The Edge

(Written: January, 2008)

Warnings: Violence.
Summary: None (it's only 300 words! o_O)
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.

Confrontation
(a wk scene told in three drabbles, by tex-chan)

1. Confrontation

The sound drew Aya toward Yohji’s room. Soft and low -- a cry for help. He paused outside the door. Was it a lover’s game? If so, he would leave Yohji in peace, to find the release he needed. He heard it again -- a plea for help.

Worried, Aya shoved the door open and stopped cold at what he saw. Yohji, bending over the bed, his back to the door. Yohji’s hands on her throat. Yohji, choking the life from the woman beneath him.

Her eyes found him, pleading for help. Aya crossed the room to pull Yohji off.


2. Rage

The woman fled, grabbing her clothes and stumbling into the hall -- forgotten in a moment. Aya heard her footsteps fade away, but he ignored them. Swiftly, Yohji turned on him, a feral snarl rumbling deep in his throat.

Aya’s head cracked against plaster. Flashes of light danced in his vision as Yohji slammed him against the wall. Yohji’s hands were around his throat -- tightening, ever tightening. Aya didn’t fight; he stared into green eyes, made unfamiliar by anger and pain. He was afraid for Yohji.

“I’m glad it was you,” Aya thought. His vision dimmed down to nothing.


3. Release

Consciousness returned. Slowly, it pulled him from the blackness with every gasping, painful breath. He felt arms cradling him and another heart, beating in time with his. A clock’s hum, the sound of another’s breathing, and the scents of stale perfume, liquor, and old smoke wrapped around him -- so familiar they made him ache.

There was moisture on his skin; the body supporting him trembled against his back, shaking with suppressed sobs. And, two words fervently repeated: “I’m sorry,” -- like a prayer, warm and soft against his neck.

“It’s okay, Yohji,” Aya whispered. “For your peace, it’s okay.”