alexcer

Weiss Kreuz - Chained

Thu, 21 Sep 2006 20:20:25 GMT

A ficlet I wrote for 30 Kisses before I realised I was booted. It's a little bit weird.

Chained
By Alexis C.

"This is a little much, don't you think?"

A sardonic smile twists his face. His lips are chapped, torn, caked in dried blood.

I reach out and run my fingers along the cold heavy metal links of the chains holding him prisoner in this dank dark cell.

"You'd think-" He bites off his sentence as he inhales sharply and coughs black blood onto the grimy floor below.

I raise my fingers to the cruel raw lacerations on his side. Gashes I inflicted only mere minutes before.

Torn strips of clothing hang limply from his battered frame.

"... You'd think... we'd have had enough foreplay by now."

I step in close, so our bodies meld together and my face rests on his shoulder.

He winces and tries to jerk back but the chains hold him tightly in place.

"Idiot..." He hisses through barely parted lips, feigned humour drained. His breathing is ragged, his face is pale like that of a corpse.

"No one is watching now us now," I tell him simply.

"You... can't be sure of that..." he whispers, voice trembling, and I can hardly catch the strains of his voice.

His harsh gasps are getting louder.

"They won't get here on time." I tell him, and the stark simple truth of that sentence stings, like iodine on an infected wound.

"I... know."

"Do you..."

"Yes..." he whispers, his voice inaudible from pain, but I hear it all the same.

He draws another shattering breath.

"Don't... let them... take me. Don't let them... have-" He coughs again, and the chains rattle sharply with the sudden jerk.

He laughs suddenly, and it hurts him almost as much as the whip that ravaged his body.

"Hell of a romantic way... to say farewell."

"It's not farewell."

"... Just do it."

I draw back slightly. His eyelids are fluttering. He's trying to stay focused, trying to stay conscious for our last few moments together.

I know that they are coming back for more. And this time they will ravage him utterly, body, mind and soul.

I will not see him suffer through their demented fantasies.

I press my lips to his and let the coppery tang of his blood linger over my tongue.

"See you in hell, lover," he whispers, stormy green eyes locked on my own.

Hell? Hell is where we are now, lover.

I will make this quick and painless. I promise him. But let me do this my way.

He lowers his lashes, assenting.

The chain rattles as I pick it off the floor. A wry smirk twists his lips. I pull the bandanna off my forehead, wrap it around his eyes.

This is not forever.

The chain crushes his throat so quickly, he has no time to gasp.

His body goes limp against my own and I slide to the floor, my mind whirling like a vortex that is out of control. The darkness cradles me as the sound of a door opening echoes in my ear.

The light blinds me. I lift myself gingerly from the sheets and press a palm to my forehead.

It fucking hurt.

I smile through the pain.

I've always wanted to do that.

That's sick.

You always seemed to get a kick out of it.

I sensed rather than heard outrage.

... What happens now?

Trepidation. Fear. He is at my mercy.

I step out from between the sheets and walk to the full length mirror on the far end of the wall.

"Now?"

I smile as I run my hands over my own body and watch myself shudder, part pleasure, part revulsion.

"Now we are chained... as one."

The End.

Persona - Despair

Thu, 21 Sep 2006 20:06:04 GMT

I know, I know... I haven't been around for a while. New job, new life etc etc. The list of excuses goes on. Yahoo actually deactivated my email account and I lost all the wonderful wonderful mail that you people have sent me through out the years. I mourn.

No Yohji and Schu this time but this was a Bday fic for Roc written last Dec (I think...). Hope you enjoy! It's a Persona fic... not sure that many of you are familiar with the series but I loved this game. :P

Despair
By Alexis C.

Count the seconds ticking by.

This is the rest of your life slipping on by.

Baofu hasn't quite come to terms with how they ended up like this. Two naked bodies, tumbled and tangled in the sheets together, with the scent of sex and sweat lingering in the air. He knows the facts well enough. It's the same old story after all. They got drunk and one thing led to another. It's hardly worth mentioning.

What Baofu doesn't understand is how things turned out this way. After they saved the world, things were just supposed to settle back to the way they had always been. He was supposed to be the loner, the strange old techno geek holed up in a musty little room, plugged in to his computer night and day staring at an endless stream of codes and rumours. The ghost in the machine.

He reaches over and brushes a stray lock of hair that has fallen over his lover's face.

Her skin is like the finest spun silk to the touch of his rough callused hands. She's sleeping peacefully, the slightest of smiles on her lips.

Carefully, Baofu lifts the sheets and slips out from under them. He dresses quietly, making sure that the rustling of fabric is kept to a minimum, glad that his clothes aren't strewn too far away. The marble floor chills the soles of his feet and the cold seems to seep into his bones, spreading outwards from that single contact with the icy polished surface. As soon as he is done, he casts his hands about the dresser blindly, reluctant to turn on a light for fear of waking her up. His fingers find purchase and grasping the crumpled pack of cigarettes, he walks over to the window overlooking the shimmering lights of the city far below.

The steady yellow flame from the lighter casts darting shadows over everything in the room, including the sleeping form of his lover. Baofu averts his eyes from the image, a sigh of pleasure almost escaping his lips as the smoke hits his lungs and fills his nostrils. He doesn't like what he sees in the reflection of the window and hasn't liked it for a long time.

He rests his head against the window, strangely despondent.

He should not have slept with her.

He should not allowed things to have progressed to this level.

He should have had more self-control, more discipline. He shouldn't have allowed himself to be lulled by her coy smile, her willing embrace, the gentle dancing light in her eyes.

Baofu knows that she is investing her future, her entire life into this relationship. And he's not a man that's worth her effort.

Not when he doesn't love her.

Sometimes, Baofu thinks that Miki ruined him for all women.

Baofu is the kind of man who doesn't stick around for the morning after. Being there, having her wake up to his presence is an indication that he wants things to go on like this, that he's ready to commit. Baofu knows that and he knows too that his heart is not in this affair. But somehow, he can't seem to bring himself to move and walk through that door. She doesn't deserve it, not after all that she has done for him. He can't find it in his heart to be that cruel.

The least he can do is be there when she wakes up the next day.

Baofu doesn't know which is worse though. Not being there when she wakes up or lying through the false smile and saying words he doesn't mean and probably never will.

He thinks to himself that this will not be a bad life as her eyelids flutter open several hours later and a radiant smile spreads across her face when she realises that he's still there. He walks over and kisses her gently on the cheek, and as her arms come around his neck, he lowers her gently back to the bed, like a beautiful goddess ripe for the taking. Her desperate gasps turns him on and he ploughs into her eagerly, sating his physical cravings temporarily as their heated flesh comes together repeatedly.

Baofu feels hollow inside as he whispers soft deadly lies in her ear. But it makes him feel less guilty when he sees her smile and he tells himself that if he says them often enough, they just might come true.

------

The night is growing old swiftly. Snow is falling gently outside and the world is slowly being blanketed in a layer of crystalline pureness. The streets are empty, families and couples choosing to huddle together in a home kept warm by love and electrical wizardry of the age.

A cold breeze wafts through the room as the door swings open. A lonely straggler wanders in, sits himself at the bar counter and orders a beer.

Baofu lights another cigarette, puts it to his lips and exhales slowly. The atmosphere is comfortable and pleasant even though conversation for him has died down for the time being. The two ladies are chatting away happily, excited at meeting each other again after such a long time apart. Maya has grown even more beautiful in time, her sadness lending her an aura of mature sophistication and impenetrable mystery. However, as the evening stretches on and her conversation with Ulala grows more animated, her cheerful nature reveals itself for what it is, and she seems more like the bubbly young woman she was when Baofu first met her.

Ulala reaches over and touches Baofu's arm lightly.

"Excuse us, we're going to the ladies," she says with a slight giggle. It's more likely than not that they're heading there to gossip about their respective partners. Baofu feigns ignorance and nods. Maya smiles benignly as she rises and follows Ulala to the back of the pub where the restrooms are. They won't be back for a while, of that, Baofu is sure.

Katsuya's gaze doesn't leave Maya's departing figure until she disappears behind the solid wooden door of the ladies. He's been watching her all night, partaking in little of the conversation, seemingly satisfied with letting the conversation flow around him. They came in together when they entered the pub and Baofu wonders if there is more to their relationship than meets the eye. It certainly seems as if they have met several times before this evening's gathering. Every time Maya smiles, the corner of Katsuya's lips curves in answering response and when she laughs she leans a little too casually against the other man. Katsuya has been unusually attentive to Maya all night and it would be of little surprise to Baofu if they were dating.

Baofu catches Katsuya's eye as he looks away from the direction of Maya's departure. It's the first time in all these years that Baofu has seen him without his ruby red glasses. His eyes are a warm hazel brown, inviting and mesmerising. Katsuya looks less severe without those glasses, almost younger somehow. Baofu holds Katsuya's gaze for a while, partly because he wants to see if the younger man will flinch, partly because he just wants to look at those eyes and have them train their gaze on him a little longer.

Katsuya doesn't flinch, but Baofu imagines that he flushes a little, although he'll admit that it's probably the alcohol rather than Baofu's scrutiny that has tinted those cheeks.

"You got rid of the glasses."

It's the first time all night that they have been alone, that Baofu has had a chance to address the other man directly. The time they spent fighting side-by-side seems like a lifetime ago and time that has passed since have made them little more than strangers to each other.

Katsuya truly goes red this time, and he drops his gaze to the glass of alcohol he's cradling in his hands.

"Ah... Maya said I looked better without them," he says, obviously self-conscious. He seems reluctant to bring his gaze up to meet Baofu's again and almost unconsciously rakes a hand through his neatly combed hair, effectively tousling it. A nervous gesture no doubt and Baofu is surprised at how much he's actually enjoying making the other man squirm.

They lapse into silence again, the quiet being punctuated by occasional snatches of conversation around them. Even when they were fighting side by side and entrusting their lives in each other's hands, they never had much to say to each other beyond the usual barbs, battle tactics and the like. Now that all that is behind them, it's no wonder that they're running short of things to discuss. Baofu watches Katsuya unabashly, making no attempt to hide the fact. Katsuya looks uncomfortable. He raises the glass he's holding to his lips and takes a sharp swallow of the golden liquid within, his adam's apple bobbing as he does so. Baofu imagines placing his lips against that tender skin and feeling the throbbing beat of Katsuya's life force beneath his tongue. He imagines having Katsuya shudder beneath him as he presses him down forcefully on a bed and masters the younger man.

Baofu's throat is suddenly very dry.

He reaches out for his own drink, wishing that the ladies would come back now. It's getting increasingly warm in here and his mind is starting to stray in awkward directions. Baofu has had men before, but none of them have ever been serious relationships, and he's never stayed the night after the mind-numbing sex with them. He's made it a point never to bed a friend especially if he actually wants to hold on to the relationship, but it's not something that he's been succeeding at recently, what with Ulala barging into his life and bed.

"Are the two of you together?" Katsuya asks. Baofu thinks that the answer should be obvious to anyone with eyes but Katsuya sounds genuinely curious and so he simply nods his head in affirmation.

In all honesty, Ulala and him have never once talked about the status of their relationship. Ulala seems to have assumed quite readily that they are a couple after that one night together and Baofu can find no one reason good enough to shatter her illusions. It's not as if he has anyone else after all and he doesn't really object to being her partner in more ways than one even if he doesn't love her because he really does care for her deeply in spite of everything and he doesn't want to lose a close friend.

Katsuya smiles warmly at him. It's a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, softening them in a way that makes Baofu's heart race in strange ways. Baofu wonders why he never realised how attractive Katsuya looked before. He decides that he's probably had enough to drink for one night and refrains from taking another swig from his glass although the urge to do so is almost overpowering.

"I'm happy for the two of you," Katsuya says, sincerely, almost earnestly, and Baofu sees a flash of that innocence in him that hasn't quite been buried by the deaths he seen and the betrayals he has experienced in his relatively short life. It's an innocence that he sees in Maya and Ulala as well that he finds lacking sorrowfully in himself. It's an innocence that he has lost yet longs for and is powerfully attracted too. Baofu suspects that that innocence is one of the qualities about Ulala that appeals to him so and is probably one of the factors that has made him stay thus far.

"Thanks," he finds himself muttering awkwardly. It's the only appropriate response really, in the face of Katsuya's radiant smile.

"How's your brother?" Baofu asks in a bid to change the topic. He's not exactly comfortable talking about his relationship with Ulala. It makes him feel horribly guilty and ill at ease with himself.

Katsuya's smile brightens if possibe, at the mention of Tatsuya.

"He's fine, I guess. He made it to the university somehow. I think... he plans to join the police force."

"Somehow? You don't seem to have much faith in him, " Baofu says with a short laugh. "So the brat wants to join the police force... must be his big brother's influence."

"Well, he was a problem student in school. It was hard not to have my doubts." Katsuya defended with a slight smile.

"I heard you just got a promotion," Baofu prompts, unwilling to let the conversation between them die down now that he has got it going. "It's about time."

He's not going to admit to himself that he just wants to see that smile grace Katsuya's lips again.

"It's nothing major. Just a rank up from when I met you guys. It's really more work in proportion to the pay raise." Katsuya laughs, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Life must be pretty perfect for you now then. Your career's going well, you don't have to worry about Tatsuya anymore and you've got yourself a wonderful girlfriend..." Baofu trails off as Katsuya arches an eyebrow. Before he can question Katsuya about the curious expression, Ulala slides into the seat next to him again and takes his hand.

"What were you guys talking about while we were gone?"

His eyes rest on her smiling countenance for a moment before his gaze is drawn magnetically back to Katsuya again. Katsuya is looking at their hands joined together on the table, wearing a strange melancholic sort of smile.

"Just stuff," Baofu says, as Katsuya raises his head and their eyes meet across the table again.

Maya coughs, apologetically.

"It's getting late and I still have work tomorrow," she says, looking vaguely regretful. "Let's do this again sometime soon," she adds, favouring Ulala with a smile. Ulala nods eagerly.

Maya rises from her seat and Katsuya does so too, as if on cue.

"I'll see you home," he tells her softly.

"... Bye guys, we'll be in touch," Maya says, waving to Baofu and Ulala as Katsuya shrugs off his jacket and places it around her shoulders. She turns and gifts him with a sweet girlish smile before they walk out together in the frosty night.

Baofu wishes that he has with Ulala what the two of them share.

Ulala places her head against his shoulder as the door swings shut behind the pair.

"Let's go home," she says softly, squeezing his hand ever so gently.

Baofu takes Ulala with more force than usual that night. When he comes, an image of the happy pair rises unbidden in his mind and he silently despairs at that which comes so easily to others but seems so utterly out of reach for him.

------

It's not something Baofu was expecting when he walked into the pub that night. But he's there all the same, seated beside Katsuya, downing one drink after the other as the other man struggles with some unknown unvoiced issue. He'd spotted Katsuya the same time the other man had seen him and they had been drinking ever since. Words are far and few in between but Baofu doesn't mind. He's got all night to wait for Katsuya to pour his heart out since Ulala is out of town visiting friends and even if Katsuya doesn't, he's content to sit here with Katsuya for as long as he likes, soaking in the other man's presence as a cigarette dangles limply from his lips.

Baofu patiently pushes yet another drink over the counter to Katsuya as Katsuya quite visibly wallows in his own misery.

"I can't... I just can't compete with him." He says the last word with a bitterness that Baofu has only ever heard in his tone when he speaks about his father and what happened all those years back in the police force.

"Him who?" Baofu prompts calmly. He's still relatively sober, but he can't quite say the same for Katsuya.

"Tatsuya," Katsuya replies and this time, the bitterness has been replaced by pure anguish.

Baofu blinks rapidly, surprised. When Katsuya had said 'him', he had expected it to be someone at Katsuya's workplace.

"What about him?" Baofu asks, his curiousity piqued.

"... Ma-Maya. she thinks about him all the time and he's gone and he's my brother, I shouldn't feel this way about the whole thing, but I do and I can't even look at my own brother now without feeling jealous..." Katsuya raises his head miserably to meet Baofu's gaze.

"What should I do?" He asks imploringly, woefully. "I tried to be ge-generous... I told her I would wait and that that I didn't mind, but I do, really I DO..." He bangs the glass on the counter causing the bartender to send them a dirty look.

Baofu gestures at the glass for a refill and turns his attention back to Katsuya.

"But you guys seemed pretty happy together the last time I saw you."

Katsuya snorted derisively.

"We were never together..." Katsuya mutters, pupils dilated as he stars solemnly at the liquid being poured into his glass.

"Hnn. I wouldn't have guessed from the way you were acting together." Baofu is playing it cool, but all of a sudden he can hear the pounding of his heart as loudly as if it were a drum being beaten next to his ear.

"She couldn't accept me... Said she couldn't forget him and it wouldn't be fair to all of us..." Katsuya buries his head in his hands.

"I can't compete with someone who doesn't exist! I can't compete with a love as pure as that! Do you know what it cost him to come back to her?" He demands, glaring at Baofu as if the entire mess was his fault.

"And at the end of it all, he's my brother... I see the way she looks at my brother here, Baofu. I see the ghost of that Tatsuya reflected in her eyes every time she gazes upon him..." He falls silent as he stares morosely at his glass.

"You're lucky, you know," Katsuya mutters darkly. He's swaying dangerously on his stool and Baofu has to grip his arm just to stop him from falling. His head drops onto Baofu's shoulder and lolls back. "You and Ulala have it easy. You guys are so good together. I wish-I wish, Maya and I..." He trails off and slumps against Baofu heavily. He's quiet for only a short while before he begins slurring again.

"I don't feel so good..."

"... You've had enough," Baofu decides, frowning. The last thing he needs is Katsuya throwing up all over his suit. "Come on then, I'll see you home."

Katsuya shakes his head vehemently.

"I'm not! Not going home... I don't wanta see him. I don't want him to see me like this..." Katsuya sounds almost like he's pleading. He raises his head to stare at Baofu dolefully.

"Don't let him see me like this."

Katsuya's voice is weak, miserable, desperate.

Baofu relents almost too quickly. He can hear his blood pounding through his veins, feel the acceleration of his heart beat as he slips his arm around the younger man's waist and brings Katsuya's arm around his shoulders so he can steady the other man as they get up together. He tells himself it's the alcohol, but Baofu is not much for self-deception and he knows his attraction for Katsuya will end badly tonight. He can't much bring himself to care at this point though.

Maybe he's not quite as sober as he believes himself to be if thoughts like this are slipping into his head, but Baofu's not about to lie to himself. He wants Katsuya. He wants him in a way that he has not wanted anyone else in a long time. He wants Katsuya whichever way possible. It's just that simple.

Baofu's a man who has spent his life regretting wasted opportunites and pondering what might have beens. He's old enough to know he doesn't want to add another regret to his list by not acting on this impulse with this golden opportunity lying just within reach of his grasp.

------

The door flies open with a loud bang. It's with no small amount of cursing that Baofu finally manages to manuever Katsuya through the door of the tiny cramped motel room. Katsuya looks lean but he's a dead weight when drunk and unwieldy to boot. He's almost unconscious by the time Baofu kicks the door shut behind the two of them.

He lowers Katsuya down on the rickety old bed. Katsuya's top button is unbuttoned for once and the pale white line of skin is visible beneath the dark red starched material of his work shirt.

Katsuya utters a soft moan and he turns his face away from Baofu's scrutiny. A slight frown creases his brow. His hair is all askew and loose brown strands have fallen across his flushed cheeks.

Baofu reaches out and threads his fingers through the fine dark strands.

Katsuya stirs. His fingers fumble over Baofu's and then closes around them.

"Where?"

His voice sounds hoarse as he peers around confusedly from a crack between his eyelids. He drags himself up to a sitting position almost painfully, his grip on Baofu's hand, crushing. He doesn't seem to realise what he's doing though so Baofu keeps a straight face for his benefit if nothing else.

"Motel. You said you didn't want to go home."

Katsuya's head falls back against the headboard. His eyes slide shut.

"I did?" he murmurs, a single hand coming up to massage his own forehead. "I don't remember but you must be right... Sorry for bothering you."

His gaze drifts down and alights finally on their joined hands. A strange expression crosses his features as if he's not sure of what he's doing than understanding dawns like light breaking across darkened skies and he jerks his hands away hurriedly, his face red.

"Sorry," He says hurriedly. His gaze flickers up to meet Baofu's for the briefest of moments before he breaks the direct visual contact again. He closes his eyes, frowning again as he puts a hand to his forehead.

"Pounding headache..." He mutters quietly, seemingly to the room in general rather than Baofu in particular.

"You're not exactly a good drinker," Baofu informs him as he lights another cigarette and blows smoke out into the stale air around them.

Katsuya frowns, then leans his dark crop of hair back against the headboard.

"Can I have one?" he asks quietly. The request is made in such a soft subdued voice that for a moment Baofu thinks he must have heard wrongly. Then he realises that Katsuya is looking at him quizically.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"You don't know all that much about me," Katusya tells him, eyes fixed on the cigarette.

There is no heat in the voice, no reproach or malice but Baofu takes offence all the same. He doesn't understand why that comment irks him as much as it did, but he does know that he wants Katsuya's eyes on him rather than that white stick.

Baofu passes one white slender roll over, his fingers brushing against Katsuya's as Katsuya takes the white stick and places it between his lips.

"I need a light," he murmurs.

Baofu reaches over to Katsuya and places a hand on his shoulder. Katsuya's pupils dart to the side in the direction of Baofu's hand and Baofu drags him forward and brings the two ends of their cigarettes together. It takes a while for the paper to catch the cinders and burn. Katsuya's wide eyes are fixed on Baofu the entire time.

It takes all of Baofu's resolve to not to toss his cigarette aside and kiss the breath out of Katsuya.

He wants to wipe that wide-eyed innocent look off Katsuya's face and hear Katsuya cry out his name until he's hoarse and desperate. He wants Katsuya to look at him for once and to think of him and only him. He wants to erase Maya from Katsuya's thoughts and replace her in Katsuya's heart.

Baofu wants many things from Katsuya that he has never wanted from Ulala. He wonders if he should be alarmed then decides that just for tonight he's not going to give a damn.

Katsuya sighs almost blissfully, as he blows a plume of smoke towards the yellow water stained ceiling.

"... I haven't had one of these in a long time," he murmurs as he stares wistfully at the smouldering tube in his hand.

"You haven't been living for a long time then," Baofu tells him, drawing closer. Katsuya looks up, probably startled by Baofu's proximity.

This is not familiar territory they are on. They have never bonded like Maya and Ulala do. Nor have they ever shared a light across empty white sheets, fingers inches away from being intertwined, their bodies close enough to feel the other's comforting warmth.

They finish their cigarettes in relative silence.

"I should probably go home..." Katsuya murmurs, as he sways to his feet. The sheet rustles as he slides off the smooth surface.

Baofu hand darts forward of its own accord.

He remembers the small startled cry that escapes Katsuya's lips as the younger man loses his balance and falls back into his hungry embrace.

He remembers pinning Katsuya down against the rumpled sheets as he kisses him possessively, greedily.

He remembers the trapped, desperate noises Katsuya makes in his throat as the younger man tries to break away.

He remembers feeling the frantic pounding of Katsuya's heart against his own heated flesh as he slips his hand down... and further still.

Katsuya cries out and Baofu buries his protest as he covers Katsuya's lips with his own and forces his tongue into hot wet crevice of Katsuya's mouth.

A hard sharp object jabs into his side, Baofu looks down and he's staring at the barrel of a gun in Katsuya's trembling fingers. Katsuya raises the gun slowly as Baofu backs away.

"Stop..." And there is no anger in Katsuya's voice, no rage or fury of any sort. All Baofu sees in those scared hazel eyes is confusion.

He holds his hands up silently, his gaze locked onto Katsuya's wide orbs.

Katsuya's shirt is askew and his hair is falling dramatically into his wide brown eyes. He looks like a lost little boy who has had his trust betrayed.

He looks stunningly desirable.

Baofu reaches forward and Katsuya jerks backwards immediately, his back connecting with the wall behind with a thump.

"Baofu!" he cries, and it's not so much a warning as it is an exclamation.

Baofu pauses, fingers inches away from cold steel.

"You have a choice. You can pull the trigger or you can put the gun down. It won't change anything."

The flicker of indecision in Katsuya's wild eyes is answer enough.

Baofu's fingers close over the gun. It slips easily away from Katsuya's shaking hands and Baofu simply tosses it behind him where it clatters noisily on the floor.

He slams Katsuya against the wall with almost casual violence and Katsuya gasps, in fear or pain, Baofu cannot tell.

The battle is lost before it has even began.

When Baofu comes shuddering within Katsuya's trembling flesh, he feels alive in a way he has not been for many years. Collapsing above the lean body beneath him, he kisses Katsuya's naked sweaty flesh breathlessly as he holds the other man close.

Katsuya is shaking badly in Baofu's arms, his face buried in Baofu's shoulders. Baofu can feel the warm moisture on his skin, can feel each cry that Katsuya holds back in his throat and it makes him want Katsuya more.

Katsuya's fingers are fisted at the base of his neck, tangled with Baofu's long dark tresses. He's clinging on to Baofu like the shipwrecked to a rock.

Baofu is deliriously giddy with warmth, lust and sated sex. He knows he's going to have a hell of a time hiding those long red gorges down his back from Ulala.

Baofu runs his fingers down the hard plane of Katsuya's abdomen, marveling in the beauty of his flesh even as Katsuya shudders violently at his touch.

"Katsuya..." he breathes as his teeth grazes the surface of the other man's ear lobe.

"Katsuyakatsuyakatsuya..." Baofu repeats over and over again as if it is a mantra. He repeats it as if the very sound of the name, perfectly formed on his tongue will keep Katsuya here a little longer. He likes the sound of Katsuya's name on his tongue, to savour, to possess, like the body he has just owned.

Baofu is certain this is not love. After all, he knows love. It is what he had with Miki and it is lost to him forever. He knows it is not just lust or friendship because this is what he has with Ulala and he knows it cannot last forever. What has happened here tonight, his feelings for Katsuya lie somewhere in between the three, indefinable, inexplicable, indescribable.

It is far more complex than love, friendship or lust and more violently intense than a mix of the three.

A trilling sound fills the silence of the room. Ulala. Baofu knows this for a fact.

The phone rattles noisily among the clothes carelessly discarded upon the grimy floor.

Baofu leans forward and kisses Katsuya harshly.
-----

It's a wintry frosty night like the many nights that have come before. Baofu is seated before Maya and Ulala, bathed in the warm glow of the tea light floating in a tiny glass on their table.

A fire crackles in the hearth.

Ulala tosses her drink back and grins at Maya, who shakes her head in amusement. Ulala's hand is warm against his leg. Baofu's hand closes over hers as she looks up at him, a warm happy smile dancing on her lips.

Baofu has not seen Katsuya in a year.

He's asked around but no one seems to know where he is, not even Maya, who's as confused as the rest of them as to his whereabouts. He's even asked Tatsuya, but the kid had no further information on his brother beyond 'he went away'. All that Baofu has on Katsuya is that he quit the police force and dropped off from the face of the earth.

If Baofu had known that his glimpse of Katsuya curled in on himself beneath the sheets would be his last, he would never have left Katsuya alone in the room in that day.

He would have stayed. He would have stayed and he would have made sure that Katsuya stayed too and Baofu would not have be staring at an empty chair now with a dull ache in his chest.

Baofu knows that Katsuya is gone because of him and his mistakes, but he cannot bring himself to feel regret for anything that passed between them that night and he knows he would do it all over again without a second thought.

The only thing that Baofu regrets is leaving before Katsuya opened his eyes though he wonders if it would have made much of a difference. Katsuya could still have left but deep inside, Baofu knows he made a wrong choice that morning and it's one that will haunt him for the rest of his life when he wakes up to Ulala's smiling face from dreams of Katsuya's pained cries.

"I need to get some air."

Ulala looks up, concern etched on her features but Baofu allays her fears with a gentle peck on the cheek. Baofu is not a man given to public displays of affection but lately, he's been feeling remiss in his relationship with Ulala and he feels the need to compensate her somehow.

Ulala's fingers linger on his arm as he leaves, pinpoints of warmth on his sleeve. ulala always feels warm against him, her presence radiating a kind of heat that Baofu cannot find within himself.

Baofu steps out into the chill of the black night, his boots crunching heavily on the fallen snow shielding the pavement.

The sky is shrouded in heavy black velvet, like the invisible shroud that seems to be weighing Baofu down.

Baofu's breath escapes from him in tiny puffs. Soft flakes are falling gently onto his upturned face and he closes his eyes, his mind supplying him with an all too desirable image of a lover's icy caress.

The wind steals the name from his lips as he mouths it into the icy atmosphere. Baofu takes his glove off and lets the tiny flakes that fall on his hand chill him to the bone.

He is tired and weary of the facade at home and sick with longing for a man he has not seen for way too many months.

So when Baofu rounds the corner and bumps right into a startled Katsuya, he grabs hold and doesn't let go.

Katsuya is thin, considerably so from when Baofu last saw him. His hair is longer with brown locks tangling down his collar and obscuring his face. His wide brown eyes are smudged with dark rings and he looks pale and fragile.

In Baofu's eyes, Katsuya's beauty is flawless.

Baofu does not know how long they spent paralyzed by each other's gaze, but it is long enough for him to feel like he is sinking into a dream from which there is no escape.

"Let go."

Katsuya strains to pull his wrist free but Baofu will bruise him before he releases Katsuya and he's done it before.

"Where have you been?"

Baofu is disturbed by the hoarse need he hears in his own voice.

"It's none of your business," Katsuya replies and his voice is hard as diamonds. His hands are cold the way Baofu's always are.

There is no fire to be found here, no steady flame to draw a moth, but Baofu wants the ice, wants Katsuya's cold to hurt him so badly it burns and he knows that it already has.

"I searched everywhere for you. All the networks, all the systems I could crack into."

"It's none of my business," he hisses and the stab of pain in Baofu's chest is the closest thing to real emotion he's felt in months.

He turns sharply and drags Katsuya, protesting fiercely behind him, to where he left his car. Opening the door, he shoves Katsuya in, then gets in himself and slams the door shut.

Baofu floors the accelerator before Katsuya has a chance to get away, throwing the car through a series of dangerous bends across slippery roads.

Beside him, Katsuya is cursing angrily but Baofu pays no heed to the insults. He doesn't take his foot off the gas until they reach the dark underside of town, where he knows, no one they know will find them.

Baofu is all over Katsuya the moment he slams on his brakes, his breath hot and heavy as his tongue tangles dangerously with Katsuya's.

Katsuya's fingers are fumbling behind him for the door handle, but Baofu hits the auto-locks on all the doors, effectively trapping Katsuya with him in the tiny enclosed space.

"Damn it!"

Baofu pulls back from Katsuya sharply, stinging pain on his lips as a trickle of blood makes it way down his chin. Katsuya turns and yanks violently at the door, but the lock holds.

Baofu swipes at the blood and lunges for Katsuya again. Katsuya twists in his grasp, but Baofu will not release that which he has desired for so long.

"What do you want from me?!" Katsuya demands and his voice is tinged with both desperation and fear.

Baofu looks at him indisbelief.

"Don't you already know?"

"No, no I don't! You've taken what you could from me. What else do you want?" And Katsuya's voice all but cracks at the last word.

Baofu thinks that he may never have been so sure about anything in his life.

"You. I want you." He states simply, tightening his grasps on Katsuya's wrists and watching the play of emotions on Katsuya's face.

"But what about Ulala?"

Baofu smiles wryly.

"What about her?"

Baofu pushes Katsuya back down against the seats. The buttons from his shirt tear loose as he rips the fabric in his hands.

His eyes widen.

Katsuya's skin is darkened and bruised in places where someone else has already been. Lightly, he brushes his fingers across the wounds, his brows furrowed.

Katsuya watches him darkly through the veil of his bangs.

"Did you think I was saving myself for you?" His voice betrays him with its brief tremor, but the words hit home, like a slap in his face and Baofu's glad his glasses are hiding his eyes.

"Who?" Baofu murmurs as he sweeps his thumb along the purplish discolourations on Katsuya's otherwise flawless skin.

Katsuya turns his face away, either in resignation or loathing, Baofu cannot tell.

"... Nate."

The spoken word is so soft and unlikely that Baofu thinks he must be mistaken, he must be, for he simply cannot fathom the thought of Katusya being with that snot-nosed stuck up brat of a kid.

"Nate." Baofu echoes and snorts derisively. It's not true. It can't be because Katsuya and Nate get along about as well as oil and water do and he'd sooner believe that Katsuya and Tatsuya were together than come to terms with the fact that the rich brat got the jump on him.

"Yes. Nate." Katsuya repeats and his voice is filled with defeated resignation. He's staring up at the roof of the car, seemingly oblivious to everything around him, but Baofu knows better.

"Why?"

Katsuya's eyes snap into focus as he drops his gaze to meet Baofu's.

"Why?" He echoes and his tone is incredulous.

"Why Nate?" Baofu demands and he's vaguely aware he sounds like a jealous lover but he's gone over the edge a long time ago and he can't reign in this feelings pouring from some deep well of emotion he never knew lay within him.

Katsuya reaches up and his fingers ghost over Baofu's lips. Baofu catches his fingers and brings them to his lips again as he kisses Katsuya's knuckles gently.

"You left and you were with Ulala. I couldn't... destroy what you two have together. What I wanted so badly with Maya and didn't have."

The relevation is like a bolt from open skies. Baofu grimaces and the stab of anger, jealousy and pain is like a hot knife twisting in his guts.

The pain in Katsuya's voice is real. Baofu does not speak.

"Nate... he was there that day when I left the motel. I passed out as he was calling to me... when I woke up, I was in his room. He didn't ask me any questions. Nights became days, days became weeks and before I knew it, I'd been with him for months. He held me through my worst nightmares," Katsuya whispers and there was a soft flicker of a smile on his lips.

"He didn't care that I was in love with Maya, didn't mind that I'd been with you. He was an insufferable, arrogant prick to everyone, but he was warm and real to me."

Katsuya pauses, raising his head to meet Baofu's eyes.

"One night, after he'd held me through another nightmare, he kissed me. He was just back from a dinner party and still in his dinner jacket and tie. I think he was drunk. The next morning, he came and apologised to me."

Katsuya pauses and he runs his fingers through Baofu's long black hair.

"We made love that night. All through the night and into the morning. Nate missed all his appointments. When they came knocking to find him, he told them all to go to hell."

"You can't mean to say you didn't feel anything for me that night when we fucked."

Baofu's words are cold, crude and calculated to hurt. He knows it does when Katsuya winces.

"Does it matter now? You have Ulala. I'm with Nate. Let's just leave it alone, Baofu. We'll go back to our own lives like nothing ever happened."

"But it did happen. You have no idea how hard I tried to find you, how badly I..."

Baofu's voice dies in his throat.

"I know. You couldn't find me because I didn't want you to. Nate made sure of it."

Hate coiled in the the pits of Baofu's gut at the mention of that name.

"Baofu, just forget about me. Go back to Ulala."

"I don't love her."

The admission is startling easy to make and as soon as the words leave his lips, it feels as if an incredible burden has been lifted.

Katsuya looks stunned.

"But the two of you..."

"I don't love her," Baofu all but growls, staring at Katsuya's hands clenched tightly in his own.

"Then why?"

"It was convenient. She was convenient. It was so easy to be with her."

Baofu knows he is a complete bastard, and he doesn't know why but he wants to be honest with Katsuya. If they are ever to have a chance together, Baofu knows he has to do this.

"Convenient..." Katusya murmurs, his eyes dark and glittering dangerously.

"Was I convenient for you as well?" There is an edge in his voice that wasn't there before and Baofu wonders if he's just blown this whole thing with Katsuya right out the window before it even got off to a proper start.

"No! No, you weren't..." Baofu pauses, racking his brains for a way to best describe the way he feels for Katsuya, wondering if there even is a word to pin his emotions down and lay bare for Katsuya.

"Then what was I?" Katsuya whispers, and his voice cracks, just a little, and Baofu can see how much this is hurting him, how much he is hurting him.

"You were... you are what I need. To be whole again. To find any chance of happiness in this damned existence of my life," Baofu whispers, and he knows it's true, even if he didn't have a clue until the words crystallise in the air between them.

"And Ulala?" Katsuya whispers, not for the first time that night.

"What about her?" Baofu asks softly and his gaze is riveted on Katsuya's. He means every single word he says. He would live with her hate forever for one chance with Katsuya.

A shuddering sigh escapes Katsuya's lips as he squeezes his eyes shut and turn away.

When he opens them again, Baofu is struck by the powerful turmoil roiling in them. He recognises lust, desire, pure want and need and something more.

Katsuya grabs the lapels of Baofu's jacket, drags him forward and kisses him fiercely.

Katsuya's lips are cold on his, as are his icy fingers as he curls them at the nape of Baofu's neck. Baofu returns the kiss back possessively, vigorously, his tongue sweeping into Katsuya's mouth to touch, tease, explore, taketaketake.

A soft click, and Katsuya's pulling away from him so abruptly and he doesn't understand why, the kiss was too brief, too painful, too real...

"I'm sorry," Katsuya whispers. The door sprungs open as Katsuya shoves at it and suddenly he's out of the car and retreating backwards steadily.

Baofu scrambles forward through the door, dread seizing his heart in its curved talons.

"We can't do this to Nate and Ulala. I-" and Katsuya's voice catches. He takes a deep breath,as his eyes lock on Baofu's, freezing him in his place. "I love Nate. Please don't look for me."

And with that, he's gone, his figure retreating into the inky blackness of the night, his fading footsteps like that of a waking dream, his fiery kiss lingering like a ghostly lover.

For an instant, Baofu considers going after him. Considers pursuing him until they both collapse gasping for breath and dragging him off forcibly. But then, it wouldn't make a difference in the end and Katsuya would hate him and still want nothing to do with him. And what was the point of it all really?

The cold breeze cuts into his skin like razor sharp blades. Baofu gets back in his car and slams the door shut.

Baofu doesn't remember how long he spends sitting in the darkness and letting the frost and pain eat into him before he brings the engine to life and steers himself home.

-----

Dull muted anger is his companion as he thinks back on the mess that is his life and the one mistake which cost him so dearly.

Baofu is a man with many regrets and now, he has one more to add to the neverending list.

A figure stirs in his bed as he draws closer in the darkness. He drapes himself about her lithe figure, needing her warmth, the love for him that she radiates that he knows he does not deserve. He was ready to leave her in a heart beat tonight.

Now, he knows he'll break if he loses her too.

Ulala blinks sleepily and offers him a loose, unguarded smile.

"Where were you?" She chides softly, as he buries his face in the nape of her neck and his hands encircles her small waist.

"Something came up. I had to go. I'm sorry," he whispers back in her ear.

Another day, another sin of omission and Baofu doesn't know how to make things up to her, doesn't know how he can redeem himself for her.

"I missed you," she murmurs as he traces the outline of her body with gloved fingers.

"I'm sorry," Baofu whispers again and he truly is sorry for not loving her, for sleeping with Katsuya and wanting Katsuya even now, wanting him so badly, his chest hurts with each breath that he draws.

Ulala must have sensed something different in the inflection of his tone because she half-turns in his loose embrace and cups his cheek with her gentle fingers.

"Hey, it's okay. Maya gave me a lift home. Don't cut yourself up over it."

Ulala smiles and her smile is an invitation to heaven for a sinner like him.

He doesn't deserve her love, isn't fit for her or Katsuya, but he's grateful for her comforting presence anyway and he lowers her gently down to the bed and loses himself in her nubile young body.

-----

Baofu lies awake deep in the night, Ulala spooned against him as he stares up at the empty ceiling. He wonders what Katsuya and Nate must be doing now. Probably rutting like animals he decides and the desolation that uncoils itself throughout every fibre of his being leaves him in utter abject misery.

This wasn't the way Baofu had wanted it to go down, but he had screwed up, hurt and betrayed everyone in the end.

Katsuya was gone and would not be coming back and any chance of happiness Baofu could have had vanished with the man's departure.

Baofu turns his mind to that one night together, the one night which ruined his life and changed it forever. He remembers the sweet sound of Katsuya gasping his name, over and over again as he had plundered the other man.

In the darkness of the night, with the woman who loves him by his side, Baofu closes his eyes and gives himself up to helpless despair as his mind dredges up the memory of that which will never be his.

The End.

Weiss Kreuz - K i s s

Sun, 27 Mar 2005 15:30:57 GMT

Disclaimer: I own no one.

My second entry for 30 kisses. This is addictive. :P

K i s s
By Alexis C.

Keeping things bottled up inside of him was not something Schuldig ever did. His aggression and his anger needed an outlet and so when he saw that familiar blonde standing on the sidewalk amongst the thronging crowd and staring up at the empty sky, he knew he had his next target.

Ice cold was the only word Schuldig could think of to describe the other killer as he forced Yohji back against the glass panel of some shop window and let his tongue slide over Yohji's frozen lips. "There isn't anything more you can do that can hurt me," he whispered, with empty hollow eyes and Schuldig knew that it was true.

Strong was the urge to wrap his finger round the metallic trigger, press the slim nozzle to the other man's head and tug. But Schuldig liked his victims begging and his victims crying. Yohji was neither of these and so he stayed his hand for someone who had a heart worth breaking and a soul worth stealing.

Subtlety was not his strongest suit, but Schuldig knew death when it was a bullet lodged in his abdomen, tiny, cruel, merciless. "You should have killed me when you had the chance," he said softly, as the gun dangled limply in his hands and pooling red stained his boots. Schuldig traced the curve of Yohji's features with fingers that trembled and smiled as his blood mingled with moisture. He'd finally found a way to hurt him.

The End.

Samurai Champloo - Lessons in Control

Sat, 26 Mar 2005 18:06:28 GMT

Disclaimer: None of the characters here belong to me.

My first foray into Samurai Champloo fandom. Hooray!

Lessons in Control
By Alexis C.

Your blade sings through the wind as metal clashes against metal and skids smoothly apart.

His blade meets yours, again and again as the both of you partake in this dance, both deadly and beautiful.

A wrong move could finish you off, you know, but cocky self-assurance and the right twist of the blade at the right time have seen you through many fights unscathed.

It'll probably be a draw today. Just like all the other days before.

A smirk curves the corners of your lips. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. He's annoyed at how lightly you seem to be taking this match. He's probably thinking that you're sure you'll be the one to win. Eventually.

Idiot takes himself too seriously sometimes. All hung up on his values and morals and half the time you know he doesn't even really care about his stupid principles.

You know what he needs to be truly free.

You can show him the way. Teach him how but you know he's too stubborn, too deeply entrenched in tradition and the teachings of his youth to ever set himself free.

Fool. He'll spend the rest of his life seeking answers to the burning questions within him instead of living life the way it's meant to be lived.

The thought annoys you. The fact that thinking about him affects your mood annoys you even more. It's not like you care either way.

The sudden ferocity with which your blade suddenly meets his steel startles him. He stumbles backwards, but recovers quickly enough to parry your next blow.

He's not fast enough to prevent the hungry edge of your sword from nicking the side of his face.

He's frowning now and you can see the anger burning in his eyes.

He's outraged that you managed to get close enough to hurt him but he's keeping the anger leashed, suppressing it.

The cocky grin is back on your face before you realise it. You lower your sword and he does so as well, knowing that he has lost for today.

To be frank, it's not exactly a loss in the exact sense of the word. You didn't disarm him or maim him, an almost necessary outcome of all your battles. But equally matched as you are, being able to get inside his guard and wound him is a semi-victory in itself.

The anger fades from his eyes and as he sheathes his sword, he just looks resigned.

"What do you want?" He asks, wiping the thin line of blood off his face. Almost instantly, the crimson line appears again.

You take a good five minutes to come up with your answer.

You can't figure out if you'd rather have him preparing dinner, sleeping on the floor or preparing your bath for you.

"Din..." you begin to say then stop.

An evil plan is working its way into your mind.

He'll murder you in your sleep for it, or at least attempt to, and the thought delights you. You turn to face him, smirking once more.

"Close your eyes," you command.

"Quit fooling around," he tells you, eyebrows drawn together.

You arch an insolent eyebrow.

He gives you a purely evil glare for an instant and then gives in and shuts his eyes. He's probably already thinking of how to get back at you next time for whatever sort of humiliation for him you've got up your sleeves.

Well. You'd most certainly deserve it.

Time to find out if he was the man you always suspected he was.

You move closer and he twitches uneasily, unnerved at how close you are to him.

"Don't move," you whisper hastily in his ear and he goes immobile once more, warrior's pride binding him to his word to you. He loses, he obeys. It's that simple.

You scan the area quickly. Fuu's not around.

Good. This isn't something you'd want her to see anyway.

You bide your time.

Wait for it, you tell yourself.

Wait for it.

The suspense is evidently torturing Jin and you take evil glee in drawing it out.

He's on the verge of fidgeting, yet he's just barely holding back.

You snigger.

He starts then frowns heavily, his eyes still shut. His line of his body is taut. He's obviously preparing himself for the worse.

Smart man.

His patience wears thin by the end of the third minute.

"Mugen. Do something," he grates out, with great difficulty, since his teeth are gritted.

This is going to be the ultimate victory for you. There's no way he can top this because he hasn't the strength to rid himself of his precious inhibitions.

You pluck his spectacles deftly from his face.

His response is swift and expected.

"What..." He begins, looking really crossed as his eyes fly open.

You lurch forward and plant your lips firmly against his.

The momentum carries you both into a tree.

He goes slack with shock or horror, you don't really know or care.

You're just too busy sticking your tongue down his throat and offending all his sensibilities.

He jerks, presumably to throw you off, and instantly you clasp his wrists in your hands and force them down behind beside him.

You're not about to let him lob off any particularly vital bit of you, of course.

A strangled noise emerges from his throat.

You're holding on to his wrists so tightly you think you might be cutting off all his circulation, but he's struggling that desperately and suddenly...

Suddenly, you realise this isn't just a game anymore.

He's scared, angry, confused.

And you...

You like this.

You like him caught off his guard. You like him under your thumb.

You like him like this.

You like him.

The realisation stuns you long enough for him to twist free and punch you. Hard.

You slam back against the ground, cursing like a drunken scoundrel, as you taste blood in your mouth.

A faint retching sound reaches your ears and you look up to see him crouched on the ground, a hand over his mouth, looking desperately ill.

Not surprisingly, you find yourself feeling rather... offended.

It couldn't have been that bad, could it?

"Hey. Err. You okay?"

He glares up at you with narrowed eyes, a hand still over his mouth.

You reach down to pull him up and he slaps your hand away angrily.

"Don't touch me," he hisses. He pulls himself up with the help of the tree trunk and steps back away from you.

You realise that you've never seen him so angry before. He looks quite attractive really, with his pale skin flushed pink and his usuallyblank features so full of emotion today.

It's almost entrancing, you think to yourself, as you flat out stare at him.

He is the most powerful man you've ever met. The only person who is your complete equal when it comes to the martial arts. And the power to unnerve him is delicious. You decide quickly that this sort of thing will be happening a lot more often from now on.

It's ironic really. Just a while back, you were afraid that he was a homo and now, it's obvious that your positions have been switched.

"That was a very sick game," he states, glaring disdainfully at you, as he tries to recover his composure.

You leer at him. He flinches. Obviously.

You gloat and respond with two simple words.

"Beat that."

The End.

Weiss Kreuz - Never Mine

Sat, 26 Mar 2005 15:16:56 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.

This is the first of what will hopefully be 30 entries to the 30 Kisses community. Many thanks to Rociel for beta-ing this fic (and making me scream in agony and frustration)!

Never Mine
By Alexis C.

The soft impassioned cries behind the solid wooden door froze him in his tracks.

Wide-eyed, Schuldig remained perfectly still, his hand just inches away from the door knob.

"Yohji... god, Yohji...!"

It wasn't his imagination.

There were noises coming from the room. And he could sense Yohji in there. Yohji, who was reacting very strongly to someone else.

Someone who wasn't him.

Schuldig clenched his fists, dark jealousy twisting his insides and making him feel positively ill. He could feel his anger flushing across his cheeks, the heat spreading slowly and surely through his entire being.

Yohji was in there with a woman.

A woman.

Some shameless hussy was inside their room right now having sex with Yohji in their bed in Schuldig's absence.

And Schuldig had thought that he would be the one having problems with commitment when they had first decided to start taking their relationship seriously.

How dare he... How dare Yohji take all the sacrifices they had made for each other, all that Schuldig had done for him, and belittle all they had this way?

How could he toss everything that they had created together so casually away with a simple fling?

The dark raging jealousy turned to cold blinding fury at the thought of the extent of Yohji's betrayal.

Yohji had given them up for a moment of physical respite.

He was going to shoot him. He was going to shoot her. He was going to kill both of them. Damn them for the adulterous pair that they were, damn him... and at this point, Schuldig realised he was biting down so hard on his lip that there was a trickle of blood running down his chin.

Each successive cry from the bedroom was like a bare blade inching its way into his chest and gorging his heart out.

He hadn't known how much Yohji had meant to him.

Fuck Yohji. Fuck Yohji and his philandering ways. Fuck Yohji for doing this to him.

With these thoughts and more churning in his head, Schuldig slammed his way into the room, ready to catch his lover in the arms of another woman.

The sight that greeted him was therefore, not entirely expected.

Schuldig blinked confusedly at Yohji's startled expression.

The room was devoid of any human presence but Yohji's and his own.

The sheets were neatly laid out on the bed, untouched and picture perfect in their neatness. There was no evidence or sign of any debauchery of any sort.

Yohji was immaculately dressed for once, and not a single strand of hair was out of the place. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his emerald eyes filled with confusion and... was that guilt?

"Where is she?!" Schuldig demanded, stalking through the room, and flinging open their wardrobe doors, fully aware that he sounded like a crazed lover.

There was no one there.

"Schuldig... I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

Again, with the guilt. Yohji was practically radiating the emotion.

Schuldig stormed over to Yohji and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Where. Is. She?" He ground out through clenched teeth.

Something was amiss and he didn't know what. It infuriated him. There was obviously no one else in the room now but him and Yohji. Yet, Yohji was definitely guilty about something. And he had sensed Yohji responding to someone...

"There's no one here but you and me, Schu. You should know," Yohji told him, his eyes darting to the side evasively.

And then realisation struck.

He had sensed Yohji responding to someone or something. He hadn't actually sensed anyone else.

Confused, he turned to look at the silent black monitor behind them.

"Yohji..." Schuldig began incredulously.

"Were you... watching porn?

Yohji blanched.

"... without me?"

Yohji laughed nervously, as he tugged his fingers through his hair awkwardly. As Sculdig continued staring disbelievingly at him, Yohji closed his eyes and ran his fingers along the length of the lapels of Schuldig's leather coat. He leant his head against Schuldig's chest, and Schuldig automatically wound his arms around Yohji's shoulders, silently acceding to Yohji's request for intimate contact as his anger rapidly dissipated.

Confused as he was, it was clear to him that Yohji wasn't, in fact, cheating on him.

Finally, Yohji turned his pleading gaze up to meet Schuldig's.

"You were gone for a week. I was lonely," he whispered huskily.

The thrill that went down Schuldig's back silenced any further questions the telepath was about to ask.

Wordlessly, he pressed his lips to Yohji's, pushing the other man backwards, as they devoured the taste of each other hungrily.

It had been a whole week of abstinence.

Surely, he shouldn't be surprised if Yohji did dig into his stash of porn to satisfy his needs...

It wasn't entirely unexpected, after all.

Pushing all thoughts out of his mind, Schuldig proceeded to concentrate on kissing Yohji breathless.

The warm flood of pleasure tingling through Yohji's body pleased Schuldig.

"I missed you too," Schuldig finally admitted, a little reluctantly. "I thought about you all the time. When I thought that you were cheating on me... I wanted... to kill you."

He looked down in surprise at Yohji as his lover's slender fingers caressed his cheek lovingly.

"That," Yohji told him, seriously. "Is the single most romantic thing you have ever said to me."

Then he burst out laughing.

"You big dumb jealous telepath," he teased.

Sculdig growled playfully and tackled Yohji. He pressed Yohji flat against the bed, fully intending to make up for lost time together with extremely pleasurable and passionate sex.

The wince on Yohji's face, therefore, surprised him.

"What?" He queried immediately, worried.

"No, it's nothing," Yohji replied with a quick reassuring smile, one that was too earnest to be entirely convincingly.

What the hell was going on?

Schuldig slipped his hand beneath Yohji's back, where he sensed the source of his lover's discomfort was.

He saw the panic on Yohji's face, as his fingers closed upon a hard rectangular object.

"What..?" He began, as he pulled it out, only to have Yohji snatch it abruptly from his questing fingers.

It was a compact black little radio cassette player.

"It's nothing, nothing at all..." Yohji hurriedly explained. His growing anxiety was almost palpable in the tense silence of the room. "I was just listening to some old tapes earlier."

Why was Yohji getting so worked up over an old tape?

Schuldig didn't want to probe his lover's mind, but he knew he couldn't leave things as they were either.

It just wasn't in his nature.

Still, he watched silently as Yohji hurriedly yanked opened the nearest bedside drawer and all but stuffed the machine with its apparently offending tape inside.

"Let's just carry on, shall we?" Yohji implored, and the smile on his face was almost painful to look at.

Schuldig acquiesced without a second word, moving rapidly to lay his claim on Yohji once again and to have Yohji lay claim to him too.

He knew that this was not the end of the matter though.

~.~.~.~.~

In the dark stillness of the night, Schuldig slipped out between the cool sheets and padded over to the TV.

Just as he had thought.

The power switches weren't even turned on.

Yohji hadn't been watching porn just now. Why then, did he lie that he had?

Come to think of it, that voice he'd heard had been calling Yohji's name.

Schuldig frowned, unease settling heavily upon his heart.

Yohji was hiding something something from him.

And Schuldig didn't like that at all.

He turned as he heard Yohji stir in bed.

"Schu?" Yohji's sleep-infused voice queried.

"Yeah," Schuldig replied quietly, the gears in his head turning.

"Come back to bed. It's cold without you," Yohji said and the loneliness and yearning in his tone was evident.

He could never deny Yohji anything. Schuldig turned and went back to bed.

As he crawled back among the sheets, Yohji drew him close and snuggled against him.

He could sense Yohji's fear, his insecurity and the pounding of his heart as if he'd just awoken from a bad dream, as Yohji held him tightly.

"Yohji?" He murmured questioningly.

There was a momentary silence as Yohji's breathing finally slowed.

"Don't leave me, Schuldig. Don't ever leave me."

The impassioned plea caught him off guard.

Silently, Schuldig nodded his assent.

Don't leave me. He thought in Yohji's head as he pressed a kiss to his lover's forehead.

Don't leave me.

He felt rather than heard Yohji's reply.

~.~.~.~.~

The cassette player was not where Yohji had left it last night.

Schuldig scowled, as he regarded the empty drawer with great displeasure.

This could only mean that Yohji thought it was important enough to wake up in the middle of the night to hide it from Schuldig.

What was that again about having no secrets between them?

Schuldig growled low in his throat as he began yanking open drawers and rifling through their contents.

He was going to find out what was in that cassette tape. There was no question of it at all.

Yohji wasn't going to be back until night fall. That gave him more than enough time to find that damned radio cassette player.

~.~.~.~.~

It was three whole hours later when Schuldig finally pried the player out from its hiding place.

Yohji had hidden it well.

It was, without a doubt, something that Yohji did not ever want Schuldig to find.

Schuldig frowned, as he turned the obsolete piece of machinery around in his hands several times.

He wasn't going to like what was in here, he was sure of it.

But he wasn't about to have Yohji keeping secrets from him after all that talk a few months back about being completely open with each other.

Still, he couldn't help being slightly uncomfortable about going through his lover's belongings.

He really had changed, hadn't he?

A few years ago, he would have had no qualms about this obvious invasion of privacy.

Well, Yohji wasn't being open with him and so he had to find out what was going on, didn't he?

Fuck this, he had a right to find out what his lover was hiding from him, damn it.

Wiping all other doubts from his mind, Schuldig hit the play button on the radio-cassette player.

Immediately, he heard the sharp desperate gasping of a woman's cries of passion.

"Yohji... Yohji, please... Yohji!"

Once again, the fury unfurled within him.

Who the hell was this bitch and what was Yohji doing listening to this thing when he already had Schuldig?!

He glared at the cassette player furiously, willing it to erupt into flames and die a fiery death with the intensity of his hatred.

Was Yohji cheating on him then? But why would he be so stupid as to record this? It was sick and disgusting and it left a nasty taste in Schuldig's mouth.

His grip tightened around the ugly thing almost uncontrollably and he imagined that it was this woman's throat that he had his hands wrapped around now. The sharp angles of the player bit into his hand, as he gripped it tightly, and he could see that his hands were trembling ever so slightly as he held on to the machine.

And then, it hit him like a bolt of lightening from clear open skies.

The voice became painfully familiar and it was at this point in time that Schuldig wished he had never found this, wished that he had never come home to catch Yohji listening to this.

He was listening to the voice of a dead woman.

A woman who hadn't existed for the past ten years or more.

Asuka.

The one love of Yohji's life. The woman who had spoilt him for all other women.

Schuldig felt sick to his stomach as he stared at the innocuous-looking machine in his hands.

Her voice was so uncannily like Neu's that he had identified her easily enough.

The player fell from his numb fingers and clattered noisily to the floor.

And still it continued playing.

"Don't leave me, Asuka. Don't leave me."

The exact same words that Yohji had whispered to him last night.

Yohji had never ever forgotten her.

Schuldig had never been able to replace her.

Yohji had hidden it well, hidden it so deeply, Schuldig hadn't suspected that he was still so caught up in the memories of the past.

The tape cut there and it began playing dead noise as Schuldig's back connected sharply with the wall he had steadily been backing up against.

Don't leave me.

God.

He had only been a substitute for Asuka, hadn't he?

Why hadn't he seen this? Why hadn't he detected this earlier.

He clutched wildly at his chest at the crushing, devouring ache there.

16th October. Time. 8pm. The target has just entered the building, Yohji's voice whispered in the silence of the room.

Schuldig's gaze fell unwillingly again to the black item in the middle of the floor.

Are you ready, Schuldig heard Yohji whisper in hushed tones.

I'm ready, came the feminine reply.

... Was this?

Schuldig reached out and grabbed the cassette player. He jabbed the fast forward button, and the tape squealed, a high pitched annoying sound, as he scrolled through furiously, stopping every now and then to check its contents.

I love you, Yohji, she said, and then he could hear her fading footsteps and Yohji's pained gasps as he tried to stop her, heard his pained cry as he fell heavily to the ground.

The three cracking shots that shattered Yohji's world.

The three cracking shots that would finally shatter his world.

Schuldig abruptly stopped the tape.

He was shaking so badly, he could hardly hold on to the player.

Yohji hadn't betrayed him.

He'd betrayed Asuka's memory by sleeping with Schuldig. He'd betrayed his love for her with his far milder passion for Schuldig.

Schuldig had always been the third party.

Schuldig had never felt so ill in his life.

He hit the rewind button and waited as the gears of the mechanical contraption began whirling.

He had to do this.

He had to remove all traces of her from their life or Yohji would never truly be his.

He needed to wipe her from Yohji's mind permanently.

It didn't matter what it cost him.

He couldn't share Yohji with her, he couldn't let her keep Yohji from the grave.

Yohji was his.

His and his alone.

Schuldig stared at the little red record button his finger was hovering above.

A gentle pressure and she would be gone. A clean sweep of Yohji's mind and he could remove her.

He had the power.

He could do this.

Schuldig sat back on his heels as the player began to erase the only thing Yohji had left of Asuka away.

~.~.~.~.~

Schuldig closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead to the door and clenched his fists.

It was happening again.

Empty promises. Every single one of them.

Silently, he fell to his knees, as the voice echoed in his head once again.

He stared blearily at the wall in front of him as a little part of him died again.

It was always going to be like this.

That day, when he'd hit the stop button on the player bare seconds after he'd pressed the record button, it had been decided.

He would always share Yohji with a dead woman.

And it had been his own choice.

Schuldig wound his arms tightly around himself as he stared bleakily before him.

The End.

Eifersucht - Part 1 (Weiss Kreuz)

Sun, 09 Jan 2005 12:27:05 GMT

Finally pulled part one of this fic out of my hard drive and edited it. To read it, click .

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. I'm taking wild liberties with them.

Eifersucht
Part 1
Alexis C.

The streets of Tokyo were silent tonight. Street lamps lined the concrete road shedding soft yellow pools of light at regular intervals on the ground beneath. The lanes that were teeming with people and salesmen in the light of the day were now devoid of human life. A torn newspaper drifted across the road as the chilly wind danced through the streets.

The soft purring of a mechanical engine far off into the distance ended the silence.

The noise grew gradually, punctuated by a series of faint explosions ringing across the night.

And the night erupted into a fury of noise and colour.

A car spun wildly around the corner, its tires screeching madly. Half of its bumper was trailing on the ground, sending up a shower of sparks. The smell of burning rubber was heavy in the air. The car was bullet-ridden, heavily dented in several areas and hardly seemed capable of pulling off those sharp turns. But it held together, and pushed onward, as if it was being fueled by the desperation of the driver himself.

Several other cars rounded the corner as well. These were black, sleek and powerful cars that were none worse the wear for the long distance they had covered or the punishment their owners had forced on them. A window slid open on the first of these cars and a black nozzle appeared through the opening, aimed right at the moving heap of scrap metal ahead.

A short pause, then a burst of gunfire in rapid succession.

The tyres of the car in front exploded. It spun across the road, the abused metal screaming all the way, and slammed head-on into a lamp post.

"Fuck!"

The car door flew open, and a man half-fell, half-scrambled out of the car. He couldn't have been any quicker, for he'd barely crossed a safe enough distance before the car exploded into flames. The resulting force of the blast knocked him to the ground, and he let out a gasp, as raw pain sliced through his body. The blood from the injuries he'd sustained earlier had soaked deep into his clothes, staining them a dark rich shade.

He was getting dizzy.

He forced his weary limbs to move, gritting his teeth as he got to his feet, and then swayed dangerously, as his vision blurred.

A soft metallic click beside his head.

He didn't look up. He was having too much trouble staying upright as it was.

Besides, he didn't need his eyes to know he was surrounded.

"To resist us is folly. You will only bring more pain upon yourself. Come quietly now."

A mirthless chuckle.

The men around the lone figure tensed, guns at the ready.

The man in the centre of the circle closed his eyes and concentrated.

The soft whispering of a thousand overlapping voices filled the air.

The men glanced uneasily around, their guns still trained on the target before them.

It was beside their ears, and suddenly it was in their head, growing louder and louder until it became a roar in their minds, a terrible raging presence they could not throw out. They were puppets, they could not move. Their bodies were not their own anymore. To their horror, they found themselves raising their guns slowly to their own foreheads.

"W-What... are you doing?!"

The man raised his head. Although he still trembled with the mere effort of standing, his emerald-green eyes were cold, and the smirk on his lips was cruel.

"I am Schwarz. We do not... 'come quietly'."

He closed his eyes.

There was the thunderous sound of multiple guns going off simultaneously.

The bodies fell to the ground as one.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The glass shattered into tiny sparkling fragments, its contents spilling across the black tiles in a dark stain.

The blonde dropped to his knees immediately, reaching out for one of the broken shards on the floor without thinking.

Pain lanced through his finger and he dropped the offending shard immediately.

"Shit! Yohji, are you okay?!"

Yohji raised his gaze from the mess on the ground, dark crimson blossoming from the cut on his hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He smiled reassuring at Ken, but the other man was already vaulting across the counter to him. Ken seized his hand and inspected it carefully.

"Tch. Looks bad," Ken muttered, a little crossly. "What were you thinking?" He grumbled, grabbing a handful of tissues from a box nearby and pressing the paper to the wound firmly to stem the bleeding.

"I wasn't."

"You spaced out again, didn't you? Do you have any band-aids here?" Ken asked accusingly, opening a cupboard and searching sloppily through it.

"In the drawer to your right," Yohji responded tiredly. He almost regretted telling Ken about the episodes he had been having, but Ken had noticed that something was amiss with him recently and he had badgered Yohji incessantly about it until Yohji had finally given in and told him.

The blood was soaking through the tissues as it was, but Yohji couldn't seem to bring himself to care much about it.

"It's just a minor cut. Go home, Ken, I can manage this."

Ken scowled darkly as he trampled over the shards, sending some of them sliding across the polished floor as he kicked into them in his hurry to get to Yohji.

"What are you so worried about?" Yohji asked lightly. "You've certainly seen me with worse injuries."

Ken frowned in concentration as he carefully positioned the plaster over Yohji's cut before pressing it firmly onto the wound.

It stung a little and Yohji winced slightly.

"I've seen enough blood tonight. I don't want to see anymore of it. Especially on you," Ken muttered. His dark head was bowed before Yohji's, his bangs covering almost all of his face, but Yohji knew the expression that Ken was certain to be wearing now, with his eyebrows furrowed together and his forehead creased with worry lines.

"Maybe you need to see a doctor."

Yohji shook his head with a sigh.

"I just haven't been sleeping well lately. It's probably what's causing these drifts in my attention span," he admitted.

Ken's thumb brushed over a scarred line across Yohji's wrist and a slight tingle ran up Yohji's spine. The phantom pain would never go away so long as the scars in his heart never healed.

Yohji sighed softly and patted Ken's head gently. He knew why Ken was so upset of course. It was his fault after all. But it had all happened such a long time ago.

"I'm okay now."

Gently, he withdrew his hands from Ken's grasp and stood up.

"You've had a long day and I'll be done as soon as I clear up this mess, so why don't you just head for home? I'll pop by the flower shop tomorrow, I promise."

Yohji grabbed the broom and began sweeping up the glass shards into the pan.

"You're awfully eager to get rid of me tonight," Ken grumbled, picking up a cloth and bending down to mop up the liquid on the floor.

"Yeah, so just get the hint and go already," Yohi replied with a grin, relieving the cloth from Ken's hold and going over to the tiny sink in the enclosed area to rinse it.

"Oh god. You're not expecting that muscle bound oaf from the jungle tonight, are you?" Ken asked, in horrified tones.

Yohji smacked him in the back of the head, pain in the hand forgotten.

"Ass. You promised not to mention that again," he said, flushing.

"Well, it wasn't a sight that I could forget easily," Ken muttered, rubbing the back of his head resentfully.

He had only forgotten to lock the door ONCE. And of course, Ken would have to amble into the pub with Ran on that night of all nights to catch Yohji in the midst of a drunken sex romp.

He had all the luck, really.

"If you want my opinion, he was bad. Even for your standards," Ken offered helpfully.

"I never asked for your opinion," Yohji told him grumpily. "And I've explained it all to you before. I was drunk. I had no idea who I was doing."

"It looked more like he was doing you," Ken muttered.

Yohji flung the cloth at him, cheeks burning hotly.

God. His friends were all idiots.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He didn't know how long it'd been since he'd killed those men. It could be minutes, it could be hours, it could be days. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time, when he awoke, he found himself in a place different from the last place where he'd collapsed. It was as if he was moving without even being aware of it. He was burning with a fever and too weak to keep up his shields. Thoughts assaulted him, encroaching on his own sanity and they left him more drained with each successive wave. He had no way of making them go away. He was drowning, he was breaking, he couldn't find himself...

And still he kept moving, stumbling from place to place like a street vagrant. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to keep on moving, or they'd find him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The streets of Tokyo were wet tonight.

Rain poured down from the heavy overcast sky in a relentless torrent. It ran down the transparent pane of the car window in tiny rivulets. The images of the outside surroundings were distorted, reduced to mere smudges of colour by the many trickles of water sliding down the pane. Yohji stared out at the window, his mind not really registering the strange-looking images that flashed by. Beside him, Ran was driving in comfortable silence, soft melodious tunes playing from the car radio while Ken slumbered away in the back.

"Ken said you haven't been sleeping well lately."

Yohji suppressed the small sigh that threatened to escape his lips, but remained silent. He had been having dreams recently. Disturbing dreams that shook him from his sleep, leaving him gasping and clutching the blakets in his sweat-slicked palms in the dead of the night. Yohji had always had bad dreams but they had been fading away away with time. Lately though, the dreams had been coming back with a vengeance. Yohji's dreams were never really a welcome subject of discussion. After all, some things were better left in the past. And his dreams were definitely something that Yohji wanted buried away for good. Dreams about his days as an assassin were bad enough. Now, he had to contend with dreams of a lover, six years gone.

"He's worried about you."

Apparently, Ran was not to be dissuaded from this conversation.

"And you're worried about him because he's worrying about me."

Ran scowled ferociously and sneaked a peek in the rearview mirror to make sure that Ken was still sleeping.

"Don't try to change the topic. Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Having trouble sleeping."

Yohji frowned at his reflection in the side window.

"Ken worries too much about me."

"He thinks he has reason to. Is he right?"

Yohji made a dismissive sort of noise.

"I'm just an ordinary bartender manning an ordinary pub now.You're the ones putting your necks on the line night after night. If anything, I should be the one worrying about you guys. You almost bungled your last mission, didn't you?"

"It all worked out alright in the end," Ran replied, a defensive edge creeping into his tone.

"Omi said it was because you lost it when Ken got struck by that dart."

Ran said nothing, but his expression was stony.

"When are you going to tell him?" Yohji pressed.

"There's nothing to tell."

"We both know better than that."

Ran growled warningly, low in his throat and Yohji fell silent, vaguely satisfied that Ran had given up pressing him on details about his dreams.

Ken stirred in the back seat.

"Are we there yet?" He mumbled, eyes shut, obviously still half asleep.

"Soon," Ran informed him, eyes darting up again to the mirror, looking slightly unnerved.

"Oh okay," he murmured and sank back down to sleep again.

Yohji sighed.

He wanted a cigarette. He was trying to quit, but some days, he just felt like giving in.

Why had he started dreaming about him again? He hadn't thought of him for some time. For a while, Yohji had thought that he had finally gotten over him and then suddenly the dreams had started. So it had taken him awhile to stop trying to imagine that each person he bedded was him. So he still found himself biting his own tongue every now and then to keep from moaning out his name. It didn't mean anything.

Old habits were just hard to break.

It wasn't as if he was still obsessing about him. It had been six years for crying out loud! That was more than enough time for a broken heart to repair itself. He'd even dated a few people. Admittedly, these hadn't lasted, but that was nothing new.

The car rolled to a halt at its destination. Yohji didn't move. He sat quietly in the dark for a while, watching the rain beat down on the windscreen.

"I'm worried too."

Yohji glanced over.

Ran was wearing his habitual frown, staring at the steering wheel in front of him.

"It's not just Ken I'm worried about."

Yohji blinked, startled by Ran's unusually honest admission.

"... I know," he said, and his expression softened into a smile. "All of you shouldn't... but I know you do anyway."

He pushed the car door opened, and the roar of the rain filled the small space within the car.

"I'll see you soon."

Ran nodded.

Ken blinked sleepily at the sudden noise.

"... Bye, Yohji."

Yohji gave him an amicable smile, waved and darted out of the car.

He charged into the building as quickly as he could to avoid being thoroughly drenched.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end, he'd gotten soaked after all.

Yohji sighed heavily as he let his sodden clothing drop to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor with a wet splat. He hoped the guys were back at their respective apartments already. No one should be out in this miserably cold and wet weather.

Shivering, he stepped into the bathtub and twisted the knobs quickly, eager to immerse his cold body in the anticipated warmth of the water. The water was hot, and as the heated liquid gushed down upon him, his skin tingled with pleasure. For a while, he simply stood there, his head down, eyes shut, letting the water trail down his skin and luxuriating in the warm comfort of the water.

He knew the guys had worried for him for a long time after the break-up with Schuldig. He had been difficult in the aftermath. Bad-tempered and miserable, he'd turned to alcohol, drugs and mindless sex to take the loneliness and the pain away. At the height of his depression, he'd even taken a blade to his wrists. Ken had discovered him that day and rushed him to the hospital, something that Yohji had never forgiven himself for. He knew Ken was still haunted by the image of him sitting there with blood running down his hands. That was why he got so paranoid about Yohji sometimes. Yohji couldn't blame him for it. He really had scared Ken that day.

So it was a good thing that Ran had dropped by Yohji's apartment one day in the wake of Yohji's suicide attempt and happened upon the drugs. That had been the last straw for the redhead. He had yelled at Yohji for hours about his stupidity and his selfishness. The shock of Ran, the ice king himself, being so concerned about Yohji's welfare had overwhelmed the core of him that had been left hurt and blistering in the wake of Schuldig's departure. In the middle of Ran's angry tirade, Yohji had just broken down and cried himself stupid into the flustered man's arms. He hadn't been able to look Ran in the eye for days after that and Ran had acted as if Yohji was made of porcelain in the same few days, being very very careful not to upset Yohji in any way for fear that he would suffer another emotional outburst, but it had all worked out in the end. Yohji had thrown out his drugs, given up his suicidal tendencies and Ran and him had grown closer after the embarrassing incident.

Yohji had still been depressed after that, but he had stopped messing with the drugs and having suicidal tendencies and that was something at least.

Yohji turned off the shower and began to slather soap liberally over the hard contours of his body. He had stopped working as an assassin for Kritiker even before he had started associating with Schuldig on a more personal level, but he had kept himself in shape. The future was after all, unpredictable and there was no telling if he would one day be dragged back into the world of blood and shadows. One stayed a killer no matter the amount of time that had passed. The blood could never truly be washed off his hands once they were stained with it. Yohji had turned in his gun, blades and various assortment of lethal weapons that he had stashed away over the years under Kritiker once he left their employment, but he kept his watch and his wires.

"Think you can kill me, Weiss?"

His eyes were cruel and mocking, even though Yohji had his wire wrapped around the other man's neck. Yohji scowled, he had the upper hand here, he could crush Schuldig's wind pipe with one hard tug, yet... He let out a sharp gasp as Schuldig jerked forward suddenly -

Yohji slammed on the brakes to that particular memory and scowled.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yohji sat quietly in the darkness of his living room, watching the strange fluid shadows of the rain that was still pouring down, on the walls of his apartment. He couldn't sleep. Thoughts of his Schuldig kept flooding his mind.

Yohji frowned.

The dreams of the past nights... they had been warped. They were filled with blood, pain and at the center of them all was always Schuldig. He dreamt of Schuldig being hurt, he dreamt of Schuldig killing and he dreamt of Schuldig being the way he was when they were together all those years back.

Something was... off. It felt almost as if Schuldig was calling for him?

But that was impossible. No one knew where Schwarz was now and he had heard no news about Schuldig after Schuldig had walked out the door that day. The team had just disappeared into thin air after that huge incident in the warehouse.

A bitter little smile twisted his lips.

He hated himself for not being able to forget Schuldig, but there was no help for it. Schuldig was just like Asuka. He was a memory like an old injury that would never fully heal. Schuldig was a scar that had carved itself onto his soul permanently.

The sudden bang on his door made him jump.

He shot out of seat instantly, his back ramrod straight as he stared at the door, his fingers twitching over his bare wrist. Paranoia was just something that came naturally to assassins and Yohji had never been able to free himself from its grasp. After all, who would come looking for him at this ungodly hour in the morning?

... Ran, Ken or Omi.

He found himself almost tripping over the coffee table in his haste to get to the door. If any one of them were in trouble and couldn't go back to the flower shop, this was one of the first places they would turn to, Yohji had made sure of that. What if Ran and Ken had been attacked on their way back? What if one of them was hurt, or bleeding to death on his doorstep? It wouldn't be the first time they had come to his place as a refuge.

Yohji grasped the door knob and twisted it sharply. The door swung inwards.

The first thing that registered was the colour red.

The next was the impact of another body against his. Fingers twisted against his shirt, staining them red as Yohji stared numbly down at the injured man slumped against him.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Yohji's arms came around the trembling figure before him. Something was clawing painfully at his chest, tearing its sharp talons into a world of hurt and forbidden memories that he wanted locked away forever.

The man clutching him let out a soft gasping noise of pain. He raised his head slowly, revealing a painfully familiar face that was partially obscured by messy long bangs. There was a flash of brilliant green and a hint of recognition and relief in them with the soft flutter of eyelashes, then the body went completely still in Yohji's arms.

End Part 1.

Weiss Kreuz - The Argument

Wed, 10 Nov 2004 19:40:08 GMT

Disclaimer: Not mine. Taking wild liberties with characters.

Author's Notes: Been away from writing for a while, so this is just a little exercise for me to get back into the mood so that I can finish the many epics that I stupidly started. >_<

------

The Argument

Yohji tapped his cigarette on the edge of the ash tray and waited.

The door swung open with the barest creak.

He leaned back in his seat and lifted the drink to his lips.

Approaching footsteps tapped out a steady beat on the floorboards.

He took a small sip from the crystalline glass, savouring the exquisite taste of bittersweet liquid that trickled down his throat like a sinful drug.

A shadow fell across him, and the couch sank with the weight of another person. An empty silence stretched out in the enclosed space.

Yohji raised the glass to his lips again.

The movement was arrested, when his wrist was captured in the strong grip of the other.

"Schwarz slut."

"Weiss whore."

He reeked of beer and cigarettes, much the same way Yohji knew he himself did.

He let the other force him down, released the glass that smashed brutally to scattered fragments on the ground, ignored the dark spill of liquid across the floor.

He exposed his neck to hungry kisses and allowed the other to steal the breath from his lips. His fingers tangled in the vivid tresses of the other's hair.

The world around them faded into oblivion as the barriers between them fell away.

Yohji clutched the warm body to himself and surrendered.

"I missed you." His voice was scratchy and rough, his throat sore from all the earlier screaming.

The blank expression on his lover's face faltered. A flicker of emotion animated his pale features, like a candle flaring to life once, then dying again.

Don't leave me again.

If the other man had heard anything, he didn't show it.

But he was here.

And for Yohji, that was good enough.

Sat, 02 Oct 2004 14:16:45 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: Naruto

Again with the random character generator... *hangs head in shame*

-----

"Asuma."

"Asuma."

Genma sighed.

"I know you're in there, Asuma. Playing dumb isn't going to help matters."

A stubborn silence. Genma pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know Kurenai has banned you from smoking in the premises of the school and everything but..."

Genma slammed his fist against the bright pink door that was Kakashi's idea of a horrible joke.

"Will you get out of there now?! Some of us actually need to use the toilet for its intended purposes!"

His only response was a sedate plume of grey smoke wafting out from under the door. Genma growled, kicked the door and stomped off in the direction of the ladies.

If Kurenai had anything to say about it, he would damn well stuff her in the cubicle with Asuma until she asphyxiated.

Sat, 02 Oct 2004 14:14:50 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: Naruto

Err... This is what happens when you play too much with a random character generator.

---

Kiba had always thought Chouji was weak.

Everything about the boy had suggested it.

His lack of control over his appetite. The way he gave up so easily. His rapid defeat at the hands of Jiroubou. His inability to defend himself against sharp jibes. The shuttered uneasy look of dejection whenever anyone compared him to Shikamaru. The way he let Ino boss him around. Even the soft folds of his skin at the base of his neck.

Chouji was weak and that really was all that Kiba had ever known about him.

Only he wasn't.

He wasn't, and now Kiba couldn't stop thinking about how wrong he had been. How wrong they had all been.

Akamaru whined softly in his arms as the pallbearers lowered the black solid coffin into the darkness of the earth.

Tue, 28 Sep 2004 16:06:18 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: Naruto

I blame OMGNarutoRP for this one...

---

Hayate coughs and the blood on his hands is a dark, ugly stain.

He can't stop staring at that blackish spot. Can't stop the sinking feeling of free falling into a neverending pit of fear.

It is not the first time this has happened. He knows it will not be the last either.

A shadow falls over him where he is half-crouched on the floor.

He looks up, surprised, as warm hands enfold his own and the blood is slowly carefully wiped off with a dark green fabric.

Gai smiles at him, and pushes back the sleeve that has now absorbed his blood. His smile is the same as always, bright and full of the life that is ebbing away slowly from Hayate.

Today though, Hayate thinks Gai's eyes are a little sad.

One Piece this time...

Sat, 14 Aug 2004 15:12:01 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: One Piece

---------

Waves lapped gently against the hull of Going Merry. Aboard, Zoro leant back against the railings of the ship and stared up into the starless dark of the sky.

Soft trashing sounds and whimpers came from the cabin near him, but he pretended not to hear, blotting the noises from his mind.

Everyone had nightmares.

He didn't want to go in and wake her up. It seemed like an intrusion, a violation of sorts.

So he left her with her private nightmares and continued staring up blankly into the dark abyss above him.

He didn't want to think about what had nearly happened today. The life that had nearly slipped through his fingers. That body lying still and motionless on the wooden planks of the ship. The pale face and those lifeless lips...

Zoro scowled darkly at the shadowed figure lounging against the rail beside him.

"Stop staring at me," he snapped, finally.

Sanji simply looked at him, his face a careful blank mask.

"Spit it out or go away," Zoro growled.

Sanji blinked. After a moment, he cast his eyes down to the deck.

"What was it like?" He asked finally, his voice sounding oddly reticient.

What was what like? What was it like to see that your friend had stopped breathing?
What was it like to dive into the cold icy waters of the sea only to realise you didn't know where she was? What was it like to see blood flowing freely from the open wound in her side? What what?

"What was it like to what?" Zoro demanded, exasperation creeping into his voice. Already, he was sick of the conversation.

Sanji gestured vaguely.

"What was it like to kiss Nami?"

Zoro stared.

"You-" He begun in disbelief, then stopped and shook his head. "That wasn't a kiss, you moron. That was mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

Sanji shrugged. It was calculated to be careless, but Zoro could see the taut tight line of his body.

"I can't beli- you're jealous?"

Sanji frowned unhappily.

"You can't be serious," Zoro growled.

"I... didn't even see her go overboard. If you hadn't been watching out for her, she might have been-" His voice broke off as if the thought was too much for him to bear.

The unspoken words were left suspended in the awkward silence of the space that stretched out before them. Zoro shifted uneasily, taking care not to face Sanji directly.

"I promised, Zoro, I promised that I would keep her safe."

Sanji's voice was filled with a bitter self-loathing that Zoro had never heard from him before. There was a message in there somewhere, but Zoro couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"You. You're always there. Protecting her, taking care of her. Keeping her safe. The two of you... you're good together."

Was this what it all boiled down to? Misplaced feelings of guilt and jealousy? Zoro didn't quite know what to say to that.

"We're just friends. The woman is a blood sucking, money grubbing leech. I'm not attracted to her. At all," he finally stated simply, wishing the cook would just leave. What did Sanji want him to do? Swear never to step foot near their navigator again?

"Look, she's alright now. And I can assure you that two of us will never ever become a couple. Happy?" Zoro asked somewhat sarcastically. His patience was wearing thin and he was not in the mood to play mind games with the annoying cook.

"You don't get it, do you?" Sanji's features tightened with anger.

Zoro opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but just at that moment, the ship lurched.

The sharp angles of Sanji's body dug painfully against him, as they fell onto the deck in a tangle of limbs. Automatically, Zoro cradled the slender body in his arms protectively. It was really more instinct than anything else, which found him clutching Sanji to himself as the other sprawled over him, his eyes wide with shock.

Below them, came a shouted apology from Usopp, but neither of them paid any heed.

The fall had brought them dangerously close to each other. Sanji's cheeks were flushed and his eyes seemed almost glazed over. It was unsettling the way Sanji was staring at him. More unsettling though was the way his body seemed to be reacting to Sanji's presence. Zoro felt that he should do something, push Sanji away, yell at him or something, but he couldn't seem to move to break the spell.

Then Sanji bent down and pressed his lips against Zoro's.

It wasn't a passionate kiss or even a possessive one. Just gentle chaste pressure of one mouth against the other.

Zoro froze.

It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds before Sanji pulled back. Zoro blinked at him stupidly. His mind was still vacationing somewhere in the lower regions of his body.

Sanji had brought his hand to his mouth and there was a look of absolute horror etched upon his face. Zoro opened his mouth to say something potentially stupid. What it was he didn't quite know. He never got a chance to get it out of his mouth anyway.

In one fluid movement, Sanji was on his feet and darting away.

"No, wait!" Zoro reached out and just managed to snag the edge of Sanji's jacket, but the blonde was too quick for him and yanked free.

"Sorry," Sanji murmured and fled.

Zoro sat there in the dark for a long time after that, his fingers to his lips, thinking.

Sanji had kissed him.

Sanji had kissed him, Zoro.

The world was going to end. There was no other explanation for it.

There was just no way of bending his mind around that. No way too, to stop the thousand and one butterflies fluttering in his stomach and the single thought that dominated his mind.

He wanted Sanji to kiss him again.

Weiss Kreuz - Nasty Habits

Thu, 27 May 2004 17:25:49 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
------

Dirty grey smoke drifting lazily to the cracked ceiling of the tiny musty room.

Cobwebs in the corner, a sickly yellow light from a dusty lamp beside the bed.

Clothes strewn in every direction, bodies lying side by side in the empty quiet.

A gentle tap on the cylinder, a scattering of ashes among the creased rumpled sheets.

Fingers stroking across the smooth curve of a cheek.

"It's a nasty habit."

An observation, a statement. Dispassionate, cold.

A pointed look, a darkly amused murmur.

"It's one of many."

The intermingling of red and gold.

Harry Potter

Wed, 17 Mar 2004 14:53:29 GMT

A HP fic this time. Written at the height of my grieving over the fifth book. Only released now cos Ru has finally finished reading the book...

*MAJOR SPOILERS*

----------

Breathe. Dodge. Pull back your arm and let loose, a spell ripping forth your lips before you even realise it.

You're moving, flinging one spell after another at your opponent.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A green light flashes overhead as you dive down, your reflexes borne of animal instinct keeping you alive.

All around you, the world is going to hell.

Jets of green and red surround you. Your fellow members of the Order are fighting as hard as you are, each of them determined to protect the boy who has come to mean so much to the world. The boy who has become a symbol of resistance, of allegiance. A symbol worth fighting for, a symbol worth dying for.

You hear the blood rushing through your veins, the pounding of your heart. It's part exertion, part fear. But no, not fear for yourself. Rather -

Your eyes dart to the side for an instant.

A flash of red streaks by you, narrowly missing the man fighting just a few feet away from you. His raven black hair fans out behind him as he tosses his hair imperiously. He's laughing, a sound both sharp and mocking. His eyes are feverishly bright, blazing wildly in his handsome face.

With a start, you realise that this... this is the first time since your reunion that you've seen him so alive.

Not even when he's fucking you wildly into sweet oblivion have you ever seen him like this.

He used to be full of life, like a candle burning too brightly, one that was doomed to burn itself out in a flash.

You take all this in in an instant. Your eyes snap back to the Death Eater you are dueling with and you fling another spell.

You begged him to stay earlier, but you knew even then that it was no use.

Nothing in the world could have stopped him from rushing to the aid of his grandson. Not Azkaban with all its Dementors. Not even you.

He would do anything for Harry.

You had a bad feeling about the whole thing then, and the feeling has only gotten worse ever since you burst in with the others to rescue his godson. Call it sixth sense, animal instincts or whatever, something bad will happen.

But Sirius Black is not a man meant to be caged, not even by you, although he claims he loves you. You have your doubts.

Twelve years have been a long time. The time alone, bereft of your friends, with nothing but the death of James, Peter, Lily and his betrayal to haunt you has turned you bitter, making you a cynic.

The love you thought lost forever has returned, but he, like you, had changed. Still, you let yourself fall for his sweet whispers, allowed him to touch you in a way no one had in twelve years.

You told yourself that he was lonely, that he had suffered, that he needed the physical contact that he had been denied for so many years. You convinced yourself that you were over him, that you would not make the same mistake twice. But deep in the night, when the only sounds penetrating the heavy silence were your moans as you were entwined in each other's arms, you looked into his eyes as his soft long hair cascaded down all around you and you knew.

You could never let him go again.

You cry out another spell, one that brings your opponent down.

And then -

Your gut twists sickly, as dread captures your heart in its cold clasp. You don't even wait to see if your opponent is stunned, to make sure he doesn't get up again and finish you off when your back is turned.

There is no time.

"SIRIUS!"

You dash over, even as the red light is streaming towards him with deadly accuracy. His laughter is ringing in your ears.

He doesn't even have time to scream. He's falling.

You know you will bring this image with you to your grave.

A voice in your head is saying:

No. Not Sirius. Not him. Not again.

He disappears through the veil.

And just like that, he's gone.

Like James, like Lily and even Peter. Like all the other friends you've lost over the years.

He's gone and now you're the only one left to pick up the pieces as you stare into Harry's haunted ashen face.

Weiss Kreuz - Where Schuldig knows better

Mon, 19 Jan 2004 15:39:35 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Schuldig/Yohji
Warning: M/M love. Don't read this if you can't handle the idea of men falling in love.

----

"I don't love you, you know," Yohji remarked thoughtfully. It was the sixth time they had woken up in bed together.

"It's alright," Schuldig said amiably.

The German took a long drag on the cigarette they'd been sharing and exhaled slowly. They were close enough so that they could share in the heat of each other's flushed skin without any body contact. Together, they watched the white wists of smoke drift lazily to the ceiling.

----

"I... *cough* don't love you... you know?" came the weak faltering voice from the unruly blonde head pillowed against his shoulder.

Schuldig glanced out towards the waves lapping gently at the sand, ignoring the throbbing pain at his throat. There was no sign of the fury that had brought the building down around them. He thought he could see his team mates beckoning to him along the distant shoreline.

"I know," he said simply and patted Yohji's back as the blonde coughed some more before passing out.

----

"I. Don't. Love. You," he declared vehemently, glaring at Schuldig, as he swayed precariously on the stool at the bar.

Schuldig noted mentally the number of glasses Yohji had drained.

"It's okay," he said calmly, steadying the other man with one hand. Yohji blinked, then beamed idiotically, in the true fashion of drunkards.

Schuldig thought it was kind of cute.

----

"I don't love you. Really." Yohji muttered miserably, buried under the blankets heaped above him.

"Don't worry about it," Schuldig said cheerfully, before sticking the thermometer in Yohji's mouth and placing a cool towel on his burning forehead.

----

"I don't love you... do I?" He asked desperately, clinging tightly on to Schuldig after having barged through the door.

Schuldig let drop the luggage from his hands. Slowly, his arms came around Yohji in the mostly emptied apartment. The faint scent of cigarette smoke and shampoo was caught on the soft golden strands.

"Of course you don't," Schuldig murmured reassuringly, as he drew back to look into frantic green eyes.

He smiled softly.

"You only need me."

With that, he leant forward and kissed Yohji gently.

Final Fantasy VIII - Irvine and Squall share another moment

Thu, 01 Jan 2004 18:48:53 GMT

Someday in the very distant future, this will be part of a full length fic. For now, it is what it is.

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Squall/Irvine
Warning: M/M love. Don't read this if you can't handle the idea of men falling in love

---------

"Squall!" Irvine hissed.

Squall arched an eloquent eyebrow.

"What are we doing?" Irvine demanded.

"Hiding," Squall replied, dead-panning.

"Well... yes." Irvine conceded. "But what eludes me is the why. So why are we hiding and why in the broom cupboard?"

The corners of Squall's lips curved in what could have passed as a smile for him.

"We are hiding because I have just cancelled Zell's leave. They're short-handed over in Trabia and Selphie needed help. All the rest of us are tied up with teaching duties."

Irvine frowned. "Alright... You're hiding because Zell's pissed off with you. What am I doing here?"

Squall gave him one of his rare smiles, the one that he'd only ever seen him bestow upon Rinoa.

"You're here..." he murmured, studying Irvine intently in a way that made Irvine's blood rush to his face, "... because."

He leant over without warning and captured Irvine's lips with his own.

"... Oh," said Irvine after several breathless moments of being thoroughly kissed.

Squall nodded solemnly. "Exactly."

He leant in again, and Irvine gladly surrendered.

Final Fantasy VIII - Irvine and Squall share a moment

Thu, 01 Jan 2004 18:44:19 GMT

Someday in the very distant future, this will be part of a full length fic. For now, it is what it is.

---------

"This is ridiculous!" Irvine declared vehemently, throwing his pencil down on the table. "I fought against Ultimecia's minions countless times, saved the world from domination by some crazy witch, prevented time from compressing itself and SURVIVED. Why then, am I still required to take the Seed exam when everyone knows I'm just as qualified as the next Seed?"

All around him, students in the library were making shushing noises or giving him the evil eye. Ignoring them all, he glared at Squall, as if daring him to contradict what he had just said. Despite the impassive look on Squall's face, Irvine had the sneaking suspicion that Squall Leonheart was more than just a little amused at his indignance.

"Garden rules. You know what they're like. And it's Sorceress, not witch."

"I still don't see why I have to take this stupid exam." Irvine grumbled petulantly.

The librarian looked like she might come over soon, legendary saviours of the world or not. Irvine scowled fiercely in her direction, for once, dropping all gentlemanly charm. He was not in a good mood. Selphie had just recently called it quits with him and it had just been brought to his attention that even though he had contributed greatly towards the Sorceress War, he would still have to sit for the Seed exams if he wanted full Seed privileges.

"Look on the bright side, Seifer has to take the exam too." Squall offered lightly.

As if on cue, Seifer walked, his arms crammed full of notes and other assorted books, followed closely by his posse. He spotted them and gave them a curt nod but didn't come over, heading instead in the opposite direction.

Irvine noted the nasty looks Seifer was receiving as he stalked past the tables filled with students. As he passed, tables broke into terse whispers and angry muttering. Seifer ignored them all. The memory of whose side Seifer had taken when the world had been under the threat of the Sorceresses was still fresh in the minds of most people and Irvine knew many of them had been furious that Seifer had been given a second chance by the Garden. He'd gotten off with nothing more than a light warning and it still rankled with many of the Garden's students.

Irvine himself couldn't find it in him to hate Seifer. He hadn't really known Seifer as the rest had known him, being in a different Garden altogether. He'd heard of his arrogance, the bully in him and his total disregard for rules but whenever he thought about the man, he remembered a young boy, not much older than him, starved for attention just like the rest of them, lost in a story about a knight he'd read for weeks, convinced that the world would only love him when he became that knight.

Squall followed his gaze, an inscrutable look on his face. Irvine knew a bit about their rivalry from the others and his own memories of two boys constantly fighting to best each other in everything.

Sometimes, it was hard to be the only one with his memories intact.

"Anyway," he continued, picking up where he left off. "I just don't get it, why..."

Squall cut into what promised to be a long tirade quickly.

"Do you want my help or not?"

Irvine glowered, then snatched up the book he had previously abandoned. Soon, both of them were absorbed in the book as Squall patiently explained some stuff that Irvine hadn't quite caught during classes. They reached for the pencil at the same time, Irvine's fingers closing over the instrument the exact moment Squall's closed over his.

The jolt that raced through his hand was electric.

Irvine's head jerked up, his startled green eyes meeting Squall's own blue eyes. The warmth he saw in them made his insides quiver.

"Sorry."

Squall's fingers lingered over his and almost absent-mindedly, his thumb starting sliding over Irvine's hand in slow concentric circles.

Suikoden III - Percival wonders

Thu, 01 Jan 2004 18:23:32 GMT

Disclaimer: No money being made out of this. Characters have been borrowed.
Fandom: Suikoden III
Warning: M/M love. Don't read this if you can't handle the idea of men falling in love.

-------------

You stare after her silently, the longing and desire you feel all too evident in your eyes.

You want to go to her. To stay with her, protect her, be her source of support if necessary. Never mind that she will not need you, for she is a woman like no other.

In a way, I can understand how you feel.

She is beautiful, is she not? SWift and fearless in battle, cutting a swath of destruction through our enemies. The last thing her enemies see is a beautiful goddess of war rushing towards them. Sometimes I wonder... were we in their place, would we die with a smile on our faces?

I suspect the answer would be yes.

Fools. The whole lot of us.

She is one of us, a Zexen knight, devoted to protecting her people. As we are. Why then is there a distance between us and her? Is it because she has set herself away from us? Or is it us who have placed her on a pedestral so tall we cannot reach? I do not know. What I do know, is that her radiance blinds us all.

You want her. I know you do.

Lie to yourself and the rest all you want, but I know you too well. Your emotions reveal themselves all too clearly like that of pages of a book, fluttering in the wind, whenever you gaze upon her fair Zexen beauty.

Hell, I don't need to be your best friend to be able to read you. Just ask any random soldier in the castle.

Fortunately for us both, I am not the same open book that you are.

I watch you quietly, in much the same way, your gaze lingers upon her receding outline. My face is impassive, I know, and I cling to that defense, that mask which hides all that I feel for you away.

Do you know I lie awake at night imagining that you are tossing and turning in bed because your thoughts are on me instead of her?

The truth would shock you I am sure.

She has left with that ruffian of a man who calls himself, "Nash" to find her father.

Perhaps she will not return.

You bite your lip as a tiny frown creases your forehead.

Fear not old friend. She will come back to us. This place is her homeland and her devotion to her people is too strong to be replaced by her search for her father. Only pray you stay alive long enough to see her lovely face again.

You turn to me, your expression stormy as your worries wrestle against each other to gain control of your features. Together, we head back down the stairs leading to our rooms.

Do you have any idea that your best friend is in love with you?

I think not.

God, you're so near to me now, and yet I can't have you. I can't do anything.

It's killing me.

Our fingertips brush and you jerk back, startled at the contact. Embarrassed, you smile awkwardly at me and unconsciously run a hand through those blonde locks of yours. If this is your reaction when we touch, what would it be like if we kissed?

I figure it'll be something along the lines of, "Run blade through ex-best friend".

There was once when we had a chance, when I was sure we had a connection, a certain chemistry between us. But then she came along, and slowly but surely, she became the center of your world. Before her, your friendship with me was all that mattered to you. But then... you turned your wistful eyes upon her, and looked at her with such awe and love in your eyes and I knew it was all over for us. It was finished before it had even been started.

Yet, I cannot hate her.

For I am enthralled by her, drawn to her shamelessly like a moth to a flame.

I am torn between the two of you. Yet, I cannot have either of you.

It is cruel and it is unfair and it kills me, but this is the way things have been and they way they will always be.

The moonlight seeps into your hair from the open window, dyeing in a silvery blonde. It reminds me of her now. Our Goddess. Our Silver Maiden.

I would lay down my life at her feet in a second. So would you.

But she will not have us both.

Why then can we not have each other at least?

You stop at your door and I am shaken out of my forbidden thoughts.

"Good night, Percival."

You hesitate.

In that moment, a horrifying self-destructive urge takes ahold of me.

I want... I want to push you against the wall and pound into you until you cry my name.

I want... I want to taste your sweet lips and run my fingers through your blonde locks

I want... I want to scream 'I love you' over and over and over again.

I want... you.

And then-

The moment passes and the urge leaves me as suddenly as it arrived.

I force a tired smile out.

"Good night, Borus."

Weiss Kreuz - Yohji writes a letter

Thu, 01 Jan 2004 18:08:29 GMT

For Rurouni who thinks I have forgotten about her B'day fic.

-----------------

Do you know I still think about you all the time?

I bet you don't. I'm sure you thought that I'd just put our past behind us the minute you walked out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

I thought I could. After all we were only together for those few short months. And I tried.

But I couldn't.

You know how they say that true love only comes your way once in a lifetime?

It came my way twice. And both times I lost it. Let it slip through my outstretched fingers to scatter like so much dust in the wind.

Would you have stayed that day if I had begged you to?

I doubt you would have.

But it still bothers me sometimes. That I didn't at least try. Maybe in my heart, I knew that we weren't meant to last. Far better for me to let go then and be content with the few bittersweet memories we shared together then to have those few moments forever marred by long years spent bickering and sniping at each other before an eventual ugly break up.

We were no fairy tale couple, but I really did love you.

Maybe it was just sex to you. But for me, it was love, plain and simple.

I don't know what it was about you that drove me crazy. Heaven knows, you drove Ran crazy in another totally different way, self-confident, arrogant bastard that you were.

I wanted to hate you for walking out on me. And I tried.

But I couldn't.

Instead, I ended up hating myself for letting you walk away without a word. That day, I sat there, smoking my damn cigarette with my back turned until I heard the door click shut with absolute finality. Then I threw the ash tray across the room, shattering it into a tiny thousand fragments. A tiny thousand fragments that could never again be put together, never again be replaced.

Just like the time we spent together.

New people walk in and out of my life all the time. None of them has ever replaced you, your memory.

Where are you now?

I've heard rumours that you'd been spotted in Tokyo recently. You're a marked man now, aren't you? You turned on your former masters. Revenge is on their agenda. You got out of that crazy mess in one piece though. You guys became a legend that night. No one even knows what the hell went on down there. The only news on the streets the next day was that you all had taken out fifty Talents and escaped from Estet's clutches. Incredible feat that. I'll admit it to you in all honesty, Weiss would have gone down in seconds. We never could hold a candle to you guys for all our bravado.

I miss you, Schu. I really really do.
--------------------------------------

For some reason, the crumpled scrap of paper lying forlornly on the floor near the bin caught his attention.

He stepped closer, peering down at it.

Blue inked jottings on a white sheet.

What was that...?

... Schu.

Right down on paper. In the man's room.

A small date scribbled at the end of the page told him that the letter had only been written a few days back.

He smoothed out the letter, taking a quick cursory look at it.

Emerald eyes widened beneath red glasses.

He hastily stuffed the paper into the pocket of his jacket and eyed the door suspiciously. He knew there wasn't a soul in the house now, but too many days of hiding had made him paranoid.

Eventually, he began moving through the room, picking up objects here and there and then placing them back down again- a framed photograph of the occupant of the room and his friends, a half-empty packet of cigarettes, a pen here and a book there...

Everything in the room was a representation of the occupant of the room. They were testaments to his existence, his lifestyle, his personality.

He hadn't changed much in five years. A long time to some, a short time to others.

The man need never know of his presence.

He shut the door behind him when he left.