only nodded, looking down at his hands. The man was probably embarrassed that he admitted to having dreams, much less bad ones.

"Want to talk?" Yohji asked tentatively.

"No."

Yohji counted to ten. Backwards. God, couldn't he even pretend for just one fucking moment that he was human? Yohji closed his eyes, trying not to think that if Aya wasn't such a selfish, tight-assed prick, he could still be sleeping right now.

"Lie down." Yohji ordered, grinding his teeth. Aya shook his head, not moving an inch.

"Lie down, please?" Yohji tried again. He sounded like `please' meant `or else'.

"I can't sleep." Aya said very quietly. That stopped him from shoving Aya down on the bed and tucking him in so he couldn't move like Yohji had originally planned.

"I keep dreaming about… things." Aya elaborated. `Things'? He was content to put it into that word? Yohji was about to throttle him. It wasn't like Yohji wanted Aya to break down crying and finally tell him everything, but he did want Aya to admit that he was hurting. That he had been raped.

"Why'd you come into my…uh, your room?" Yohji asked, stumbling over the location. Aya didn't answer him, just fell back into the bed and rolled onto his side. Yohji glared at Aya's back, having seen too much of it already.

"I just… I mean, Ken and Omi are…you know," Aya started, fumbling with words.

"Going at it like bunnies?" Yohji gave Aya the words for it. He wondered what kind of face Aya was making, if any at all.

"I didn't want to bother them. But, if someone is here. I…I don't think I'm somewhere else." Aya explained very vaguely. Yohji had to think about it for a moment, processing Aya's words.

"Yohji…could, could you stay here?" Aya asked.

There was no 'please'. Hell, Aya sounded like he'd rather a snake in the room. Yohji wondered if it might even be some sort of weird joke. It wasn't like he had ever seen Aya be humorous.

"What?" Yohji asked. Maybe he had misheard Aya. Because Aya would never requested for someone to stay in the same room with him. It just went against everything that Aya was. Aya didn't ask for help. Aya didn't ask for anyone to do something for him, half because he wouldn't let that independent, self-sufficient prick image drop for one second, and half because Aya never expected anyone to help. At least, that's what Yohji could pick up from him. As if anyone could read Aya.

Aya wasn't repeating himself. Aya's back was silent, one arm wrapped around his body. In the bright, artificial light of the room, Aya looked very small. The white of his skin was fading with the white of the comforter. A small pink glow was cast from the neon margarita, giving Aya a bit of a normal, healthy skin tone. It was all fake though. Aya wasn't healthy, and very likely wouldn't be for a long time,

"Aya?" Yohji asked again. He didn't do well with silent treatment. Even though that was Aya's usual social approach. Yohji couldn't deal with the silence of the room. He finished pulling up the sheets and straightened them out over Aya's feet.

"Just don't leave me alone," Aya whispered. Yohji felt like a train had hit him. Repeatedly. Aya had never begged anyone. Aya had never sounded so vulnerable. Aya hadn't ever come close to sounding so banal. He just seemed so exposed, completely helpless in the bed. Yohji had never seen Aya looked defenseless, even if someone through a brick as his head. The sheets dropped from his twitching fingers, Yohji unable to move.

He had never thought Aya would ask anything of him, from passing the salt to staying the night. Yohji was speechless, which had never happened before. It was beyond him, just too bizarre. Almost to good to be true. He couldn't help but feel smug that Aya had come to him of all the people in the house.

`Wake up, Yohji. Its by process of elimination, not any real feelings,' the still rational part of his brain reminded him. The only reason Aya had come to him was because Omi and Ken were too busy fucking each other's brains out. There wasn't even a glimmer of friendship, not the barest courtesy extended to someone he lived with. It was all pretty much Yohji's fault in the first place. If he was upset that Aya didn't trust him, Yohji should be upset at himself first. It was his fault for not thinking every single time he tried to deal with Aya.

"I'm sorry, Aya," Yohji said out loud, thought it was far too late to mean anything. It just didn't seem right to be asked into a man's bed, even if it wasn't going to involve sex, if there wasn't any level of trust. Nobody would ever accuse Yohji of being a gentleman, but he did have some standards. Aya's hand twitched at his voice, the only indication that Aya was still awake, much less listening to him.

"I know," Aya said softly, not moving. Yohji blinked. How could he know? Aya wasn't a psychic the last time Yohji checked. It only irritated Yohji, grating on hypersensitive nerves. Aya didn't know one single thing about how sorry Yohji did or didn't feel.

"I wasn't thinking either." Aya didn't dance around the subject. Yohji felt ashamed, like he had been caught in the act, yet at the same time taken back that Aya had admitted to the same thing. It was true though. Yohji hadn't known how to deal, just did everything off instincts. Yohji had just been scared a small amount about dealing with Aya's anger, about being rejected totally beyond a hope of a second chance. And here Aya was asking him to sleep with him.

"Aya, I'm sorry," Yohji apologized again, trying desperately to find some sort of middle ground with Aya. Some kind of understanding, just enough to allow him to talk to Aya and not have to worry about getting his head ripped off.

"I never said thank you, did I?" Aya asked very quietly. Yohji pinched the inside of his arm quickly. It smarted, so it wasn't a dream. Hell had really frozen over, because Aya was thinking of saying thank you to someone. He was going to be grateful. Yohji wished he had a camera, something to record this with.

"No, you didn't," Yohji agreed, gathering up the sheets again to hide any discomfort. He didn't want to spook Aya in any way, not when he was so close to actually saying thank you to a fellow human being. Yohji lifted up the covers over Aya's shoulders, smoothing out the edge over his neck.

Aya didn't say anything. He didn't move at all, still on his side with his back to Yohji. It was abnormally quiet in Yohji's room, only the buzz of the light bulbs audible. Yohji stood there, unsure if he had missed it. If he hadn't been listening carefully enough, Yohji would jump out the window right then and there.

"Aya?" Yohji asked, preparing to kill him if Aya had fallen asleep.

"I already said it," he snapped irritably, knowing that Yohji was looking for the `thank you.' Yohji made a fist, controlling his anger. His forced the snarl into a smile, grinding his teeth together. He should have known better. Yohji closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax.

"Never mind, ice queen," Yohji mocked, moving to the door to flick off the overhead light. He walked to the dresser and pulled the plug of the margarita, letting the light hum before the neon started to cool down. Lastly, Yohji went back to the bed, clicking off the lamp. He lifted up the edge of the sheets. Aya's back was revealed again, the shirt lifting up against the mattress to show Yohji a hint of white skin in the dark.

"What did you say?" Aya hissed, disbelieving that Yohji would have the balls to tease him. Yohji smiled at Aya as he crawled into the bed, moaning as he sunk into the familiar softness of his bed. He missed it so much, like his right hand, like a good stiff drink.

"What are you doing?" Aya demanded, rolling over to face Yohji. Aya propped himself up on one elbow, glaring down at Yohji as he settled into the bed. Yohji yawned, stretching out to the side of Aya. His back popped and his stretched his arms up, hearing the muscles groan and shift. Back in his own bed with Aya willingly in it, even if there wasn't going to be sex, made Yohji very content.

"I'm sleeping here tonight," Yohji clarified, wiggling his back to get comfortable. "Is that all right?" Yohji asked. Aya was making Yohji wonder if he mistaken him somewhere along the line. Aya was staring at Yohji in mild horror, causing Yohji to shift out of the cozy little dip he had made in the mattress.

"Its . . . fine," Aya gave his consent to Yohji, like he hadn't really expected him to stay. Aya still had some things to learn if he didn't see why Yohji was more then happy to jump into bed with him. Yohji still had some things to learn about Aya as well it seemed, because he almost screamed in surprise when someone touched him. Aya threw an arm across Yohji's chest and curled up against his side, Aya's face burying into the hollow of Yohji's shoulder.

"Don't leave," Aya demanded drowsily, already starting to succumb to exhaustion. Someone had died and gone to heaven, and it wasn't Aya. Yohji had the sensation of flying. It was too good to be true. Aya Fujimiya was the cuddling type. Yohji had never pictured Aya to be the kind to indulge in someone holding him close. Then again, nobody ever did hug Aya. Maybe Aya needed it a bit more then Yohji thought. He had never considered it, Aya baring teeth if anyone came too close to him.

Yohji felt like tomorrow morning should go fuck itself, because he had the rest of the night to enjoy. Aya started to relax, his breathing getting lighter as he started to fall asleep. Yohji had never been happier to be a human pillow. He reached over with the hand not under Aya's weight and smoothed back the bangs of Aya's hair. The red strands were soft and fluffy under Yohji's fingers, separating easy. Yohji had never even dreamed that Aya would fall asleep on him voluntarily.

"Stop playing with my hair," Aya growled sleepily, shifting a bit before nuzzling closer into Yohji's neck, just like a child would. Yohji took his hand off Aya's head, letting it stretch over the pillows. He worked his other arm out from under Aya's ribcage, letting it help make a pillow under Aya's collarbone.

Aya's breathing slowed, relaxing, until Yohji recognized the light sounds Aya made while sleeping. Lord knew he spent enough time to recognize Aya's small, delicate snores. It hadn't taken long at all to have Aya out like a light. The dreams must have interrupted more sleep then Yohji had originally thought.

Yohji rolled his neck against the pillow and relaxed his body, ready for sleep himself. Once Yohji finally managed to get some shuteye, he liked to continue until he was well rested. Yohji was well known for his long, deep sleeps. It had nothing to do with the fact he had missed his own bed like hell and was ecstatic to be back in it. His own breathing started to calm as well, and soon Yohji stopped thinking as he fell asleep, one hand over Aya's shoulder just in case the bastard tried to run off in the middle of the night.

* * *

Aya's hands clenched into fist uselessly, the tips of his fingers tingling from the loss of blood. The necktie was made of a smooth, scratchy fabric, busted threads rubbing against his numbed skins. It was knotted tightly around Aya's wrists and the base of his palms, making the elbows sting with pain every now and then. He shoulders burned, ached, his body shoved down into the bed at an awkward angle.

Aya panted hard, unable to turn his head so he could move away from the moist, clinging spot of silk under his mouth. He couldn't close his mouth, saliva and tears making the sheets stick to his face. His ass was in the air, forced up by two pillows shoved under his hips. Aya's ankles were bound to the bedposts, stretching his legs out until his knees cracked with every movement. One foot was held by a belt that had been looped around his ankle twice before around the bedpost, giving him a bit of room to try and struggle with. His other foot was held by a thin black shoelace, the skin puffy and red beneath the thin rope. The businessmen had grown tired of Aya struggling, mainly because it took all three of them to hold him down. Though two of them had brought `toys,' painfully new and excited at having a male prostitute, no one had apparently thought of rope.

These men was obviously newbies, men that had abused and raped female whores before but had never tried their hand at a man. These were closet sadists, apparently using prostitutes before as a perverted male bonding group, not unlike friends formed to go drink together. Though they were not unfamiliar by any means with having arousal by torturing a woman in the most personal of ways, this was completely fresh and mysterious to them. They had, for God knows what reason, decided on a man tonight, an enthralling new experience, the next level in their activities.

Like many nights before, the men had brought their collections of accessories that had built up over the nights and years. They had never used them on a man before and were giddy with excitement, trying everything out. One had a dildo, called something ridiculous like `the big one.' Aya had missed it in the fight.

They had finally restrained Aya face down on the bed after he fought so much at the attempted orgy. His struggles weren't a turn off, as he had weakly hoped it would be, proven wrong by the hard mound of an erection pressing into various places on his body. But, the middle-aged businessmen soon realized it would take all of them to simply hold Aya down, much less attempt sex. So, they had restrained Aya with what they could, having not expected such trouble from a man, expecting it to be somewhat like a woman's strength.

One man had shoved the dildo into Aya's anus, barely oiled enough to fit inside him. It shook Aya's inner tissues in raw spots, some areas not being relieved with the small amount of lube lathered on. It hurt and just vibrated him mechanically, the plastic growing warm with his body heat, his brain pulsating inside his skull with the force of it. Aya couldn't help the tears of pain that were in his eyes, pouring down onto the sheets, fogging up his vision. They were making his face wet, mixing with the sweat, Aya gasping hard around the fierce throbbing.

They had left it in, pulling back to watch the device dig it's way into him. Aya's hips were spread, unable to tighten against the intrusion. His muscles tried to clench around it but were forced to relaxed against the inhuman rhythm. Aya wouldn't sob, wouldn't allow them to take him that far down. Aya had bitten through his lips a long time ago, blood splattering down his chin. Aya still struggled against his bonds, swearing to God he'd come back and kill them. Kill them all so they wouldn't be able to brag about it to their coworkers, dirtying up his name any further. He wouldn't allow it.

But, all he could do was spasm and twist against the sharp shocks of pain that would go to his groin, the plastic head almost brushing his prostrate but just a breath away. His skin was stretching further, starting to make air pockets in the passage, no one working the dildo in or out. They left it in for more then Aya could remember, his body eventually starting to go numb with the shaking. His legs were trembling with exhaustion. He couldn't even try to struggle, his face digging into the mattress, used beyond any limit.

"I could watch this all night long," a deep voice murmured appreciatively, the bass of the voice shaking Aya's body. He shuddered, his muscles trying to freeze up with terror, praying that they wouldn't leave it in longer. Aya bit through his tongue to stop any sound that would give them any pleasure, his mouth filled with salty blood.

"Damn straight," someone else agreed, a soft thumping noise betrayed to Aya that the man was jerking off to his rear. Aya shuddered mentally, his body too worn to tremble anymore. His body was covered in a sticky sheen of sweat, making goose bumps rise up as the air conditioning caressed his skin. The dildo kept working its way in, sliding itself into the hole it was making in Aya's lower back.

Someone finally pulled it out, Aya's body still shaking with the memory of it, stretched an painfully open. Aya breathed through his nose, his lips pressed tightly against any sound. He'd bit his tongue off before he gave them any sound to satisfy their egos as a finger dug in experimentally. The man's skin was dry and rough, the knuckle not even brushing the gaping hole Aya had been turned into. It felt like fire against the inside of skin and hissed in pain reflexively before he clenched his jaws together, his teeth scraping against each other painfully.

The finger prodded the extent of Aya's insides, tracing a burning path inside of his body. Another hand sunk into the mattress by Aya's waist, making the pillows dip with the weight. The man climbing onto the mattress between Aya's legs, breathing heavily, the moist pants making Aya sick.

The head of a penis prodded in harder then Aya could easily accept. It was thrust in painfully, hitting uncomfortably below Aya's prostrate, making Aya grunt. He struggled, trying to adjust himself to the man's bestial thrusts so his body could just take it. The man grabbed the back of Aya's head, his fingers digging into his hair. His face was pushed into the mattress, holding his body down so he couldn't even think of moving away.

Finding a angle to work with, the man started to pound into Aya, managing to hit that spot by mere force then any kind of skill. He just muscled himself into Aya as deep as he could manage. There was a stab of pleasure that took Aya's breath away, but at the same time his stomach dropped in disgust that he felt anything at all.

Another hand clamped down on the back of Aya's thigh, holding his leg down on the bed at a painful angle. Another man had joined in, forcing his other hand under Aya's groin despite the helpless rocking of Aya's hips. Aya could only tighten his eyes, his body to exhausted and numb to even twitch,

"God, it's so much tighter," the man who was pounding into Aya grunted out. The penis started to twitch inside Aya's body, nearing an orgasm. Aya's mouth couldn't close around the hot breath he was sucking in desperately. He wouldn't make a single sound. He wasn't some weak, gaspy thing. Aya would struggle against them any way he could.

"Really? Hurry up!" the third man in the room that had yet to lie hands on Aya demanded excitedly. The second set of hands was kneading Aya's groin, trying very hard to get a reaction out of him. They were starting to grow angry with Aya's lack of reaction, not experiencing the usual victim's desperation of being at their mercy. Aya would hold out on becoming a willing, unresisting piece of shit longer then they could work him.

"It's kind of nice, not having him scream his head off. We don't have to gag this scary bitch," the nonparticipating man commented, letting his friend cry out huskily as he released into Aya. Aya's body clenched, trying to expel him out and everything left behind inside, his eyes closed painfully tight.

"'Fire' or whatever the hell they were calling you my ass," sniped the man trying to give a hand job, Aya's penis still flaccid and sickened by his hands. "You're like a fucking ice princess. Why don't you make some noise?"

Aya opened his mouth to tell the asshole just what he could do with his busy hands, but choked as the penis slid out of Aya, tearing skin. Aya saw red for a moment, unable to do anything but stare blindly at the covers. His body would have shuddered with the intense pain, but he was already limp with the past events of the night.

"Oh, man, you have got to try this ride," the freshly sated man announced, slapping Aya soundly on his numb ass. Aya twitched at the spank, finding his voice again.

"What ride?!" Aya scoffed through clenched teeth, not allowing his voice to waver. "You've got me so tied down I can't even move," Aya sneered, lifting his head up now that the man had taken his hand off Aya's head. He glared at them, forcing himself to smirk down at them.

"You are a mouthy little whore," the man who was roughly pawing at Aya's groin snapped. He let go of Aya's dick and yanked him up into a kneeling position on the bed by grabbing a fistful of hair. The bones in Aya's legs ground together in protest, unable to bend without the painful support of the hand in his hair.

The man jerked Aya's head back, making his vision go with the pain. Aya was sure he was tearing out hair. He opened up one eye into the man's face, spitting a goblet of blood and phlegm into it. The man had no eyes, no facial features, just smooth, perfect skin for a face, ruined by his spit sliding down the edge of the face. The man had perfect styled, black hair and a completely black suit, so formal it was almost a tuxedo.

The only thing wrong was the man's neck. It was wet with blood, a clean, sharp cut across the jugular. Blood welled out of the visible muscles, the windy sound of the open air pipe echoing in Aya's ears. Aya knew that it was a wound made by a katana, having done the same to others before. Aya knew that he had killed this faceless man before, not knowing when or why but recognizing his victim nonetheless.

Aya looked wildly away from the dead man, glancing out of the corner of his eye until his pupils ached. He saw two other faceless men, both of them with the same exact suit and hair s the first. The only difference was that one had a stomach wound, blood and intestines leaking out over the suit while the other had a large, gory chest wound, some of the jacket torn away with the power of the slash.

His dead victims were raping him. Logic and common sense that this couldn't possibly be happening didn't occur to Aya. Just his blood going cold in his veins with pure terror, his throat tightening up. A cold, dead hand brushed down Aya's bare spine, trailing over the cleft of Aya's butt cheeks.

"Stop! Stop it! Don't touch me!" Aya started screaming desperately, kicking and punching with suddenly free hands and legs. His teeth snapped on open air, blankets holding Aya's body down against another person. Aya kept crying out, thrashing his limbs in mindless terror, trying to flee from everything.

"I'm right here, Aya, right here. I'm right here," Yohji repeated pleadingly into Aya's ear, his arms wrapped around Aya's body. Aya slowed, coming to his senses. Dream. It had been a dream. Yohji was holding him down, hugging Aya's back to his chest. Their legs had become entangled and Aya shook helpless in relief that it had only been a nightmare. He couldn't stop shaking, he couldn't escape the raw feeling of terror. Yohji was rubbing a handing comfortingly on Aya's chest, as if to smooth out his lungs into relaxing, making the shirt pull over his skin. Aya gasped, wanting to pant in fear, coughing around his own breath, but Yohji's hand was massaging his lungs into a calmer rhythm.

"You're here," Aya made it into a question, reaching up to touch Yohji's arm experimentally. The body wrapped around him was warm. Yohji wasn't dead. It was real and reassuring, allowing Aya to work out of his panic just a bit.

"Oh, God, Aya, you scared the shit out of me," Yohji sighed heavily, squeezing Aya tightly. He sagged onto Aya, resting his chin on top of his head, holding him tightly like Aya might disappear, carried off by the wind.

"Yohji. You're here," Aya repeated stupidly. He couldn't say anything else. It was just so unbelievable. Yohji was comforting him, relieved that he had calmed down. Yohji had been worried. Aya had almost forgotten what it was like to be worried over, his chest tightening in longing. He was just so desperate for a safe touch, some kind of human comfort beyond sex.

Aya hiccupped and realized he was crying. Oh, God, he didn't want Yohji to see him cry over a bad dream like a little child. But, the tears just wouldn't stop. They just kept leaking out of his eyes and Aya couldn't stop them, just so happy Yohji was there and so scared that someone might jump through the window and try to rape him at the same time, impossibly fixated on the worst happening.

Yohji sat up a bit, pulling Aya across his lap, hugging him close. It was more then enough, more then Aya could have ever wanted. He wrapped his arms around Yohji, holding onto him like he would a lifeline, feeling Yohji's body heat. He was safe here, as long as Yohji was touching him, just holding him and protecting him. Yohji was there. Nobody else would be there if Yohji was there. Aya's tears were already easing. It was more because Aya was forcing himself to clamp his eyes shut and stop crying. He wouldn't start sobbing like a woman if he could help it.

Yohji rubbed his hands in small circles on Aya's back, soothing him just like a friend should. His hands weren't wandering down any lower then Aya's shoulder blades. Yohji was holding Aya like a gentleman, not demanding anything but simply giving Aya the comfort of a hug. He hadn't be hugged in years, ever since that explosion.

"Are you always dreaming like that?" Yohji asked when Aya had calmed down, his breathing normal if controlled. Aya nodded, remembering the other times he had fallen out of bed or knocked something off the bed stand with his struggles. He usually ended up taking a cold shower and wandering around the house blindly, too scared to take a walk outside in the town. But, with Yohji there, holding him, not leaving him, Aya was relieved. Yohji meant security, because no one would try to get him if Yohji was in the same room with him. Aya confident Yohji would protect him.

Not that he needed protection. Yohji meant that he would keep Aya from killing his rapists in the most brutal ways possible. If they ever happened to come across any of Aya's old customers. Aya didn't need protection; he could take care of himself just fine. It was just very easy to relax into Yohji's comfort, feeling at enough ease to relax his muscles.

"You scared the crap out of me, yelling like that," Yohji laughed nervously, his tone of voice showing how worried he really had been.

"I didn't make any noise," Aya informed Yohji very coldly. He didn't yell in his sleep. He didn't embarrass himself like that. Yohji was probably drunk and imagining things, even though there was no possible way Yohji could have stepped out for a drink.

"Right," Yohji drawled in a way that made Aya know that Yohji was just humoring him. They didn't say anything else, Aya too dazed to come up with anything to grace Yohji's ears with. He just stayed limp against Yohji's chest, feeling the soft fabric of the t-shirt under his fingers.

"You feel like trying to sleep?" Yohji asked tentatively, obviously wondering if Aya would be able to sleep after a nightmare like that. Aya nodded, even more tired from trying to fight against the dream then he had been when he first went to Yohji that earlier night. At least Yohji was there afterwards. Being alone with that fear was more then Aya could handle, not used to being completely at the mercy of his own emotions.

"You won't leave?" Aya murmured, his voice so quiet it surprised himself. He wasn't sure if Yohji had heard it, but he wouldn't say anything that pathetic again. He couldn't even believe it had come out of his own mouth. Yohji tightened his hand on Aya's shoulders, pulling Aya close against his body as he fell back into the bed, making them both bounce on the mattress. Yohji held Aya close against his body, letting Aya shift until he was comfortable before he wrapped both arms solidly around him, hugging him again.

"I'll stay here as long as you want," Yohji promised. Aya nodded and relaxed, letting his body relax into Yohji's embrace. He didn't mean to fall back asleep again, but he couldn't really fight it as his eyes slid closed, feeling safe enough with Yohji there to try and sleep again.

Yohji wasn't sure if he would be able to sleep but closed his own eyes anyways. If Aya was game, he'd try to sleep as well. Hell, it might be worth a shot. Besides, when the sun came up and put a little light on the world, Aya might be a little bit braver and tell Yohji to fuck off like he usually did. Yohji just held Aya close, determined to be there for him if he hadn't been before.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Everybody sing: `Cliffhanger, cliffhanger,' I won't do that again. For a while, at least. There's a thank you section, big heart power goes out to Enna Namo, Lady Gackt, la blue kitty, and deathwing, because you guys have been really reviewing the whole time. That makes me feel special! You like me, you really like me! There was trauma in 7th grade so I'm very self-conscious about my writing. The only reason I got the balls to post this was because there was five dollars and a karaoke contest involved. I suppose Ken and Omi ARE getting it on too much, but that's the only way I can think of using them. Ha ha. . . …. Never mind, it's not really funny that they're only good for sex. So, they had a break, even though gay men never really do. I know my friends go at it like bunnies, chriiiist! I didn't think it was possible to have sex three times a day before I met a gay man. I don't know a thing about date rape drugs, having never experienced them (Please, be careful of your drinks at parties!), so if it's wrong, please tell me! Constructive criticism is always welcomed! Notice the CONSTRUCTIVE part. I'll cry if you're mean. Really. (Or just be bitter). I'm moving to Portland this weekend for college, so I might not be able to write for a while. I figured this will be a nice place to pause and reflect, because there isn't anything REALLY happening now. Most loose ends have been taken care of. Uh, I'm running out of ideas personally(not really, if I get one more this'll turn into a large novel, but I like challenges!), but if anyone wants a room/location/something to be desecrated with sex, drop a line and I'll try to make it twisted…If you want me to. That probably sounded conceited. Oh well. Ho ho ho. (That's not the jolly Santa laugh, mind you).