Weiss
Kreuz fanfic. My standard disclaimers
apply. The proem/poem or whatever it's
supposed to be is an original. As for
the fic itself... blame the weather.
Kokoro
no Arashi
by
Lady Aria (bukiminatenshi@lycos.com)
[Most
people wax poetic when they speak of rain
And
talk about how it seems to cleanse the world.
But
do they ever speak of the time before it starts to fall?]
Yohji sprinted the last few
steps towards the apartments as the rain began coming down in fat drops. It'd been overcast all day, but he hadn't
expected the sky to open up until that night.
Patting away stray drops from his shoulders, he made his way up to his
unit, a little irritated by the cancellation of his night out because of the
weather. The news had predicted a
storm, after all, and he had been hoping that he'd be snuggled against a
beautiful girl by the time it hit. The
sound of something breaking came to his ears as he passed Aya's door,
interrupting his thoughts.
<What the hell could he be up
to?> Yohji thought as he put his hand on the knob and gave it a turn.
It opened.
Concern came over him as his
eyes narrowed dangerously. This wasn't
like Aya at all.
Half expecting to see his fellow
assassin all bloodied up on the floor, he peeked inside. Everything seemed to be in order, except the
lights were all out. Opening the door a
little further, he saw Aya sitting on the bed, leaning against the window, a
shattered picture frame at his feet.
The light of the setting sun, hazed by the rain, bathed the room in a
watery, blood red light. Curious, he
entered the room, locking the door behind him, lest someone enter the way he
did. Still, Aya gave no indication
whether or not he knew Yohji was there.
[When
the earth reaches up to the heavens
Begging
the sky to release what the sun's embrace has taken.]
"You okay?" Yohji
asked as he walked over to Aya.
"You know, you shouldn't really throw things around
." He said
as he bent down to pick up the item, careful to avoid cutting himself on the
glass.
"Kirai
."
"Nani?" Yohji asked as
he set the picture and broken glass on a nearby table.
"Ame ga kirai."
All the while, Aya didn't even
look at him. His eyes were fixed on the
window, at the rain, with a haunted expression mixed with anger and grief. Yohji took in a deep breath, all the while
wondering what he should do. He could
try coaxing Aya out of his trance-like state.
He looked docile enough, but Yohji also knew that Aya's temper could flare
up faster than an explosion if he wasn't careful.
A lighting flash threw Aya's
face in sharp relief.
[A
sigh, audible for those willing to listen
Desperate,
pleading.]
Yohji sighed. <What a dilemma,> he thought, rubbing
the back of his neck. <I can't very
well leave him like this. There's absolutely
no telling what he could be capable of doing.>
Minutes ticked by. He watched as the light from the window
passed through the drops clinging to the glass, casting their image upon Aya's
face. A drop rolled down the pane, its
ghost rolling down Aya's cheek.
It was like seeing an angel cry
tears of blood.
He shook that thought from his
mind. "Aya," Yohji began as
he reached over to him. "Maybe you
should-"
He never finished because, quick
as lightning, Aya had grabbed him and thrown him down on the bed so hard, he
got the wind knocked out of him. Aya
was straddling him, eyes flashing like purple fire, face screwed up in hate.
Outside, the wind began to howl.
[What
of the rain itself, then?
Just
as the water leaves the earth,
Memories
are pushed into the back of our minds.
And
just like rain, memories could return in many forms.]
"What do you know about
me?!" His voice trembled. He sounded like a madman. "Who are you to tell me what I should
or should not do?!"
"GET-OFFA-ME!!" Yohji managed to unbalance him and they both
rolled until Aya was beneath him. The
blonde braced himself to keep Aya from trying the same. Emerald eyes met amethyst ones. "What the hell is wrong with
you?" Yohji whispered as he looked
with genuine concern at the redhead, shaking his shoulders. He heard Aya's breath hitch in his throat
and saw those purple eyes close. When
they opened, there was recognition in them, and the familiar, hard look that
was more characteristic of the Aya he knew.
Reluctantly, Yohji let him go.
Aya looked at him, but didn't
really see him. Yohji could almost see
Aya going through scenes in his head.
The grim line of his mouth didn't change, but he could clearly see the
minute changes in his eyes.
Pain. Lots of it.
Then again, all of them have had
more than their fair share.
Such was their lot.
Not that they ever asked for it
be so.
"De te ike," Aya said
as he got to his feet. He leaned
against the window, still glaring at the rain.
[A
refreshing spring shower, delicate and to be savored.
Or
as a tempest, overpowering, destructive.]
"No." A flash of lightning showed the stubborn
expression on Yohji's face.
"I said leave," Aya
warned as he turned to face him.
The blonde got to his feet and
closed the distance between them.
Something about Aya in that darkened room was uncharacteristically Aya,
if that made sense at all. It made him
uncomfortable, in a way. It was clear
to Yohji that he was in a situation where the outcome would not be as clear-cut
as he'd've wanted it to be. He didn't
like it, but still he found that he could not turn away. His eyes narrowed as he locked gazes with
the redhead. "Not until I know
that you won't be a danger to yourself."
Aya lifted a hand to strike
Yohji, but the blonde had anticipated the move. In a smooth motion borne from countless missions, he had Aya's
hands pinned behind him and against the window. A flash of lighting reflected the expression of bloody murder
looking back at him from out of amethyst eyes, their faces only a few inches
apart.
Then he felt his control
slip. The madness in Aya like a living
thing that seeped into him just by touching his skin. Logic failing, his mind thrown into chaos, his senses seized
control.
His eyes took in Aya whose eyes
flashed in anger with the barest trace of fear.
The sound of his captive's
breathing in a duet with his own.
He could feel the warmth of each
breath.
Taking in his scent.
Almost taste his skin.
Yohji's head dropped the
remaining few inches and his lips met those of a very shocked Aya. The redhead managed to disentangle his arms
from Yohji's grip and shoved him away.
[Stripping
a person of sense and reason.]
"NANI SU-" Aya began,
trembling with rage and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but Yohji
cut him off with an answer he didn't expect.
"Wakaranai."
Yohji lifted a shaky hand to his
face and ran it through his brown-gold locks.
His breathing was ragged, almost as if he'd been running for his
life. In the silence, he was surprised
to hear that Aya was doing the same.
After what seemed like an eternity, Yohji looked at his face a carefully
composed mask.
"Gomen,," he whispered
as he backed up in the direction of the door.
He had to get away. From Aya,
from this room.
Or he might just do something
he'd regret.
[Thus
left helpless and afraid.]
He slammed the door open and
took off in a run.
He'd just kissed Aya.
<I have officially lost
it,> he thought as he opened his apartment door with shaking hands. He slammed the door shut and leaned back
against the cool wood. His mind was
still going a hundred miles an hour as he staggered into the bathroom,
stripped, and let a blast of cold water drench him.
A muffled roll of thunder
reached him through the noise of the shower.
Yohji gradually managed to
regain control over his breathing. In a
flash, he realized that he was staring to numb from the cold. He adjusted the temperature until warm water
replaced the cold that he'd needed to snap him out of his own madness. He relaxed, savoring the warm rivulets that
ran down the contours of his body. It
felt almost like the teasing fingers of a girl he once met at a bar during one
of his outings. He remembered that
she'd been more than willing to show him that her talents weren't only confined
to her hands.
<Yes, think of her,> Yohji
said to himself as he closed his eyes and lifted his head, the water a relaxing
rhythm on his face. <Just think of
her.>
The smell of soap and musk
mingled with the steam that billowed out as Yohji emerged from the bathroom, a
towel wrapped around his hips. He
walked to a closet and pulled out a cream sweater and a pair of worn
jeans. Dressed, he walked up to the
window and opened the blinds.
The rain showed no signs of
letting up.
But the sky was now a rich
purple.
The color of Aya's eyes.
"K'so," Yohji muttered
as he took out a cigarette and lighted it.
He took a long drag to calm himself.
Things would've been simpler if he had a girl in his arms right about
now. His left hand lifted automatically
to take the cigarette. As his fingers
accidentally brushed his lips, an image of Aya flashing through his mind.
The smoke came out as a delicate
stream of gray.
His tongue passed between
partially opened lips.
Smoke and Aya.
<A mix more intoxicating than
the finest wine.>
At that thought, Yohji crushed
his cigarette out on a nearby ashtray and began to laugh. <That was bad, even for me,> he
thought as he sat on his bed and looked at the pouring rain set against the
purple sky. He saw the outrage on Aya's
face and smiled. <Yeah, it was just
something that 'happened,'> he said to himself. <Still, I think that I owe him an honest apology.>
After taking a few minutes to
rehearse and consuming two cigarettes, made his way back to Aya's door.
[Waiting
for a miracle.]
"Aya?" Yohji called as he knocked softly on the
door. He tried the door and it
opened. <'Taku, didn't he even
bother to lock it?>
Looking inside, he found Aya
sitting on the chair beside his bed.
The lamp on the table was on, and he appeared to be reading. He put down his book to give him a look.
<At least he wasn't cleaning
his katana.> Yohji sighed in relief
as he let himself in.
"Nani?"
<Tart,> Yohji thought as
he locked the door and walked up to him.
<At least now he's back to normal.> He cleared the room in a few strides. He knelt in front on Aya so that he looked up into his eyes.
Despite the coldness Aya
conveyed with his manner, his eyes seemed like twin gems, glittering in the
lamplight. Expectant.
"Honto ni gomen, Aya,"
Yohji said in a calm voice, meeting his gaze.
"I really didn't know what came over me.
"
His voice trailed as amethyst
eyes flickered, studying him. It was
almost like Aya was trying to decide whether or not he was telling the truth.
"Wakatta."
<Yokatta,> Yohji though,
breathing a sigh of relief. At least
Aya'd left him off. For the
meantime. He stood and walked towards
the window. The broken picture frame
was still where he'd left it. He
glanced back at Aya who'd returned to his book. "Ne, Aya, let about the picture frame, if you want, I can
get you a new one."
"Ii yo," Aya replied
without looking up. "It's not
important."
Yohji glanced back at the
picture. In the darkness, he could make
out a girl's face.
<Sakura-chan?> He thought,
running his fingers gingerly over it. A
small hiss escaped his lips as a shard of glass dug into his skin.
"You should know better
than to touch that."
He visibly jumped at the
voice. Aya was standing beside
him. He set down the picture frame and
broken glass and let the redhead look at his hand.
"Daijoubu," Yohji said
dismissively as Aya took out the shard and pressed a handkerchief on the
wound. "You're right, I should've
known better
." His voice trailed
as he watched Aya, his breath hitching in his throat. Aya looked up and his eyes narrowed at what Yohji assumed was the
blush on his face. Yohji winced as he
felt Aya applying more than adequate pressure on his hand.
"Did you lock the door when
you came in?" Aya's eyes were still trained on him dangerously.
"Uh... hai." He didn't like the way Aya asked that
question.
"Good."
Yohji saw Aya's hand lift and he
braced himself, expecting Aya to strike him.
He earned it, he thought. What
he hadn't counted on was it pulling him close, and his eyelids fluttering shut
as Aya's lips met his.
Smoke and Aya.
His mind was reeling by the time
Aya pulled away, his knees weak.
Opening his eyes, he saw the lamp's light outlining Aya's form from
behind.
The way a halo limned saints.
Or pagan gods.
[Be
it mortal or divine.]
<Crazy,> he thought as his
feet moved, almost against his will. He
felt detached from everything as he lifted his hand to brush his knuckles
against the redhead's cheek.
<Beautiful.> His thoughts
felt no longer his own as he watched Aya's eyes close, the latter turning his
head to brush his lips against the palm of his hand. Amethyst eyes opened lazily to meet his only to close again as
their lips met once more.
<Mine.>
They collapsed onto the bed.
The room melted into the
background, the storm silenced in Yohji's mind.
All that existed was Aya.
All that mattered was Aya.
The wind began howling anew as
the rain came down harder.
Lightning flashed, revealing
clothes littering the floor.
Desperate voices mixed with the
rolling of thunder.
Hands desperately clinging to each
other.
Flesh on fire.
Lips hungry for the other.
Consummation.
The rain drove harder against
the window.
A flash of chain lightning.
A scream drowned by a clap of
thunder.
Silence.
Only the sound of the rain
against the window.
[As
the rain cedes and the sky clears
Do
we ever reflect upon what is left in its wake?
The
delicate mix of crispness and warmth,
Or
the brighter than usual dawn?]
Yohji blinked against the glare
coming from the window.
<Morning,> he thought lazily as he took in his surroundings, more
specifically the warmth beside him.
Aya.
Propping himself up on an elbow,
he watched his fellow assassin as his mind began to recall the night's
events. He remembered his mental remark
about Aya and smoke.
Looking back, it wouldn't have
done him justice.
Aya stirred and amethyst eyes
opened lazily, blinking back sleep as he stretched. Yohji purposely met his gaze.
There was no reading his eyes.
Yohji continued to watch him as
Aya lifted a hand...
...Pulling him close until their
lips meet in a lingering kiss.
One that spoke not of mindless
human need.
But of something deeper.
[Just
as the earth welcomes back the caress of the sun,
Unmindful
of what it will yet again take.
Somewhere,
a new flower blooms
And somehow it seems but a small price to pay.]
*****
Owari *****
original
© September 2002 by Lady Aria
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