Ground Zero(a weiss kreuz fanfiction by tex-chan)Summary: Sometimes, life comes at you a bit too fast, and you’re forced to realize how fragile the most important things are. And, when that happens, you find yourself standing at Ground Zero, holding on for all you’re worth and hoping you'll still be sane when it's all over.
Author’s Note: Written as a gift for
deathcomes4u, because she’s a great friend, who fangirl squeals over Aya with me on IM, and … well, because she asked me to finish this one. Otherwise, it would have languished for eternity in my “not quite done” file.
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence.
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan’s genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.Aya glanced over, frowning as Omi opened the passenger-side door. Aya had been up all night, plagued by nightmares that, although vivid enough to leave him clutching his sheets and gasping for breath in a panicked frenzy, faded into the ether upon his awakening. They had left him with nothing more solid than a feeling of dread-laced unease that settled in his stomach and refused to let go. It was maddening, carrying around this queasy fear, and yet, being unable to face the images head-on. Maddening and irritating -- enough to throw him into one of the deepest black-mood funks he had experienced in a long time. Even the weather seemed to echo his mood. It was chilly and rainy -- gray skies and wet, just as it had been for the past several days.
Aya didn’t want company. It was his day off, a rare day in which he didn’t have to deal with anyone; he didn’t have to pretend to be interested in flower orders and arrangements; he didn’t have to listen to whiny customers; he didn’t have to hide his bad mood, for fear of worrying Yohji; he didn’t have to keep up the act. He could be himself, even if “being himself” meant sulking and catering to the dark mood that, even now, threatened to swallow him from the inside out. And, that was exactly what he had planned. A whole day spent brooding and doing things a sane person wouldn’t do. Like driving too fast on wet, slippery roads so that he could feel his heart clench with each skid of the tires and each hair-pin turn. Maybe, if it happened enough, he would feel alive and human again.
( Read more... )con't. in Part 2