Goddamn it! This is fecking annoying. The boyfriend decided he needed to install a new graphics card so he could play his Final Fantasy 11 on the computer, and neither he nor any of his friends (including the one who used to make computers for a living) can get it too cooperate the way it’s supposed to, so I’ve got TWO computer screens and have to drag things from one screen to another to combat the 800x600 screen format. *hates 800x600* *listens to rock music and hates her computer* I’m sorry I’ve been remiss as of late regarding updates, but pretty much anything capable of souring or going wrong has done so. Well… here ya go:
Omi rolled over to occupy the warm spot Ken must have only recently vacated. He curled up, blankets swirled around him in a comforting cocoon. His head ached abominably, a claw hammer attempting to tear his skull apart from the inside out. The rest of his body shared a lesser brand of aches and pains, but he couldn’t really complain about the cause. What was the point of fighting if you couldn’t make up? Omi was developing a certain taste for violence. It would have been nice if Ken had chosen to stick around, though. It seemed to cheapen him, the tail end of a one-night stand, left alone in a cold bed without a single clue.
The first attempt to stand left him with a reeling head and a sickness in the pit of his stomach. This couldn’t be good. Perhaps the human head only had so many allotted concussions before it began to malfunction and ultimately break down. Omi was pretty positive he’d met and passed that momentous milestone some time ago.
“Hey. You’re up early.” Youji passed him in the hallway, bright and sunshiny himself.
“Have you seen Ken?”
Youji shook his head in reply. “Did he go out last night?”
“No.” Omi sighed, abandoning the whole conversation. It was degrading to have to ask. He should know by now, no stupid conversation could change anything between them. Yet another error on his part.
A glance out the kitchen window showed only one car in the driveway, and Aya’s abrupt entry into the room shot down one last hope of his. Fate’s similarly disgruntled advent successfully killed the far less likely option number two. Only Ken could have taken the vehicle.
“Morning to you all.” Fate stumbled towards the coffee maker in slow motion. She attempted to pour air into a cup two times before the term ‘empty’ registered itself. “Which asshole drink all my coffee?” Grousing as she ran the tap to make a new batch of coffee. “Youji, you stupid head! No more of the caffeine, we tell you.”
“Haven’t had any coffee today.” Youji shouted from the stairwell. Aya ghosted an unprompted smile in the direction of the denial, leaving Omi with a bit of jealousy to tangle with the nausea in his stomach.
“What’s the plan for today?” Aya turned his attention back to Fate, sharing a look with her that Omi couldn’t begin to interpret.
“Not today.” She ignored them both, eying the coffee maker. “I beat the shit of this machine if it not hurry. What happen next? Someone eat all my breakfast donuts?”
A hastily muffled bray of laughter spiraled down from the upstairs hallway. Fate sighed.
“I not even bother looking in cupboard. That pig eat my sugary foods” She looked over her shoulder, addressing Aya. “Not today, though. Maybe tomorrow we go, maybe a day or two after. I make arrangements today, issue insults and like to make him angry. Just leave all to me, okay?”
Aya grunted and left the room with his glass of orange juice, the faint quirking of his mouth a clear indication he was going back upstairs to find Youji. Omi stood in the center of the kitchen, watching silently as Fate left a few minutes later, gratefully cradling a mug full of liquid awareness in her palms. He looked towards the doorway again, one hand coming up to pinch his bottom lip as he tried to decide the least draining way to pass the time until something happened. There were things he could and probably should be doing, but it would take so much effort, and no one had specifically asked him to do anything. It was hard to work up concern.
The melancholic silence was interrupted by a dull pounding from the front of the house. Omi pulled a long kitchen knife from the rack on the counter, heading for the front door with bare feet and sleep mussed hair. Anyone with business at their home wouldn’t care what he looked like as he killed them. It was a little early on in the day for a first attack, but it was better safe than sorry.
He threw open the door without checking the peep hole, startled to see a young woman smiling at him front the front step instead of another nightmare in a business suit.
“Uh-hello.”
“Can I help you with something?” Omi hid the hand clutching a knife behind his back, hoping she hadn’t noticed it yet.
“Is Ken in right now?” She clasped her own hands behind her back with her chest thrust out, one toe twisting against their doormat. It was one of those cutesy little poses that made Omi want to commit murder.
“No, I’m afraid he’s not.” Until he could place her almost-familiar face, Omi was going to be as polite as possible.
“You must be Omi.” The warm smile on her face widened. “Ken told me all about you. Look, I hate to take up your time if he’s not here, but I’ve got to get going and I have to get in touch with him. Can I just leave a note?”
He still couldn’t place her face, but it was pretty damned obvious who she was by this point.
“Hey, who is it?” Youji and Aya crowded the hallway behind him, equally wary.
“It’s nothing. I’ll take care of it.” He waited until the hallway was clear, making it clear with his body language that the girl was supposed to stay in the doorway until he invited her in. “Do you need to write something down for him, or would you prefer I pass it along verbally.” Yeah, he’d just blithely pass on a message to Ken from his girl-on-the-side. And what did she mean by saying Ken had told her all about him. What had Ken said?
“I’d prefer to just write it down for him.” She hadn’t the good grace to show awkwardness in an uncomfortable situation. Maybe she didn’t know who she was really talking to. Who knew what Ken had said to her?
Omi silently gestured that she should follow him. He left her in the kitchen and went one room over to grab a sheet of paper from his computer printer, nabbing one of the least-chewed-upon pens from the coffee table. Now that Youji was smoking again, his old oral fixation was back in full. It was a wonder he wasn’t biting out bits of plaster from the walls.
“Thanks.” She began to scribble out her message, frowning slightly in concentration.
“So, what has Ken said about me?” He smoothed a hand over his frazzled hair, tried to make it sound like casual conversation. When she left, he was going upstairs to find some of those heavy-duty painkillers he wouldn’t allow Youji to take. If his head got much worse he was going to be sick. What would it take for him to get a new skull to replace the old broken one he was currently stuck with?
“Hmm, just the usual types of things you’d say about a close friend. He didn’t have any horrible ‘when we were kids he did such and such a stupid thing’ stories, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She laughed. She tamped down her level of visible happiness, looking at Omi from the corner of her eye. “He wouldn’t tell me anything about his girlfriend though. I think that’s why he stopped seeing me. Something big happened with her, maybe.” She talked as if Omi should know all about the things she casually mentioned. Maybe if Omi really were as close a friend as she’d been lead to believe it would be expected of him to know all about Ken’s affairs.
Omi shrugged, wanting her to hurry up and leave. He didn’t care anymore. She didn’t seem that spectacular, and that made the unfavorable comparisons Ken had made earlier hurt even more. If she were better than him, how completely mediocre must he really be.
“What’s she like? His girlfriend?” She looked up, wide eyes curious and determined.
“Not at all what you’d expect.” He allowed himself a hint of bitter humor. He ignored her silent prompt to continue. It was none of her fucking business. He wasn’t going to cater to her idle curiosity at his own expense. If she wanted to know so badly she could nag Ken until he made up something of his own.
“Well, I’ll miss my plane, so I’ve got to go. Thank you very much for your time. Tell him he can reach me at this number anytime after tomorrow and tell him I’ll always be around if he needs any help. That’s what friends are for.” She smiled, letting her self out with a second, hasty thanks called back over her shoulder. Omi stared down at the paper she’d thrust into his hand on her way by, the letters blurring together until he forced his eyes to focus at close range.
He only picked out a word or two before he decided it wasn’t his business and he wouldn’t care, slapping the flimsy paper down on the tainted table top. The pain goblin dancing gleefully around his skull made the trip upstairs difficult, disorienting. Someone was in the bathroom, the pitter-pattering of water making it clear the shower at least was occupied. He knocked on the door, not really concerned with the identity of the occupant. He just wanted to get something for the pain, maybe lie down for a little while. For forever.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be gone in a minute. I just need to get something.” He didn’t understand the reply that came back, muffled and unintelligible through the thick, wooden door. He left the door open a few inches behind him, instantly smothered by the thick, almost liquid heat of the air in the bathroom. It would be cooler, nearer to the ground. Heat rose, didn’t it? He left one hand resting on the sink counter, letting his head rest against his upraised arm as he blindly dug beneath the counter. He felt faint, unable to breathe. Just in time his hand brushed against a cardboard corner, dragging their medicine shoebox into the light.
Aya spoke to him from the shower, but it was too quiet and in the end it probably didn’t matter anyway. He pawed through hand-labeled bottles, looking for something, not even sure anymore. He’d remember when he saw the label. The names blended together, meaningless rattling sounds giving more information than the scribbles on the labels. Was it too much to ask for a little Vicodin or some Demerol? He let the bottles in his hand drop to the floor, another fit of dizziness taking him.
“Hey, are you okay?” Youji was kneeling next to him, the cool breeze from the hallway swirling in with him. The white noise of the shower stopped, more distant sounds before Aya joined them, hair dripping and a towel hastily thrown around his waist. “Omi?”
“Mm hmm. I was just looking for-” He stopped, words coming slowly or not at all. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, show any sign of weakness. If he let on, then they’d start babying him just like they’d done right after he’d first hurt his head. It wasn’t usually this bad, if he could just wait it out the pain would end and he’d be back to normal. His betraying hands rose to press on his closed eyes, trying to redirect the agony.
Youji helped him to his feet, sharing a concerned look with Aya, unaware that Omi was watching the exchange. “C’mon. Why don’t you lie down for a little bit.”
Omi leaned heavily against Youji’s bony frame, face drawn. He wasn’t up to arguing at this point.
“What’s going on?” Ken made his own appearance, return home unnoticed amidst the ongoing commotion. He tried to take Youji’s place as a human crutch, startled when Omi jerked away from his touch.
“Leave me alone. I don’t want your help.” He turned his face, pressing it against Youji’s shoulder, the sudden darkness easing the ache of being awake and functional. It would take so much effort to have a real confrontation with Ken right now, and not in front of Aya and Youji. The mortification alone would kill him.
Youji muttered soothing phrases as he helped Omi to the edge of the bed, awkwardly endearing as always in his attempts to be a good person. “Okay, here we are. Easy does it, come on. Should we take you to the hospital? What’s wrong, what hurts?”
“There is no way in hell I’m going back downstairs after all the work it took to get me here.” He attempted a smile, looking down to avoid the pity he was sure would be in their eyes. Pity was a deplorable emotion, and only the truly pathetic at heart craved it. “It’ll pass in a few moments.” He hoped. “It’s not usually this bad; nothing to worry about.” Except for the fact that his brain felt like some angry member of the yakuza had placed his head in a bench vice and was currently working on making his eyes bulge right out of their sockets.
“It’s your head?” Aya put cool fingers to Omi’s forehead, attempting to further clarify things.
“Sometimes a concussion can leave behind all sorts of problems. Heads are only so sturdy. Something like this, the re-occurring headaches, could be a lingering side-effect. It will fade and eventually stop all together as time passes.” In theory. Sometimes Omi was glad none of his teammates could pry his head open and sneak peaks into his inner monologue.
“Do you want some painkillers? Can I get anything for you?” All concern, Youji hovered, invading more of Omi’s air space.
“No, I wasn’t thinking. I don’t need anything, I’ll be okay in a minute or two.”
“Shouldn’t you go somewhere and get your head checked on, though? Make sure, I don’t know, your brain isn’t swelling or anything?” Youji floundered, trying to remember any medical jargon pertaining to head injuries.
“He only one without swelling head, stupid.” Fate inserted herself into the already crowded scene. “Why you pester him, make him stupid like rest of you?”
Youji responded with some half-hearted denials and a few return insults of his own, spiraling the whole thing into an all inclusive argument. Omi covered his ears, unsure if the loud droning sound came from the room around him or if it were yet another inside-job.
“Please, you’re all too loud.” A last-ditch attempt to quite things before the last vestiges of control slipped from his closely bound self-control. His soft plaint was drowned out by the noisy, almost angry clamor. “Please, if you could just-”
“I told you! You were wrong and now you won't admit it.” Youji stabbed one finger towards Fate’s chest, the point of the argument long forgotten. With their nerves on end like this it had only been a matter of time. Omi watched through liquid air, his eyes filling up with distorting water, filing the room with their indifference.
“BE QUIET!” He slammed his hands down into the mattress, surging to his feet. For a moment the rush of rage and adrenaline did what nothing else could, cutting off the halo of pain whirling around his perception.
Silence descended in one jarring second, the unexpected outburst quelling any remnants of the pointless squabbling. That golden split-second came and went as Omi blinked, Youji’s rapid-fire apology crowded out that single pain free moment, immediately followed by more loud censure from Fate, their live-in peanut gallery. Omi sat back down again, eyes closed. The sounds were more real against the backdrop of darkness, imagined images warring brilliant and bloody across the insides of his eyelids to accompany the soundtrack of the real world.
“Get out.” Aya’s flat commands herded everyone out of the room, the door closing in their wake. The stillness was pure ambrosia against his worn down tolerance.
Omi carefully let himself ease back, his stomach and jaw muscles tight and shaky from being held tense for such a long period of time. His mouth trembled as he covered his eyes with his hands again. Everything felt so unsteady, and he was deathly afraid. He didn’t want to die from sort of brain complication. While he was the closest things they had to an expert when it came to medical care, that didn’t make him a certified doctor. He could only do so much.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Ken’s soft query startled Omi from truly melancholy musings.
“I didn’t realize you were still here.” His mouth tightened, the slight weakness hidden once again. He was lying down, at least. He could bear anything if he didn’t have to stand up again. “Did you get the note your girlfriend left for you?”
Ken paused for a few seconds too long. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t catch her name, but she left a note for you. It’s on the kitchen table.” He waited for Ken to say something. It didn’t matter so long as the ball left his court and the conversational responsibilities transferred to someone else’s head. “She wanted to know what your real girlfriend was like, the one you were cheating on with her.” The tired sigh that escaped his wire-taut body pretty much said it all.
“Omi, it’s not, I mean, that’s not how…” Ken sat down on the edge of the bed. “Could you at least look at me while I talk?”
“No, because the lights hurt my head.” It was hard not to sound petty and sullen with such a topic to contend with. Omi wanted some Vicodin more than ever, something to fade the pain, something to put him to sleep until the day was over and it didn’t matter anymore.
“I’m sorry, Omi. I didn’t see the note, and I don’t know what she was doing here. I-I stopped all of that with her some time ago. I’m sorry if she said something that upset you.”
It was better to just say nothing at all.
“You obviously don’t want me to be here right now. I’ll come back in a little while when you’re more amicable.” A soft touch brushed across the back of Omi’s knuckles, warm like the touch of satin lips. The door opened and closed again. Omi lay still until he was sure the room really had been vacated before curling over onto his side, shaking.
Ken knew he was in trouble even before he’d brought both feet over the threshold into the kitchen.
“What the hell is this?” Youji leaned against the table, a square of paper dangling from between two of his fingers, reminiscent of the same casual grip he’d use to hold a cigarette.
“It looks like a piece of paper, but I could be mistaken.” When in doubt, play dumb. That was another rule Ken adhered to with the zealousness of experience.
Aya gave him one of those ‘looks’ usually reserved for enemies and door-to-door sales men. Youji gave him an equally passable impression of Aya’s death mask, crumpling the paper in his hand and dropping it on the floor. He brushed past Ken without another word, disgust written across every line of his face. There was little else to do but stoop and smooth out the piece of paper. He already knew what it would be: the note Omi had mentioned.
“So lame, stupid head! Having girl you date behind back come to see you at house!” Fate scoffed into her freshly brewed cup of coffee, unconcerned with moral dilemmas of the matter. “Why you tell her where you live? Stupid girls made to fuck up!”
Ken dropped the note back on the floor, unable to choose between anger and defeat. “It wasn’t my intent to invite her over to ‘meet the parents‘.”
“No. It wouldn’t have been, would it?” Aya drolly commented, a towering figure of stern censure to Ken’s own kneeling form. The celerity with which Ken gained his feet earned him another glare from Aya. Aya had little tolerance for sudden, jerking motions from anyone.
“When did you become the master of healthy relationships? Did I imagine the bit where you tried to basically sell Youji to Ko-Ishi? If all you have to do to redeem yourself is make it through one night without fucking anyone over then by tomorrow I should be good to go.”
“I warned you about upsetting Omi, didn’t I?” For once no substantial anger ran beneath the words. For a moment Ken thought he understood the complete lack of real concern Aya expressed, understood all too well the need to go through the motions to uphold appearances even when you were so worn down it was an agony.
“Yeah.” There wasn’t anything else to say, the atmosphere disapproving and stifling. He was still trying to fathom the reasoning behind Kakaria’s surprise visit while he was out. The comments about Ken’s real ‘girlfriend’ were just more salt in the wound. He couldn’t imagine her doing something rash and stupid like that without a good reason. The note said she was moving out of town and wanted to make sure Ken could reach her if he wanted to, because they were still friends. What a mess. She could have left it with her grandmother, their neighbor. She could have just called and left an anonymous message, or she could have mailed him the new information. She certainly knew where he lived. It was just his bad luck.
The phone rang, shrill and jarring. “I get it.” Fate set her empty mug down on the counter, dashing for the phone to outmaneuver her nonexistent competition.
“Not that she was expecting a call or anything.” Ken made the smart-mouthed comment despite the unreceptive audience. If Aya was only going to pretend to care then Ken wasn’t even going to bother with that. They listened to one side of an enthusiastic conversation taking place in a foreign language.
“We have good news!” Several moments later she whirled back into the kitchen, caffeine personified.
“We do?” Omi leaned against the door frame, forehead resting against the wooden corner.
“Ah, you fine now? Is wonderful.” Fate spun back around, jittery and excitable. “Who best for computer job? Is blonde head, right? I need you for help.”
“Omi doesn’t have a psychiatric degree.” Youji offered his helpful two yen from beyond the confines of the room. “I don’t think you can get the sort of help you really need from him, Fate.”
Fate took the easier path and ignored Youji all together. “You have computer here, no? Outside lines, internet access?”
“Yeah.” Omi aborted a nod as the blood throbbed at his temples.
“We need play trick on Ko-Ishi. He probably watching your outside communications like hawk! Whatever you go and search for, whatever you look at, he trace it back and spy on you. What I need you to do is go to places that make it look like you trying to find way to sell house and buy new one somewhere else. Somewhere out of country. Maybe visit bank accounts as if you check balance for big move. But only accounts that he cannot access and drain.”
“Well, since I’m entitled to know, why exactly would doing so be a good idea? We’re not leaving. This is our home and we’re not fucking giving it up this time.”
She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I know that, stupid Youji. You know that. Ko-Ishi have no fucking clue, right? So, we make him think we all beaten and scared, we run away!”
“How is making ourselves look like defeatist pussies going to help any?” Youji snorted, mostly ignoring her in favor of alternately eyeing Fate’s abandoned mug of coffee and Aya with equal doses of longing.
“Redhead and I talk of this yesterday. We issue formal challenges of sort-” she frowned, “I not have right word to describe this, but we make it so he has to fight or lose face. I take care of that, is my specialty. He think we want to give one last shot and then run away if it goes bad, or get him preoccupied and then slip away. Ko-Ishi never expect a real attack.”
“Where have I heard this before?” Ken muttered to himself.
“Aya?” Youji sidled closer, disturbed by the blank consideration Aya was giving to the featureless wall in front of him.
“Hm?” A quick flicker of violet eyes, and then back to that fascination with the plaster.
“Why haven’t I heard about any of this yet?”
“The matters we discussed were not important for you to know.” Aya heaved a tired sigh and swayed back onto his feet, away from the support of the table. “How soon is this fight going to be taking place?”
Fate shrugged. “Not long from now. I do everything in my power to make it fast. It has to be fast, so he not ready to be hit hard and ferocious. Better to just get over with, you know.” The last line was sent Aya’s way, more dark undertones to confuse the others.
“Yeah.” Aya brushed past Omi on his way out, focused more on the ground beneath his feet than the concerned looks he was receiving.
“What the hell did you say to him?”
“Stupidhead, is not important what I say to you boyfriend guy! If it for you to know, I tell you. Okay?”
Youji glared for a moment or to, completely unfazed by the blinding grin Fate returned. He made it to the hallway in time to see the last of Aya’s legs disappearing up the stairs. “Aya, wait.” He caught up on the landing for the second floor. “Aya, what the hell is going on?”
Aya shook his head, distant and preoccupied. “It’s not important, it was just about the things that had to be done to ensure a victory.”
“What sorts of things.” One hesitant hand brushed Aya’s cheekbone, slid back to cup the back of his skull as Youji pulled him into a quick hug. Aya sighed again, turning his face against the soft, worn material of Youji’s t-shirt.
“It really is better if you don’t know. Just don’t think about it, and don’t worry about it.” Advice Aya wished he could take. Fate was right, the sooner it was over, the better. The longer he had to think about sacrificing himself after finally righting things with Youji, the more likely he was to balk at the last moment. The others couldn’t afford that sort of delay. Their safety was at stake, especially Youji’s.
“All right. I won’t pry. I’ll have to trust that if it were important enough to know, you’d tell me about it.”
The guilt only intensified with Youji’s unwitting reassurance.
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Actually, having two screens for one computer system is fecking AWESOME! ^__^ Maybe I can talk him into keeping it this way! I can do TWO THINGS simultaneously with no switching between windows. *hugs computer* Mmmm, I looooove you!!! *looks around* Eh… *shifty eyed look* Pretend you didn’t see that… okay? I’ll try to get the next chapter out in a timely fashion. We’re nearing the beginning of the end. *cheers* Waaahhhhhh. Drop me a line: darkhunter@ijustdontcare , or [email protected]