Title: Cherry Kisses, Prologue

Author: Rina Garet

Pairing: Yohji x Aya O.o What else?

Rating: PG-13, might change but I doubt it.

Spoilers: Some for Yohji, Some for Aya >>;; I'm not particular about

spoilers. Don't read it if you don't want em.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters >> They sorta own me.

CHERRY KISSES, PROLOGUE

Aya was fuming.

As usual, the source of his anger was none other than Yohji. It had

been happening more and more of late, and it was annoying Aya to no

end.

More than annoying, even. It was driving him nuts. Usually nothing

was able to make him crack, nothing could make him lose his cool, but

Yohji had been pressing all the right buttons lately, and Aya was

losing it more and more with each argument.

Why? Why the hell was he letting the flip, suave, careless, blonde

get to him? Well damn, enough was enough. Aya decided it was time to

put a stop to foolish arguments before he lost himself completely one

of these times, and did something he knew he would regret. Time to

put a stop to any more of these late-night argumentative episodes

with Yohji once and for all.

Aya slipped into the hallway, closing the door to his room quietly

behind him, and making his way over to Yohji's door. It was getting

late, and he didn't need Ken or Omi waking up and walking into the

middle of anything happening between him and Yohji, especially if he

was trying to smooth things over with the oldest Weiß member. Aya

wasn't one to compromise or apologize, but he might need to in this

case, to save his sanity.

He knocked on the door softly, and when no one answered, knocked

again. Still no answer.

Well, it wasn't THAT late, and Yohji was horribly notorious for

coming in at insane hours. Aya nudged Yohji's door open, and stepped

inside. It was dark, with only a small bit of light shining in

through the window on the far wall beside Yohji's bed. Aya blinked

for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and looked around for a

light. He wasn't familiar with the older Weiß member's room; he

had

no reason to be.

Stepping slowly in the shadowed room, Aya ever-so-gracefully banged

his knee into the small table in the middle of Yohij's floor.

Uttering a soft curse and a promise of 'shi-ne' later, he nudged the

table aside to get to the floor lamp near Yohji's bed. As he pushed

at the table, he heard something roll to the floor and thud loudly,

but didn't pay any attention to it until the light was finally

flicked on.

Blinking again, Aya's eyes adjusted to another light change. Yohji's

room was clean, but dishevelled. Aya's eyes were drawn to the floor

beside the table he'd cracked his knee on, and on the bottle there

that he'd evidently knocked onto the floor from the impact. He

stepped over softly and picked it up from the floor. It hadn't

spilled, hadn't cracked, and seemed to be fine. Lucky for him-one

less thing for Yohji to possibly be pissed off at him for.

He turned the cool glass bottle over in his hands and bit his lower

lip. Why the hell WAS Yohji so angry with him all the time, anyway?

The two of them simply didn't get along outside of work, Aya

supposed. They led two completely different lifestyles.

With nothing better to do, and his original purpose for going to

Yohji's room thwarted, Aya turned the bottle label face up and read

it. Brandy. He wasn't one much for drinking, so it might as well have

been Greek to him.

The bottle was mostly full, but wasn't very large. Aya figured it

must either be brand new, or be quite strong, or both, if it was this

full. He thrust the bottle back down on the table, almost in disgust.

Yohji drank that crap, not him.

He moved over to the window and looked out. Even in the middle of the

night, the city was never quiet. You could always see the blood. You

could always hear the screams.

Or at least, he could.

He saw whenever he closed his eyes, and sometimes when they were

open. He heard in the dead of night, in the brightest noon.They

flooded his consciousness and split through his skull, tortured his

memories. He turned again, his back to the window now, to look at the

table, and the bottle sitting on it.

That was why people drank, wasn't it? To forget.

So then, Yohji had something he wanted to forget... Something

painful.

Slowly, as if walking on eggshells, Aya walked back to the table,

picked up the bottle again. Brandy. Cherry Brandy, he read, upon

closer inspection of the label. He almost laughed at himnself. What

did it matter was in the bottle? Who the hell read alcohol labels

anyway? Did people who drank this stuff really care about the taste,

anyway?

With some sudden sense of curiosity, Aya unscrewed the metal cap on

the bottle, and held it up to his nose. His eyes began to water as

the fumes burned at his nose, down into his throat. People actually

drank this stuff? God, it must be like drinking lighter fluid.

He put the bottle back down again, but held the cap in his fingers,

rolling it between them. What the hell was he doing? Why was he here?

Yohji could be back any minute, or not for hours. He should never

have even come in if Yohji wasn't here.

He wasn't sure why he came, he just knew he had. He could wait for

Yohji, the blonde would have to return home sooner or later.

Setting the cap back on the table, Aya again picked up the bottle. He

walked to the window with it, and looked out. The city lights were

bright. He decided he was tired of the light. He wanted the dark

again. He went back to the lamp and turned it off, making his way

back to the window one final time, letting the lights of Tokyo at

night mezmerize him.

Which one was Yohji at? And who was he with tonight?

Aya stood, alone, in the darkness.

He'd almost forgotten the bottle in his hand until it clinked against

the windowsill. He lifted it up again, reading it again, although he

already knew what it said. Brandy. Cherry Brandy.

He could hear her scream.

See her lifeless.

What did it matter anyway, now?

He lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a sip. And promptly choked.

God almighty the stuff was strong. It burned his eyes, and a tear ran

down his cheek. It stung his throat, and he coughed roughly. He

leaned against the windowsill, panting. How in God's name did anyone

drink this?

He started to laugh.

Ran Fujimiya, the perfect assassin, the perfect killler. Hunter in

the night. And he couldn't even get down a shot of brandy. What a

joke.

He was stronger than that. He was stronger than the other three.

That's why he was the leader. He made it his goal to be strong.

Nothing would hurt him again. Nothing would break him again. Nothing

would ruin him again.

Nothing.

This liquor was an unspoken challenge. It called out to him, taunting

him.

He laughed again, softly, hysterically, until his hands shook.

He wasn't strong. He was weak. He'd come here to compromise with

Yohji because his weakness was showing.

He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.

A burning sensation filled his throat, went down into his stomach.

The strength and taste was enough to choke him, but he held it in. He

turned his back to the window and smiled a grim smile. A cold smile.

He sank down against the windowsill and wall behind him, not losing

his grip on the bottle.

He laughed at all the shadows of his past, and they laughed back at

him. He laughed at what he'd become, and so did they. He laughed, and

listened.

He drank, once more.

He laughed softly, once more.

And closed his eyes.

*****

TBC O.O