Warnings and such in part 1.

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Aya was distantly aware of Youji talking to him, felt hands help him up off the cold kitchen floor and guide him to the couch a short distance away. His mind was whirling, his eyes unfocused as his coat was removed and Youji wrapped his arms around the still trembling shoulders, tugging Aya close to him. He had no idea how long they sat in silence, the only thing returning to Aya’s mind were three words, playing over and over again.

Aya-chan is dead. Aya-chan is dead. Aya-chan is dead. Aya-chan is dead.

The words played blood red against the black backdrop of his closed eyelids, alternating with images of his sister, alive and laughing, vibrant, alive.

Aya-chan is dead.

“I know. I-I’m sorry, Aya,” Youji said softly, the breath stirring Aya’s hair.

The blonde’s voice brought him back to reality. Aya hadn’t even realized he’d spoken aloud. “I-” he started, unsure of what to say. He knew what had to be done. He’d gone through it all years ago when Takatori Reiji had put his sister in a coma and taken the lives of their parents.

“I need to call,” Aya couldn’t finish the sentence. His little sister, forever frozen in his memory at the age of 16, their last day spent together for her birthday, would be joining their parents in the family plot. Ran had already been placed to rest by their parents, officially dead those two years ago. Her name would be engraved on the marker where he thought his adopted name might one day be etched. The space he’d reserved for himself after joining Weiss, never expecting to live very long once he’d gotten his revenge, even though it was reserved in Aya-chan’s name; Aya’d always expected Aya-chan to wake up from her unnatural slumber and eventually grow up, maybe go to college, meet a nice guy and marry and have start her own family, the family of her childhood long departed from her life. But instead of that fantasy that kept him moving forward for close to three years becoming reality, Aya was going to have to bury his sister.

“The space has already been reserved,” Aya said, more to himself than the silent man supporting him. “I just have to call and,” again he couldn’t finish the thought aloud. He’d need to get a headstone ordered. The number was in a box in the bottom of his closet. Along with the key he’d once given to Sakura-chan; the key to the safe deposit box, to transfer Aya-chan to a different hospital if he never came back. There were two other keys there, to another safe deposit box, and a small storage unit. The storage unit would need to be emptied.

He started to rise, but his thigh twinged with pain as he moved. Absently, he rubbed at the still healing muscles.

Youji’s arm tightened around his waist. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

Aya turned to look into his lover’s jade eyes. There was sympathy there, and equal amounts of worry and sorrow. “No,” he whispered, never breaking his gaze with the older man. “I have to do this tonight.” If he put it off until morning, he wasn’t sure he’d still be able to do it. He knew Youji would offer in a heartbeat if Aya hesitated, but he didn’t want to make his lover ask. This was something that Aya needed to do, if for no other reason than to give his life closure.

Youji held his gaze for a moment. Aya tried to convey as much as he was feeling with his eyes as possible, unable to admit out loud his weakness, his fear that he would not be able to complete this mission. Youji finally nodded, dropping a soft kiss to the top of Aya’s head before removing his arm from around the redhead’s waist.

“I’ll make some tea,” Youji offered as he rose with Aya, giving him a hand up because his leg had stiffened.

Aya nodded and headed towards the stairs, looking back over his shoulder to watch Youji move into the kitchen and start a pot of water boiling before climbing the metal staircase slowly, ignoring the pain in his thigh.

By the time he reached his door at the top of the stairs, the bunched muscles of his leg had loosened and he didn’t feel as much pain as he pushed his door all the way open and stepped into the darkened space he hadn’t occupied for months. Flipping the light switch just inside the door, the room was bathed in a pale yellow light, pushing the darkness back into the corners of the room.

Aya crouched awkwardly in front of his open closet door; most of the clothes had been moved up the hall to Youji’s room. The shoebox sat in the middle of the closet floor, a light layer of dust settled on the lid. He pulled the box to him then settled back on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him, settling the small treasure chest on his thighs.

He stared at the garish pattern on the cardboard for long moments. The box had been courtesy of Ken shortly after Aya had joined the team. He had needed something to place a few precious objects in and the soccer player had just purchased a new pair of cleats. He’d handed over the box willingly enough, though Aya had had to endure some teasing from Youji.

Youji. He could hear the man puttering around in the kitchen, dishes hitting the counter and the soft sounds of his lover’s voice. Was he strong enough to carry the box downstairs and sit with Youji to go through it, or take the cowardly way out and just grab the number he needed and run, leaving the contents for another day. Could he let himself accept the comfort the older man would silently offer as he put that last remnant of his former life to rest?

Aya felt lost. In such a short time his world had been turned upside down, and he’d never felt so conflicted. The part of him that was screaming in outrage at the unfairness of it all wanted to throw himself into Youji’s arms and be held and comforted until the pain went away. Most of him wanted to slam a wall between him and the rest of humanity, finishing off what Shion had started to teach him years ago; only without emotion would he ever be a man. And now that his sister was gone, there was an insistent voice growing in the back of his mind, reminding him that anyone and everyone he’d ever loved or been loved by had been ripped from him. He would have Youji’s blood on his conscience just as surely as he was responsible for the death of his sister.

“Aya? Tea’s ready!” Youji called from the foot of the stairs, but it didn’t sound like he had any intention of climbing the stairs. His voice faded as he walked away, resuming whatever conversation he’d been having.

Aya closed his eyes briefly. Youji understood. The simple fact that he hadn’t followed Aya upstairs or brought him the tea was evidence enough for the redhead. It was up to him what he wanted to do, and Youji would respect whatever decision he came to. His thought was further reinforced when he sat for a few minutes longer and there was no further prompting from downstairs.

Slowly, Aya eased himself to his feet, stretching once he stood erect. He tucked his box under an arm and took a breath. He was no more sure of where he stood than he had been when he’d first come to retrieve his small collection. But sharing with Youji had to be better than trying to do it alone. Youji wouldn’t condemn me, he thought, still trying to convince himself as he left the room, making his way down the iron staircase to where the blonde waited.



Part 1 | Part 3


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