Ordinary World (Gewönliche Welt) : Part Two


by llamajoy


passion or coincidence once prompted you to say
"pride will tear us both apart"
well now pride's gone out the window
cross the rooftops, run away
left me in the vacuum of my heart
what is happening to me? crazy, some’d say
where is my friend when i need you most? gone away
but i won't cry for yesterday
there's an ordinary world somehow i have to find
and as i try to make my way to the ordinary world
i will learn to survive
--duran duran, "ordinary world"


He wondered for what must have been the hundredth time why they hadn’t replaced the bulb in the overhead light fixture. Their basement of operations was dismally dark. The only light was the cool blue-bright point of Omi’s computer screen, humming stilly to itself. Hn. Why had the kid left it on? They were all tired, that he knew. Still, Omi was protective of that little machine, and it wasn’t as if it cast enough light to see by.

He guessed that Aya preferred the mood that way, mystery and things best left undiscovered by the light of day, and so tacitly forbade the changing of lightbulbs. Not that they’d ever actually discussed it. But after hours, without shoplight drifting down the stairs, it would be easy to misjudge one’s footing on the thin spiralling staircase.

Not that he, Kudou Yohji, would ever do anything so gauche as trip.

"K’so!" It was just a stumble, nothing worse than a toe stubbed against an iron railing. But he was already irritated and he swore softly to himself, clearing the bottom step and groping against the wall for the lampcord.

"Quiet."

He didn’t jump, he was too much of a professional for that. When the lamp clicked on, a thin pool of light illuminating a shock of red hair and a sharp purple gaze, he had already managed to school his expression to casual nonchalance. "Oi, Aya, didn’t know I wasn’t alone down here."

A gentle clacking noise, and Yohji could tell he rolled his chair back in front of the computer. "Ken’s sleeping, so hush."

With the watercolor wash of lamplight suffusing the room, now Yohji could make out the toes of Ken’s socks, barely poking off the end of the couch. "Aa." He leaned over the back, the blue leather worn and smooth beneath his elbows as he looked bemusedly down at his teammate. Ken was sprawled flat on his back with his head tucked against his shoulder and his lips parted a little, fast asleep. "Should have known I couldn’t wake Ken-kun; he sleeps like the dead."

"Right." Aya’s expression didn’t change, but his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "I told Omi to go to bed; he’s been staring at spreadsheets for the past three hours."

Yohji whistled softly, still half-sitting against the back of the couch. "What stamina," he marveled, waggling an eyebrow. For a moment it was almost comfortable between them, the familiarity only to be found in idle conversation. "My brain would’ve melted long before. Omi--"

"So what are you doing down here?" He should have known that Aya would never waste words.

Yohji’s hand stilled in the act of teasing a lock of hair between Ken’s eyes. The sleeping eyelashes quivered under his feather-light touch. "It’s not like it’s illegal, yet. Just private computer time, man. I thought everybody else was asleep." He scowled, realizing how guilty that sounded, and turned it around just as quickly. "Et vous, Aya-kun? Sitting down here in the dark?"

"Hn." Aya accepted the question for the rebuttal it was, diffusing the argument with a shrug. "Writing," he said, and Yohji noticed for the first time that the monitor wasn’t blank. "And talking to Ken."

"Ken talks in his sleep?" Yohji smirked, just to watch the agitation on Aya’s fine features, the way he shifted in his chair.

"He wanted someone to talk to," Aya said simply, as if that explained everything. Yohji wondered how long they’d been in the basement, till the twilight died and they were alone in the dark. His skin prickled. He couldn’t quite believe that Aya had just been watching Ken sleep, the computer-light a feeble sheen along Ken’s profile, feathered shadows in his dark hair.

"Damn." He didn’t quite manage a smile. "So he found you? He must have been hard up for company."

Aya’s eyes narrowed in that Aya way, but his voice softened. "Maybe. He said you were outside smoking a cigarette and he didn’t want to bother you."

Yohji chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, tasting the spicy ash and feeling a little guilty. That wasn’t entirely true. The shop had been closing, Omi flipping off lights and taking down sale signs, Ken putting finishing touches on the display they’d worked on together. Yohji had been outside under the shop awning, fascinated by the way his cigarette smoke swirled and danced out into the rain. With a clamor of welcome-bells, Ken and Omi had joined him on the thin swath of dry concrete. "Closing time," Omi shivered. "Time to pull down the grate."

"Daijoubuka, Omi?" Ken sounded solicitous, all of them knowing that Omi disliked the rain, looking small and cold against the steady grey rush beyond their door.

Yohji moved closer to them, untying Ken’s ever-present overshirt from around his waist and dropping it lightly around Omi’s slender shoulders. "Keep warm, kid," he smirked down at Omi’s surprise. "Best get inside. I’ll bring down the grate when I come in."

Ken had glared at him, eyes dark like unplanted soil, and just as intimidating.

Yohji blinked. Aya was looking at him strangely. "Or were you smoking something stronger than a cigarette?"

"Iie," Yohji said too quickly, waving his hand, offended. "I’m clean, Aya-kun, Kritiker rules." He frowned, hair falling in front of his eyes. "And Weiß rules, too, you know. Don’t do the heavy stuff."

"I know," Aya’s voice was like ripples in a cool dark pond, or the steady blip of black cursor on a white computer screen. "I was kidding."

The laugh was awkward, but it felt good. "Gomen."

The swordsman, with two swift keystrokes of his elegant fingers, closed his program and stood. "I’m going to bed, too. All yours."

Only after he was gone, soundless shadow up the stairs, did Yohji wonder about what he’d said, the broad gesture of that hand. All yours. It had to have been his imagination. Aya had just meant the computer. Nee?

"All mine," he repeated, laughing at himself, reclining in the office chair and propping his feet up on the computer table. His fingers sought the mouse, clicking half-blind, unable to look away from the sleeping face on the sofa. There was the barest beginning of a frown between Ken’s eyebrows, his eyes moving behind his eyelids. What does a Ken dream about? "All mine. Heh. More like all fucking dark and gloomy down here with a miserable piece of technology and a--"

Ken stirred, rubbing at his eyes with curled fingers. Yohji shut up abruptly, glad he hadn’t spoken aloud the adjectives his brain was producing for his sleeping friend. "Gomen, KenKen. I’ll shut up and let you sleep in peace." He tried to swivel the chair around completely, to turn his back, but at the sound of Yohji’s voice, Ken’s eyebrows drew together, and he mumbled something unintelligible.

When the end of the couch dipped with Yohji’s weight, Ken smiled beatifically.

The only words Yohji could discern from the murmuring were, "...excited for you?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, his bangs trailing in Ken’s upturned face. "Ken-kun," he whispered, singsong, watching the skin shiver at the warmth of his breath. Maybe Ken would let something slip, off his guard like this, maybe tell some juicy little secrets. Like, Why the inscrutable stare this evening, nee? Do you really talk in your sleep? He made his voice as sleek and sultry as he could. "You were saying, Ken-kun?"

And Ken, enunciating very clearly, said, "Did you hear the eggs I dyed for you?" Then he giggled. "Na, na, that's ridiculous," he slurred, dragging an arm in front of his face, blocking Yohji’s view. "Must be sleep-talking. You can't hear a boiled egg, nee?"

Yohji sighed and stood back up. Or maybe not.

He flipped the power on the monitor and clicked off the light, going carelessly up the stairs in the dark.

"Y-Yohji?" But the only reply to the sleepy, confused query was the half-swallowed sound of a computer shutting down, and the dim outside roar of the unceasing rain.


~o~





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