Aya was fuming.

As usual, the source of his anger was none other than Yohji. It had been happening more and more of late, and it was annoying Aya to no end.

More than annoying, even. It was driving him nuts. Usually nothing was able to make him crack, nothing could make him lose his cool, but Yohji had been pressing all the right buttons lately, and Aya was losing it more and more with each argument.

Why? Why the hell was he letting the flip, suave, careless, blonde get to him? Well damn, enough was enough. Aya decided it was time to put a stop to foolish arguments before he lost himself completely one of these times, and did something he knew he would regret. Time to put a stop to any more of these late-night argumentative episodes with Yohji once and for all.

Aya slipped into the hallway, closing the door to his room quietly behind him, and making his way over to Yohji's door. It was getting late, and he didn't need Ken or Omi waking up and walking into the middle of anything happening between him and Yohji, especially if he was trying to smooth things over with the oldest Weiß member. Aya wasn't one to compromise or apologize, but he might need to in this case, to save his sanity.

He knocked on the door softly, and when no one answered, knocked again. Still no answer.

Well, it wasn't THAT late, and Yohji was horribly notorious for coming in at insane hours. Aya nudged Yohji's door open, and stepped inside. It was dark, with only a small bit of light shining in through the window on the far wall beside Yohji's bed. Aya blinked for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and looked around for a light. He wasn't familiar with the older Weiß member's room; he had no reason to be.

Stepping slowly in the shadowed room, Aya ever-so-gracefully banged his knee into the small table in the middle of Yohij's floor. Uttering a soft curse and a promise of 'shi-ne' later, he nudged the table aside to get to the floor lamp near Yohji's bed. As he pushed at the table, he heard something roll to the floor and thud loudly, but didn't pay any attention to it until the light was finally flicked on.

Blinking again, Aya's eyes adjusted to another light change. Yohji's room was clean, but dishevel. Aya's eyes were drawn to the floor beside the table he'd cracked his knee on, and on the bottle there that he'd evidently knocked onto the floor from the impact. He stepped over softly and picked it up from the floor. It hadn't spilled, hadn't cracked, and seemed to be fine. Lucky for him-one less thing for Yohji to possibly be pissed off at him for.

He turned the cool glass bottle over in his hands and bit his lower lip. Why the hell WAS Yohji so angry with him all the time, anyway? The two of them simply didn't get along outside of work, Aya supposed. They led two completely different lifestyles.

With nothing better to do, and his original purpose for going to Yohji's room thwarted, Aya turned the bottle label face up and read it. Brandy. He wasn't one much for drinking, so it might as well have been Greek to him.

The bottle was mostly full, but wasn't very large. Aya figured it must either be brand new, or be quite strong, or both, if it was this full. He thrust the bottle back down on the table, almost in disgust. Yohji drank that crap, not him.

He moved over to the window and looked out. Even in the middle of the night, the city was never quiet. You could always see the blood. You could always hear the screams.

Or at least, he could.

He saw whenever he closed his eyes, and sometimes when they were open. He heard in the dead of night, in the brightest noon. They flooded his consciousness and split through his skull, tortured his memories. He turned again, his back to the window now, to look at the table, and the bottle sitting on it.

That was why people drank, wasn't it? To forget.

So then, Yohji had something he wanted to forget... Something painful.

Slowly, as if walking on eggshells, Aya walked back to the table, picked up the bottle again. Brandy. Cherry Brandy, he read, upon closer inspection of the label. He almost laughed at himself. What did it matter was in the bottle? Who the hell read alcohol labels anyway? Did people who drank this stuff really care about the taste, anyway?

With some sudden sense of curiosity, Aya unscrewed the metal cap on the bottle, and held it up to his nose. His eyes began to water as the fumes burned at his nose, down into his throat. People actually drank this stuff? God, it must be like drinking lighter fluid.

He put the bottle back down again, but held the cap in his fingers, rolling it between them. What the hell was he doing? Why was he here? Yohji could be back any minute, or not for hours. He should never have even come in if Yohji wasn't here.

He wasn't sure why he came, he just knew he had. He could wait for Yohji, the blonde would have to return home sooner or later.

Setting the cap back on the table, Aya again picked up the bottle. He walked to the window with it, and looked out. The city lights were bright. He decided he was tired of the light. He wanted the dark again. He went back to the lamp and turned it off, making his way back to the window one final time, letting the lights of Tokyo at night mesmerize him.
Which one was Yohji at? And who was he with tonight?

Aya stood, alone, in the darkness.

He'd almost forgotten the bottle in his hand until it clinked against the windowsill. He lifted it up again, reading it again, although he already knew what it said. Brandy. Cherry Brandy.

He could hear her scream.

See her lifeless.

What did it matter anyway, now?

He lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a sip. And promptly choked.

God almighty the stuff was strong. It burned his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek. It stung his throat, and he coughed roughly. He leaned against the windowsill, panting. How in God's name did anyone drink this?

He started to laugh.

Ran Fujimiya, the perfect assassin, the perfect killer. Hunter in the night. And he couldn't even get down a shot of brandy. What a joke.

He was stronger than that. He was stronger than the other three. That's why he was the leader. He made it his goal to be strong. Nothing would hurt him again. Nothing would break him again. Nothing would ruin him again.

Nothing.

This liquor was an unspoken challenge. It called out to him, taunting him.

He laughed again, softly, hysterically, until his hands shook.

He wasn't strong. He was weak. He'd come here to compromise with Yohji because his weakness was showing.
He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.

A burning sensation filled his throat, went down into his stomach. The strength and taste was enough to choke him, but he held it in. He turned his back to the window and smiled a grim smile. A cold smile. He sank down against the windowsill and wall behind him, not losing his grip on the bottle.

He laughed at all the shadows of his past, and they laughed back at him. He laughed at what he'd become, and so did they. He laughed, and listened.

He drank, once more.

He laughed softly, once more.

And closed his eyes.

Well, hell, that date had sucked.

Yohji wasn't used to bad dates, and this one was irking the hell out of him. Some resentful girl had gone out with him to make her old boyfriend jealous, and halfway through the date the idiot had shown up, and she'd gone off with him.
Yohji was NOT used to bad dates.

Yohji didn't have bad dates. It was against his nature. It was against all his rules.

Well damn, this had been a bad date.

He was going to get drunk when he got in. Very, very drunk.

He sighed and walked up the stairs, and into his room, throwing his jacket aside on the floor, not caring that it wasn't hung up. He wandered over to his bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing that aside as well. He reached for the light and clicked it on, turning to his table for the bottle of liquor he knew would be there.

It wasn't. He blinked and turned, and saw something he'd never expected to see in his room.

Aya, against the window, slumped on the floor with his head in his hands, an empty bottle lying next to him.
Yohji blinked, making sure he wasn't seeing things.

Aya.

In HIS room.

With an empty liquor bottle.

Where the hell was Rod Serling when you needed him?

If the empty bottle hadn't been there, Yohji might have thought that Aya had somehow been hurt. Then again, he wasn't sure if this worried him more than Aya being injured. As far as he knew, Aya didn't drink. Aya didn't do ANYTHING. He was just some cold bastard martyr.

"Aya?"

He tried the safe route first. Calling his name, but not touching him. He knew Aya didn't like people touching him. He'd gotten a fist to the gut several times for it in the past.

Aya looked up at him like a lost puppy.

His violet eyes were big and wide, and glazed over like a deer caught in headlights.

"Aya." Yohji called again, and Aya blinked.

"Aya..." the redhead whispered softly in reply. Yohji caught the very strong scent of cherries and alcohol from Aya's direction, even though he wasn't terribly close to him yet. "Aya's not here..."

Yohji leaned down and picked up the empty bottle, setting it on the table in the center of his room. There he found the discarded cap. Damn, Aya'd come into his room and gotten drunk? And he hadn't even been there to witness.
So what the hell could have happened for Aya to go berserk like this?

Yohji sighed and turned back to Aya. So much for himself getting drunk tonight. He looked at the empty bottle longingly. Well, he had something more important to deal with right now.

Aya was still looking at him blankly, eyes glazed. He blinked and covered his eyes, trying to look at Yohji. "Light... no more light..." He said softly. Yohji looked confused for a minute, and then realized Aya was looking over at the lamp in the corner of the room, and went to turn it off.

"What's going on, Aya?" He said from across the room. "Did something happen?"

Aya leaned back against the window and his lips curved into something that more closely resembled a smile than anything Yohji had ever seen on his face before. A bit of light streamed in through the window behind the redhead, illuminating his high cheekbones and sharp chin.

Yohji made his way back over to Aya, wary of what the man might do if he got too close. Aya could be volatile, and Yohji had no idea of what Aya might be like if all his inhibitions were gone. Although right now, he didn't seem incredibly dangerous, that didn't mean much.

He knelt in front of Aya, by the window. "Yo, Aya. Tell me what's up." Yohji'd seen enough drunk people to know how to deal with them. Hell, he'd been there himself enough times at that.

"Yohji." Aya blinked again. He seemed to be doing an awful lot of blinking, as if his eyes couldn't seem to adjust quite right. His speech was incredibly slow, but clear enough to understand. He must have been slowing everything down with extra effort to speak clearly.

"What?" Yohji humored him.

"What are you doing in my room?" Aya sounded genuinely puzzled. Yohji chuckled softly.

"You're in my room, pretty boy." Yohji broke it to him. Aya scowled. Yohji decided that a drunken Aya, scowling, was insanely cute.

"I don't go in your room," Aya protested.

"Aa. You don't drink either, but you're drunk."

"No."

"Then why do you smell like alcohol?"

"I'm in your room."

Touché, Yohji thought. At least he was with it enough to still have some semblance of intelligent thinking left to him. "You said you don't go in my room."

"I forgot."

"How long have you been sitting in here, Aya?" Yohji tried again to get some info out of him.

"When did you get home?" Aya skirted the question.

"Just now."

"Then... since before that."

All right, that decided it. Aya was drunk off his ass.

"Aya, are you going to tell me what happened, or should I just leave you alone sitting here by the window all night?"

Aya blinked, and something flashed in his eyes. "No."

"No, what?"

"No."

Yohji reached out and grabbed Aya's shoulder, and took hold of Aya's chin with his other hand. He shook him gently. He wasn't making any sense. "Aya, talk to me, guy, ok?"

Aya shrank back and flinched when Yohji grabbed him, and it seemed like he tried to pull away, but simply couldn't find the strength to do it. His arm flopped a little, and his eyes narrowed. Yohji didn't back off or let go, and Aya slumped forward slightly against him, and whispered again.

"No."

"No, to what, Aya?" Yohji kept his voice even, and tried to pry something, anything out of Aya that might help him figure out why the hell he was here, in Yohji's room at this hour, dead drunk.

"Everything... No."

"Why did you get drunk, Aya?" Yohji went right for the throat, figuring that subtleties wouldn't make it past the intoxicated haze that coated Aya's mind.

"Why do you get drunk, Yohji?" Aya echoed. Yohji sighed in a bit of exasperation. It was hard to believe, but Aya was even more difficult drunk than he was sober. Yohji tipped Aya's head up to look at him, to try to get him to talk. Cherried, alcohol-scented breath invaded Yohji's nostrils as Aya's head lolled heavily back in his hands.

"I'm not the one drunk right now, Aya."

"Sorry," Aya suddenly blurted out.

It was Yohji's turn to blink. He let his grip on Aya go, and the redhead slumped forward against him more. Yohji was suddenly aware of the fact that he'd taken off his shirt when he'd come in, when he felt something warm and wet on his skin.

What the hell had Aya in such a mess tonight? Was he CRYING?

Yohji wasn't completely sure how to react. Even if Aya hadn't been male, Yohji rarely had to deal with crying women, and wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

"Look Aya, let's get you in your room and we can worry about this later, okay?" Yohji tried to lean back to stand up, but Aya clenched his fist and clawed his fingernails into Yohji's shoulder. Yohji winced and grunted in pain.

"Damn, Aya, that hurt!" He wasn't sure if he was bleeding or not.

"Forget, Yohji."

Yohji was puzzled. "Huh?"

"To forget. Drink to forget. That's what you do, isn't it?" He sounded like a child, asking a question he didn't quite understand.

"Listen, Aya, you don't want to be like me." Yohji said softly, changing his grip on Aya and settling back on the floor with him.

"Want... to forget."

"Forget what?"

"Forget... everything, Yohji."

Yohji wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know what Aya might want to forget, and he wasn't one to pry. Hell, Aya had already opened up to him more than ever before. And he definitely didn't want to make Aya say something that would have him pissed off at Yohji for in the morning.

Aya was quiet for a while, and Yohji thought he might have fallen asleep. He went to nudge the redhead, to check to make sure he was all right, and Aya started to speak again.

"Forget. Her... you. Don't want to see it anymore... whenever I close my eyes... Hear her... Can't... get close. Don't want to touch... don't touch..."

Aya's eyes snapped open and he looked at Yohji in an expression of abject fear. "Don't touch me!" he growled, and sat up shakily, pushing at Yohji. "Get off!"

Yohji pulled back in surprise, taken aback. "You fell on ME, Aya."

Aya curled up on himself, pressed back against the window again. Yohji almost reached to touch him again, but decided that it would be a bad idea. He stood up and looked down at Aya, shivering on the floor. He turned to get the blanket from his bed. If Aya was going to sit on the floor all night, Yohji wasn't going to be responsible for Aya getting sick from sitting near the drafty window with no blanket all night.

He'd only been turned a moment when car tires screeched outside his window. It didn't startle him, he was used to the sounds of the city.

But Aya screamed.

Yohji whirled back around, and Aya's eyes were wide with fear. He was whispering to himself, hugging himself, and all Yohji could make out, was the world 'No.'

Seeing Aya like that was enough to scare Yohji, as well. He ripped the blanket off his bed and set himself down on the floor next to Aya. He tried to put the blanket around the shivering redhead, but Aya fought him. Yohji pressed him hard against the window and growled at him.

"Don't make me call Ken and Omi in here to see you like this!" Aya's struggling slowed, and finally stopped, and he fell near-catatonic in Yohji's arms. Yohji draped the blanket over him, and sat there in the quiet darkness, listening to Aya's harsh breathing.

Aya lay against Yohji, unable to close his eyes, but still, and limp.

"Jesus, Aya, don't scare me like that." Yohji said quietly, in a slightly reprimanding tone.

"Sorry..." Aya said, expressionless.

Yohji patted the side of Aya's head affectionately. He wasn't sure why, it just felt like something he should do. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Aya smiled, a bitter smile. A sad, bitter smile.

"No."

"No. No, no, no."

Aya laughed.

Long, and out loud.

He said it again, like some sort of mantra, as if there was something inexplicably amusing about that string of 'no's.

Yohji had just PATTED him.

Fucking patted him. Like a child or a kitten.

He wouldn't feel better in the morning. He would feel like he did every morning, except he would probably have to add a hangover to that.

He licked his lips, moistening his dry mouth, and tasted cherries. Cherry liquor. What a silly concept.

He laughed again.

He felt Yohji shift behind him, and sat up quickly. Too quickly. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he wobbled, falling back against Yohji again. He heard Yohji sigh, felt him shake his head.

"Even if you forget for a little while, Aya, it will always be there when you're sober."

Aya thought that maybe that was the most intelligent thing he had ever bothered to hear out of Yohji's mouth. Usually he just got angry and glared and clenched his fists. Yohji made him so angry! Why was Yohji even in Weiß? He didn't care about justice, and he wasn't in it for the money. So why did he do it?

Aya couldn't figure it out.

Ken fought for justice. To save those children he prized so much. Omi was raised to do it. He did it for the money. For his sister. So why did Yohji do it?

Reaching out and holding on to something solid, Aya pulled himself up, into a sitting position. He turned and looked at Yohji.

Did he have a secret, too? Something he wanted to protect?

"Yohji?"

He felt Yohji shift when he acknowledged that Aya was talking. "What?"

Aya swallowed. His mouth felt numbed. "If... I tell you a secret. Will you tell me?"

Yohji looked down at the limp, drunk body in his arms. He would never have imagined Aya letting himself get like this. And Aya wanted to tell him something? Wanted to ask him something? That was new. As far as he knew, Aya didn't care about any of the rest of them farther than he had to, to work with them. They all had their secrets, and none of them had ever pressed any of the others to spill.

"Tell you what, Aya?"

"Aya..." Aya murmured softly, his fingers unconsciously going up to his ear to toy with the earring there. "Aya, Aya, Aya."

Repeating everything three or four times was fun.

Yohji raised an eyebrow and looked back at the drunken redhead, who looked dazed. "Aya...?"

"Tell me why, Yohji." Aya said, abruptly.

Yohji blinked. Why? Why, what? Damned if Aya wasn't as confusing as hell!

"Why?"

Aya sighed and closed his eyes. "Why? I asked you first."

Yohji was exasperated. "Why, what?" He was losing his patience, but reminded himself Aya had never been drunk before, at least, as far as he knew, and tried to keep from getting angry with his dodgy questions and strange statements.

"Why..." Aya sighed. He suddenly felt extremely tired. He felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry.

"Why... Yohji, why?"

Yohji didn't know what Aya wanted, didn't know what the question was, so he simply sat there, and hoped Aya would mutter something that might help him understand what he wanted. Yohji usually had no tolerance for drunk men, but Aya seemed an awful lot like a confused child sitting there, muttering random things, not making much sense. And of course, Aya had been in HIS room, and gotten drunk off HIS liquor.

For some reason seeing Aya this messed up worried Yohji. Maybe it was just unnerving; Straight Arrow Aya, on his floor, drunk as anything. It felt like the things that once were certain, were now uncertain. Was nothing set in stone?

No, it probably wasn't.

"Why did you sell your soul, Yohji?"

Another abrupt interrogative question. Yohji sat up straight, and very still. That was what Aya wanted to know? What a strange question from the man that never asked questions. For a minute Yohji felt indignant. What was it any of Aya's business, anyway? It faded quickly, though. Aya seemed to honestly want to know why.

Yohji sighed, again.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Aya blinked. "Do you care if I believe you?" his words were slow, consonants mushed together, his voice was tired, but he was speaking.

"Maybe."

"Then maybe I'll believe you." Aya blinked again, tired eyes boring into Yohji's. Yohji almost laughed, and shook his head.

"You wouldn't."

"It's not money. It's not justice. What else is there?" Aya's face was starting to scrunch up slightly in concentration, in his effort to pronounce his words clearly.

"I get to check out Manx when she brings us missions." Yohji answered lamely. Aya tried to hit him, but flopped like a dying fish instead, winding himself up in Yohji's arms again, head resting on the taller man's shoulder tiredly.

"I don't care, Aya. I just don't care. I died too long ago for any of it to matter anymore."

Aya sat quietly, wide eyed, until Yohji sighed, leaned back, and closed his eyes. "You said you had a secret." Yohji said, softly.

"Why I fight..." Aya whispered.

"Money." Yohji thought that was pretty clear.

Aya laughed. He was so good. None of them knew. Not a one. "You think that... just like everyone else..." he said softly, almost too softly for Yohji to hear.

Yohji was surprised. Was money NOT Aya's only objective? Maybe Aya was less one-sided than he thought. Hell, everything else he was sure of about Aya had been shattered, why not that too?

"What, then?" Yohji didn't know what he expected Aya to say in reply.

"Aya." Aya laughed in reply. "Aya. Everything for Aya."

Yohji thought the redhead was off his rocker.

He didn't press Aya for clarification, and wasn't even sure the guy would understand him if he asked. He shifted behind Aya, those drunken violet eyes still focused on him, and moved to try to stand up. Aya flopped back against the wall and Yohji leaned down to help him stand up.

"You're out of it. You need to get to sleep." Yohji decided letting Aya crash in his bed would be easier than hauling the drunken redhead all the way to his own room, and Yohji himself was too tired to do that even if it had been a better idea.

Aya clenched his fingers around Yohji's arm as though if he let go, he would fall and not be able to get back up again. Nails dug into Yohji's flesh, and he winced. Damned if he wasn't going to have scratch marks in several places in the morning, and he could think of much more pleasant ways to have received them.

"Ease up, will you! I don't need blood on my floor!" Yohji chided, and Aya's grip loosened, if only a bit. "Come on now, and go to bed so I can go to sleep." Yohji took a step toward his bed, but Aya dug in his heels like a mule and wouldn't budge.

Yohji grunted and wondered what was wrong, NOW. He could stand it a little more. He just had to get Aya to bed, and then he could sleep. And in the morning, Aya would be back to normal, only a little worse for wear.

He slipped his arm behind Aya, against his back, and tried to pull him along. The stubborn thing wouldn't move. He turned, facing Aya, irritation clear on his features, ready to ask him what the hell he planned on doing, and if he was going to just STAND there all night.

Aya stood there, clouded eyes wide and observant, studying Yohji's face, as though he was seeing something there he needed to figure out.

Yohji opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break the uneasy silence. Before a word could pass his lips, Aya half lunged, half fell forward in a rush of cherry scented air, and kissed him.

Yohji froze, choking on whatever word had been on his lips, breath catching in his throat, eyes flying open. He jerked away, grabbing Aya's wrists, holding him at arm's length and looking squarely at him.

"What was that?"

Stupid question. Rhetorical question. It had been a kiss. All of a sudden, Yohji felt like a dumb graded school kid that had just gotten one planted on by some cute little girl with daisies in her hair. Aya drunk was one thing. Aya drunk and HITTING on him was another. He blinked, and studied Aya's face.

Aya looked... hurt? His lips were turned down at the corners, and his face was scrunched up. He made some noise that Yohji might have identified as a sniffle, and tried to pull his wrist away from Yohji's grip.

"I slipped."

Sure. If that was true, then Aya had given the phrase 'slip of the tongue' a whole new meaning. Yohji tugged on Aya's arm. "Come on, go to bed. You don't know what you're doing."

Aya scowled his adorable drunken scowl as Yohji tugged on his arm. He refused to move.

With surprising strength, Aya pulled on Yohji's arm, and turned to press him against the wall, next to the window.

"Don't think that... just because I'm drunk, that I'm stupid, Yohji." Each syllable was slow, and clear, a phrase in itself, with emphasis on the last two words-stupid, and Yohji-as if those were the two most important ones there.

Yohji found himself backed up against a wall, literally, and confused. Suddenly, the fact that he was shirtless, bothered him.

Maybe, if Aya had ever expressed interest in him before getting drunk, he wouldn't be so put off. But people did stupid things drunk, and he didn't want to be the object of Aya's wrath later, if he found out that Yohji took advantage of him while drunk. Not to mention the fact of taking advantage of Aya while he was drunk wasn't really something Yohji wanted to do.

Sure, Yohji had his share of one night stands, but he could always send them packing in the morning. He'd have to see Aya later, and who the hell knew how either of them would behave.

Aya backed up a step and nearly fell over backwards, but Yohji caught him.

"You can't even walk."

"You noticed."

A smile quirked Yohji's lips despite himself. He dragged Aya over to the bed, and this time, the redhead didn't resist. He sat Aya down, so he wouldn't fall, and then stood over him, looking down.

Aya was quiet for a minute. Then, when Yohji turned to go, he spoke up.

"It doesn't have to be real."

Yohji stopped, turned, and looked at Aya, not quite understanding what he meant. Aya was looking down, talking at the floor.

"You can pretend."

Yohji blinked. Aya stood back up, one arm against the wall to hold himself up on shaky legs. "You can pretend, if it helps. You can lie to me, Yohji."

Yohji still wasn't fully understanding what Aya meant, but he had the feeling that he should. Aya stumbled forward, visibly wobbling, but keeping himself upright. He blinked, and finally managed to straighten himself out before talking again, Yohji not moving a muscle all the while.

For a flickering moment, Yohji didn't know what to do or say.

Too many things were racing through his head. Was this a spur of the moment thing? Had Aya planned on coming in here and getting drunk, or had it simply happened? Why had Aya come into his room in the first place? So many unanswered questions. Yohji was confused.

He closed the distance between himself and the drunken, wobbling redhead, steadying him with one arm. He took Aya's chin in his hand and ran his thumb slowly down the smooth cheek, trying to see through Aya's inebriated violet gaze.

"Why are you here, Aya? What do you want from me?"

Aya closed his eyes, and reached up to cover the hand on his cheek with his own.

"Lie, Yohji. You lie, and make everyone believe. Make me believe."

Yohji was taken aback by the blunt statement. His gut reaction was to be offended, and get pissed off, but he thought about it instead.

And he realized Aya was right.

He lied, and made everyone believe.

Women... the other Weiß members...

Himself.

"Tell me..."

"... Aya..."

"Tell me, Yohji." Aya's voice was demanding, forceful. "Tell me that none of this is real, that I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be normal."

Yohji smiled. A slow, sad smile.

That was the one lie he'd never been able to make himself believe.

Aya opened his eyes, saw Yohji's smile. Kissed him again; a soft, cherry kiss.

Well, maybe he could believe it for just a little while..

... Just a little while..." Yohji murmured, not meaning to say it out loud, closing his eyes and sighing softly.

For a minute, he forgot himself in cherried breath, soft hair against his chin, and fingers on his shoulder. He let himself sink into familiar thoughts of familiar acts, let himself act out of habit instead of feeling for just a minute.

//Tell them what they want to hear.//

He could do that. He did that on a regular basis. Kudou Yohji, the worlds best liar.

//Give them what they think they want.//

Get his momentary fix. Dull his thoughts. Not have to think.

//Send them home, without a second thought.//

Yohji opened his eyes.

He couldn't... do that. Not... with Aya. Not to Aya.

"... Aya?"

Yohji leaned back a bit, and Aya's head and torso went with him. He tried to lift Aya's chin, but it was heavy.

He was sleeping, like a baby. Standing up, his arms around Yohji.

Yohji laughed softly, and backed up, lightly prying slender arms from around him. He set Aya down on his rumpled bed and pulled the blanket over him, clothes and all.

He stood up, chuckling softy at the semi-scowl that remained on Aya's face, even in sleep, and sighed. Yohji stood there for a minute, just watching Aya breathe, and absently ran his fingers through his own thick, mussed blonde hair.

He leaned down, one elbow pressing into the mattress, and ran one thumb softly over Aya's cheek.

"Goodnight, Aya."

He pressed the sleeping lips in a kiss, his fingers lingering on Aya's pale face until he pulled away.

"You'll wake up, and everything will be normal."

He could have sworn he saw a smile.

Aya's eyelids fluttered open.

And promptly flew shut.

God, he had a headache. He moaned out loud. What the hell had he done?

"Sleeping Beauty's up? It's about damn time."

Yohji. What was Yohji doing in his room?

Aya yanked the blanked up over his eyes to drown out the light.

"Let me sleep."

Yohji laughed softly. That sounded familiar. Aya grunted and growled.

"Go back to your room."

Yohji laughed again. Aya decided it was the most annoying thing he could possibly be hearing right now.

"I'd love to, but I've got someone in my bed."

Aya growled angrily. God, his head hurt! "Your affairs are not my problem."

Yohji pulled the blanket from over Aya's eyes, stood over him, looking down, smiling.

"You're in my bed."

Aya sat up faster than he should have. Dizziness crept over him and he clutched his stomach. Yohji sat down next to him and put an arm over one shoulder to steady him.

"Yo, mind not throwing up on the sheets?" Yohji was trying to be light and flip.

Aya didn't know what else to do, so he nodded and waited for the wave to pass.

"How...?"

"You came in here for something last night, got drunk, and fell asleep on me when I got home, you baka." Yohji answered before Aya could finish the question.

"No." Aya said quickly. He didn't drink. He never drank. Yohji drank.

"What did you do to me?" He grumbled at Yohji.

A deep throated chuckle rose up from the blonde next to him. "I took advantage of you while you were drunk. Damn, Aya, I never knew..."

Aya flushed nearly as crimson as his hair.

Yohji laughed AGAIN. And again, Aya decided it was insanely annoying.

"Take it easy, I'm JOKING!"

Aya leaned forward and rubbed his forehead. Bits and pieces came back to him.

Drinking. He remembered it now. Not the drinking, but the cherries. The cherries...

And the kisses.

He snapped back flush against the headboard of the bed and another wave of nausea hit him. Cherries. Kisses. Cherries. Kisses.

Yohji.

"I..." He was shaking.

"Listen, Aya..." Yohji started, softly. "People do things when they're drunk..."

"No." PEOPLE did things when they were drunk. YOHJI did things when he was drunk AYA did not.

But he had.

He remembered, bit by bit.

And, oh, was he sick.

Hand on his shoulder.

He moaned.

"Take it easy, guy, I think the lungs are supposed to stay INSIDE."

He really really wanted to punch Yohji, but couldn't find the strength right then. At least, he thought he was done being sick for the moment, and porcelain was cool against his face.

He felt the arm on his shoulder slide down, and haul him up. He didn't want to stand. He wanted to be left alone. He growled in protest.

"Just wash your face and rinse your mouth."

Aya leaned hard against the sink, and pushed at Yohji. "Go away."

Yohji raised his hands in submission. "Fine... "

He walked out of the tiny bathroom attached to his bed room, and sat on the bed sleepily, waiting for Aya to finish. He'd sat there, at the foot of the bed, until Aya had waken up, rather than going to bed himself, and he was tired.

He thought about reaching for a cigarette, but was too tired to move. He could close his eyes, just for a minute, until Aya came back out.

Just for a minute...

Aya stood in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, mentally cursing himself with every curse he could think of. What a stupid, weak, foolish...

Then he paused. Those were all things he called Yohji.

He dried his face and leaned against the bathroom wall, wary of leaving, knowing Yohji was probably waiting for him.

The cherries had faded from his breath, but the kisses were still in his memory.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted that. He hated himself for sinking so far as to actually DO it.

Time to go and face the music and let the chips fall where they may.

He walked out of the bathroom, rubbing at his hair.

"...Yohji..."

He was met with a light snore in response.

Yohji was slumped over, half-sitting up on the bed, asleep.

The corners of Aya's mouth twitched. Maybe he was cute when he wasn't running his mouth. Then again, everyone seemed cute when they were asleep. Innocent. Sweet.

Aya...

His sister...

He sighed.

He pulled the blankets over Yohji's lap and sat down next to him on the bed. What had Yohji said last night? That he didn't care?

No, that couldn't be true. Could it?

Aya's head hurt again.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Yohji's slightly parted lips. He wasn't drunk now, but he meant it just the same.

He left Yohji's room, closing the door gently, quietly whispering.

"You'll wake up... and everything will be normal..."