Warnings etc in Part 1

Youji only half paid attention to the inane drivel he’d found to watch on TV and tried not to give in to the urge to pace. Since he and Aya had begun their relationship, Youji’d had a difficult time sitting by and waiting for the redhead to come home. His imagination often got the better of him when he was forced into idleness, his mind painting pictures much worse than what reality often portrayed.

Aya can take care of himself, was the blonde’s litany on nights when he was required to wait for his lover to come home. Aya never asked him to wait up, to be there to help patch up what injuries he came home with, though when he worked alone they were few.

This mission was especially nerve wracking for Youji. Aya had been mostly silent for two weeks, speaking only when spoken to. He worked, lost himself in his work, Youji thought. When Manx had appeared that morning, Youji felt a great sense of relief, greater still when he found the mark on Aya’s window signaling he’d taken the mission. It was a sign, Youji hoped, that Aya was getting on with his life, that he was beginning to accept that his sister was dead but that he still had a life to lead.

But Youji was also concerned that Aya had given up. That he was only living because he hadn’t found a way to die yet. That the redhead hadn’t sought to take his own life was heartening, but all that Youji could surmise from that was that Aya wasn’t seeking death, merely waiting for it to come claim him.

And so Youji alternated pacing the common room, ducking outside to smoke, and not paying attention to the television, all the while trying not to think. Omi had dragged Ken off to a movie so Youji was home alone. The blonde was beginning to think that telling Omi he’d be fine by himself might have been a bad idea, but he wasn’t sure that he could deal with more of the teenager’s fussing.

Youji was contemplating going out for another smoke before retrieving his sketchpad when the back door opened. The blonde almost tipped out of his chair as he leaned back to catch a glimpse of whoever was returning home. The single set of footsteps and lack of words assured him it was Aya. Ken might’ve ditched Omi somewhere along the way, but the brunette had a habit of announcing his presence every time he came home.

Aya emerged from the hallway in his dark trench coat, red hair windblown and damp from the weather contrasting with the pallor of his skin. Blood oozed from a cut on his bottom lip, and Youji thought he could see the beginnings of a bruise along Aya’s jaw line. Someone had gotten close enough to hit Aya in the face.

“A gunshot wound would have been more reassuring,” Youji muttered as he pulled himself out of the chair. How had someone gotten close enough to actually split his lover’s lip? Either they had been very good, or Aya had been careless, or uncaring. Youji rather hoped it was the former.

He trailed Aya up the stairs, finding the redhead in the bathroom. Aya’s coat had been removed, hung on the top corner of the door, and he stood in front of the sink in the sleeveless black tee shirt he wore under the heavy coat, toweling his face dry.

“Aya? You okay?” Youji asked gently, making sure to use the younger man’s name.

“Hn.”

Slowly, Youji reached out and took Aya’s chin in his hand and turned the pale face to him. The cut looked like Aya’d almost bit through his lip, and there was a bruise darkening the skin around the swollen lip spreading down over chin and jaw. Youji took a step back, releasing his hold on Aya’s chin when he met his violet eyes, finding them dull and tired. There was no emotion there, in the one feature Youji had learned to read for any hint of what the swordsman was feeling

Those eyes had been blank for weeks, and Youji still wasn’t used to seeing it. He missed the small spark of amusement that could be found when Ken tripped over something, or the gentleness that colored the violet when Omi hit a rough spot. Youji’s body missed the glow of lust that darkened his lover’s eyes to a purple so dark it was almost black, though his mind understood.

Youji missed Aya. The seemingly coldhearted man he’d fallen in love with. The man who loved his sister and spent almost all his resources to make sure she’d be cared for. The man who could glare daggers at him one moment and make him go weak in the knees with a passionate kiss the next.

He wanted his lover back. With all his idiosyncrasies, the coldness, the passion. But he feared, as he looked into the violet eyes, that all that was left for him was a shell of the man he’d known. It was almost like Aya-chan had taken her brother’s soul with her when she passed away. But so long as the body lived, there had to be hope. Youji just didn’t know what to do, where to start to help Aya live again.

So he did what he could, and hoped it was enough.



Part 9 Part 11



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