But then, Youji had always had an impressive imagination, and it was at least something to keep busy with since it was raining outside like there was no tomorrow. Raining as it had been for two, three days now. Like someone up there really, really had it in for them and was wondering just how much more misery could be layered on them before they cracked. Some divine mad scientist, conducting experiments in human psychology. Testing to see what it took to drive them all completely, stark raving, blubberingly insane.

It wouldn't take much more, Youji thought, sprawled out in an arm chair with long legs and arms dangling all over the place like a miss- jointed spider and a not-so-dirty-its almost-G-rated mag spread open on his belly, its forgotten centerfold posturing alluringly across rumpled, glossy pages. Ken was practically insane, anyway. Practically hopping to kill someone so soon as anyone said the word 'mission' within his hearing. So soon as anyone sneezed wrong within his hearing. Omi was sliding into depression or a fit of teen- angst, and Youji.... Well, things wouldn't be pretty if they didn't give him a break and let him smoke one damned lousy cigarette. How much could that smoke up the trailer anyway, really? One cigarette?

He hadn't had one since the rain started. It was just too cold and wet and all-around lousy outside for him to want to stand there and smoke. He had tried dangling out a window, but had gotten soaked anyway, and had become the target for the group's sniping for the rest of the day. What had ever happened to forgive and forget? Youji distinctly remembered getting away with a lot more back in the Koneko days. Remembered something more along the lines of are you okay, Youji-kun? And man, you've gotta stop getting plastered, Youji.

But at least it was warmer now. Warm enough that the steady, thick snow had turned to steady thick rain and they could run around outside in that and bunny slippers instead, while they tried to find a suitable place to relieve themselves in the dark, out here, far away from the city and the comforts of modern conveniences. And hopefully, the temperatures wouldn't drop again, because then all that brown, muddy slush on the roads would turn back to ice and make it absolutely crap to drive on. Not that it wasn't already. Not that Youji didn't already have a vested interest in not letting Ken drive.

And with all the rain, everyone was pretty much forced into living in the trailer instead of about, around, and near it's approximate vicinity. That meant they had a lot of time and a lot of opportunity to get in each other's way and on each other's nerves. Which, oddly, they weren't doing. They were all actually managing to maintain some semblance of peace and tolerance. Youji wondered how much longer that would last.

Omi was already coming close to coming close to being annoying, sitting hidden behind the couch, tapping away at keys or buttons, humming along to music--boppy, cheery music, for once. Youji could hear it spilling out his earphones--shutting out the world and affording himself some privacy, out of sight and out of the draft. Schoolwork and photos and mission descriptions and a shock of scruffy blonde hair just visible around the edge of an armrest. Eyeing the jumbled piles, Youji wondered if he ever messed up his reports and sent the wrong file to the wrong place. Sent Persia 'The history of Japan' and his cyber-school pictures of...something less pretty. Lighting a cigarette and hoping no one would notice, Youji decided it was a sick thought. Decided he was definitely going insane and that he should get help for it some day soon. He looked back to the girl, still posing, creased and wrinkled, and even ink-stained from Ken's testing a pen across her shapely shoulders and tossed the magazine away, sighing as he ignored the glare Ken sent his way.

"Look, its just one, okay?" He snapped at last, when the disapproving look didn't let up, didn't become something more tolerant. "Gimme a break."

"One." Ken repeated, threat clear in his voice. Youji would have suggested meditation, or anger-management, but Ken was close enough to homicidal without any sarcastic remarks to goad him on.

"One." He agreed instead. "The rest are soggy anyway." From behind the couch, Omi made a tapping sound, in time to the tinny overflow from his earphones. Oblivious or pretending to be.

"And if you can smoke inside, I can play ball."

Youji looked up at that, wondering if Ken understood the concept of limited space and broken vertebrae. "Soccer belongs in the rain, KenKen. I don't." Was all he had to say on the subject, wondering when he had become the mother hen of the group, and wasn't that usually Ken or Omi's job?

"Soccer can be played anytime, anywhere, that's why it's--"

"Violence can be committed anytime, anywhere." Youji replied evenly. Aiming a glare of his own at Ken, over the top of his shades. Prattling insults back and forth as if they were home and not stranded out in the middle of nowhere in the tail end of winter without so much as a bathroom to their name. Without any more electricity than their defunct little generator produce. Which wasn't much but at least they had a generator now, and weren't relying on the trailer battery's damned unpredictability. Really they should have thought of buying one, way, way sooner than this. Manx and Birman should have thought of it long before sending them out here in this tin box.

Manx and Birman had had them driving in circles around Kyoto for the past week. They stopped at night and were on the move come morning. It made Youji think that someone was on their tail, or trying to get on it. They hung on the outskirts of the city, distancing themselves from civilization. From anything fit for human habitation. Which meant they were pretty much confined to each other's company and it wouldn't matter if anyone was hunting them or not, because this brief cloud of patience would blow over soon and they'd probably end up killing each other.

Ken was in the middle of a verbal tirade and it was strange that Aya hadn't told anyone to shut up yet. Aya was sitting in the open doorway, letting in the night and the winter and watching what little was visible of Kyoto's lights through the rain.

Kyoto.

They'd been lingering on the outskirts of the city for a few days now. Disgustingly far from the luxuries of bed and bath and bathroom. Discomfort and indignity. And Youji, at least, was a creature who valued his luxuries. Was a devout worshiper at the shrine called creature comforts. It pained him know that he was willing to bet quite a bit that they were all stinky. Well, except for him, that was. Kudou Youji did not do stinky.

And maybe not Aya, either. Youji was willing to let him off the hook just out of the goodness of his own heart and because Aya wasn't human. Against the darkness of the night beyond the door, beyond the gold glow cast around their trailer by the light spilling through windows, Aya was a ghost. Pale and unearthly. An illusion supported by the easy grace of his few small movements. Pale and unearthly and fragile as the last fading image of a dream lover dissolving back into the subconscious. His red hair had been darkened to almost maroon by the rain blowing in the doorway and by the shadows that that managed to creep in past their barricade of lamplight. And somehow, tempting as it was, Youji just couldn't find it in him to say anything cruel about something, someone, that pretty. Even if it was true.

But then, 'stinky' was a part of their lives now. Snow you could at least shake off, but rain stuck to you. Clung to your skin and soaked into clothes and hair. Rain you took inside with you when you stepped through the door. When you hung your coat up in the living room because there was no where else and everyone smacked into it when they tried to get from one end of the room to the other.

The result of this being that the inside of the trailer-- already Youji's second to last favorite place on earth-- had become muggy as a swamp. Or an icy Okinawa. All it lacked was frogs and mosquitoes, but if they stayed there long enough--till summer--Youji was pretty sure that those would show themselves as well. He was really looking forward to that. He wondered how Aya would feel about frogs, and smirked at the mental image.

Not that it had been so bad at first. It was just that after a while, the trailer really did smell more and more like Ken's sneakers--or his gymbag, either one being decidedly awful. Youji was just sure that all sort of life forms were taking root and evolving there, all around them. He thought Omi would get a pretty decent grade if he did a research paper on it. He might even find something new and never-before-seen dwelling under the pile of laundry already gaining mass in the other armchair.

That and the carpet was damp and squishy because Ken just had to track in mud and rainwater with him on a regular basis. After all, rain and soccer were like burgers and fries. Whatever. Youji sure as hell wasn't going to waste any time trying to figure out Ken's metaphors. He'd much rather spend time trying to figure out what the hell that odd, empty expression on Aya's face meant.

Over the months spent in this strange exile, Youji had become an expert in interpreting Aya's non-expressions. At seeing through the layers of ice and nothingness to carefully concealed anger and hate and sorrow--and even fear--beneath. Had made even more of an effort in furthering the skill over the last couple weeks. Had turned it into a science ever since Aya's last, hesitant admission to maybe, maybe feeling something for Youji. Maybe. One day. Youji thought he was practically eligible for a degree in it. So why did this one have him so completely stumped?

Peering over from behind the shelter of unruly, wavy locks, Youji took a closer look, propping his chin on a hand. Managed to look away at the same moment that Aya felt eyes on him and half- turned. Or, actually, managed to look like he had turned away. Managed to look like he was frowning at his be-moustached poster girl and silently cursing Ken for defacing her. Managed to catch a glimpse of Aya's face as he did so. It was with a start that he realized that, for once, there was no expression under the armor. No Aya. No Abyssinian. Certainly not that vulnerable, warm version of Aya he was sometimes lucky enough to catch a glimpse of. Just...nothing.

And that was scary, because Youji had been building a lot on the foundation that there was someone worth salvaging under that shell. It was scary because Aya had been there just this morning, frowning out of a window into the downpour and then into his tea. It was almost like looking at a stranger now. As if someone had moved in, kicked his friend out, and then decided he didn't like the place after all. And the thought of Aya as an empty abandoned shell was even more unnerving--as was the thought that *this* had been what Aya had striven so hard to perfect, and maybe, finally, had. So he gathered his feet under him and grimaced as he made his way across damp, squishy carpet to flop down next to him in the doorway.

"Um...Aya? You're letting the rain in." Not smooth. Not the usual Kudou Youji smart and polished-for-your-listening-pleasure remark. And, on top of that, stupidly obvious. But trivial enough that Aya wouldn't bolt or deck him for it. That he wouldn't go offended and angry at it.

Instead, Aya turned away from the night to look at him, and the empty, dark look in his eyes is downright freaky. Not the sort of look Youji wanted to be confronted with so suddenly. Not with a cigarette between his teeth. As it was he gulped and almost swallowed it.

Oh yeah. This life was killing them alright.

Sunshine. Sunshine was good. For once, Youji had absolutely no objection to it peering in through an open window and prying at his eyes, urging him to wakefulness? Wait? Open? Hadn't it been raining like all hell last night?

Groaning, he sat up, surveying the scene with bleary green eyes and drowsily working his jaw, musing on how his breath tasted like shit. Finally, he stretched, the movement loosening what little grip the blankets had on his sweater so that they pooled around his hips.

Surprisingly, it was almost warm inside the trailer, the heat of the sun magnified and captured by glass windows and aluminum plating. Yeah. Youji just couldn't wait till summer. In winter they froze their butts off, and in summer they would probably bake. Great sort of contraption to force people to live in. He hadn't thought Manx or Birman hated them all so much. He hadn't thought either of them were so insensitive. He thought again that they could at least have given them something with a bathroom.

Right now though, he didn't care much. Right now, getting in touch with his brain and letting it get in touch with the rest of his lazy, still half-asleep body was a hell of a lot more immediate than payback or the slight feeling of discomfort he was sure would soon turn into the feeling of having to take an urgent leak. But when he did get up, it would be nice as anything to be able to make it to the kitchen and the coats without having to drag his blankets with him. Nicer that he had managed to wake up in a pool of sunshine. He hadn't even been expecting sun for something like another year, at least.

Looking around as he slowly woke up, Youji noted that Ken was sprawled across the couch, because whatever deal might be between Youji and Aya, didn't involve him and because after hitting the floor once--tipped out by Ken--in a nearly routine tussle, Aya hadn't been in any mood to retaliate. Omi was out like a light behind the couch, most likely fallen asleep over his computer. Again. From where he sat, Youji could just barely make out a mop of scruffy blonde hair and a corner of a blanket. And Aya...

Youji looked around. Nope, no Aya. Aya had probably been up for hours now. Open windows. It could only have been Aya's doing, seeing as Ken and Omi were still busily snoring away.

Snoring. Youji didn't know how he'd gotten used to that. Ken snored like a damned lumber mill. Or a tiger with respiratory trouble. The guy could set windows rattling. And Omi. Omi had a pathetic little snore. One that was half breathing and half whimper, so that one was never sure if he was sleeping or crying. One that kept you up all night trying to figure out which it was while you worried over whether he was alright and what you should do before you realized.... the kid was sound asleep.

Aya didn't snore. Aya, if he had any nocturnal habit that Youji thought might be absolutely intolerable, sleep-talked. Not often, but when he did, he murmured and grumbled and kept people awake worse than Omi did, because with Aya you had a hope of figuring out what was going on in his head. Of maybe hearing your name in one of those jumbled sentences.

Aya.

Wait a second.

Where the hell was Aya then? No where within Youji's vision, that was sure. Not inside, then. After all, 'inside' was pathetically small. All sleepiness fell away as Youji recalled the dark look from yesterday. As he remembered the way Aya hadn't even bothered to glare at Ken for taking over his spot. Bounding to his feet as worry gnawed into his gut, Youji abandoned his bed and his bedding to dash outside.

"Aya?"

Nothing. He ran a few meters towards a copse of trees they had designated the 'bathroom'.

//Outhouse, Youji-kun.//

//Whatever.//

//Like in the Wild West?//

//Uh-huh!//

//That's so cool!//

//Ken, it's still just a bunch of trees. I want a spa sooo bad.//

"Aya?"

"Youji?" Aya's voice. Thank God. It was Aya's voice. He had really worried that redheaded idiot would go try something...idiotic. After all, this was Aya and you couldn't always trust Aya to take care of himself. In fact, Aya was the undisputed champion of not taking care of himself. Of doing dumb things that got himself hurt. Youji resisted the urge to hug him.

"Jeez, what are you doing outside so early?" Well, he knew the answer to that one. Aya was Aya. And, for some unholy reason or other, Aya actually seemed to like mornings. That was almost worse than the sleep talking. That made Youji think that maybe he'd been dropped on hid head as a child.

"Nothing." A usual Aya-evasive response. His violet eyes were still dark with some indiscernible darkness, but curious as he eyed Youji up and down. "Why are you out with no shoes on?"

"Why am I--? Oh damn!" In his worry he hadn't even thought about it. And now that Aya had mentioned it, his feet were freezing! It was cold out here! Cold and wet. "I was worried about you." He replied distractedly, shifting so that a smaller percentage of his chilled soles actually came into contact with the ground.

"You're going to catch pneumonia." Aya warned, stepping past him to get back to the trailer.

"So are you, with the way you wander off all the time. In the winter. At night. Without a coat."

Aya stopped, looked over his shoulder. Looked as if he were actually thinking about turning around. Youji rocked to his tiptoes to get the rest of his feet off the ground and shivered. "Can we go back inside?" He whined, changing the subject. Not really wanting to see the way Aya's eyes had frozen in something resembling shock.

Why shock, anyway? Shock that Youji had noticed? That Youji had said anything about it? Maybe with the way Youji's tone was harsh with irritation, and worry, and traces of pent up frustration and anger. Because it sounded like he cared? Youji frowned at that thought, at himself. After all, Aya had made it pretty clear that he wanted some time, some space. Had made it clear that he didn't want to pushed. That he wasn't ready for this, whatever 'this' might be.

"Well?" Youji prompted, wrapping his long arms around himself. Glaring at Aya from beneath tangled, in-need-of-a-wash hair. Feeling his toes going numb and the cold seeping up to his ankles.

Aya ignored him, turned back to the trailer as if he were going to walk away, but didn't. He just stood there, not barefoot like Youji, but shivering just the same, wet grass clinging to his boots and a chill wind tousling his hair, tossing it about. It felt like a long, long time. A long time in which Youji's feet lost all feeling. He wanted to go inside. He wanted to grab Aya and drag him inside. But to get Aya inside he had to stay here and wait for him to get a grip, or say something.

"She's awake."

Youji didn't think he'd heard him right. Thought it might be a trick of the wind. Almost asked 'what?'. Then thought better of it and wondered instead why Aya wasn't ecstatic. Why he wasn't laughing and grinning about it. Why he was standing out in the cold with his head bowed and his back to Youji instead of waking the rest of them up to tell them the good news.

"Wow." Youji said, and then waited for his brain to catch up with his mouth so he wouldn't say anything stupid. He gave it about ten seconds, then, "When? How do you know?"

"Manx called."

"When?" He knew he was repeating himself, but, honestly, he could think of nothing better to say. Heck, he could think of *nothing* to say, period.

"Yesterday."

"Really? Wow. That's great Aya. I mean, I'm happy for--"

Youji stopped. In mid-word, almost. Aya didn't look happy about it, for some reason. Perplexed, maybe. His shoulders hunched in a stance that was almost defensive. One of his long eartails caught in a breeze and flew out sideways, dancing like a banner, and Youji was again reminded of the look in Aya's eyes and on his face the night before. Was reminded of the stab of worry he'd felt in his gut this morning.

"Aya? Are you okay?"

A nod, and then, "We have to air out the trailer before Manx calls and tells us where to move to." Ah. That made it very clear that Aya was not okay. That he was shoving aside emotions and troubled thoughts in favor of more practical and immediate concerns. Youji, who had long been in the habit of falling in and out of love on a monthly basis--sometimes a weekly or even daily one--couldn't really understand that mechanism of defense. Could, however, see that it had gotten Aya through most of their missions without a visible scratch to his psyche. Could see that it had gotten him out of a lot of tight scrapes and that he was counting on it to do so again.

Youji was about to accuse him of it, too. About to tell him what he'd been thinking ever since the last time they'd had the trailer to themselves and Aya had sort of, kind of, indirectly hinted that he might want something to so with Youji after all. He'd come to the conclusion that Aya had shoved him off, again, because being with Youji meant he would have to, al least some of the time, either show emotion or admit to having a couple. And emotions meant vulnerability. Which, maybe, Aya just couldn't handle yet.

He never got a chance to open his mouth about it. Well, okay. Maybe up to opening his mouth, but before any sound could come out, coherent or otherwise, Ken and Omi tumbled--there really wasn't any other word for it--out of the trailer. Omi dressed in yesterday's jeans and a too-big sweatshirt that, from it's garish 'Go Tokyo Spirit!!!' emblem, had to be one of Ken's. Ken, on the other hand, was in soccer shorts and a tank top and looking like he was freezing his butt off. Like he was about to complain about waking up to the doors and windows being open, even if it was sunny for once.

Youji caught sight of them over the top of Aya's head, just a second before Aya straightened and wandered past them back into the trailer. Ken raised an eyebrow as he was gracefully shouldered out of the way, and turned the annoyed, but not offended, look on Aya's back. "Good morning to you too." He called into the trailer, just slightly sarcastic as he stood there with his arms wrapped around himself.

Omi had stumbled blearily to the trees, calling out a good morning as he poked his ruffled blonde head around the edge of them. Omi sounded cheerful for once. Omi had probably not expected to see the sun again until sometime in late August. Omi sounded so cheerful that when he bounced back into view Youji could almost imagine them being back in Tokyo.

"She's awake." He told them, repeating Aya's words like a delayed echo.

Omi's eyes widened. Ken blinked. Said, "No shit? Really?" Omi kept staring. Managed to squeak out a "That's great!!"

"So what's got his goat this time? I thought he'd be happy?" Ken asked, looking over his shoulder at the trailer.

Youji shrugged. "Fucked if I know." But he did know. Sort of. For Aya, this was the end of another road. Like Takatori's death had been. And since he hadn't had his peace then, maybe he thought he would find it now. Maybe he was upset that he hadn't. Maybe he hadn't realized that selling one's soul wasn't a reversible bargain. That his sister's wakening would be a refund, of sorts. Or maybe he was just shocked that it had happened at all. Youji knew the three of them hadn't thought she would ever wake. Had had quiet conversations about how Aya should get on with his life. Had wondered if any of them should ever tell his so, and if Aya would kill whoever did.

"Is Aya-kun okay?" Omi asked, finally, casting a worried glance in the direction of the trailer. Blue eyes gazing empathetically at or through soccer-ball marked aluminum.

"I don't know." Youji said, before thinking, them, "Yes." Omi blinked at him.

"Are you okay, Youji-kun?"

"Wha-? Me? Of course I'm okay." Youji waved him off, heading back to the trailer before he lost his feet to frost bite. Omi tailed him.

"Want me to take Ken-kun into town so you can talk to Aya- kun?"

"Manx will call."

"But we need food or something. We've been out here for *days*. We're out of cereal, we're out of rice, you're out of cigarettes."

"Good point."

"Don't worry, Youji-kun." Omi winked, "You'll think of something." Stepping past Ken and into the trailer, Youji wondered if he had always been that obvious, or if he had misunderstood the mischievous glint in Omi's blue eyes. He wondered how much you could keep to yourself when you were living in what may as well be one room.

Aya was busy. Busy hanging wet clothing outside and trying to dry carpet that been wet for days. He had the door and all the windows going and the heater up at full blast. He was trying very, very hard to ignore Youji. Youji could just see it in the way he looked sharply away if he made accidental eye contact. The way that, somehow, he kept just out of Youji's reach despite Youji's obvious effort to tail him around the single, small room.

As promised, Omi had dragged Ken into town. Ken hadn't protested. Ken was just glad to get away for a few hours. Maybe find a public bath. That, in Youji's opinion, was a great plan. In Youji's opinion, Ken was the stinkiest of the lot of them. Ken probably needed two showers and a long soak. All in all, it meant he had a good deal of time to spend with Aya. Not a world of time, but, hopefully, enough. With that in mind, he flopped himself onto the couch--and Ken's unmade bedding--and eyed Aya as he made another trip out the door with something that he thought needed some time in sunlight. Aya probably thought that enough effort would make the place smell fresh again. Aside from the whole deal about his sister, Youji wouldn't have pinned Aya for being the optimistic type.

"So, she's awake, huh?"

"Yes. She's awake." Aya replied absently.

"And?"

"And what?" Slight irritation.

"Have you called her?"

"No."

"Aren't you gonna?"

"No."

Youji frowned. Again trying to figure out Aya's line of thinking. If it had been him, he'd have called half a million times already. He'd have his butt in Tokyo before any of the others could notice he was gone. "Why the hell not?" He asked, lining up his soggy cigarettes on the coffee table to dry them out incase Ken reneged on his promise to bring Youji more.

"Because." Aya said. Not very informatively. Rather annoyingly, in fact. Aya's half-answers were another thing Youji was working on interpreting. He wasn't half as good at it as he was at interpreting expression, thought, and what he saw in Aya's face was...pain?

"Because of what?" He nagged, and to his surprise Aya took a seat on the edge of the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, frowning at the soggy--and hopefully drying--carpet.

"Because it's better this way. She doesn't need me."

"Aya--" Youji started and then cut himself off. There was really nothing he could say to that. Somewhere inside himself, he believed that himself. Anyone outside was way better off without them.

"And she'll probably want to have 'Aya' back, too." Aya said, and turned to look at Youji, violet eyes dark with that unreadable expression from last night. A bitter smile on his lips. "Who am I then, Youji?"

Youji didn't know how to answer that. Youji had many times wished he'd never made that joke about calling him 'Aya' in the first place. It had only been a joke. He'd only been meaning to tease the redhead out of his mood. He hadn't really though it would be taken to heart. Hadn't thought anyone would consider going by a girl's name as an acceptable plan of action. It was probably his fault that Aya was in this mess in the first place.

"Aya, she's awake. Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that what all of this was for?" He gestured broadly, indicating something beyond the walls that hemmed them in.

"Yes." Aya said. And he looked so miserable that Youji impulsively sat up and hugged him. He had his arms around Aya before he even knew he was moving to do so. Violet eyes flickered up to glare at him, but the stern look faded away with a sigh. He relaxed and--today must be day for surprises--leaned into the hug, resting his head against Youji's shoulder.

"And you're not even gonna call her?" Youji pressed, hoping he was distracting Aya enough that he wouldn't notice the way he was letting Youji pull him in a bit closer.

"She's safer this way." Aya said, and his tone implied that it was not something he wanted to talk about. He sounded tired and he sounded like he had put a lot of thought into this. Youji could see him again, staring out at the rain, seeing something far, far away. Maybe, in someway, seeing her.

And Youji could see some people that way too, through his mind's eye, through the haze that always shrouded old memories. He knew it was never enough. He thought it would be better to have some newer memories to obscure them, rather than to linger on them and let them gnaw him away from the inside out. But then, his memories were of the dead, and Aya was mourning the living. Saying good-byes that didn't need to be said.

"I guess you can always change your mind." Youji said, to keep from making those good-byes too final, and to make sure he knew he *could* just pick up a phone and call her, if he ever wanted to.

"I was going to ask Manx to tell her that I'm dead." Aya refuted. Okay. That might make it a little harder to come back to her later, but still, it was nothing that couldn't be explained. Witness protection or something like that. Youji said so.

"Maybe." Another Aya half-answer. Youji frowned. There really was no talking to Aya. No conversation that didn't wind up dead, killed whether by indifference of monosyllables. But at least he had Aya in his arms. He thought that was a big step, though not in the direction he'd been meaning to take. He wondered if he should leave the issue of Aya's sister and what to do about her alone for the time being. Maybe he should just concentrate on holding Aya.

It seemed a good idea. The trailer was warm, what with the heater humming away and the sun pouring in. It was warm, and for once it smelled of crisp, clean winter air instead of musty sneakers and stale tobacco and sweaty socks. Altogether it made one sleepy and when Youji dragged Aya down to lie beside him, the redhead didn't protest. Well, maybe one soft sound of complaint, but he didn't pull away, or get mad and try to mangle Youji, so that was a good sign. Instead he tugged Ken's crumpled, unfolded blankets up over the both of them and settled against Youji's chest.

Why he did was kind of irrelevant at the moment, so far as Youji was concerned. After all, why did Aya do anything? As far as Youji could figure, it could be because he was feeling suddenly vulnerable, with his purpose in life unexpectedly fulfilled. Or because he was happy she was awake and had decided to do something for himself. Or both. Or neither. Maybe it just seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe Youji would get his butt kicked for such presumption later.

In fact, he didn't really think the reasons even mattered much, at the moment. At the moment, all his brain wanted to focus on was how nice it was to have sunlight, and to have Aya so close to him, and how the couch was indeed big enough for two. Just the right size, in fact, if they didn't move too much. And that was definitely a good thing. Between the two of them, they could definitely make sure Ken got the floor every night.

He only vaguely heard the car pull up next to the trailer. Was surprised he heard it at all, considering how nice it had been to be deep in slumber. The door clicking open was louder, as was the sound of Ken stomping around outside. Stoically, Youji shut the sounds out. He forced his brain not to concentrate on the real world and to go back to the dream he'd been having. An impossible little scenario where Aya was warm and asleep in his arms.

He must have done a good job of it, too, because the sound of Omi's voice, when he spoke, seemed to come from further away than just outside. The sound of footsteps in the kitchen was even muzzier. As he drifted back to sleep, he barely heard Omi's soft laugh and almost missed hearing his quiet "Oh, Youji-kun. I knew you'd think of something!"

Yeah. He had, hadn't he? Now he just hoped Aya would, too.