I Understand 2

*thoughts*

"It's about time you got down here."

Yohji yawned in reply, tying on his apron and glancing around the flower shop. Ken was busy helping a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls; Aya was sullenly watering the potted ferns.

"Aya, Is that any way to say good morning?" Ken chided. "I mean, he at least decided to grace us with his presence–although not in time for the after-school rush!"

Aya continued to water as Yohji headed for the coffee pot. After Ken waved off the last of the customers, Aya dropped the can and headed toward his teammate, Ken fast on his heels. "Yohji, what is going on with Omi?" Aya queried, his voice somewhat softer than its usual icy tone.

Yohji sighed as he poured himself a cup. He knew this was coming. "We didn't want to disturb him this morning, but we were worried...there was blood in the bathroom, and a knife in the trash bin." Ken bit his lower lip as he waited anxiously for Yohji's reply. "Is he...hurt?"

"He's okay. A few scars, probably, but he didn't lose a lot of blood. If he had meant business, he would have aimed lower." Yohji shuddered at the thought. "He was sleeping when I found him, and he was only awake for a few minutes until I put him to bed. I didn't see fit to badger him. " Yohji lit up a cigarette, inhaling deeply and making a point of exhaling in Aya's direction.

"You left him alone upstairs." Aya stated, in a sharp, accusatory tone.

"Aya, I told you, he wasn't trying to kill himself. He was just letting out some pain, I think." Yohji continued to smoke and turned to refill his mug with black coffee, wishing it was sake.

"Not _this_ time. I don't think we should leave him alone. Something's not right." Aya winced inwardly as he pictured Omi lying on a hospital bed like Aya-chan, tubes hooked up to his tiny body to keep him alive. Or what would happen if next time they didn't find the boy in time. He couldn't be responsible for losing the life of someone else he cared about. He might not be the oldest of their group, but he knew that he was the strongest, and it was therefore his duty to keep Omi safe.

"What about..." Ken was cut off by a small, bright voice entering the shop from upstairs.

"Ohayo–or is it too late for that?" Omi laughed nervously, keenly aware of the three pairs of eyes directed at his left arm which was uncharacteristically concealed by a long-sleeved shirt. Yohji noted the younger boy's discomfort, apparent in the downward gaze and reddening cheeks.

"Aya, Ken, if you'd like to go and leave Omi and I to close up, that'd be fine with us. We owe you that much for sleeping the rush hour away, ne, Omi?"

"H-hai!"

The other two boys cast glances from Yohji to Omi, and nodded. As they left the shop, Omi looked and Yohji with unmistakable gratitude.

***

When the last flowers had been arranged and the shop locked, Yohji decided that it was time to cut the silence. *Omi might not be ready, but I have to know what's bugging him, or next time...* Yohji unfastened his apron, shook out his hair, and headed toward Omi.

Out of the corner of his eye, Omi saw Yohji remove his apron. Omi's breath caught in his throat and his grip on the broom tightened as he watched his teammate's arms gracefully flip through golden, wavy hair; as a delicate yet strong hand absentmindedly wiped sweat off the smooth forehead. Omi closed his eyes and tried to turn off the images his brain was dragging up of Yohji removing more than just his apron.

*Stop, stop!* came a commanding voice inside his mind. *This isn't right. This isn't why I love Yohji! I love him more than that!*

*Ah!* came the insistent reply. *But you still want him! You dream of running your "innocent" hands through his hair, kissing his cheeks, pressing your body against his, scraping your teeth over his delicate throat... You want to use Yohji, use his body – you're no better than those who used yours...*

*STOP!*

Omi's blue eyes snapped open. He hated the feelings which ran through his body whenever he thought about Yohji. His feelings for Yohji were about love, not just sex. For him, physical contact was rough and painful, a source of fear forever etched in his mind and replayed every night. It was as if associating sex with Yohji somehow cheapened and tainted his feelings.

Yet, when he thought of Yohji, he couldn't help himself fantasizing about that beautiful body. The result was that he felt dirty, helpless, and weak; bound not only by the past but by his own shameful attraction.

*Why can't I just love him in pureness? Why does he have to be so beautiful? Why am I such a hentai?*

*Well, would you love him if he weren't beautiful? If he had six toes or crooked legs or a pot belly?*

*Of course I would...*

Omi's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Yohji clearing his throat. Omi swallowed hard and tried to steady his breathing as he noticed Yohji heading in his direction.

"Omi-kun." Yohji's voice was firm as he leaned against the wall close to where Omi was standing, clutching the broom and looking like a deer caught in headlights. "Omi, I don't know what's going on with you, but you know that if anything bothering you..." Yohji paused. *Shit. This isn't going right.* "Look, Omi. We both know life's a bitch. I don't have to tell you that. But dealing with it on your own isn't always the best way of going about it. Neither is cutting the shit out of your arm." Yohji softened his voice. "Omi, making yourself hurt outside isn't going to fix what's broken inside. Talking helps, though -- you know you can talk to me anytime."

Omi nodded slowly, biting his bottom lip. *Except when you're out picking up and screwing girls, or passed out drunk in between. *

Yohji sensed the boy's internal reaction, and forgot his determination not to push Omi. "Look, I know I'm not bloody perfect. I never said I knew how to deal with things, only that I can't watch you do this to yourself. Maybe the others can't see through that innocent happy-go-lucky mask you've got on, but I damn well can! Now talk to me, dammit! What the hell is wrong? Open up, Omi!" Yohji was practically shouting, his hands shaking Omi's tiny shoulders.

Omi's eyes stood wide. *Does he really want to know?* Omi opened his mouth, his voice catching in his throat. *NO! I can't tell him, I can't tell him that I love him, I can't tell him that I'm ruined, dirty, unworthy of him.*

Yohji glanced down at this hands and instantly released his grip, stepping back. Fuck. His confidence wavered as Omi continued to meet his gaze. *Who am I to tell this kid anything? How many women have I fucked and forgotten? How many times have I woken up in my own vomit? Or been so stoned I couldn't remember my own name? How many sins have I committed?*

*Only–only, I don't want to see him become me. I don't want him to totally lose that smile, that sense of self-worth. And if it's already gone, I have to help him find it again...* Yohji's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Omi, who was hesitantly closing the space between them, the broom now laying forgotten on the floor.

"Open up to you? You want to know me, the real me? Really know me?" Omi's voice trembled as he came to a stop inches from Yohji, never breaking eye contact.

"Yes..." Yohji reached out and drew the boy into an embrace, hoping that a shoulder, no matter how stained, would help Omi. Would let him know that he wasn't alone.

Omi shuddered as Yohji's arms closed around his shoulders, the warmth of the older man surrounding him with comfort. He breathed deeply, raised his head, stood up on his tiptoes, and did what felt most natural.

Yohji's mind registered with shock the soft lips pressed firmly to his own, the slight moan from the younger boy, the shaking hands clinging desperately to his shoulders. Momentarily his body responded to the sensations--until his brain took over.

"Omi..." he breathed, slowly breaking off the kiss and gently distancing himself from the boy. "Omi-kun, I... I..." For once in his life, Kudou Yohji was at a loss for words. His mind was reeling, senses raging, and everything in him was saying the same thing ...this isn't right. "Omi," he began again, "I don't...I mean, I'm not..." Yohji awkwardly groped for the right words. "You're upset, you don't know what you're doing. You're confused."

Omi hung his head and choked back sobs. *I blew it. I totally and completely blew it.* Turning quickly, he ran up the steps to the apartment, crashing into Aya on the way.

Downstairs, Yohji smashed his fist into the wall. "Fuck!"

***

Omi registered the soft knock, the sound of the door being pushed open and closed. Footsteps approaching the bed where he lay with his face pressed into the pillow. The weight of someone sitting on the bed next to him. The smell of cigarettes and spices. Yohji.

"Omi."

Omi turned over to face the older boy who looked down on him. After what happened downstairs, he couldn't hide anymore.

"Yohji, I love you."

Shock.

"Did you hear me? I said I love you!"

Utter and complete shock.

"Omi..." Yohji's composure was quickly slipping away, his voice trembling slightly. "Omi, you _can't_ love me. You don't know what you're saying! You're a scared and screwed up kid, and you're just latching on to me because I'm your friend...you don't know what you really want."

"Yohji, don't you get it? I _want_ to love you. I _need_ to love you. I need to heal that scared and screwed up kid inside of me by giving him someone else to love, to take care of, and to be needed by. To convince that kid that he's not alone, not unwanted...not useless...and I could do the same for you...you don't know how special you are, how much you mean to me...you're not worthless, Yohji, no matter what you think..." Omi turned his head as his voice gave out.

As Yohji watched Omi's tears spilled over and roll down those pale cheeks, he felt a piece of his heart break. The young voice came again, in a low, desperate, whisper. "Yohji,I know I'm not beautiful, I know I'm not a woman... I know I have nothing to give you but my heart...but it's yours...if you want it...please? We get along so well together...I...I..." A tear-streaked face looked up and met Yohji's gaze.

"Omi, I'm _straight_." The voice was firm, and final.

"And if you weren't..."

"If I weren't?! How the hell can I answer that! I can't even conceive of it!" His voice softened. "Omi-kun, I'm sorry." *I'm sorry.*

*Sorry? He's sorry? He just killed me, and he's _sorry_...*

"Leave."

***

As the cuts healed into scars, the fog which had surrounded Omi's nights began to envelop his days. While his smile remained unshakable, Ken and even Aya could sense that behind the bright blue eyes something had been shut off.

Yohji tried to talk to Omi. The subsequent rebuffs by the boy established a pattern of behaviour between the two which allowed for common courtesy out of necessity, but nothing more. And Yohji's nightmare of Asuka came to include a second horrifying and vivid image of a blond- haired, blue-eyed boy laying lifeless on the bathroom floor, surrounded by his own blood.

*I can't let that happen. I have to make him understand why I can't love him, why whatever is in his past shouldn't destroy him. That none of this is his fault. Why I'm not worth suffering over. *

***

Walking down the steps of school, Omi noted with surprise the lanky figure lin white leaning against the chain-link fence. What is he doing here? Waiting for me? Omi descended the stairs and came to a stop in front of Yohji.

"Hey, Omittchi! How was school?" Yohji tried to keep his tone light, but he knew that nothing could break the tension in the air. Omi refused to meet his gaze, instead casing a glance toward his parked bike.

Sensing Omi's urge to leave, Yohji reached out and grasped Omi's arm. "Omi, look at me for Chrissake! You can't ignore me forever!"

*Why is he touching me? Doesn't he know that this is torture?* "Just leave me alone, Yohji!" Omi shook off the arm which held his, and started toward his bike.

"Omi, can't you understand? I want to see you happy, I want to help you. But I _can't_ change who I am, any more than you can. I can't love you the way you want me to!"

***

*Why is Yohji being difficult? Doesn't he know that it's shallow to focus on a stupid body? So I'm not a woman! I mean, I love him, a lot more than any of those stupid bimbos he dates ever could – _I'm_ his friend, _I_ understand him! *

*Do you? *

Yohji's voice echoed in Omi's mind as he lay in bed. * "I can't change who I am."* Yohji wanting to help Omi. Yohji pleading with him to understand.

*Do you really understand? Or do you just want to change Yohji so that you won't be alone? Are you thinking of him, or of yourself?* It hit Omi like a ton of bricks.

"I...I understand." Omi whispered into the darkness. *I _do_ understand.* He could no more consider being with one of those pesky girls who were always following him around the halls at school and giggling than Yohji could consider being with him. But Yohji still wanted to be his friend, his teammate, his support. He hadn't turned away disgusted at Omi's revelation. He just couldn't give Omi what he wanted and needed so badly.

*And if I love him, I should understand that. Because loving someone, really loving someone, isn't about being selfish and hurting them. It's about caring enough for someone else to forget your own pain. It's wanting, with your whole being, to see their wounds healed. It's seeking their happiness, even if it means forever shutting out your own.*

He owed it to Yohji to accept what he could give, and let go of the rest, no matter how much it would hurt. Omi closed his eyes and did something he had never done before – he prayed.

"God..." his young voice began shakily, "God...I know that I am not deserving...but please, hear me. I can bear the pain of being alone...but I can't watch Yohji be miserable. Please...make him happy. Send him someone to love who is worthy of him, who knows how special he is...who loves him as much as I do..." Omi's voice broke as tears coursed down his cheeks.

"Someone he can love back...seeing him happy would be enough for me."

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Omi lay back on the mattress. He slept. And, mercifully, for one night his ghosts gave up the chase.

~~Owari