Disclaimer: Same as in previous parts...

Pairing: Yohji x Aya/Ran
Warnings: Yaoi, Shounen-ai, Language, Poetry, Angst, Cool Moms

A month of weekend dates passed. Yohji took that time to prove he did know what he was doing when it came to taking things slow. His birthday loomed closer and closer. Ran was going to make him celebrate it for the first time in years… promised him that it would be a special day.

Yohji was going to hold him to that.

Then, the day was upon them both. The redhead took his shift during the morning, telling him that it was the first part of his present. Then, that afternoon, Yohji found his dating partner at his door with a long box. "This is just another part of your present," Ran said softly, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

It opened easily and then the blond was holding onto a beautiful green and black Kramer six-string. Yohji flipped it over in his hands and found that the back had been adorned lovingly with a cattleya orchid. The depiction was perfectly rendered and his eyes flew to the face of his fellow assassin in shock.

Ran blushed a little under the scrutiny. "I still want to hear you play." His hand covered Yohji's. "Now, there's no excuse not to get back into practice."

The blond kissed him, deep and slowly, showing his appreciation of the gift. When it broke, he found his team mate panting. "Thank you, Ran… it's beautiful." He felt bereft when the redhead pulled away.

"I'm going to get ready. You should do the same, Yohji."

It was an hour later when Ran called to check on the reservations at one of the older man's favorite restaurants. Then, they were on their way in Yohji's car. The silence that hung between the two men was comfortable. They parked and started into the restaurant, Yohji's arm comfortable over his companion's shoulders.

His blood ran cold when they were brusquely pushed out of the way by Reiji Takatori and a handful of his bodyguards. Yohji could feel the tension under his hand, causing him to give a hard tug. "Ran, don't," he breathed out lowly. "Of all nights… don't do this tonight."

"I… I…" The redhead shook himself. When their gazes finally met, all Yohji could see were violet glaciers. "I have to go."

Yohji backed up and looked away. "Are you sure? I… I… Fine," he said, defeated, "do what you want." The older man turned away, hiding the flash of pain in his eyes. "You've got one hour, Aya… I won't wait any longer."

His boot heels were sharp as they rang out on the front steps. Yohji couldn't look back. Ran, Aya, whoever, would never see the tears that had begun to glimmer in those eyes. Yohji would never let him see the hurt that shot through the blond. It stabbed through him with all the certain precision of one of Aya's katana strikes.

'Nothing we've built so far can stop the thirst for revenge, neh, Aya?' Yohji asked himself bitterly as he sat down in a shadowed booth. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling over his golden hair, catching in the confines of the over-hanging light fixture above.

The hour passed by so slowly for Yohji. His right hand fisted around the cloth napkin and the drink nearby had long since turned to water. Still, he waited. 'Five more minutes… Come on, Ran… Come through that door. Show me that what we've got so far means something…'

Yohji's head lay back against the booth and his eyes closed as he lost himself in sweet fantasies of rapidly fading hopes for a happy future. 'You promised to make this a special day… Don't break that… Don't fuck this up…'

His latest cigarette gave up its last breath of addicting life, announcing it with a burning pain to his index and middle fingers. Yohji's eyes snapped open and he flicked the butt into the ashtray. Then, he checked his watch.

Okay, so he'd inadvertently given the redhead an extra nine minutes total.

"Fuck this," the man growled out angrily before tossing back the last of his bland drink and signaling for the check. "I've been more than patient…"

Yohji paid the tab and left, his angry pained aura clearing the path before him. No one got in his way as he stepped out into the dark of night. He wished he could see the stars above as he turned his head to the sky, twin trails streaming from his emerald orbs.

"Happy fucking birthday, Yohji… Happy fucking birthday."

When he got home, he could hear Ken and Omi in the living room, watching some cheesy movie they'd rented. Yohji moved silently, not wanting to have to explain where Aya was or why his eyes were red when he *hadn't* been drinking like a fish. He got to his room and quietly closed the door, locking it, leaning against it, wishing to God or someone that he could stop crying.

It hurt… by everything he held dear, it hurt. He wanted, no needed, to talk to someone. Yohji had to get his feelings aired out so that he could function in the morning. His eyes flicked to the phone and found a post-it note stuck to the receiver.

"Yohji - Your mother called. Said 'Happy Birthday' and to call her when you've got time to talk.

-- Omi.

PS - Look in the fridge."

His shaking hand lifted the note and the receiver, the former being dropped on the bed. He dialed the number easily enough. Yohji even schooled his voice so as not to give himself away. He endured the rings until the other end picked up.

"Hello." His mother's perfect American voice. How he'd missed that.

"Mom?" Yohji wasn't sure what to say. He opted to let her speak first.

"Hey, hun… What's wrong? You don't sound well." Her concern, as always, touched him deeply even though they'd not seen each other in years. Yohji was also amazed that she'd pegged him from the first word. Mother's instinct, he guessed.

The tears began to spill and so did the story of the night. By the time he finished explaining the events of the last month, Yohji was laying on his stomach on the bed, tears streaming again, chest tight from emotional pain, and his free hand clenched in his hair.

His mother was a reasonable woman. "Okay, son… First, get your hand out of your hair. I'm sure that habit hasn't stopped since you were still my little boy."

Yohji obediently did as told.

"Second… Light up a cigarette. I know you're still smoking so go ahead. You sound like you need it."

The snap of the lighter as he did what she commanded resounded in the still silence of his room.

"Third. I think it's high time that you came out for a visit. I haven't seen you since you were eighteen and I can tell that there's more to this story than meets the eye."

"But, mom… my job-"

"I don't give a shit! My son's in pain, more than he's letting on, and I think he needs to get away from the source for a while. Besides… You need to come out anyway… Lacey's getting married and she wants you there."

The blond was upon his knees at the news. "What?!? Why didn't anybody call or write or something? That's need to know information." Yohji looked around his room, wondering what he should pack. There was no way that he was going to miss out on this event. Lacey had been a great drummer back when his band was in full swing.

She'd also been a good friend.

Which brought him to his next question. Something that had been bothering him for a long time. "What about Jo? Is mean… is she going to be there?"

"Yes, hun. She's the maid of honor." His mother paused. "She's forgiven you, Yohji. Maybe its time you talked to her. I think your heart might feel a little lighter if you do. You know how hard her forgiveness comes."

"Yeah." Yohji came off the bed and grabbed his suitcase, hastily folding clothes and stuffing them inside. "I'll book a flight first thing."

His mother was a step ahead of him. "No need, Yo-chan… I've already got your ticket waiting for you at the airport."

The blond ground his teeth. "Mom… if you dare call me that while I'm home… I'll swim back to Tokyo. I'm not a boy anymore… I'm all grown up now."

He heard his mother chuckle. "I know, sweetheart, but you're always going to be my son. Now, obey your mom, for once, and get your skinny ass out here. The wedding's in three days and I'd like to have a distraction from all this ceremony."

Yohji found himself smiling for the first time since the debacle at the restaurant. "Yes, ma'am."