Fanfiction Archive: Freefall
May. 29th, 2009 12:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: May, 2009. Story #2 in the GZ-verse)
Warnings: Bad language; Mild sexual situations/tension
Summary: As he tries to pick up the pieces after a near-death experience, Aya realizes he must deal with the emotions and uncertainty stemming from the kisses he and Yohji shared. Was it really "just a kiss"? Or did it mean something more?
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.
Author's Note: This is the second story set in my "Ground Zero Universe". As such, it is a follow up to the events that occurred during "Ground Zero". The stories set within this particular universe are a bit of an experiment for me. In general, I do not write shounen-ai or yaoi stories, but I decided to try and step out of that usual mold -- just a little -- with this series.
"Ground Zero" stories so far: 1. Ground Zero … 2. Freefall
Freefall
(a wk fanfiction by tex-chan … set in the "ground zero universe")
"I don't want to be here," Aya muttered, the words riding out of his mouth on an irritated-sounding sigh as he leaned against a nearby wall and tried to look bored while he watched Yohji scrutinize the building's office directory.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard it all -- five hundred times in the car on the way over here. Give it a rest, already," Yohji replied. He sounded distracted because he was concentrating on the directory's tiny lettering, leaning forward so that his nose practically touched the glass as his index finger ticked off the names and office assignments until he found the right one. "Aha!" he exclaimed, turning around to give Aya a triumphant smile, "Found him. Dr. Bernard Short, office number 10A."
Aya rolled his eyes and glared. "Good work, Sherlock. But I already knew that. It's not like I haven't been here before."
"Why did you let me waste all that time looking, then?" Yohji asked, adding a little glare of his own.
Aya shrugged. "It was … entertaining," he said, smiling as he settled on just the right word.
Yohji's only answer was a muttered, "You're such a jackass," as he crossed to the elevator and stabbed at the UP button. He heard Aya chuckle and half-turned to sneer at him before returning his attention to the elevator in front of him. He watched in silence as the floors ticked down, heralding the elevator's approach: ten, nine, eight, seven, six. By the time the fifth floor button lit up, he found he couldn't keep quiet any longer. Aya was tense and unhappy -- not that those were odd emotions for Aya. Somehow, though, this was a bit more than Aya's usual brand of pissy angst. Aya had been "off" for a while now. Yohji frowned as he tried to find a better way of explaining it in his mind -- and failed. He didn't understand it, and he couldn't point to any one thing as evidence. But he knew things weren't right. Aya wasn't right. Not that it came as any big surprise. Nearly getting killed tended to do weird things to a person's psyche. Even if that person was Weiss. Even if that person was Aya. Now, Yohji could feel Aya's mood steadily deteriorating as they neared his appointment with Kritiker's psychiatrist. Aya was trying to be relaxed, like none of this mattered one bit, but Yohji wasn't fooled. Tension radiated off of Aya in waves, in spite of the forced-casual way he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and pretended not to watch the elevator dial ticking down to the ground floor.
"So, what's he like, anyhow?" Yohji asked, attempting to break the tension by grasping at the first topic of conversation that crossed his mind. He glanced over in time to catch the eyebrows-raised, questioning look Aya shot at him, and followed up with, "Dr. Bernard Short."
Aya sighed and shrugged as he pushed away from the wall and crossed the floor to stand next to Yohji. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder without speaking for several seconds. Yohji shivered at the close contact and tried not to look sideways at his partner. It had been a little over two weeks since Aya's car had blown up -- with him nearly in it -- although Yohji thought of it more as the "kissing Aya and having Aya kiss him back" incident. Times two. He had tried not to think about it. He had tried really, really hard, but it was no use. The more he resolved not to think about it, the more it haunted him: the memory of Aya's lips against his, the soft, clean tastes and scents that were so typically "Aya", the way Aya's body had pressed into his during the second kiss. And, more than that, the way he had not wanted the moment to end. Ever.
It hadn't had any outward effect on their relationship. At least Yohji didn't think it had. Okay, scratch that. He hoped it hadn't. He had worked hard at keeping things normal between them -- or at least as "normal" as life had ever been. He had tried to act as if nothing had happened. As far as he knew, Omi and Ken had no idea he and Aya had kissed. Twice, his traitorous mind reminded him. And he and Aya had not discussed it since the second kiss that day in the shop. It seemed Aya wanted things this way. Aya wanted things to be the same; he wanted the simple, easy, give-and-take they had developed over the years to remain unchanged. Yohji understood that. After all, they had fought pretty hard to get to where they were. At the same time, he could not stop thinking about the kisses. He could not stop thinking about the heat he had felt in those endless moments. There had been something there. Some extra feeling that had taken him by surprise. He was willing to bet Aya had felt it, too, which was something else Yohji could not stop thinking about. And he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he wanted to do it all again. Soon.
"He's … short," Aya said, unable to choke back the little snicker at the tail end of the words.
His voice was quiet, but it cut through Yohji's thoughts, making him jump in surprise. He hadn't expected an answer, considering the mood Aya was in, and … Wait a minute? Was Aya -- snickering? That was bizarre -- enough so that Yohji felt uncomfortable, as if the universe had just tilted on its axis or something. Yohji shook his head and tried to ignore the snicker. Maybe he had imagined it. Yeah, that was it. He had imagined it. He felt a lot better about things once his mind supplied a handy explanation for Aya's weirdness.
"What are you talking about?" Yohji asked.
"Dr. Short. He's … you know, short," Aya said, snickering again.
He glanced up to find Yohji giving him A Look. It was the kind of expression that didn't need words to ask if Aya had been drinking. The kind of look that had decided, all on its own, that he had not only been drinking, but that he had lost his mind. Aya shrugged and tried to stop laughing under his breath. It was almost impossible. Dr. Bernard Short was one of Kritiker's pet psychiatrists. The organization had imported him from somewhere and set him up in practice here in Tokyo. Aya had no idea where he was from, and he didn't care. But the fact that the doctor, at around five feet tall, was -- as his name implied -- short, had never failed to amuse Aya. So much so that he had trouble keeping a straight face when he was in Dr. Short's presence. He did try, though. He figured it was a bad idea to let a psychiatrist hear you laughing too much.
"You are so fucking weird," Yohji muttered, shaking his head.
Aya opened his mouth for the perfect comeback, but the elevator's ding, heralding its arrival, interrupted him. Aya glared in response to Yohji's muttered, "Saved by the bell," and followed him inside.
As the doors slid closed, Aya almost wished they had skipped the elevator and taken the stairs. Dr. Short's office was in one of Tokyo's older buildings, and the elevator was slow. At the moment, Aya couldn't help but wonder if it was also the smallest elevator in the universe. He hadn't realized it the last time he was here, but, of course, he had been alone then, having managed to sneak away from the Koneko before anyone had noticed. This time, Yohji was with him, and he was very aware of the fact there was hardly enough room for the two of them to move in this miniscule space. He couldn't help noticing Yohji's cologne, which was an odd, slightly musky mixture with woody undertones. It smelled good, although Aya quickly shoved his brain away from that thought. He was acutely attuned to the feeling of Yohji's body bumping up against his -- not that Yohji did it on purpose. It couldn't be helped in such a small space, and Aya took a deep, shuddering breath as he forced his mind to focus on the number readout above the door. Maybe, if he watched it hard enough, the elevator would move faster and the floors would tick by more quickly. And if that happened, he wouldn't have to think about how good Yohji smelled, or how they had kissed -- and how stupid he had been to let it happen. Well, the first time hadn't been his fault, but the second time … yeah, that was all on him. He especially wouldn't have to think about how, maybe, he wanted to try doing the whole thing all over again. Aya frowned as the light above the door dinged onto the number three. Would he survive all the way to the tenth floor? Was it just his imagination, or was it hot in here? Aya sighed and risked a sideways glance at Yohji. He felt a little chagrined at Yohji's casual posture -- almost slouching, with his hands in his pockets, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Clearly, Yohji hadn't given the kisses a second thought. That was a good thing, Aya told himself. Wasn't it?
"I don't see why I have to do this, anyhow," Aya muttered, almost under his breath.
"You're kidding, right? Someone blew up your car," Yohji said.
Aya sighed. "I know. I was there, remember?"
"Even more reason why you should do this, then," Yohji replied, his tone of voice matter-of-fact. He paused for a moment to stare into Aya's eyes before he continued, "You almost died, Aya."
Aya felt his heart beat faster when their gazes locked. For a second or two, he wondered if Yohji could hear it. The elevator was so small, how could he not? But he forced his voice into something approaching a normal tone, shrugging and trying to look nonchalant as he said, "Omi's the one who freaked out. Not me. I was unconscious most of the time."
Yohji didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he rolled his eyes and shook his head with a disgusted sigh.
"Yeah, I know," Aya muttered, "Stupid thing to say."
"Not one of your better moments, my friend," Yohji agreed. He was quiet for a couple of seconds before adding, "Besides, Omi's had his fair share of counseling, too."
"I know," Aya said.
They stared at the blinking lights above the door as the number four lit up, followed a minute later by the five. Aya wondered if he would go insane before this cursed elevator reached the tenth floor. Normally, he would have welcomed the silence. But in these close confines and feeling almost unbearably aware of Yohji's presence, Aya realized he couldn't take it.
"Why are you here, anyhow?" he asked, wincing as the question came out sounding like an accusation. He hadn't meant it that way, and he hoped Yohji would understand. Or, at the very least, that Yohji wouldn't rise to the occasion. He did not want to fight. Not right now.
Luckily, Yohji seemed willing to ignore Aya's tone. He shrugged and said, "Well, you needed a ride, right? You don't have a car."
Aya's eyes narrowed in an irritated expression. The loss of his car still rankled -- a lot more than he liked to admit. He knew, in the grand scheme of things, it should not be such a big deal. After all, he was alive and so was Omi. Still, he had loved that car. And he hated losing it that way. Hated it like hell.
"I could have taken a cab. That's what I did last time," Aya said. He tried to hide the petulant tone in his voice, but he didn't succeed.
Yohji gave Aya a sneering sort of smirk. He didn't want to start a fight, but he couldn't help it; the statement had been such a typical "Aya" response. Pissy to the extreme, and making it sound like Yohji had done something wrong, just because he had offered Aya a ride. He knew Aya didn't mean it that way, but it didn't make it any easier to take. He decided to let the jibe go, attributing Aya's pissiness to being unhappy about the doctor's appointment. Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to admit -- even to himself -- the real reasons behind why he had insisted on driving Aya today. It started with a lingering fear over having found Aya nearly buried under burning rubble -- something that still gave him nightmares, thank you very much. And it went from there to the haunting memory of their two kisses, eventually leading to a place in Yohji's mind where he wasn't sure he wanted to let Aya out of his sight, ever again. It was irrational. And more than that, it was stupid. Yohji knew that, but it didn't change the way he felt. So, instead of arguing, Yohji decided to change the subject.
"Any news on the car front?" he asked.
Aya frowned, a little confused and surprised by Yohji's abrupt change in tone and subject matter. It took his brain a few seconds to catch up, but, eventually, he sighed and said, "Not really. Kritiker will replace the car. They didn't even make that much of a stink about it. I just have to find something I like, which is proving to be more difficult than I had expected."
Yohji laughed, giving Aya a wink and a teasing smile as he said, "Could it be that you're a little too picky?"
Aya replied with a mock growl before shrugging in agreement and saying, "Yeah. Maybe. But you didn't hear that from me." He paused for a moment, smiling at Yohji's amusement over the sudden admission, before adding, "They're getting me a rental, though. Probably sometime next week, so I won't have to cab it any more. Or get rides from you." Yohji had turned back to watch the display over the door slowly click up another floor, and Aya stuck his tongue out at Yohji's back.
"I saw that, you shit," Yohji said, a teasing tone in his voice.
"Good," Aya replied.
He sounded smug and a little harsh, but he couldn't help smiling. He liked hearing that tiny touch of laughter in Yohji's voice. It was almost like things were back to normal between the two of them. Almost as soon as the thought formed in his mind, Aya felt sad. Things weren't normal. Maybe things wouldn't be back to normal ever, and it was his fault. The first kiss had been a fluke -- something borne from Yohji's panicked emotions during a stressful and frightening time. Aya understood that. It didn't mean Yohji had any feelings for him. But the second kiss … That had been a mistake. Aya realized it now. He had intended it as a sort of tit for tat. A way of putting things right because of the weird way Yohji had acted. It hadn't worked out that way. Aya frowned as he thought about how they might have laughed it off -- eventually -- if he had let things go with the first kiss. But now, he was stuck wondering and remembering the heat he had felt during their second one. Had he imagined it? Had Yohji felt it, too? Aya cursed under his breath and shook his head, doing his best to force the unwanted thoughts out of his mind. It didn't matter. The situation was impossible, and that was that.
"We really need to talk about it," Yohji said.
His voice was low and so quiet Aya almost believed he had imagined it. Almost -- except for the fact that, somehow, Yohji seemed to have read his mind.
"I don't see why," Aya said. He didn't bother asking what Yohji meant. He already knew.
All this time, Yohji had been standing a little in front of him, closer to the door, while Aya lurked near the elevator's back wall. Aya saw Yohji's back stiffen in reaction to his statement, and he realized his comment had cut Yohji. Or, maybe it had been the casual, off-hand tone in his voice. Either way, Aya was surprised. He had believed the incident was over and done with, from Yohji's perspective. Almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, Aya mentally kicked himself for it. It hadn't been over and done with for him; he had thought about those moments over and over again since they had happened. He had been stupid to think Yohji would have dismissed it so easily, but there was that part of him that believed no one could care for him. That what had happened between the two of them had been a fluke and nothing more, because Yohji couldn't possibly care about him like that. And even more than that, that it had been a fluke because of who and what they were.
"You haven't thought about it?" Yohji asked. He didn't turn around to look at Aya. He continued to face forward, keeping his eyes glued to the blinking lights above the elevator door as the number seven lit up, but he could not hide the tension in his voice. "You haven't thought about it at all?"
"No," Aya said, not because it was the truth, but because it was what he knew he should say. He hated himself even as the word left his mouth.
Aya wasn't prepared for what happened next. Yohji whirled on him, moving cat-quick and with a fluid grace that didn't seem possible from his lanky body. He closed the tiny distance between them in a fraction of a second, and leaned in close. He braced his weight against his hands, which he placed, palms down, on the wall on either side of Aya's head. Before he could react, Aya found himself staring into Yohji's green eyes. They peered at Aya over the tops of Yohji's ever-present sunglasses, spearing him with one of the most intense expressions he had ever seen. Aya felt a sudden surge of heat somewhere near his groin, and his face flushed at the same time that his throat went dry. He swallowed, hard, and tried to pretend he didn't feel anything.
"Seriously?" Yohji asked. His voice was nothing more than a whisper. He leaned closer, so that they were nose-to-nose and his breath seemed to caress Aya's skin, sending shivers down Aya's spine. "You've never thought about that day? About how it felt, being this close? You've never thought about, maybe, doing it all again? Because I have. I think about it all the damn time. Even when I don't want to think about it. And I think you felt the same things I did."
As he spoke, Yohji continued to lean in, and, as his words trailed to a halt, his lips brushed against Aya's mouth. It was a soft, gentle touch. More of an inquiry than a demand. Instinctively, Aya knew he could end this right here and right now. Yohji wasn't a person who took something unless it was freely offered. If he said no, or if he pushed Yohji away, that would be the end of it.
But he didn't. There was a little part of his mind that was still rational, and it jumped up and down, screaming at him to make this stop, yelling about what a mistake this was. It was wrong. It was monumentally stupid. Instead, Aya ignored all of that and tossed his better judgment aside as he gave in to his baser instincts and opened his mouth under Yohji's gentle urging.
The response was immediate and intense: a wild frenzy of lips pressed to lips, tongues tangled together, and bodies crushing against each other as Aya reached out, hooking his fingers through Yohji's belt loops and pulling Yohji closer to him as the wave of emotion from their passionate, wild kiss swept over him. In that moment, Aya knew, no matter how hard he pulled Yohji to him, no matter how much he tried to hold onto the other man, he would never get enough of this. Of the feeling of Yohji's body pressed against his, of the flavor of Yohji's kiss -- tobacco and coffee and this mint gum Yohji loved to chew, all mingled together -- and of the touch of Yohji's lips against his. The thought was frightening, and Aya reacted by deepening the kiss with an almost savage sense of need.
He and Yohji both pressed forward, exploring every sensation, taste, and scent as if they could never get enough of each other, and riding the tide of emotions stemming from their ever-deepening kiss. Yohji's hands tangled in Aya's hair, tilting his head back slightly. As Aya pulled him forward, Yohji pressed into Aya's body, pinning him against the wall. Aya's heart thudded away in his chest, beating so hard that it was almost painful, and he thought, surely, Yohji could hear it, too. He moaned -- a low sound filled with pleasure -- as Yohji's tongue slowly licked across his teeth and stroked the inside of his mouth. And he smiled through their shared kiss as Yohji echoed the sound moments later, when Aya returned the favor.
Yohji's hands moved from Aya's hair. They caressed his neck before sliding down and over his chest. The day had been warm enough that Aya had opted to wear a t-shirt, and Yohji reveled in the feeling of Aya's body under his hands. He took his time, exploring every muscular contour as his hands slid across Aya's chest and over his abdomen. He shivered in pleasure as he felt Aya's hands move, too -- sliding up from his waist and under his shirt to caress the warm skin on his back. Aya had never struck him as a particularly tactile or sensuous person, but it seemed Aya was enjoying the feeling of his body just as much as he enjoyed Aya's.
Yohji settled one hand on Aya's hip, and the other continued its leisurely journey downward, until it finally met Aya's hand. Their fingers intertwined, crushing against each other with the heat of the moment as Yohji broke their kiss and moved aside, nipping and kissing along Aya's neck and across to the little hollow between his collarbone and shoulder.
Once more, the tiny voice of reason told Aya to stop this. It could never work. But, again, Aya ignored it. He didn't want this to stop. He made a strangled, whining noise -- something caught between pleasure and need -- in response to Yohji's efforts as he twisted around to give Yohji better access. Aya threaded his free hand into Yohji's hair and gently guided Yohji's nipping kisses to the most sensitive spots on his neck and collar bone -- the places that made his breath come in harsh, ragged pants and his vision tunnel down to almost nothing as he focused on the sensations rampaging through his body and mind.
He had never been with a man. He had never wanted to be with a man. He had never even thought about it, and he had no idea how it worked. But, right now, he didn't care about any of that. This was different. This was irresistibly and perfectly right. This was Yohji. Yohji was part of Aya's world. He was part of what kept Aya alive and kicking every day, and part of what made surviving Kritiker and Weiss seem like something to hope for, instead of a horrible nightmare. Yohji was home and sanity and safety and most of the good things Aya had hoped to have in his life. Somehow, all of this clicked into place so that it made complete and absolute sense in Aya's mind. It felt right, even as the tiny, rational part of his brain continued to screech out that it could never work, that they were doomed from the beginning. None of that mattered. Right now, Aya was more than willing to take what Yohji offered. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to be rational or right. He wanted to let go. He wanted to let himself free fall into the passion and heat that threatened to overwhelm him.
And he would have, if Fate hadn't chosen that moment to toss a bucket of cold water on their party. There was a small noise, almost inaudible beneath the sound of Aya's and Yohji's panted moans of pleasure -- a click, followed by the tiny, screeching groan of distressed metal giving way. The floor shuddered beneath their feet, and the lights went dark. A small, round railing circled the elevator, halfway between floor and ceiling. Aya, acting on instinct more than anything else, freed his hands to grab for this support as he heard the ear-splitting squeal of metal grating against metal. It was a hideous noise, and it filled the small space around them -- thousands of nails running down thousands of chalkboards. Yohji looked up in response to the cacophony, wild-eyed with panic as he, too, grabbed for the railing.
The elevator shuddered again, and then jerked to a stop with enough force that Aya slammed into the wall behind him. Yohji's weight crashed down on top of Aya, pinning him against the wall and forcing the breath from his lungs in one long huff that made him feel lightheaded and sick to his stomach. Aya managed to stay on his feet, thanks to the death grip he had on the railing. But his head smacked against the wall, and he felt a jolt of pain through his arms and back as the elevator came to a stuttering stop somewhere between the eighth and ninth floors. Aya might not have thought so at the time, but he had been lucky during the car bombing. He had walked away with a lot of bad bruises and a concussion, which even he had grudgingly acknowledged to be a minor miracle. Now, Aya felt anything but miraculous as he saw bright flashes of light, his vision dimmed at the edges, and he felt every one of his still-unhealed injuries scream out in pain and protest.
The back up lights clicked on, and, for several seconds after the shriek of the emergency brakes had died out, it seemed as if the entire world had ground to a halt. As if there was nothing in the universe but him and Yohji and this demonic pain that threatened to eat him alive and made breathing a serious challenge. Aya drew in one shuddering breath, then another. By the third, he felt normal enough to think that, maybe, he was going to survive this incident, too, and he opened his eyes to find Yohji's worried expression peering at him. Yohji's sunglasses had gotten knocked askew during the jolting ride, and the effect was so comical that Aya might have laughed, if the very idea of doing so hadn't caused him pain.
Yohji frowned down at Aya as he tried to decide whether or not Aya was all right. His arms were sore from bracing against the railing, but Yohji knew he had been lucky. He hadn't gotten knocked around during the elevator's sliding fall because Aya's body had cushioned him, taking the brunt of both the sudden, jolting stop and Yohji's uncontrolled reaction to it. Yohji couldn't help but wish it had been the other way around. Aya was still hurting from the car bomb; he would never admit it, and he had tried hard to hide it, but they had all noticed Aya was far from his usual self. Now, Aya's skin had a sickly, gray pallor to it, and Yohji felt Aya's body trembling beneath him. He knew better than to think it was from their all-too-brief moment of passion. Once he felt confident the elevator wouldn't move again, he levered himself up and away from Aya, relieving some of the pressure and weight on Aya's body. Aya nodded his gratitude, and Yohji was relieved to see a little color return to his face as Aya managed to drag in a couple of deep, shuddering breaths.
"You all right?" Yohji asked, pushing his sunglasses up and back into place.
Aya nodded again, and shoved himself away from the wall. He stumbled a little, but Yohji caught him and hung on to him until he regained his balance. Once he felt confident he could stand on his own without falling, Aya pushed away from Yohji, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions in the other man's eyes. He saw a combination of guilt and intense desire there, and Aya didn't want to think about either of those. He also didn't want to think about what had just happened between them -- again. The rational part of his brain was solidly in control once more, as if the elevator's emergency lights had cast everything into harsh relief so that he could see the reality and futility of the whole situation. But if he stared into Yohji's eyes for too long, Aya didn't know where it would lead. That scared him. Or, maybe he knew exactly where it would lead, which scared him even more. So he did what he did best. He ran away, even though he hated himself for doing it.
"How long do you think the emergency brake will hold?" Aya asked, his voice hoarse and rough with unspoken emotion as he forced his gaze away from Yohji's too-expressive eyes.
Yohji sighed and cursed under his breath over Fate's piss-poor timing. He couldn't believe he was going to have to go through this whole sack of emotional shit all over again -- for a while, if the shuttered, purposefully emotionless expression in Aya's eyes was any indication. He looked up to find Aya watching him, once more trying to pretend things were normal and that they hadn't just tried to suck out each other's tonsils. Aya wanted an answer. If he was to remain sane, Aya needed an answer, so instead of the million and one things Yohji wanted to say, he shrugged and replied, "Probably not long. This elevator is older than hell, from the looks of it."
Aya nodded his agreement, relieved that Yohji was going to play along with the "it's all good" charade. Or, maybe it was just a factor of having a common, more immediate problem on which to focus. Whatever the reason, Aya decided to run with it.
"We need to get out of here," he said.
He was careful to keep his voice neutral as he mentally cursed the memory of Yohji's hands on his body and Yohji's mouth pressed to his. Even now, in what could quickly become a dangerous situation, the images that flashed through his mind were enough to conjure up the familiar, burning heat that started somewhere behind his belly and raced to settle in his groin. Aya forced his brain to think arousal-destroying thoughts, like focusing on the fact that they could plunge to their deaths at any moment.
"No arguments here," Yohji agreed, apparently oblivious to Aya's distress, which earned him a narrow-eyed glare of irritation from his partner. He gestured toward a small safety hatch in the ceiling as he added, "I'll give you a boost, then you pull me up. Can you pull me up?"
"Yeah," Aya said, without hesitation.
He forced himself to sound confident -- not because he was certain he could haul Yohji's weight out of the elevator. He wasn't. If he had been a hundred percent, there would have been no doubt of it, but Aya was injured and hurting. The alternative -- that he would leave Yohji in a precariously dangling elevator while he went to get help -- was unthinkable. Somehow, he would get Yohji through the hatch, even if he killed himself trying. He glanced over to find Yohji watching him with an expression of disbelief written across his features.
But Yohji didn't express any of his doubts. Instead, he nodded and silently knelt down, cupping his hands. Aya stepped into them and did his best to balance during the few seconds it took for Yohji to boost him up to the ceiling. He fumbled with the latch on the safety door. It was rusted and didn't want to open. For a sick, sinking moment, Aya thought they would be trapped, but he held his breath, said a silent prayer, and gave the lock one final shove with the heel of his hand. He grimaced as he felt the metal slice into his palm, but the latch gave with a creaking groan. Aya pushed the hatch out of the way as Yohji lifted him a little higher, so that he could grab the edges of the opening. He groaned as he pulled himself through the hatch, kicking the empty air below him for momentum and extra leverage. After what felt like an eternal few seconds, Aya managed to get a knee against the side of the opening, and then he was all the way through, panting from exertion as he lay flat on the elevator's roof and tried to catch his breath.
He couldn't rest for long. He had a bad feeling about this, and, if he had learned one thing from his years in Weiss, it was that he should always follow his gut instincts. Especially when they were connected to the kind of bad feeling that sent your stomach plummeting down to lurk somewhere just above your ankles. He stood up, finding it harder than he had expected to catch his balance. The elevator shaft loomed above him like a great, gaping maw -- a blackness that had swallowed all the shadows around it. The darkness and size of it disoriented him, and Aya felt the sudden, sickening lurch of vertigo as the universe seemed to tilt and slide around him. He stumbled, tripping over cables and machinery, but he closed his eyes and tried to force down the surge of panic that had welled up inside him. He took a deep breath, then another, and told his racing heart to slow down. He reminded himself that he had been in worse spots than this, and everything would be all right. Aya wasn't sure if he believed it or not, but the mental pep talk had its desired effect. When he looked again, he found the disoriented feeling had subsided, and his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, so that the darkness didn't seem quite as complete or menacing. He lay down on top of the elevator again, this time dangling his arms and head into the car.
"Okay. Ready," he said, holding his hands out to Yohji.
Aya had expected it to hurt. He thought he had prepared himself for it, but, as he pulled and tugged Yohji through the hatch, he realized nothing could have been further from the truth. The pain was nearly unimaginable, and Aya felt every muscle and nerve ending in his body scream out in protest as Yohji's weight dangled from his arms. He was battered and bruised. He was tired. His palm was bloody and slippery. He felt Yohji's hand slipping from his grip. But Aya didn't think about any of that. If he had thought about it, he would have given up, and giving up wasn't an option. Instead, he gritted his teeth and pulled for all he was worth, until Yohji managed to grasp the side of the hatch. Aya slumped down to sit next to the opening as Yohji levered himself up onto the roof, much as Aya had done several moments earlier.
"Fuck, it's dark in here," Yohji muttered, his voice hoarse as he tried to catch his breath. "You all right?" he asked, glancing over at Aya, who sat nearby with his arm resting across his knees and his head bowed. He frowned when Aya gave him a weak nod. "You sure? Can you make it the rest of the way?" He glanced down at the dark smear across his hand, and added, "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing. Just a small cut," Aya said.
He forced himself to his feet, moving a lot slower than he would have liked, and began picking his way around cables and over some of the smaller levers and pulleys.
"Watch your step," he cautioned as he continued to move toward the edge of the roof.
"Yes, Mom. Maybe you should watch out for yourself instead of worrying about me," Yohji said, sticking his tongue out at Aya.
Normally, the action would have earned him a glare of irritation, but Aya chose to ignore him this time. Yohji wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but he tried not to think about it as he followed Aya across the roof.
The shaft was dark, but Yohji found moving wasn't too difficult once his eyesight adjusted. He almost laughed under his breath as he thought about how his night job was coming in handy right now. It wasn't his first time in an elevator shaft, and he was used to working in the dark. He stepped around wires, levers, pulleys, and other equipment with ease, seeing their shapes outlined as bulky shadows against the softer darkness of the elevator shaft.
Aya wanted to be out of here immediately, if not sooner. He didn't like the way the space around him felt. The darkness wasn't absolute, but it had a menacing, almost ominous feeling to it. Aya couldn't place its source, but the sensations pressed in on him, so overwhelming and oppressive that he couldn't ignore them. It made him think things he didn't want to think, like how his car had blown up two weeks ago and, now, he ended up trapped in an elevator with screechy brakes that seemed ready to fail at any moment. Aya shook his head, doing his best to dismiss the runaway thoughts. Later, he could sit down and ponder over how these seemingly disparate events meshed together. Because he was certain they would; Aya did not believe in coincidences.
And then there was the whole thing with Yohji. Aya's eyes narrowed in a frown of irritation and he cursed under his breath as he thought about how stupid he had been. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn't he left well enough alone? Why hadn't he told Yohji to back off? Why was he thinking about this, even now, when there were other, more pressing concerns -- like getting the hell out of Dodge before he and Yohji both plunged to their very messy deaths?
The elevator shuddered beneath him, and he heard the unmistakable screech of distressed metal. Aya felt the roof beneath his feet jerk, and he stopped walking, waiting until the motion ceased. He held his breath, wind milling his arms in an effort to keep his balance and praying the brakes would hold for a little longer. Just one more minute. Surely, Fate could spare him that much favor, couldn't she?
The shaking stopped, and Aya spared a moment to glance behind him to see how Yohji was faring. Yohji looked shaken and pale and none too happy about their current situation. But he winked over the top of his sunglasses and gave Aya a teasing smile, as if to say things weren't all that bad. Aya shook his head and smiled back. He couldn't help it. It was such a "Yohji" thing to do; if anyone could sit at the edge of forever and look their own doom in the face with a smile, it was Yohji. Satisfied his partner was behind him and, at least for the moment, okay, Aya moved on. He walked quickly and tried to think light thoughts as he closed in on the edge of the elevator roof, which was within arm's reach of the safety ladder built into the shaft. Finally, he was there, staring up at the ladder set in the wall above him. He could just see the metal edges of the rungs outlined by the soft glow from around the crack in the door that would open out onto the next floor.
Aya stopped at the edge and waited for Yohji, who was a step behind, to catch up. Yohji was panting, and his face glistened with sweat. Aya couldn't tell if this was from exertion or the nerve-wracking tension of their predicament. Within seconds, Yohji stood behind him, close enough that Aya felt Yohji's breath against his skin as Yohji stepped across the last pulley and stopped no more than a hand's breadth away. Even under these circumstances, it sent a shiver down Aya's spine, although he did his best to push the thoughts from his mind. He had more important things to focus on right now. Like getting out of here alive, he reminded himself, when the elevator shuddered again and he heard another strangled screech from the emergency brakes.
"Can you reach it?" Yohji asked, nodding toward the nearest rung on the ladder.
Aya nodded, but he didn't reach for it right away. Instead, he turned toward Yohji and said, "You should go first."
It was a dumb move. Even as the words left his mouth, Aya knew that. They didn't have time to stand here and debate this, and it didn't matter who went first, as long as they both got out of here alive. But, all the same, Aya wanted to know Yohji was all right. He wanted the assurance of seeing Yohji on the ladder, and it was important enough that he was willing to stop and argue about it.
Yohji frowned at him and shook his head. "No, you go."
The stubborn set of Aya's facial expression and the way he lifted his chin up, just a little, told Yohji Aya was all set to argue over this. To the death, if necessary -- the man was that stubborn. Unfortunately, in this situation, it very well could be to the death. The brakes' whining screech was almost constant now, and Yohji had a sinking feeling that told him the elevator was going to fall at any moment. He took a deep breath and tried to cut off Aya's argument with reason and logic.
"We don't have time for this. What're you going to do? Stand here and argue with me until we both fall? You're already there, so just go on. Get on the damn ladder and let's get the hell out of here," Yohji urged.
Aya's eyes narrowed in an irritated scowl, but Yohji was relieved that he chose not to argue. Instead, he reached for the ladder, pulling himself up onto it. Yohji stepped forward. He had to wait for Aya to climb up a short distance before he could get onto the ladder, too, but he wanted to be ready. He didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.
Just as Aya's foot hit the nearest step, the elevator jerked and shuddered again. The action was so violent that Aya felt it reverberate through the metal rung beneath his hand. The brakes gave one last, dying screech before giving way, and Aya glanced back in time to see the elevator plunge out from underneath Yohji.
Everything was over in a split second, but, in that stomach-churning way Fate has of teasing and torturing mankind, Aya felt as if the whole incident played out in slow motion. He saw the startled, terrified expression in Yohji's eyes, just visible above the lenses of his sunglasses. He saw the way the elevator lurched and tumbled, nearly knocking Yohji off balance. He saw the way Yohji's hair flew up and out, just a little, carried by the breeze from the elevator's sudden descent. He saw Yohji's mouth open, as if to cry out, but there was no time. It was all happening too quickly for words.
Without thinking, Aya leaned out, away from the ladder, and grabbed for Yohji, desperately trying to clutch at anything within reach. He held himself in place with one hand as his other arm and hand flailed through empty air, blindly trying to find Yohji in time to pull him to safety. He felt his stomach clench with dread for the first sick, tense seconds, as he found nothing. Then, with a savage thrill of triumph, he closed on the sleeve of Yohji's shirt and felt Yohji's hand grip his wrist, solidifying the hold.
The elevator fell away beneath them. Within moments, the darkness had swallowed it up, although Aya and Yohji heard the ear-splitting screech of metal against metal as it tumbled down the shaft, followed by a thunderous, crunching crash when it came to rest on the building's bottom floor. The wind from its passage howled through the shaft, buffeting them with dust and small pieces of debris, and Aya looked down, his gaze locking with Yohji's as Yohji dangled precariously over the endless darkness below them.
Yohji's sunglasses had fallen off, and his face looked naked and strange without the ever-present accessory. Yohji looked young, vulnerable, and fragile. For an instant, Aya wondered if it was because of the missing shades. Yohji was scared; Aya could read the emotion in his eyes as easily as reading a page from a book. Aya tried to tell Yohji everything would be all right. He wanted to tell Yohji he wouldn't let him fall, that he would never let him go. But he couldn't find the words. His heart hammered against his ribs in a crazy, staccato tap dance of panic, and he couldn't hear himself think above the noise of the blood rushing through his ears. Yohji had come within inches of falling. Of dying. Once the thought materialized and took hold in his mind, Aya's panic increased. He wanted to scream and curse and cry and look for a nice, safe hiding place. But all he could do for the moment was hold on. It took all his energy just to keep breathing and to not let Yohji fall.
Aya's back and shoulders ached. Not the dull, persistent throb he had become used to in the time since the car bombing. This was an active, vindictive pain. The kind of pain that wanted to devour him alive, from the inside out. He had read about how criminals in medieval times were sometimes pulled apart by horses as a punishment. He had thought it a particularly gruesome and terrible way to die, and, now, he felt as if he was experiencing it first-hand. It was every bit as horrible as he had imagined. All the while, he felt his sweat-slick hand slipping on the ladder rung that was their only hope for salvation. He couldn't hang on. It hurt too much, and the metal was wet and slippery beneath his skin. And yet, he had to hang on. He tried to swing Yohji in toward the wall, but he didn't have enough strength left to do it. Instead, he gritted his teeth and held on as he felt Yohji scramble through the air in a bid for safety. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before Yohji's free arm, flailing through the empty air around him, brought him close enough so that he could grab the ladder. Aya felt the weight and pull on his arm and back ease and then disappear as Yohji clambered onto the steps below him.
For several long moments, Aya clung to the ladder, wrapping both arms around it and hugging it to him like a safety blanket. He was exhausted and shaking from panic and the crazy rush of adrenaline that had surged through his body. He was so relieved that he wanted to cry. And he wasn't sure he had the energy or strength to climb the rest of the way up to the nearest floor. No. He could make it. He would make it. Yohji always said he was the most stubborn son of a bitch ever to walk the earth, and Aya figured some of that stubbornness would come in handy right about now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to climb, thinking of nothing more than reaching for the next rung on the ladder. It was slow going, and he was almost stupidly happy when he made it to the door that would give them access to the ninth floor and freedom.
Luckily, the latch securing the doors wasn't rusted closed. Aya tripped it easily and slid them open with a low grunt of effort. He pulled himself up over the edge and through the doors, collapsing on the carpet a few feet away. It was brown with red and orange speckles. On any other day, Aya would have thought it a serious error in judgment. Or, maybe he would have wondered what the person who picked it out had been smoking. Today, he relished its rough, scratchy feel under his cheek and thought it was the most beautiful carpet he had ever seen. He summoned the energy to lift his head enough so that he could watch Yohji also pull himself to safety. Yohji gave him a weak wave and an even weaker smile. Aya was sure the expression was meant to be reassuring, but it missed the mark entirely. Having satisfied himself that Yohji was safe, Aya sighed and turned away again, so that his back was facing the other man.
"Damn, that was fucking close," Yohji said, letting his breath out on a long sigh of relief as he leaned against the wall next to the open doors. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. When Aya didn't reply, Yohji looked up, frowning at his partner, who lay a short distance away. "You all right?" he asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.
Aya nodded, unable to do more than that for a few seconds. Finally, he drew in a shuddering breath and said, "I'm fine. Just … hurts."
Yohji nodded, although Aya's back was to him so the gesture had no real meaning. He cursed under his breath as he thought about his sunglasses -- lost and, now, probably smashed into a million pieces at the bottom of that stupid elevator shaft. They had been his favorite pair, too. In an almost absent-minded gesture, Yohji patted at the front of his shirt, feeling for the pack of cigarettes he had stowed there that morning. His pocket was empty, which meant the pack was at the bottom of the shaft, too. He cursed under his breath again and shook his head in irritation. His hands were shaking, and he needed a smoke -- probably more than he had ever needed one in his life.
They sat in silence for what felt like a long time. Yohji jumped in surprise when Aya's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.
"It could never work," Aya said, his voice soft and almost inaudible.
"What?" Yohji asked.
He had a sinking feeling he knew all too well what Aya meant, although he wasn't sure. Or, maybe he was sure, but didn't want to be. At this point, Yohji was so twisted around that he didn't know any more.
"Us. What happened in the shop. What almost happened in the elevator," Aya said, confirming Yohji's suspicions.
Yohji felt his stomach sink, and he forced his voice to remain calm as he asked, "Why? Didn't you feel it, too? I know you felt it. Same as me."
"It doesn't matter," Aya said.
He paused as he forced himself into a sitting position, his back still facing Yohji. He could not turn around. He could not look Yohji in the eyes; if he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to do this. And it had to be done. Aya thought about how panicked he had felt when Yohji had been dangling over the gaping darkness inside that elevator shaft. He had been terrified -- not of losing his partner or a teammate. He had been terrified, specifically, of losing Yohji. And, in that instant, he had known he would do anything to make sure that didn't happen. In their business, those were dangerous feelings. Feelings that could get a person killed. And worse yet, feelings that could get a person's teammates killed.
Aya sighed as he continued, "It can't be. It can't happen. Because of who and what we are."
Yohji frowned and shook his head. "Why? Because you think I'm so sentimental and stupid that I couldn't let you go? That I would jeopardize a mission or the others to keep you safe out of my own personal feelings?"
Yohji was angry and hurt. He didn't try to hide it. His voice went up with each question, until he was practically yelling at Aya by the end. Or, at Aya's back, since Aya wouldn't turn around. Wouldn't look at him. Yohji had the irrational urge to slug Aya. Then, almost as fast, he wanted to grab Aya and crush the younger man to him in a fierce, protective hug -- to grab him and never let him go. It was confusing, and for a moment, he felt his anger lessen as part of his mind debated over which course of action was preferable.
"No," Aya said. He pulled himself to his feet, using a nearby wall for support. "It wouldn't work because that's what I would do. Because I'm the one who can't let go. Who wouldn't let you go. No matter what the cost."
His voice was quiet, and Yohji could hear the pain threading through the words. Aya's voice nearly broke at the end, and Yohji knew the admission took every ounce of courage and strength Aya had -- in more ways than one. Having said his piece, Aya walked away. His pace was slow and faltering, and he had to use the wall for support. But he never looked back. Somehow, Yohji knew it was because he couldn't look back, although that didn't make it any easier to take.
Yohji sat in the hallway, staring at ugly brown-red-orange carpet and feeling shell-shocked and unspeakably sad. He wanted to go after Aya, and, for a few fleeting seconds, he knew he could. He could stop Aya and talk some sense into him. He could change Aya's mind. For those seconds, Yohji was convinced it was the right thing to do. But then, the moment passed and Yohji knew it was too late. Too late for him. Too late for Aya. Too late for everything.
Yohji sighed under his breath and thought about how much he really needed a smoke.
~End
Warnings: Bad language; Mild sexual situations/tension
Summary: As he tries to pick up the pieces after a near-death experience, Aya realizes he must deal with the emotions and uncertainty stemming from the kisses he and Yohji shared. Was it really "just a kiss"? Or did it mean something more?
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.
Author's Note: This is the second story set in my "Ground Zero Universe". As such, it is a follow up to the events that occurred during "Ground Zero". The stories set within this particular universe are a bit of an experiment for me. In general, I do not write shounen-ai or yaoi stories, but I decided to try and step out of that usual mold -- just a little -- with this series.
"Ground Zero" stories so far: 1. Ground Zero … 2. Freefall
"I don't want to be here," Aya muttered, the words riding out of his mouth on an irritated-sounding sigh as he leaned against a nearby wall and tried to look bored while he watched Yohji scrutinize the building's office directory.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard it all -- five hundred times in the car on the way over here. Give it a rest, already," Yohji replied. He sounded distracted because he was concentrating on the directory's tiny lettering, leaning forward so that his nose practically touched the glass as his index finger ticked off the names and office assignments until he found the right one. "Aha!" he exclaimed, turning around to give Aya a triumphant smile, "Found him. Dr. Bernard Short, office number 10A."
Aya rolled his eyes and glared. "Good work, Sherlock. But I already knew that. It's not like I haven't been here before."
"Why did you let me waste all that time looking, then?" Yohji asked, adding a little glare of his own.
Aya shrugged. "It was … entertaining," he said, smiling as he settled on just the right word.
Yohji's only answer was a muttered, "You're such a jackass," as he crossed to the elevator and stabbed at the UP button. He heard Aya chuckle and half-turned to sneer at him before returning his attention to the elevator in front of him. He watched in silence as the floors ticked down, heralding the elevator's approach: ten, nine, eight, seven, six. By the time the fifth floor button lit up, he found he couldn't keep quiet any longer. Aya was tense and unhappy -- not that those were odd emotions for Aya. Somehow, though, this was a bit more than Aya's usual brand of pissy angst. Aya had been "off" for a while now. Yohji frowned as he tried to find a better way of explaining it in his mind -- and failed. He didn't understand it, and he couldn't point to any one thing as evidence. But he knew things weren't right. Aya wasn't right. Not that it came as any big surprise. Nearly getting killed tended to do weird things to a person's psyche. Even if that person was Weiss. Even if that person was Aya. Now, Yohji could feel Aya's mood steadily deteriorating as they neared his appointment with Kritiker's psychiatrist. Aya was trying to be relaxed, like none of this mattered one bit, but Yohji wasn't fooled. Tension radiated off of Aya in waves, in spite of the forced-casual way he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and pretended not to watch the elevator dial ticking down to the ground floor.
"So, what's he like, anyhow?" Yohji asked, attempting to break the tension by grasping at the first topic of conversation that crossed his mind. He glanced over in time to catch the eyebrows-raised, questioning look Aya shot at him, and followed up with, "Dr. Bernard Short."
Aya sighed and shrugged as he pushed away from the wall and crossed the floor to stand next to Yohji. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder without speaking for several seconds. Yohji shivered at the close contact and tried not to look sideways at his partner. It had been a little over two weeks since Aya's car had blown up -- with him nearly in it -- although Yohji thought of it more as the "kissing Aya and having Aya kiss him back" incident. Times two. He had tried not to think about it. He had tried really, really hard, but it was no use. The more he resolved not to think about it, the more it haunted him: the memory of Aya's lips against his, the soft, clean tastes and scents that were so typically "Aya", the way Aya's body had pressed into his during the second kiss. And, more than that, the way he had not wanted the moment to end. Ever.
It hadn't had any outward effect on their relationship. At least Yohji didn't think it had. Okay, scratch that. He hoped it hadn't. He had worked hard at keeping things normal between them -- or at least as "normal" as life had ever been. He had tried to act as if nothing had happened. As far as he knew, Omi and Ken had no idea he and Aya had kissed. Twice, his traitorous mind reminded him. And he and Aya had not discussed it since the second kiss that day in the shop. It seemed Aya wanted things this way. Aya wanted things to be the same; he wanted the simple, easy, give-and-take they had developed over the years to remain unchanged. Yohji understood that. After all, they had fought pretty hard to get to where they were. At the same time, he could not stop thinking about the kisses. He could not stop thinking about the heat he had felt in those endless moments. There had been something there. Some extra feeling that had taken him by surprise. He was willing to bet Aya had felt it, too, which was something else Yohji could not stop thinking about. And he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he wanted to do it all again. Soon.
"He's … short," Aya said, unable to choke back the little snicker at the tail end of the words.
His voice was quiet, but it cut through Yohji's thoughts, making him jump in surprise. He hadn't expected an answer, considering the mood Aya was in, and … Wait a minute? Was Aya -- snickering? That was bizarre -- enough so that Yohji felt uncomfortable, as if the universe had just tilted on its axis or something. Yohji shook his head and tried to ignore the snicker. Maybe he had imagined it. Yeah, that was it. He had imagined it. He felt a lot better about things once his mind supplied a handy explanation for Aya's weirdness.
"What are you talking about?" Yohji asked.
"Dr. Short. He's … you know, short," Aya said, snickering again.
He glanced up to find Yohji giving him A Look. It was the kind of expression that didn't need words to ask if Aya had been drinking. The kind of look that had decided, all on its own, that he had not only been drinking, but that he had lost his mind. Aya shrugged and tried to stop laughing under his breath. It was almost impossible. Dr. Bernard Short was one of Kritiker's pet psychiatrists. The organization had imported him from somewhere and set him up in practice here in Tokyo. Aya had no idea where he was from, and he didn't care. But the fact that the doctor, at around five feet tall, was -- as his name implied -- short, had never failed to amuse Aya. So much so that he had trouble keeping a straight face when he was in Dr. Short's presence. He did try, though. He figured it was a bad idea to let a psychiatrist hear you laughing too much.
"You are so fucking weird," Yohji muttered, shaking his head.
Aya opened his mouth for the perfect comeback, but the elevator's ding, heralding its arrival, interrupted him. Aya glared in response to Yohji's muttered, "Saved by the bell," and followed him inside.
As the doors slid closed, Aya almost wished they had skipped the elevator and taken the stairs. Dr. Short's office was in one of Tokyo's older buildings, and the elevator was slow. At the moment, Aya couldn't help but wonder if it was also the smallest elevator in the universe. He hadn't realized it the last time he was here, but, of course, he had been alone then, having managed to sneak away from the Koneko before anyone had noticed. This time, Yohji was with him, and he was very aware of the fact there was hardly enough room for the two of them to move in this miniscule space. He couldn't help noticing Yohji's cologne, which was an odd, slightly musky mixture with woody undertones. It smelled good, although Aya quickly shoved his brain away from that thought. He was acutely attuned to the feeling of Yohji's body bumping up against his -- not that Yohji did it on purpose. It couldn't be helped in such a small space, and Aya took a deep, shuddering breath as he forced his mind to focus on the number readout above the door. Maybe, if he watched it hard enough, the elevator would move faster and the floors would tick by more quickly. And if that happened, he wouldn't have to think about how good Yohji smelled, or how they had kissed -- and how stupid he had been to let it happen. Well, the first time hadn't been his fault, but the second time … yeah, that was all on him. He especially wouldn't have to think about how, maybe, he wanted to try doing the whole thing all over again. Aya frowned as the light above the door dinged onto the number three. Would he survive all the way to the tenth floor? Was it just his imagination, or was it hot in here? Aya sighed and risked a sideways glance at Yohji. He felt a little chagrined at Yohji's casual posture -- almost slouching, with his hands in his pockets, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Clearly, Yohji hadn't given the kisses a second thought. That was a good thing, Aya told himself. Wasn't it?
"I don't see why I have to do this, anyhow," Aya muttered, almost under his breath.
"You're kidding, right? Someone blew up your car," Yohji said.
Aya sighed. "I know. I was there, remember?"
"Even more reason why you should do this, then," Yohji replied, his tone of voice matter-of-fact. He paused for a moment to stare into Aya's eyes before he continued, "You almost died, Aya."
Aya felt his heart beat faster when their gazes locked. For a second or two, he wondered if Yohji could hear it. The elevator was so small, how could he not? But he forced his voice into something approaching a normal tone, shrugging and trying to look nonchalant as he said, "Omi's the one who freaked out. Not me. I was unconscious most of the time."
Yohji didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he rolled his eyes and shook his head with a disgusted sigh.
"Yeah, I know," Aya muttered, "Stupid thing to say."
"Not one of your better moments, my friend," Yohji agreed. He was quiet for a couple of seconds before adding, "Besides, Omi's had his fair share of counseling, too."
"I know," Aya said.
They stared at the blinking lights above the door as the number four lit up, followed a minute later by the five. Aya wondered if he would go insane before this cursed elevator reached the tenth floor. Normally, he would have welcomed the silence. But in these close confines and feeling almost unbearably aware of Yohji's presence, Aya realized he couldn't take it.
"Why are you here, anyhow?" he asked, wincing as the question came out sounding like an accusation. He hadn't meant it that way, and he hoped Yohji would understand. Or, at the very least, that Yohji wouldn't rise to the occasion. He did not want to fight. Not right now.
Luckily, Yohji seemed willing to ignore Aya's tone. He shrugged and said, "Well, you needed a ride, right? You don't have a car."
Aya's eyes narrowed in an irritated expression. The loss of his car still rankled -- a lot more than he liked to admit. He knew, in the grand scheme of things, it should not be such a big deal. After all, he was alive and so was Omi. Still, he had loved that car. And he hated losing it that way. Hated it like hell.
"I could have taken a cab. That's what I did last time," Aya said. He tried to hide the petulant tone in his voice, but he didn't succeed.
Yohji gave Aya a sneering sort of smirk. He didn't want to start a fight, but he couldn't help it; the statement had been such a typical "Aya" response. Pissy to the extreme, and making it sound like Yohji had done something wrong, just because he had offered Aya a ride. He knew Aya didn't mean it that way, but it didn't make it any easier to take. He decided to let the jibe go, attributing Aya's pissiness to being unhappy about the doctor's appointment. Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to admit -- even to himself -- the real reasons behind why he had insisted on driving Aya today. It started with a lingering fear over having found Aya nearly buried under burning rubble -- something that still gave him nightmares, thank you very much. And it went from there to the haunting memory of their two kisses, eventually leading to a place in Yohji's mind where he wasn't sure he wanted to let Aya out of his sight, ever again. It was irrational. And more than that, it was stupid. Yohji knew that, but it didn't change the way he felt. So, instead of arguing, Yohji decided to change the subject.
"Any news on the car front?" he asked.
Aya frowned, a little confused and surprised by Yohji's abrupt change in tone and subject matter. It took his brain a few seconds to catch up, but, eventually, he sighed and said, "Not really. Kritiker will replace the car. They didn't even make that much of a stink about it. I just have to find something I like, which is proving to be more difficult than I had expected."
Yohji laughed, giving Aya a wink and a teasing smile as he said, "Could it be that you're a little too picky?"
Aya replied with a mock growl before shrugging in agreement and saying, "Yeah. Maybe. But you didn't hear that from me." He paused for a moment, smiling at Yohji's amusement over the sudden admission, before adding, "They're getting me a rental, though. Probably sometime next week, so I won't have to cab it any more. Or get rides from you." Yohji had turned back to watch the display over the door slowly click up another floor, and Aya stuck his tongue out at Yohji's back.
"I saw that, you shit," Yohji said, a teasing tone in his voice.
"Good," Aya replied.
He sounded smug and a little harsh, but he couldn't help smiling. He liked hearing that tiny touch of laughter in Yohji's voice. It was almost like things were back to normal between the two of them. Almost as soon as the thought formed in his mind, Aya felt sad. Things weren't normal. Maybe things wouldn't be back to normal ever, and it was his fault. The first kiss had been a fluke -- something borne from Yohji's panicked emotions during a stressful and frightening time. Aya understood that. It didn't mean Yohji had any feelings for him. But the second kiss … That had been a mistake. Aya realized it now. He had intended it as a sort of tit for tat. A way of putting things right because of the weird way Yohji had acted. It hadn't worked out that way. Aya frowned as he thought about how they might have laughed it off -- eventually -- if he had let things go with the first kiss. But now, he was stuck wondering and remembering the heat he had felt during their second one. Had he imagined it? Had Yohji felt it, too? Aya cursed under his breath and shook his head, doing his best to force the unwanted thoughts out of his mind. It didn't matter. The situation was impossible, and that was that.
"We really need to talk about it," Yohji said.
His voice was low and so quiet Aya almost believed he had imagined it. Almost -- except for the fact that, somehow, Yohji seemed to have read his mind.
"I don't see why," Aya said. He didn't bother asking what Yohji meant. He already knew.
All this time, Yohji had been standing a little in front of him, closer to the door, while Aya lurked near the elevator's back wall. Aya saw Yohji's back stiffen in reaction to his statement, and he realized his comment had cut Yohji. Or, maybe it had been the casual, off-hand tone in his voice. Either way, Aya was surprised. He had believed the incident was over and done with, from Yohji's perspective. Almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, Aya mentally kicked himself for it. It hadn't been over and done with for him; he had thought about those moments over and over again since they had happened. He had been stupid to think Yohji would have dismissed it so easily, but there was that part of him that believed no one could care for him. That what had happened between the two of them had been a fluke and nothing more, because Yohji couldn't possibly care about him like that. And even more than that, that it had been a fluke because of who and what they were.
"You haven't thought about it?" Yohji asked. He didn't turn around to look at Aya. He continued to face forward, keeping his eyes glued to the blinking lights above the elevator door as the number seven lit up, but he could not hide the tension in his voice. "You haven't thought about it at all?"
"No," Aya said, not because it was the truth, but because it was what he knew he should say. He hated himself even as the word left his mouth.
Aya wasn't prepared for what happened next. Yohji whirled on him, moving cat-quick and with a fluid grace that didn't seem possible from his lanky body. He closed the tiny distance between them in a fraction of a second, and leaned in close. He braced his weight against his hands, which he placed, palms down, on the wall on either side of Aya's head. Before he could react, Aya found himself staring into Yohji's green eyes. They peered at Aya over the tops of Yohji's ever-present sunglasses, spearing him with one of the most intense expressions he had ever seen. Aya felt a sudden surge of heat somewhere near his groin, and his face flushed at the same time that his throat went dry. He swallowed, hard, and tried to pretend he didn't feel anything.
"Seriously?" Yohji asked. His voice was nothing more than a whisper. He leaned closer, so that they were nose-to-nose and his breath seemed to caress Aya's skin, sending shivers down Aya's spine. "You've never thought about that day? About how it felt, being this close? You've never thought about, maybe, doing it all again? Because I have. I think about it all the damn time. Even when I don't want to think about it. And I think you felt the same things I did."
As he spoke, Yohji continued to lean in, and, as his words trailed to a halt, his lips brushed against Aya's mouth. It was a soft, gentle touch. More of an inquiry than a demand. Instinctively, Aya knew he could end this right here and right now. Yohji wasn't a person who took something unless it was freely offered. If he said no, or if he pushed Yohji away, that would be the end of it.
But he didn't. There was a little part of his mind that was still rational, and it jumped up and down, screaming at him to make this stop, yelling about what a mistake this was. It was wrong. It was monumentally stupid. Instead, Aya ignored all of that and tossed his better judgment aside as he gave in to his baser instincts and opened his mouth under Yohji's gentle urging.
The response was immediate and intense: a wild frenzy of lips pressed to lips, tongues tangled together, and bodies crushing against each other as Aya reached out, hooking his fingers through Yohji's belt loops and pulling Yohji closer to him as the wave of emotion from their passionate, wild kiss swept over him. In that moment, Aya knew, no matter how hard he pulled Yohji to him, no matter how much he tried to hold onto the other man, he would never get enough of this. Of the feeling of Yohji's body pressed against his, of the flavor of Yohji's kiss -- tobacco and coffee and this mint gum Yohji loved to chew, all mingled together -- and of the touch of Yohji's lips against his. The thought was frightening, and Aya reacted by deepening the kiss with an almost savage sense of need.
He and Yohji both pressed forward, exploring every sensation, taste, and scent as if they could never get enough of each other, and riding the tide of emotions stemming from their ever-deepening kiss. Yohji's hands tangled in Aya's hair, tilting his head back slightly. As Aya pulled him forward, Yohji pressed into Aya's body, pinning him against the wall. Aya's heart thudded away in his chest, beating so hard that it was almost painful, and he thought, surely, Yohji could hear it, too. He moaned -- a low sound filled with pleasure -- as Yohji's tongue slowly licked across his teeth and stroked the inside of his mouth. And he smiled through their shared kiss as Yohji echoed the sound moments later, when Aya returned the favor.
Yohji's hands moved from Aya's hair. They caressed his neck before sliding down and over his chest. The day had been warm enough that Aya had opted to wear a t-shirt, and Yohji reveled in the feeling of Aya's body under his hands. He took his time, exploring every muscular contour as his hands slid across Aya's chest and over his abdomen. He shivered in pleasure as he felt Aya's hands move, too -- sliding up from his waist and under his shirt to caress the warm skin on his back. Aya had never struck him as a particularly tactile or sensuous person, but it seemed Aya was enjoying the feeling of his body just as much as he enjoyed Aya's.
Yohji settled one hand on Aya's hip, and the other continued its leisurely journey downward, until it finally met Aya's hand. Their fingers intertwined, crushing against each other with the heat of the moment as Yohji broke their kiss and moved aside, nipping and kissing along Aya's neck and across to the little hollow between his collarbone and shoulder.
Once more, the tiny voice of reason told Aya to stop this. It could never work. But, again, Aya ignored it. He didn't want this to stop. He made a strangled, whining noise -- something caught between pleasure and need -- in response to Yohji's efforts as he twisted around to give Yohji better access. Aya threaded his free hand into Yohji's hair and gently guided Yohji's nipping kisses to the most sensitive spots on his neck and collar bone -- the places that made his breath come in harsh, ragged pants and his vision tunnel down to almost nothing as he focused on the sensations rampaging through his body and mind.
He had never been with a man. He had never wanted to be with a man. He had never even thought about it, and he had no idea how it worked. But, right now, he didn't care about any of that. This was different. This was irresistibly and perfectly right. This was Yohji. Yohji was part of Aya's world. He was part of what kept Aya alive and kicking every day, and part of what made surviving Kritiker and Weiss seem like something to hope for, instead of a horrible nightmare. Yohji was home and sanity and safety and most of the good things Aya had hoped to have in his life. Somehow, all of this clicked into place so that it made complete and absolute sense in Aya's mind. It felt right, even as the tiny, rational part of his brain continued to screech out that it could never work, that they were doomed from the beginning. None of that mattered. Right now, Aya was more than willing to take what Yohji offered. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to be rational or right. He wanted to let go. He wanted to let himself free fall into the passion and heat that threatened to overwhelm him.
And he would have, if Fate hadn't chosen that moment to toss a bucket of cold water on their party. There was a small noise, almost inaudible beneath the sound of Aya's and Yohji's panted moans of pleasure -- a click, followed by the tiny, screeching groan of distressed metal giving way. The floor shuddered beneath their feet, and the lights went dark. A small, round railing circled the elevator, halfway between floor and ceiling. Aya, acting on instinct more than anything else, freed his hands to grab for this support as he heard the ear-splitting squeal of metal grating against metal. It was a hideous noise, and it filled the small space around them -- thousands of nails running down thousands of chalkboards. Yohji looked up in response to the cacophony, wild-eyed with panic as he, too, grabbed for the railing.
The elevator shuddered again, and then jerked to a stop with enough force that Aya slammed into the wall behind him. Yohji's weight crashed down on top of Aya, pinning him against the wall and forcing the breath from his lungs in one long huff that made him feel lightheaded and sick to his stomach. Aya managed to stay on his feet, thanks to the death grip he had on the railing. But his head smacked against the wall, and he felt a jolt of pain through his arms and back as the elevator came to a stuttering stop somewhere between the eighth and ninth floors. Aya might not have thought so at the time, but he had been lucky during the car bombing. He had walked away with a lot of bad bruises and a concussion, which even he had grudgingly acknowledged to be a minor miracle. Now, Aya felt anything but miraculous as he saw bright flashes of light, his vision dimmed at the edges, and he felt every one of his still-unhealed injuries scream out in pain and protest.
The back up lights clicked on, and, for several seconds after the shriek of the emergency brakes had died out, it seemed as if the entire world had ground to a halt. As if there was nothing in the universe but him and Yohji and this demonic pain that threatened to eat him alive and made breathing a serious challenge. Aya drew in one shuddering breath, then another. By the third, he felt normal enough to think that, maybe, he was going to survive this incident, too, and he opened his eyes to find Yohji's worried expression peering at him. Yohji's sunglasses had gotten knocked askew during the jolting ride, and the effect was so comical that Aya might have laughed, if the very idea of doing so hadn't caused him pain.
Yohji frowned down at Aya as he tried to decide whether or not Aya was all right. His arms were sore from bracing against the railing, but Yohji knew he had been lucky. He hadn't gotten knocked around during the elevator's sliding fall because Aya's body had cushioned him, taking the brunt of both the sudden, jolting stop and Yohji's uncontrolled reaction to it. Yohji couldn't help but wish it had been the other way around. Aya was still hurting from the car bomb; he would never admit it, and he had tried hard to hide it, but they had all noticed Aya was far from his usual self. Now, Aya's skin had a sickly, gray pallor to it, and Yohji felt Aya's body trembling beneath him. He knew better than to think it was from their all-too-brief moment of passion. Once he felt confident the elevator wouldn't move again, he levered himself up and away from Aya, relieving some of the pressure and weight on Aya's body. Aya nodded his gratitude, and Yohji was relieved to see a little color return to his face as Aya managed to drag in a couple of deep, shuddering breaths.
"You all right?" Yohji asked, pushing his sunglasses up and back into place.
Aya nodded again, and shoved himself away from the wall. He stumbled a little, but Yohji caught him and hung on to him until he regained his balance. Once he felt confident he could stand on his own without falling, Aya pushed away from Yohji, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions in the other man's eyes. He saw a combination of guilt and intense desire there, and Aya didn't want to think about either of those. He also didn't want to think about what had just happened between them -- again. The rational part of his brain was solidly in control once more, as if the elevator's emergency lights had cast everything into harsh relief so that he could see the reality and futility of the whole situation. But if he stared into Yohji's eyes for too long, Aya didn't know where it would lead. That scared him. Or, maybe he knew exactly where it would lead, which scared him even more. So he did what he did best. He ran away, even though he hated himself for doing it.
"How long do you think the emergency brake will hold?" Aya asked, his voice hoarse and rough with unspoken emotion as he forced his gaze away from Yohji's too-expressive eyes.
Yohji sighed and cursed under his breath over Fate's piss-poor timing. He couldn't believe he was going to have to go through this whole sack of emotional shit all over again -- for a while, if the shuttered, purposefully emotionless expression in Aya's eyes was any indication. He looked up to find Aya watching him, once more trying to pretend things were normal and that they hadn't just tried to suck out each other's tonsils. Aya wanted an answer. If he was to remain sane, Aya needed an answer, so instead of the million and one things Yohji wanted to say, he shrugged and replied, "Probably not long. This elevator is older than hell, from the looks of it."
Aya nodded his agreement, relieved that Yohji was going to play along with the "it's all good" charade. Or, maybe it was just a factor of having a common, more immediate problem on which to focus. Whatever the reason, Aya decided to run with it.
"We need to get out of here," he said.
He was careful to keep his voice neutral as he mentally cursed the memory of Yohji's hands on his body and Yohji's mouth pressed to his. Even now, in what could quickly become a dangerous situation, the images that flashed through his mind were enough to conjure up the familiar, burning heat that started somewhere behind his belly and raced to settle in his groin. Aya forced his brain to think arousal-destroying thoughts, like focusing on the fact that they could plunge to their deaths at any moment.
"No arguments here," Yohji agreed, apparently oblivious to Aya's distress, which earned him a narrow-eyed glare of irritation from his partner. He gestured toward a small safety hatch in the ceiling as he added, "I'll give you a boost, then you pull me up. Can you pull me up?"
"Yeah," Aya said, without hesitation.
He forced himself to sound confident -- not because he was certain he could haul Yohji's weight out of the elevator. He wasn't. If he had been a hundred percent, there would have been no doubt of it, but Aya was injured and hurting. The alternative -- that he would leave Yohji in a precariously dangling elevator while he went to get help -- was unthinkable. Somehow, he would get Yohji through the hatch, even if he killed himself trying. He glanced over to find Yohji watching him with an expression of disbelief written across his features.
But Yohji didn't express any of his doubts. Instead, he nodded and silently knelt down, cupping his hands. Aya stepped into them and did his best to balance during the few seconds it took for Yohji to boost him up to the ceiling. He fumbled with the latch on the safety door. It was rusted and didn't want to open. For a sick, sinking moment, Aya thought they would be trapped, but he held his breath, said a silent prayer, and gave the lock one final shove with the heel of his hand. He grimaced as he felt the metal slice into his palm, but the latch gave with a creaking groan. Aya pushed the hatch out of the way as Yohji lifted him a little higher, so that he could grab the edges of the opening. He groaned as he pulled himself through the hatch, kicking the empty air below him for momentum and extra leverage. After what felt like an eternal few seconds, Aya managed to get a knee against the side of the opening, and then he was all the way through, panting from exertion as he lay flat on the elevator's roof and tried to catch his breath.
He couldn't rest for long. He had a bad feeling about this, and, if he had learned one thing from his years in Weiss, it was that he should always follow his gut instincts. Especially when they were connected to the kind of bad feeling that sent your stomach plummeting down to lurk somewhere just above your ankles. He stood up, finding it harder than he had expected to catch his balance. The elevator shaft loomed above him like a great, gaping maw -- a blackness that had swallowed all the shadows around it. The darkness and size of it disoriented him, and Aya felt the sudden, sickening lurch of vertigo as the universe seemed to tilt and slide around him. He stumbled, tripping over cables and machinery, but he closed his eyes and tried to force down the surge of panic that had welled up inside him. He took a deep breath, then another, and told his racing heart to slow down. He reminded himself that he had been in worse spots than this, and everything would be all right. Aya wasn't sure if he believed it or not, but the mental pep talk had its desired effect. When he looked again, he found the disoriented feeling had subsided, and his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, so that the darkness didn't seem quite as complete or menacing. He lay down on top of the elevator again, this time dangling his arms and head into the car.
"Okay. Ready," he said, holding his hands out to Yohji.
Aya had expected it to hurt. He thought he had prepared himself for it, but, as he pulled and tugged Yohji through the hatch, he realized nothing could have been further from the truth. The pain was nearly unimaginable, and Aya felt every muscle and nerve ending in his body scream out in protest as Yohji's weight dangled from his arms. He was battered and bruised. He was tired. His palm was bloody and slippery. He felt Yohji's hand slipping from his grip. But Aya didn't think about any of that. If he had thought about it, he would have given up, and giving up wasn't an option. Instead, he gritted his teeth and pulled for all he was worth, until Yohji managed to grasp the side of the hatch. Aya slumped down to sit next to the opening as Yohji levered himself up onto the roof, much as Aya had done several moments earlier.
"Fuck, it's dark in here," Yohji muttered, his voice hoarse as he tried to catch his breath. "You all right?" he asked, glancing over at Aya, who sat nearby with his arm resting across his knees and his head bowed. He frowned when Aya gave him a weak nod. "You sure? Can you make it the rest of the way?" He glanced down at the dark smear across his hand, and added, "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing. Just a small cut," Aya said.
He forced himself to his feet, moving a lot slower than he would have liked, and began picking his way around cables and over some of the smaller levers and pulleys.
"Watch your step," he cautioned as he continued to move toward the edge of the roof.
"Yes, Mom. Maybe you should watch out for yourself instead of worrying about me," Yohji said, sticking his tongue out at Aya.
Normally, the action would have earned him a glare of irritation, but Aya chose to ignore him this time. Yohji wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but he tried not to think about it as he followed Aya across the roof.
The shaft was dark, but Yohji found moving wasn't too difficult once his eyesight adjusted. He almost laughed under his breath as he thought about how his night job was coming in handy right now. It wasn't his first time in an elevator shaft, and he was used to working in the dark. He stepped around wires, levers, pulleys, and other equipment with ease, seeing their shapes outlined as bulky shadows against the softer darkness of the elevator shaft.
Aya wanted to be out of here immediately, if not sooner. He didn't like the way the space around him felt. The darkness wasn't absolute, but it had a menacing, almost ominous feeling to it. Aya couldn't place its source, but the sensations pressed in on him, so overwhelming and oppressive that he couldn't ignore them. It made him think things he didn't want to think, like how his car had blown up two weeks ago and, now, he ended up trapped in an elevator with screechy brakes that seemed ready to fail at any moment. Aya shook his head, doing his best to dismiss the runaway thoughts. Later, he could sit down and ponder over how these seemingly disparate events meshed together. Because he was certain they would; Aya did not believe in coincidences.
And then there was the whole thing with Yohji. Aya's eyes narrowed in a frown of irritation and he cursed under his breath as he thought about how stupid he had been. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn't he left well enough alone? Why hadn't he told Yohji to back off? Why was he thinking about this, even now, when there were other, more pressing concerns -- like getting the hell out of Dodge before he and Yohji both plunged to their very messy deaths?
The elevator shuddered beneath him, and he heard the unmistakable screech of distressed metal. Aya felt the roof beneath his feet jerk, and he stopped walking, waiting until the motion ceased. He held his breath, wind milling his arms in an effort to keep his balance and praying the brakes would hold for a little longer. Just one more minute. Surely, Fate could spare him that much favor, couldn't she?
The shaking stopped, and Aya spared a moment to glance behind him to see how Yohji was faring. Yohji looked shaken and pale and none too happy about their current situation. But he winked over the top of his sunglasses and gave Aya a teasing smile, as if to say things weren't all that bad. Aya shook his head and smiled back. He couldn't help it. It was such a "Yohji" thing to do; if anyone could sit at the edge of forever and look their own doom in the face with a smile, it was Yohji. Satisfied his partner was behind him and, at least for the moment, okay, Aya moved on. He walked quickly and tried to think light thoughts as he closed in on the edge of the elevator roof, which was within arm's reach of the safety ladder built into the shaft. Finally, he was there, staring up at the ladder set in the wall above him. He could just see the metal edges of the rungs outlined by the soft glow from around the crack in the door that would open out onto the next floor.
Aya stopped at the edge and waited for Yohji, who was a step behind, to catch up. Yohji was panting, and his face glistened with sweat. Aya couldn't tell if this was from exertion or the nerve-wracking tension of their predicament. Within seconds, Yohji stood behind him, close enough that Aya felt Yohji's breath against his skin as Yohji stepped across the last pulley and stopped no more than a hand's breadth away. Even under these circumstances, it sent a shiver down Aya's spine, although he did his best to push the thoughts from his mind. He had more important things to focus on right now. Like getting out of here alive, he reminded himself, when the elevator shuddered again and he heard another strangled screech from the emergency brakes.
"Can you reach it?" Yohji asked, nodding toward the nearest rung on the ladder.
Aya nodded, but he didn't reach for it right away. Instead, he turned toward Yohji and said, "You should go first."
It was a dumb move. Even as the words left his mouth, Aya knew that. They didn't have time to stand here and debate this, and it didn't matter who went first, as long as they both got out of here alive. But, all the same, Aya wanted to know Yohji was all right. He wanted the assurance of seeing Yohji on the ladder, and it was important enough that he was willing to stop and argue about it.
Yohji frowned at him and shook his head. "No, you go."
The stubborn set of Aya's facial expression and the way he lifted his chin up, just a little, told Yohji Aya was all set to argue over this. To the death, if necessary -- the man was that stubborn. Unfortunately, in this situation, it very well could be to the death. The brakes' whining screech was almost constant now, and Yohji had a sinking feeling that told him the elevator was going to fall at any moment. He took a deep breath and tried to cut off Aya's argument with reason and logic.
"We don't have time for this. What're you going to do? Stand here and argue with me until we both fall? You're already there, so just go on. Get on the damn ladder and let's get the hell out of here," Yohji urged.
Aya's eyes narrowed in an irritated scowl, but Yohji was relieved that he chose not to argue. Instead, he reached for the ladder, pulling himself up onto it. Yohji stepped forward. He had to wait for Aya to climb up a short distance before he could get onto the ladder, too, but he wanted to be ready. He didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.
Just as Aya's foot hit the nearest step, the elevator jerked and shuddered again. The action was so violent that Aya felt it reverberate through the metal rung beneath his hand. The brakes gave one last, dying screech before giving way, and Aya glanced back in time to see the elevator plunge out from underneath Yohji.
Everything was over in a split second, but, in that stomach-churning way Fate has of teasing and torturing mankind, Aya felt as if the whole incident played out in slow motion. He saw the startled, terrified expression in Yohji's eyes, just visible above the lenses of his sunglasses. He saw the way the elevator lurched and tumbled, nearly knocking Yohji off balance. He saw the way Yohji's hair flew up and out, just a little, carried by the breeze from the elevator's sudden descent. He saw Yohji's mouth open, as if to cry out, but there was no time. It was all happening too quickly for words.
Without thinking, Aya leaned out, away from the ladder, and grabbed for Yohji, desperately trying to clutch at anything within reach. He held himself in place with one hand as his other arm and hand flailed through empty air, blindly trying to find Yohji in time to pull him to safety. He felt his stomach clench with dread for the first sick, tense seconds, as he found nothing. Then, with a savage thrill of triumph, he closed on the sleeve of Yohji's shirt and felt Yohji's hand grip his wrist, solidifying the hold.
The elevator fell away beneath them. Within moments, the darkness had swallowed it up, although Aya and Yohji heard the ear-splitting screech of metal against metal as it tumbled down the shaft, followed by a thunderous, crunching crash when it came to rest on the building's bottom floor. The wind from its passage howled through the shaft, buffeting them with dust and small pieces of debris, and Aya looked down, his gaze locking with Yohji's as Yohji dangled precariously over the endless darkness below them.
Yohji's sunglasses had fallen off, and his face looked naked and strange without the ever-present accessory. Yohji looked young, vulnerable, and fragile. For an instant, Aya wondered if it was because of the missing shades. Yohji was scared; Aya could read the emotion in his eyes as easily as reading a page from a book. Aya tried to tell Yohji everything would be all right. He wanted to tell Yohji he wouldn't let him fall, that he would never let him go. But he couldn't find the words. His heart hammered against his ribs in a crazy, staccato tap dance of panic, and he couldn't hear himself think above the noise of the blood rushing through his ears. Yohji had come within inches of falling. Of dying. Once the thought materialized and took hold in his mind, Aya's panic increased. He wanted to scream and curse and cry and look for a nice, safe hiding place. But all he could do for the moment was hold on. It took all his energy just to keep breathing and to not let Yohji fall.
Aya's back and shoulders ached. Not the dull, persistent throb he had become used to in the time since the car bombing. This was an active, vindictive pain. The kind of pain that wanted to devour him alive, from the inside out. He had read about how criminals in medieval times were sometimes pulled apart by horses as a punishment. He had thought it a particularly gruesome and terrible way to die, and, now, he felt as if he was experiencing it first-hand. It was every bit as horrible as he had imagined. All the while, he felt his sweat-slick hand slipping on the ladder rung that was their only hope for salvation. He couldn't hang on. It hurt too much, and the metal was wet and slippery beneath his skin. And yet, he had to hang on. He tried to swing Yohji in toward the wall, but he didn't have enough strength left to do it. Instead, he gritted his teeth and held on as he felt Yohji scramble through the air in a bid for safety. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before Yohji's free arm, flailing through the empty air around him, brought him close enough so that he could grab the ladder. Aya felt the weight and pull on his arm and back ease and then disappear as Yohji clambered onto the steps below him.
For several long moments, Aya clung to the ladder, wrapping both arms around it and hugging it to him like a safety blanket. He was exhausted and shaking from panic and the crazy rush of adrenaline that had surged through his body. He was so relieved that he wanted to cry. And he wasn't sure he had the energy or strength to climb the rest of the way up to the nearest floor. No. He could make it. He would make it. Yohji always said he was the most stubborn son of a bitch ever to walk the earth, and Aya figured some of that stubbornness would come in handy right about now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to climb, thinking of nothing more than reaching for the next rung on the ladder. It was slow going, and he was almost stupidly happy when he made it to the door that would give them access to the ninth floor and freedom.
Luckily, the latch securing the doors wasn't rusted closed. Aya tripped it easily and slid them open with a low grunt of effort. He pulled himself up over the edge and through the doors, collapsing on the carpet a few feet away. It was brown with red and orange speckles. On any other day, Aya would have thought it a serious error in judgment. Or, maybe he would have wondered what the person who picked it out had been smoking. Today, he relished its rough, scratchy feel under his cheek and thought it was the most beautiful carpet he had ever seen. He summoned the energy to lift his head enough so that he could watch Yohji also pull himself to safety. Yohji gave him a weak wave and an even weaker smile. Aya was sure the expression was meant to be reassuring, but it missed the mark entirely. Having satisfied himself that Yohji was safe, Aya sighed and turned away again, so that his back was facing the other man.
"Damn, that was fucking close," Yohji said, letting his breath out on a long sigh of relief as he leaned against the wall next to the open doors. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. When Aya didn't reply, Yohji looked up, frowning at his partner, who lay a short distance away. "You all right?" he asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.
Aya nodded, unable to do more than that for a few seconds. Finally, he drew in a shuddering breath and said, "I'm fine. Just … hurts."
Yohji nodded, although Aya's back was to him so the gesture had no real meaning. He cursed under his breath as he thought about his sunglasses -- lost and, now, probably smashed into a million pieces at the bottom of that stupid elevator shaft. They had been his favorite pair, too. In an almost absent-minded gesture, Yohji patted at the front of his shirt, feeling for the pack of cigarettes he had stowed there that morning. His pocket was empty, which meant the pack was at the bottom of the shaft, too. He cursed under his breath again and shook his head in irritation. His hands were shaking, and he needed a smoke -- probably more than he had ever needed one in his life.
They sat in silence for what felt like a long time. Yohji jumped in surprise when Aya's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.
"It could never work," Aya said, his voice soft and almost inaudible.
"What?" Yohji asked.
He had a sinking feeling he knew all too well what Aya meant, although he wasn't sure. Or, maybe he was sure, but didn't want to be. At this point, Yohji was so twisted around that he didn't know any more.
"Us. What happened in the shop. What almost happened in the elevator," Aya said, confirming Yohji's suspicions.
Yohji felt his stomach sink, and he forced his voice to remain calm as he asked, "Why? Didn't you feel it, too? I know you felt it. Same as me."
"It doesn't matter," Aya said.
He paused as he forced himself into a sitting position, his back still facing Yohji. He could not turn around. He could not look Yohji in the eyes; if he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to do this. And it had to be done. Aya thought about how panicked he had felt when Yohji had been dangling over the gaping darkness inside that elevator shaft. He had been terrified -- not of losing his partner or a teammate. He had been terrified, specifically, of losing Yohji. And, in that instant, he had known he would do anything to make sure that didn't happen. In their business, those were dangerous feelings. Feelings that could get a person killed. And worse yet, feelings that could get a person's teammates killed.
Aya sighed as he continued, "It can't be. It can't happen. Because of who and what we are."
Yohji frowned and shook his head. "Why? Because you think I'm so sentimental and stupid that I couldn't let you go? That I would jeopardize a mission or the others to keep you safe out of my own personal feelings?"
Yohji was angry and hurt. He didn't try to hide it. His voice went up with each question, until he was practically yelling at Aya by the end. Or, at Aya's back, since Aya wouldn't turn around. Wouldn't look at him. Yohji had the irrational urge to slug Aya. Then, almost as fast, he wanted to grab Aya and crush the younger man to him in a fierce, protective hug -- to grab him and never let him go. It was confusing, and for a moment, he felt his anger lessen as part of his mind debated over which course of action was preferable.
"No," Aya said. He pulled himself to his feet, using a nearby wall for support. "It wouldn't work because that's what I would do. Because I'm the one who can't let go. Who wouldn't let you go. No matter what the cost."
His voice was quiet, and Yohji could hear the pain threading through the words. Aya's voice nearly broke at the end, and Yohji knew the admission took every ounce of courage and strength Aya had -- in more ways than one. Having said his piece, Aya walked away. His pace was slow and faltering, and he had to use the wall for support. But he never looked back. Somehow, Yohji knew it was because he couldn't look back, although that didn't make it any easier to take.
Yohji sat in the hallway, staring at ugly brown-red-orange carpet and feeling shell-shocked and unspeakably sad. He wanted to go after Aya, and, for a few fleeting seconds, he knew he could. He could stop Aya and talk some sense into him. He could change Aya's mind. For those seconds, Yohji was convinced it was the right thing to do. But then, the moment passed and Yohji knew it was too late. Too late for him. Too late for Aya. Too late for everything.
Yohji sighed under his breath and thought about how much he really needed a smoke.
~End