Weiß kreuz: Twenty-twenty
In case anyone is still keeping track of this journal: no, I'm not dead. I just haven't found the time to write anything fandom-related now that I pretty much write for a living. Oh, the irony!
Here, have an older story I ran across while going through my texts.
Title: Twenty-twenty
Author:
sederhana
Written: 2009
Fandom: Weiß kreuz (After Kapitel, before, during and after Glühen)
Characters/pairings: Aya/Yoji
Rating: R
Words: 988
Notes: Don't own, don't sue.
Aya pushed Yoji's back against the door of his apartment, pressing his lips against the blonde’s, firm hands on his hips. Not quite as aggressive as he used to be - no need now that this was more of a habit than something that just happened when they least expected it. Yoji’s hand rested against the back of Aya’s head and he all but melted into the kiss, allowing himself to indulge for a bit. Bad news could wait.
First it had just sort of happened. Yoji had been drunk and Aya had been there, quite conveniently. Yoji had sometimes wondered if anyone would have done, had they just happened to have been there, but knew the answer all too well to admit anything. Least of all to himself.
Then it had sort of happened again, after Yoji lost Asuka (who wasn’t really Asuka but was close enough) for the second time. He wasn’t drunk at the time but he was mad with grief and it was pretty much the same thing once you thought about it. Aya had, of course, been there. He was always there, looming about and giving a blank stare at everything.
Then the third time just sort of happened and things only went downhill from there. Yoji found himself in the redhead’s bed more often than in that of any woman and soon caught himself ogling at the team leader longingly whenever he had the chance.
When Yoji woke up in a tangle of bedsheets and Aya for the umpteenth time he decided this was probably the closest thing to a relationship he could ever imagine having and proceeded to make out with the sleepy redhead in celebration of this realization. Aya didn’t resist.
They never talked about it, it just sort of kept happening. The other two didn’t ask either. The way the four of them were, who was sleeping with who was irrelevant to say at least. Everyone had their way of dealing with things.
And then everything had gone to hell, the future of Weiß was unclear and everyone was a wreck. Omi was haunted by his father’s ghost and resembled the old man more and more every day. No one knew what Ken was up to but he wasn’t exactly sane or stable either. Aya was his usual self and kept everything to himself and Yoji.... Yoji wasn’t sure what he should try and be.
He had thought about it and much to his surprise came to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready to quit. None of them were, he was quite sure of it, but he at least admitted it. Kritiker were all pride and smiles when he had told them he’d keep doing their bidding.
This was where the bad news came into the picture.
When Aya reached to unbuckle his belt, Yoji brought his palms to rest on the redhead’s chest and pushed him back a little too gently, immediately coming off as guilty. He stepped past Aya, trying to avoid meeting his eyes. He strode across the room, picked up a bottle (Whisky. Cheap, strong. He had planned on getting drunk afterwards.) to pour himself a drink, decided against it and stood by the window that let in the sickly light of the late Tokyo fall.
There were no commitments. No one had ever said this was a fixed state of whatever. Yoji wasn’t sure how to deliver the news.
“I’m leaving”, he finally said, flat out.
There was no other way to put it. He was going on an overseas mission by himself and all things considered, he didn’t have much of a reason not to go. Except maybe for, well.
Aya said nothing. He just stood there, motionless, expressionless, him. Yoji wished he had at least winced. Said no. Given him an excuse not to go.
“Now that Weiß is no more and all that. It’s safer to take a job abroad, let the things cool down back here for a while. You know.”
Yoji kept glancing at Aya as he spoke, trying to catch even a slightest sign of disapproval. Nothing.
Yoji was painfully aware of his own breathing, of his heartbeat, of his nervous fingers in his hair. Of not being able to look at Aya. Of being a coward.
“Where?” Aya finally opened his mouth.
“France. There are people. Some connections to a possibly growing organization that does morally questionable human-cloning. I get to be a PI again for a bit.”
Yoji stared out of the window and knew Aya’s expression didn’t change.
“How long?” the redhead asked.
Yoji turned around to face his companion. Please, frown. Please, grimace. Please, anything.
“I don’t know.”
Aya grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for another kiss. Much softer than the previous, almost gentle. Almost… pleading?
“When?” Aya asked, his breath warm against Yoji’s lips.
Yoji swallowed hard. “Tomorrow.”
Aya’s fingers dug almost painfully into Yoji’s hips as they collapsed on the blonde’s bed and Yoji couldn’t really figure out if Aya was trying to tell him (show him) not to go or if he was just being his holdingmarkingpossessive self.
When Aya was inside him, Yoji decided it was both. He ran his fingers across Aya’s back, gasping, wanting to be closer. Stupid. Naïve.
When he came on his stomach and on Aya’s hand, he knew he’d regret going the minute he’d step on the plane.
When he rested against the headboard if his bed, Aya’s face nuzzled against his neck, he knew he was an idiot to torture himself like this. At least this time no one died.
When Yoji had his wire wrapped around Aya’s neck and when he was crying, saying he only wanted to be born anew and forget, and when he held onto Aya’s katana in the midst of the impending death that was the collapsing Koua Academy, he knew he should not have gone.
Here, have an older story I ran across while going through my texts.
Title: Twenty-twenty
Author:
sederhana
Written: 2009
Fandom: Weiß kreuz (After Kapitel, before, during and after Glühen)
Characters/pairings: Aya/Yoji
Rating: R
Words: 988
Notes: Don't own, don't sue.
Aya pushed Yoji's back against the door of his apartment, pressing his lips against the blonde’s, firm hands on his hips. Not quite as aggressive as he used to be - no need now that this was more of a habit than something that just happened when they least expected it. Yoji’s hand rested against the back of Aya’s head and he all but melted into the kiss, allowing himself to indulge for a bit. Bad news could wait.
First it had just sort of happened. Yoji had been drunk and Aya had been there, quite conveniently. Yoji had sometimes wondered if anyone would have done, had they just happened to have been there, but knew the answer all too well to admit anything. Least of all to himself.
Then it had sort of happened again, after Yoji lost Asuka (who wasn’t really Asuka but was close enough) for the second time. He wasn’t drunk at the time but he was mad with grief and it was pretty much the same thing once you thought about it. Aya had, of course, been there. He was always there, looming about and giving a blank stare at everything.
Then the third time just sort of happened and things only went downhill from there. Yoji found himself in the redhead’s bed more often than in that of any woman and soon caught himself ogling at the team leader longingly whenever he had the chance.
When Yoji woke up in a tangle of bedsheets and Aya for the umpteenth time he decided this was probably the closest thing to a relationship he could ever imagine having and proceeded to make out with the sleepy redhead in celebration of this realization. Aya didn’t resist.
They never talked about it, it just sort of kept happening. The other two didn’t ask either. The way the four of them were, who was sleeping with who was irrelevant to say at least. Everyone had their way of dealing with things.
And then everything had gone to hell, the future of Weiß was unclear and everyone was a wreck. Omi was haunted by his father’s ghost and resembled the old man more and more every day. No one knew what Ken was up to but he wasn’t exactly sane or stable either. Aya was his usual self and kept everything to himself and Yoji.... Yoji wasn’t sure what he should try and be.
He had thought about it and much to his surprise came to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready to quit. None of them were, he was quite sure of it, but he at least admitted it. Kritiker were all pride and smiles when he had told them he’d keep doing their bidding.
This was where the bad news came into the picture.
When Aya reached to unbuckle his belt, Yoji brought his palms to rest on the redhead’s chest and pushed him back a little too gently, immediately coming off as guilty. He stepped past Aya, trying to avoid meeting his eyes. He strode across the room, picked up a bottle (Whisky. Cheap, strong. He had planned on getting drunk afterwards.) to pour himself a drink, decided against it and stood by the window that let in the sickly light of the late Tokyo fall.
There were no commitments. No one had ever said this was a fixed state of whatever. Yoji wasn’t sure how to deliver the news.
“I’m leaving”, he finally said, flat out.
There was no other way to put it. He was going on an overseas mission by himself and all things considered, he didn’t have much of a reason not to go. Except maybe for, well.
Aya said nothing. He just stood there, motionless, expressionless, him. Yoji wished he had at least winced. Said no. Given him an excuse not to go.
“Now that Weiß is no more and all that. It’s safer to take a job abroad, let the things cool down back here for a while. You know.”
Yoji kept glancing at Aya as he spoke, trying to catch even a slightest sign of disapproval. Nothing.
Yoji was painfully aware of his own breathing, of his heartbeat, of his nervous fingers in his hair. Of not being able to look at Aya. Of being a coward.
“Where?” Aya finally opened his mouth.
“France. There are people. Some connections to a possibly growing organization that does morally questionable human-cloning. I get to be a PI again for a bit.”
Yoji stared out of the window and knew Aya’s expression didn’t change.
“How long?” the redhead asked.
Yoji turned around to face his companion. Please, frown. Please, grimace. Please, anything.
“I don’t know.”
Aya grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for another kiss. Much softer than the previous, almost gentle. Almost… pleading?
“When?” Aya asked, his breath warm against Yoji’s lips.
Yoji swallowed hard. “Tomorrow.”
Aya’s fingers dug almost painfully into Yoji’s hips as they collapsed on the blonde’s bed and Yoji couldn’t really figure out if Aya was trying to tell him (show him) not to go or if he was just being his holdingmarkingpossessive self.
When Aya was inside him, Yoji decided it was both. He ran his fingers across Aya’s back, gasping, wanting to be closer. Stupid. Naïve.
When he came on his stomach and on Aya’s hand, he knew he’d regret going the minute he’d step on the plane.
When he rested against the headboard if his bed, Aya’s face nuzzled against his neck, he knew he was an idiot to torture himself like this. At least this time no one died.
When Yoji had his wire wrapped around Aya’s neck and when he was crying, saying he only wanted to be born anew and forget, and when he held onto Aya’s katana in the midst of the impending death that was the collapsing Koua Academy, he knew he should not have gone.