Hooked On You

A/N: hi! this was written for isabeau_gower's b-day, and i thought i'd share. *sigh* i wish i were a better writer, but alas, this is almost the best i can do. (angst really is my thing after all)

the summary is the chorus of the song that inspired this fic ("Baby, Don't Get Hooked On Me" by Mac Davis), and so that's why it's there and not actually in the story. you get the idea.

enjoy!!


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Hooked On You
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Aya heard the kitchen door open and close. He slowly climbed to his feet, placing the book he was reading spine up on the bed covers. He knew Ken was still with his soccer kids, and Omi would be gone until late evening, working on a school project. So whoever was entering the house was not supposed to be there.

Is it some kind of criminal, Aya wondered, that would be stupid enough to act in the light of day? He quickly looked around for some kind of weapon to use in case he needed to defend himself. The only thing that made itself readily available was his father’s antique katana, the only thing that hadn’t been destroyed in the fire.

Grabbing it, sheath and all, Aya quietly slipped to the door and opened it, listening intently for any sounds of the intruder. The heavy thump of boots on the stairs had Aya ducking back into his room, the door closing to a mere sliver. He tried to peek through the crack between the door and doorjamb, and his eye caught a lean man stepping onto the second floor of the house.

The boots were heavy snow boots, and Aya’s eyes trailed up the leather-encased legs to a tight shirt that showed a good expanse of tanned, muscled abdomen. His eyes trailed even higher to the man’s face, a cigarette in his lips and sunglasses covering his eyes. Golden blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, little wisps of bangs falling into the man’s face.

Aya, thoroughly caught up with the intruder’s appearance, didn’t have time to react before the man stepped to the closed door next to Aya’s own, keyed the lock, and walked inside. The loud click of the lock snapped Aya out of his daze, but it was too late to do anything.

Aya quietly rushed to the door the intruder had entered, suddenly realizing it was neither Omi nor Ken’s room. It was the Room of the Unopened Door, as Ken had jokingly called it. But it wasn’t so far from the truth, in Aya’s opinion. In the three years Aya had lived with Omi and Ken, that door had never opened, and there was no spare key to speak of.

But this man had had a key, Aya thought. And it opened the door that had been so long locked.

Then this man is…

~*~

“The Drifter! He’s here?”

Aya watched Ken’s excitement grow as he struggled to throw his soccer equipment in the closet. Then Aya’s eyes widened in disbelief when Ken bounded up the stairs to the Room of the Recently Opened Door, which Aya had dubbed it to take his mind off the fact that a stranger was in his home. The reprieve had only lasted the thirty seconds it took to come up with the name.

“Yohji! Yohji, open the door!”

Aya quickly followed Ken up the stairs, the stranger’s name ringing in his ears as each shout became louder, until finally the door to the Room of the Recently Opened Door flung open, and a lean but strong arm thrust out to catch Ken by the collar of his shirt.

“Shut the fuck up, Ken. Can’t a guy sleep around here? Damn!”

“I’m sorry, Yohji, but it’s been so long since you were last here! When Aya told me you were here, I got so excited! Aw, Omi’s going to be so ecstatic! He’s always wondering when you’ll come home!”

Aya watched as Yohji let Ken go and came more out into the hallway. He was shirtless, his pants on but undone, and his hair was threatening to fall out of the ponytail. His hand went up to the bridge of his nose and massaged it, his other hand poised on his cocked hip.

“You couldn’t have waited until I woke up to wag your tail at me, Ken? And who’s Aya?”

“He’s Aya.” Ken pointed at Aya without looking at him, his hero-worship of this Yohji obvious to anyone who looked.

“He?” Aya froze as that blonde head looked up and behind Ken, a silent gasp escaping him when the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen landed on him. Then those green eyes widened when they took him in, and he regained his senses at the insult.

Yes, Aya was a fucking man, and why couldn’t anyone ever just accept it? So his parents had been expecting a girl. What of it?

Aya’s violet eyes narrowed into his usual indifferent scowl, and he bowed curtly in Yohji’s general direction. Then he spun on his heel and walked back downstairs, unmindful of Ken apologizing on his behalf for being so rude.

So what if he was rude? Did Ken expect him to be nice to a man that stumbled into the house without any warning or greeting, perhaps scaring Aya more than he cared to admit? As if.

Aya walked to the kitchen, wondering if he should try to cook something even though he rather felt like throwing something out the window or just order out. His hand reached for the refrigerator handle and hauled it open, his eyes taking in the contents, of which there were none. Oops, he’d forgotten to go shopping. Take-out it was then.

Aya shut the door and strolled to the phone, his hand reaching for one of the many menus stacked carelessly next to its base. He double-checked the order numbers of their usual dishes, though it suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know what the drifter liked.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance, Aya placed the menu back on the counter and moved to climb the stairs once again. But as he stepped to the first stair, Ken brushed past him, laughing loudly at something, sending Aya into the wall.

“Are you all right?”

~**~

Kudoh Yohji wasn’t easily impressed with the physical attributes of people, but he was a sucker for perceived beauty anyway. But when this Aya looked up at him after slamming into the wall, Yohji was thoroughly entranced by what he saw.

The hallway light upstairs hadn’t done the man justice, as his red hair and violet eyes struck Yohji more poignantly with the bright light of the kitchen. Here was someone with true beauty, raw, nothing enhancing it to make it seem more than it really was. Yes, Aya was beautiful.

“I’m fine.” Yohji was startled from his thoughts at the sound of the softly spoken answer. “I was coming up to see what food you would like for dinner.”

“Oh, just whatever, I guess. I’m not really picky.”

A snort sounded from the living room. “Ha, as long as a beer is accompanying it, yeah.”

Yohji would have retorted to Ken’s good-natured insult, but the kitchen door swung open loudly, hitting the wall and bouncing off the jamb on the rebound. Then Yohji’s arms were full of pint-sized blonde, excited babbling trying to find purchase in his frazzled brain.

“Yohji-kun, it’s you! You’re here! It’s been so long since you were last home! I saw your car outside and I just knew you’d be here. You probably took a nap once you got in, you always do. And I hope you didn’t do anything stupid like scare Aya-kun! He’s never met you! What would we have done if Aya-kun had gutted you while we weren’t here to introduce you?”

“Gutted me?” Yohji questioned in mild shock. Just what kind of guy was Aya to go around gutting people? Gutting people with what? Yohji looked up to glance at Aya, but the man had returned to the kitchen.

Omi cheerily grabbed his hand and led him to the living room where Ken had turned the television to a soccer game being played in some Spanish speaking country. He was shoved onto the couch and sandwiched between the two young men.

“So tell us all about your adventures, Yohji! What did you do in the three years that you were away?”

“The usual, I guess.” Yohji shrugged at Omi’s frown.

“So you didn’t find what you were looking for?”

“Not so much, chibi.” Yohji laughed at the familiar scowl that came with the mention of the nickname, and Ken began his assault on Omi as well, since the signal for good-natured teasing had been given.

Several minutes passed and Aya still had not come out of the kitchen. Not that Yohji was worried, but the man was just so beautiful that Yohji had to see him again. But not without learning a little something about him first. He’d learned his lesson well enough in that category.

“So who’s this Aya? How long has he lived here?”

“Oh! How rude of us not to mention it!” Omi looked back at the kitchen door, almost as if he was worried that Aya would overhear them, but he continued to speak anyway. “Aya’s lived here for three years. He rented the space at the front and opened a flower shop. We offered him the vacant room upstairs, and after some consideration he took it.”

“He opened a flower shop?”

“Yep!” Ken joined in. “We call it the Koneko, for short, and it’s really popular with the high school girls. And we help Aya whenever we can, but he’s pretty good at handling the whole shop on his own. He’s diligent and whatnot.”

“I can see why you’re impressed, Kenken. You know, since you’re not diligent in the least,” Yohji commented.

“Shut up, Yohji!”

The kitchen door opening cut off anything Yohji was going to say, and he got up to investigate. Was Aya leaving or something? What greeted him was actually Aya coming back in, a bag from the corner store in his hand.

“Did you go somewhere just now, Aya?”

Aya looked at him as if he was the stupidest person on the earth, but he didn’t think of retracting his question. Aya then moved to the refrigerator and took his purchase from the bag to put inside. It was a six-pack of beers, Yohji marveled.

“Do you drink, Aya?”

Aya didn’t reply immediately, but once he’d thrown the bag away, he turned to face Yohji. “I do not drink.”

Ha, as long as a beer is accompanying it, yeah.

Then Aya bought those beers for me, Yohji thought. He smiled to himself, finding that Aya wasn’t as cold and indifferent as he wanted people to believe. He watched as Aya began to take dishes from the cabinets and set them about the table. Shaking his head slightly, Yohji moved further into the kitchen.

“I feel as if you don’t really like me, Aya. So let’s start over. Hi, I’m Kudoh Yohji. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Again Aya didn’t reply right away, but then he looked at Yohji without the disdain that had greeted him earlier. “Fujimiya Aya. It’s… nice to meet you, too.”

~*~

“And then Omi looked right up her skirt!” Yohji and Ken laughed loudly as Omi tried to yell over their din. Aya tried to stifle his own smile at the story, never having heard it before. His eyes caught Yohji looking at him, and he turned his head away quickly.

Yohji had been staying with them for two months, and Aya got the strangest feelings when around the man. The looks Yohji sometimes gave him reminded Aya of the way stray dogs eyed meat, but he never showed his unease. He never had before, and he wasn’t going to start with the appearance of this man.

But when Yohji wasn’t causing him unease with his looks, Aya admitted that the man was nice to be around. Aside from his perverted sense of humor, he was good-natured and brought more business to his flower shop. Aya felt kind of bad to think that, but all the girls really did like the way Yohji looked, and would come in and buy more flowers for it. So Aya never refused when Yohji offered to help.

Today Omi and Ken were helping as well, and the girls were nearly hysterical in their need to gain attention. Sometimes it drove Aya absolutely batty, even when it was just him in the shop, but again he never let anyone see his true emotions. He learned at an early age that showing emotions only returned hurt and pain.

“Aya-kun?”

Aya was snapped out of his contemplations by Omi’s worried voice. He looked up from the trimming shears in his hand to see Omi standing next to him. Ken and Yohji were on the other side of the store tending to a customer.

“I was just telling Ken and Yohji-kun that I will be leaving for my school trip this evening. You remember, don’t you?”

“Aa.”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure. And if Ken and Yohji-kun get to be too much, I give you permission to punish them.” Omi laughed and turned to finish watering the plants at the front of the store.

A phone ringing disrupted the pleasant silence of the shop, and Aya looked up to see Yohji flipping open his cellphone to answer the call. He watched as the blonde’s smile slowly slipped off his face, to be replaced by an ugly expression that Aya couldn’t put a name to, though he was sure he knew the emotion quite well.

Yohji snapped the phone closed without a word and excused himself to the house. Aya looked on worriedly before turning back to the plant in front of him. The day passed slowly from there. Omi soon left to pack, and Ken left later for soccer practice.

Neither one had shown much surprise at Yohji’s behavior earlier, and it made Aya wonder if that call had something to do with why Yohji drifted from place to place. It made him curious to know the whole story, when usually he wouldn’t pay it any mind. It was in the little things that happened from time to time. Omi and Ken saying that Yohji had finally come home; Yohji’s enigmatic mutterings of having to find something important; Omi and Ken’s lack of reaction to Yohji’s mysterious disappearances every so often.

It all begged Aya to question, but he’d never been a nosy person before, and he wasn’t going to start now. But it kind of hurt to see Yohji sad or upset like that. The days that Yohji and Aya worked together, alone in the shop, had shown Aya a friendship he’d never had before. What would happen to that feeling if Yohji suddenly left?

Aya closed the shop and returned to the house. Yohji was sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of something strong clutched in his hand. Aya moved about the kitchen, making as little noise as possible so as not to disturb Yohji as he prepared dinner for the two of them.

“Do you ever wish you could just get your hands on the people who killed your parents?”

Aya almost dropped the bottle of olive oil that he held in his hands. “How do you know about that?”

“Fujimiya…. The name sounded familiar, and it clicked after a while. We have so much in common, you and I.”

Aya carefully put the bottle down on the counter and turned to stare at the blonde. His expression was so somber and pitiful that Aya found it hard to be angry at the question. “Is that what you wish?”

Yohji lifted the bottle and drank from it, the swig long and drawn out. When the glass hit harshly against the table, Yohji laughed bitterly and answered, “Every damn day of my life.”

Aya watched warily as Yohji dragged himself out of the chair and disposed of the mostly empty bottle. Then the blonde swayed his way to Aya, stopping just short of being flush with the redhead. Aya stiffened as a tan hand reached up to brush back his dangling ear tails, but he was too stunned to do much of anything when alcohol-soaked lips descended on his own. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Yohji pulled away and smiled sadly. “I’m not hungry.”

Aya didn’t say anything to that, and minutes passed by in silence.

“Keep me company tonight?”

~*~

He’d said yes.

Aya didn’t know why, but just looking into those deep and longing green eyes had made it impossible to refuse. And he just knew this was a bad idea. Lying nearly nude on Yohji’s bed almost made it blatantly so.

But Aya couldn’t help the curiosity and want that had welled up inside him when Yohji had asked for his company. Two months with the man had made Aya perfectly aware that Yohji was a gorgeous specimen that could easily offer a night of passion – a night of guilt- and string-free passion. And Aya secretly, desperately wanted to know what that was like.

“You’re beautiful, Aya.”

Aya looked up at Yohji leaning over him, his eyes trailing down a tan and muscular chest, torso, his breath hitching at the sight of blonde hairs leading downward at the waistband of Yohji’s tight leather pants.

Aya’s cheeks burned with a blush, and Yohji chuckled before leaning down to claim his lips in a distracting kiss. He didn’t want Yohji to know that he’d never done this before, so Aya concentrated on making the kiss as good as it could be, but it couldn’t be helped when he yelped as Yohji’s fingers pinched his nipple.

“You’re quite sensitive, Aya.” Yohji didn’t wait for a response before he started a trail of kisses down Aya’s chest and torso. His hands massaged Aya’s pale skin as he drew closer and closer to Aya’s half-hard cock, but his tongue paused at his navel and plunged inside, drawing a low groan of arousal from the redhead.

“Yohji…”

Aya cried out when Yohji’s hot mouth engulfed his member, his hips trying to buck even with the hands holding them down. It was so hot and slick, tongue and teeth applying just the right amount of pressure to drive him insane.

He heard something click in the distance, but he was too preoccupied with what Yohji was doing with his mouth to find out what it was. Though he was given his answer when something slick circled around his opening, gently pushing inside. Aya stiffened at the intrusion, arching his back to get away from the probing digit.

Yohji sucked harder on his cock, drowning Aya’s discomfort in deep pleasure. But it still wasn’t enough to keep Aya relaxed when a second finger tried to join the first. Aya thrashed back and forth, not liking the sensation at all. He cried out in displeasure when Yohji let his cock slip from the warm mouth.

“Aya, you’ve got to relax or this is going to hurt a lot worse than it really needs to.”

Those words were not reassuring. Aya bit his lower lip, nodding his understanding to the blonde, and tried not to concentrate too hard on what Yohji’s fingers were doing inside his body. But then one digit brushed along something inside him, and Aya was smart enough to know what it was, but the feeling what quite odd. Yohji’s finger continued to rub at it, and soon Aya was impaling himself on Yohji’s finger, trying to make that unexpected pleasure sharper, more intense.

“Now you’re where I want you to be, gorgeous.”

The fingers left Aya, and he mewled, wanting the wonderful sensations to return. Yohji laughed at him once again, but he was too dazed to really care. Yohji’s large hands settled on Aya’s hips and lifted them, encouraging him to wrap his legs around Yohji. Aya complied eagerly, though he was beginning to feel nervous. What was this really going to feel like?

“Just relax, Aya.”

Gods, it was impossible to keep his virginity a secret now. Yohji was treating him like a skittish colt. And just how experienced at this was Yohji, anyway? Aya didn’t have time to follow that thought, however, when something larger than a finger, or three, nudged his entrance. He closed his eyes as the head of Yohji’s cock popped into him, and he tried very hard not to push the intrusion out.

A slick hand wrapped around his cock and pumped it with slow, sure strokes. Aya began to pant, his fingers tightening in the sheets beside his body. Then a fingernail delicately flicked his slit, and Aya cried out with the sensation it caused. His muscles relaxed some, and Yohji pushed forward carefully but forcefully, filling Aya with his hard length.

Aya gasped at the sudden and complete intrusion, but Yohji didn’t move, just shushed and massaged his trembling thighs. When the pain dulled to a slow throb, Aya nodded to Yohji, and the blonde pulled his hips back quickly, and then slowly pushed back in. With each slow thrust, Aya felt the blonde’s length pass more easily, but it also went deeper, increasing the pressure on that small bundle of nerves gradually and making Aya moan and whimper in pleasure.

Then Yohji suddenly changed his pace, slowly drawing out and then slamming forcefully into Aya, spearing his prostate savagely, making Aya cry out in ecstasy.

“Yes! Oh gods, Yohji, yes! Please, faster… faster… harder…”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Aya looked into Yohji’s grinning face, but it transformed into one of sinful lust when a particularly hard thrust had Aya’s muscles contracting around his cock. Aya was transfixed by Yohji’s beauty, and he suddenly had an urge to actually participate in their tryst. His hands left the sheets and wrapped around Yohji’s neck, and Aya hauled himself up towards the blonde’s straining body.

“Aya?” Yohji’s arms locked onto the mattress, keeping himself upright with the added weight of the redhead, as Aya clung to him like a burr.

Aya claimed Yohji’s lips in a smoldering kiss, as he used his thighs to lift himself away from Yohji and forcefully move back down, impaling himself on Yohji. With each ascent, Aya clenched his muscles around the blonde, added to the friction his body gave the man. It was his turn to draw out sounds of ecstasy and pleasure from his partner.

Yohji leaned them both back, his hands moving to Aya’s hips to help the redhead move. Their breaths and moans intertwined as they climbed to their peaks together, shouting as each came hard.

Aya slumped against Yohji, exhausted, and happily lay back when Yohji moved them down to the mattress. The chill was welcome over his heated body, but that didn’t stop him from snuggling under the offered covers and falling into a deep sleep.

~**~

Something was off, different. The everyday routine was the same, the customers in the shop still young girls vying for his attention. Food tasted the same it always did, as did alcohol and other beverages. His cigarettes still gave him the comfort and hit of nicotine that he craved. So, what was so different that he feared it with every fiber of his being?

Yohji nervously tapped his fingers on the counter, waiting for his customer to choose a color for the flower wrapping. Moving his eyes from the smiling girl and her friends, Yohji caught a glimpse of Aya as the redhead moved to the back room.

He and Aya had been lovers for the past three weeks, which surprised Yohji to no end. It wasn’t so much the fact that he usually never stayed with his lovers for long, rather that he was still in Tokyo. He’d been there for almost three months already.

Maybe that’s what was different. He’d been in one place for far too long. But he had no clues to move on in his search, so the only place where he ever called home was as good a place as any to stay.

“E-excuse me, Kudoh-san.” Yohji turned to his customer, smiling kindly to make up for the fact that he had completely forgotten she was there. “I’d like the blue wrapping, please.”

“Sure.” Yohji cut the paper and wrapped the bouquet, ringing up the cost on the register. As the girl handed over the money, she haltingly asked if Yohji would go out with her. He had to admit he was surprised by her boldness, but Kudoh Yohji was used to such things. “I’m sorry, but I have plans this evening.”

When the girl would have suggested going out some other night, he politely excused himself to help another customer that had walked in. The girl and her friends left, and Yohji breathed a small sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes, he saw Aya across the shop, smiling slightly at the predicament he had been in.

And that’s what was different. Yohji, in his realization, just stared at Aya, not moving from his spot. There was something different about Aya. The way he spoke, acted, looked…. It all was different. But mostly it was the way Aya looked at Yohji. It held a certain… tenderness that had been lacking three months ago when they’d first met. Hell, it had been lacking when they’d first had sex.

Aya was falling for him.

That was not good. Aya couldn’t fall for him. He had a vendetta to settle, to give his life for if need be. He couldn’t have connections to anyone. So it led to the question of why Yohji had continued to sleep with Aya, to form a bond of sorts. Usually Yohji was a magnificent one-night stand, but he hadn’t dropped Aya the next day. Of course that wouldn’t have been comfortable, what with them living together and all.

“Yohji, are you all right?”

Yohji was shaken from his thoughts by Aya’s voice, and he quickly averted his eyes from the violet ones staring at him with a touch of concern. “I need a cigarette break.”

Aya nodded, and Yohji turned to the shop entrance and left, walking down the sidewalk to get to the alleyway. But instead of whipping out a smoke, Yohji pulled out his cellphone, flipping it open and scrolling to a familiar number. He pressed send, moving the phone to his ear, and listened impatiently to the ringing on the other end.

“Kudoh? It’s unusual for you to call me,” a brash, female voice answered.

“Listen, Manx, I need a lead. Anything to get me moving again.”

“What’s the rush? You would think after following a dead lead for three years, you’d want to take it easy for a while.”

Yohji sighed and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. He moved his shoulder up to secure the phone as he pulled a stick out with his teeth and lit it with his free hand. Stuffing the items back into his pocket, he inhaled the sweet smoke while grabbing the phone once again.

“Can we do this no questions asked, please?”

“Oh, woman trouble, I see. Did you get her pregnant or something?” Yohji could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Manx.”

“Or maybe she’s trying to spend your hard earned money too much.” He knew she got a kick out of teasing him, but Yohji was not finding this situation funny.

“Manx.”

“Could it be that the stone cold Kudoh Yohji has fallen for her?”

“Manx.”

Silence greeted his feral growl. Then he heard her sigh. “Yohji, Asuka wouldn’t want you to continue on like this. She’d want you to settle down and live happily, not chasing her murderer across Hell’s half acre.”

“I promised her that I wouldn’t let her death go unpunished!” he nearly screamed into the receiver.

“But it has for how many years now, Kudoh?” Manx’s voice was cold, emotionless as she tried to convey her point.

“Don’t do this to me, Manx,” Yohji pleaded in a hoarse whisper, his cigarette forgotten in his dangling hand.

She sighed again. “Fine. There seems to be a wave of missing girls in the Osaka region, all about the same age as Asuka and the other girls taken from Tokyo. It’s not very good, but it’s all we have.”

“Thank you, Manx.” She welcomed him, and Yohji tiredly flipped the phone closed. Dropping his wasted cigarette on the ground, Yohji turned out of the alley and trudged back to the flower shop.

He’d leave tonight, he thought, after saying goodbye to Omi, at least.

~**~

The neon signs of the Namba district brightly lit the Osaka sky. Yohji took a drag from his cigarette then lifted it away from his mouth to dangle by his side. He’d been there for two weeks, and yet nothing had been found on the disappearances of the women. Yohji was starting to become frustrated.

And why was that? He’d been steadily looking for his lover’s killer for three years before his return to Tokyo, and yet two weeks was driving him insane. It didn’t help that everywhere he looked in the brightly lit and crowded shopping districts, he would often get distracted by a flash of red hair, only to feel a pang of disappointment when it turned out to be someone else.

But was he really trying to find Aya in the chaos of Osaka? He knew very well that the redhead was back in Tokyo, hopefully forgetting Yohji ever existed. No, not hopefully; probably. For some reason, Yohji felt that he didn’t want Aya to forget him, to find another lover, to hate him.

He could still see Aya’s flushed face in the throes of passion, hear his pleased cries and whimpers as Yohji thrust into his willing and hot body. He could still feel the sensation of Aya’s virginal ass squeezing him tightly the first time they’d fucked.

And wasn’t that just the epitome of stupid on Yohji’s part? Bedding a virgin was a sure way to create feelings on the part of his lover that would eventually lead to heartbreak and danger. Yohji should have spelled their relationship out clearly to Aya that first night. Hell, he should have told Aya it was only for that one night. He should have told Aya not to get attached to someone who would just leave him in the end, to spend his life searching for something he may never find.

But, Yohji’s mind supplied as his heart thumped in his chest brilliantly at the sight of another flash of red, what if Yohji was the one hooked on Aya?

~*~

The rain pounded steadily and relentlessly against the front windows of the Koneko. Aya regarded the empty streets and admitted defeat for the sales day. He began to ready everything for closing, quickly bringing in what plants he’d left outside the shop before he was soaked. He locked up and finished sweeping before turning off the lights and heading for his room.

As he climbed the stairs and passed down the hall, Aya found himself stopping in front of the Room of the Recently Locked Door yet again. He did so everyday, feelings of anger and sadness battling for dominance inside him. He didn’t know what to feel, hadn’t known what he was feeling even when Yohji had been there, so the anger and sadness were often joined by confusion and a strange sense of betrayal.

Yohji had been the first relationship Aya had ever had, and he was reasonable enough to know that that fact alone didn’t make it binding. He knew Yohji had a mission in life, something that had him wandering for years without results or solace.

But that month of being Yohji’s lover had given Aya something he desperately wanted to hold onto. And Yohji had just walked away. He hadn’t said a word to Aya; just left without a backwards glance. And so the betrayal and anger would well up inside him, only to be shot down by the bitterness of his desperation to have that special relationship back.

What had he felt for Yohji in those three weeks they’d been together? In the two months before that? He’d definitely felt a kindred spirit within the blonde, despite his obnoxious habit of being disgustingly perverted and overly teasing. But what else had he harbored for the drifter?

Aya sighed. He’d loved the goddamned bastard – the only mistake he’d had to make to lose him. Because Aya lost everyone he loved.

The kitchen door opening and closing had Aya tensing where he stood. It was a little past noon, and he wasn’t expecting Omi or Ken home for a few hours yet. A sense of déjà vu passed over Aya, and he ran for his room, grabbing hold of his father’s katana. He drew the sword from the sheath, letting the heavy thing fall on his bed as he moved back out into the hallway.

He stopped at the top landing, looking down at the soaked figure at the foot of the stairs. Bright green eyes widened when they saw him, and Aya’s narrowed to angered slits.

“What are you doing here, Kudoh?” he asked tonelessly.

“Aya…”

“Answer me.”

Yohji swallowed. “I live here.”

Aya’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. That was true. He couldn’t fault Yohji for coming home. But he didn’t want to be hurt again by this man, the man he still loved, so he would draw a line before anything got out of hand.

“Why did you come back?” Yohji climbed a few steps, and Aya raised his sword.

“I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

“Why did you leave?” Aya felt his throat constrict as Yohji climbed more steps.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I was hurt anyway, bastard.”

“I know.” Yohji was almost to the top, and Aya still had his sword trained on the man.

“Why did you break my heart?” Now that was a foolish and girly question to ask, in Aya’s opinion. But he wanted it answered so badly. Why had Yohji taken him as a lover only to leave him? Why couldn’t he have found someone else, someone used to love-‘em-and-leave-‘em relationships that wouldn’t be so torn when he was gone?

“Because I apparently gave you mine,” Yohji whispered with a sad smile.

“What?” Aya asked in confusion, startled when Yohji’s answer was to climb the last step and kiss him, long and thoroughly, stealing what little breath he’d had to begin with.

“I love you, Aya,” Yohji breathed against his lips when they’d parted for air. “Forgive me.”

“Hn.” Aya wound his arms around Yohji’s neck and proceeded to kiss him as breathlessly as he’d been kissed. Yohji happily pressed himself into Aya’s body, slowly moving them backwards towards a room. Aya shivered from Yohji’s wet clothes, and his sword arm slipped a little from around the blonde.

“Hey, love, could you watch where you point that thing?”

And Aya laughed.


~owari~


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what's even more AU in this story is that Aya-chan does not exist. and i'm think i might make this into a full-blown multi-chapter thing, just to fatten up these time skips. but i would have to finish all my naruto fics first. maybe...

thank you for reading!