Format [Katakana Asylum]

I hate my job.

It always is like that, isn't it? Every night. Sometimes I feel it; sometimes I just let it go, let it slide back into the closet, where everything else is hidden, so that it can reappear the next time.

/The next time./ If there is one - yet there always seems to be one; if we die, then "next time" will never come.

But what am I talking about? I'm already dead.

I lay back in my bed, watching the gray ceiling, listening to the clock tick by quietly in the empty night. Always like this. And it seems sometimes that there's nothing else to live for -

*You're already dead, what are you talking about?*

I turn over, face the closet door. They were hidden there, my entire life now, that bloody weapon, and the ruined clothes. The clock sounds louder now, somehow. I glance at it, watch the bright red numbers switch as the minute passes.

I hate the night. I never did before, but now -

*So cold, so empty. So dead - *

Roll over, eye the half open curtains, and the ray of moonlight streaking through space between. I close my eyes, grip the sheets.

*So cold - *

~*~

He is leaning against the wall, tall, lean figure in a perfectly relaxed position. He glances up at my approach, a slight smile appearing on his face. Only slight, though - of course, he wasn't one for expression. I walk toward him steadily, pace quickening.

In the dark, I can only see the bottom half of his face, but I recognize the posture.

*Cool, aloof - *

And briefly, I wonder why I fell for him; me, who hated the dark, who hated the coldness of the night.

Maybe it was just the loneliness I hated.

He smiles openly now, stepping forward to embrace me. And I cling to him, feeling his breath whisper past my ear, hearing my name. And I whisper back to him, hugging him closer to me. So cold, yet the one I love -

"Brad~"

There is a pause, and his grip turns lax. I blink, feeling his arms drop from around me -

And then I remember.

"Aw, *shit*."

There's a collective groan from the side.

"Dammit, Ken! You screwed up your lines *again*!" Omi stamped his foot and fumed. "*And the first one, too!*"

The lights turn on, and I see Aya, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a bemused look on his face. Yohji is a few feet behind him, shooting me death-glares.

And Omi's in my face, waving a script.

"He's *Aya*, Ken! *Aya!* Ran, if you like, but not *Brad*! This is a *RanKen* fic, for crying out loud!"

"Well, apparently, he wants it *BradKen*." Shulderich purred from behind me.

"I do not!"

"Geez, you'd think that he'd done enough RanKen to get that one line right." Nagi rolled his eyes. "You probably hurt him too hard in that last fic, Farfie."

"... Whatever."

"Why can't I do one with Yuriko?"

"This one's a RanKen. Let's see if we can try this one again - aw, *man*, Aya's wandered off again. Someone go find him!"

"I'm done for today. Do some other fic."

"But Ken-kun - "

"Dont 'Ken-kun' me, Omi. I'm tired. I'm going to find some quiet corner to sleep."

"Can I come with you?"

"Farafello. No."

Sigh. "I guess we'll do that YohjiOmi one with the lemon..."

"Dammit, why'd Ken have to screw up his lines? Now we'll never find Aya."

Aim to please.

~Owari~