Presenceby scribblemoose |
| I'm so tired of being here* Aya knew he wasn't coming back, from the moment Ken brought him his sword. The sword that Yohji had promised to return. The sword that Aya had left with him, rather than staying himself... Tonight, like most nights, Aya showered and brushed his teeth before he padded to his room. He sat on the edge of the bed, and nodded to his sword. It always stood there, in the corner of his room, a reminder of everything: the killing, the sacrifice, the revenge, the decision. And, most of all, of Yohji. Yohji had never even been in that particular room. Aya had never been to England with him. But he was everywhere. Every time Aya smelt cigarette smoke, or saw someone wearing sunglasses in the dark, or heard the trashy rock music Yohji liked so much, he was there. And as for the window of the flower shop next door... Part of him wanted it to end. These wounds won't seem to heal It had been five years since Aya left Yohji in a doomed building, injured and unable to escape. Four years since Ken told him what had happened to him. It hadn't stopped hurting, in all that time, the pain as sharp that morning as the first morning he'd woken up alone. Not a day went by without Aya replaying it in his head, searching even now for some way he could have done things differently; could have saved Yohji, saved his memory, saved him from his escape. And that had hurt more than anything through the years; that it had seemed better for Yohji, to live a travesty of himself, easier than living a truth with Aya. When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears In another life, another time, Ran and Yohji might have fallen in love by themselves, without being trapped together by misery and pain. But not in this one. Yohji had stolen Aya's heart. Literally stolen it: it wasn't offered freely. Yohij captured it with his needing and wanting and vulnerability. The first time he heard Yohji cry was the night Maki died. That was the first night for everything. The first night they had sex, fumbling and hopeless and embarrassing; the first night he was woken by Yohji screaming; the first night he held another man's hand in the dark and comforted him. He didn't use the words until much later, but that was the night Aya fell in love with Yohji. You used to captivate me Even when things were bad, Aya couldn't give up hope. It was an odd sort of hope: he knew the killing would never stop; he knew that although Aya-chan was awake and free he'd never speak to her again; he knew that life would never be normal, whatever that meant. But he hoped that one day Yohji would find his way back, that Asuka would release him and they could be together. Yohji was quite simply the most beautiful man Aya had ever seen. So beautiful that sometimes Aya wished he'd never seen him at all. He couldn't believe he was gone. Not dead, even. Just gone. Become another person, living another life. With another Asuka. The cruelty cut deep; that for just a few, short moments, Aya had won Yohji from Asuka, only to have her snatch him back in the void of lost memory. These wounds won't seem to heal Tears streamed down Aya's face. He couldn't stop himself. That such a thing - such a person - could make him feel like this, could strip him of every single layer of the protective distance he wrapped himself in... That even now, after five years of being someone else, Yohji could reach out through that sword and bring it all back in one hot, gut-wrenching stab of pain. I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone He heard footsteps on the landing, the rattle of the door handle. He brushed away his tears with the back of his hand, got to his feet as the door opened. "Oh, there you are. I wondered if -" Yohji stood in the doorway, his sentence cut short, looking suddenly deeply concerned. "Aya?" "Sorry. I've had this stupid song going through my head for days and..." Aya shrugged to mask a sob. It had been more than a month now, since Aya had found out that Yohji's memory had returned and he wanted to come to London to see him and Ken. More than a week since he'd picked Yohji up from the airport. More than a day since Yohji and he had shared a bed for the first time in five years. He still didn't dare believe it wasn't a dream. When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears Yohji slunk into the room, flung his cigarettes and lighter onto the nightstand. "You? Get sentimental about a song? Fuck me, now I've heard everything." Aya shot a glare at Yohji through his bangs. It felt good. No-one but Yohji truly deserved those glares, or took them so well. Yohji smirked. "Yohji..." "What?" Yohji yawned and stretched, his arms coming to rest casually on Aya's shoulders, tugging him close, hip to hip. Aya pushed the long hair out of Yohji's eyes and kissed him. "Don't leave," he said, his voice barely audible, choked and raw with five years of grief he'd kept locked inside himself. That he would always keep locked inside. Yohji held him tight, so tight he could barely breathe, and whispered softly in his ear. "Never." When you cry I'll wipe away all of your tears |
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* My Immortal © Evanescence (2003). I took the liberty of changing the last couple of lines of the last refrain to reflect the ending. |
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