Paradise Lost

Omi's gaze was as blank as his mind as his thumbs danced expertly over
the Playstation control pad. Some people drown their sorrows in alcohol,
some in meaningless sex; Omi was trying to distract himself with
technology. Sitting on the floor in the darkness of his room at 2:00 in
the morning, the boy was downloading a dozen MP3's on his computer while
he played Final Fantasy VIII. One of Yohji's Sorcerer Hunters anime
tapes was playing off to one side, muted and ignored while the
distracted youth had plugged himself into his headphones and listened to
his Discman play his Eiffel 65 CD for the eleventh time. 

He paused the game for a moment to reach over for the nearly-empty
2-liter bottle of Surge which was sitting open at his side. He felt too
lethargic to get up and get a glass and drank straight from the bottle.
As Omi set the drink down, he felt a dull but insistent ache start at
the front of his forehead, the start of one of his frequent caffeine
headaches. Forced to pull all-nighters researching so often, Omi had
grown addicted to highly- caffeinated sodas. At Manx's suggestion, he'd
started to cut back and that was when the headaches started. After this
particular night's events though, Omi felt justified in returning to the
bad habit for a while. Like Yohji and his smoking... The job was just
too stressful. 

Omi popped two Advil and picked up the controller to start playing
again, put it back down right away in disgust. He felt too restless even
for this. Omi turned off the Playstation and TV with a sigh and chided
himself on acting like such a kid. Playing video games all night
wouldn't solve his problems. Material possessions couldn't take his mind
off of things as he'd hoped they would. 

As the White Hunter bent down to pick up a shirt, he flinched and caught
his breath. His entire rib cage looked like a Canadian sunrise with the
colorful bruises which covered his small chest. His cracked ribs pained
him the most, but only time would heal them, and he'd been hurt worse
before in his line of work. Knowing who it was who had worked him over,
torturing him for information, hurt more than the beatings themselves.
Omi worried at first that he was heartless for not feeling horrible
about killing his own brother, but after that same brother had worked
him over with a lead pipe mercilessly for an hour, the idea that he was
just another villain who needed to be stopped became easier to accept.
He'd denounced any ties to the Takatori family. He was Omi, not Mamoru.
Aya had said so himself earlier that night, and Omi had smiled around
his bruised and swollen lip. 

The night before, Aya had been so dark and stern... Something which
bordered hate had been in his eyes every time he laid eyes on Omi at the
thought of his comrade calling Takatori Reiji "father". Omi had gone to
Aya's room asking him why he felt that way and for the first time, Aya
had told Omi that it was Takatori who had hospitalized his sister. The
young hunter had tried to protest that he had nothing to do with that
and Aya had asked him coldly to leave. 

Omi knew that Fujimiya had been disturbed by the thought of his teammate
being related to his archenemy, but was still surprised at Aya's
reaction when Omi denounced his bloodline and declared that Hirofumi was
not his brother the next night. Weiß had then charged in and rescued
him, assured of where Omi's loyalties lay, but there was a strange
expression on Aya's face even as he cut the ropes which bound his
friend's wrists. Gone was that look of contempt through association;
Aya's eyes had been brimming with relief and uncharacteristic happiness,
perhaps guilt for ever having doubted his friend. Omi still recalled the
faint smile and rare look of warmth in Aya's eyes as he had reassured
him, "You're Tsukiyono Omi, not Takatori Mamoru." Those few words of
trust had stayed with the boy for the rest of the night and gave him the
confidence he needed to keep the worst of his guilt at bay. It still
couldn't stop him from playing games into the middle of the night and
drinking himself into a caffeine stupor, but it was the first night in
almost a week that Omi hadn't cried. Those words lent him strength... 

Omi decided to forget the shirt, as it would hurt too much to pick up;
no one would be awake or care anyway. The young assassin strolled out of
the room, half naked wearing just his sweat pants and padded down the
hall toward the kitchen, wondering what to do with himself next. Sleep
was out of the question. He knew he'd only lie awake for hours, alone
with just his thoughts, giving him time to let the guilt seep in. He'd
been playing games and surfing the Internet for hours in hopes of
distracting himself there, but he couldn't keep that up indefinitely.
Omi knew that ignoring the problem or keeping it to himself wasn't the
answer; he needed human contact. The boy contemplated seeing Ouka the
next day, but even though he enjoyed her company as a friend, her
romantic interest in him always complicated matters. He loved spending
time with her and all, but knew she could never understand his secret
lifestyle. As Ken had discovered the hard way, it was hard to get close
to someone and keep up a normal relationship with blood on one's hands. 

Besides, he already had his heart set on another. Well not *really* set
on, Omi thought to himself. Even though there was that man whom Omi had
always secretly admired and pined for, the boy had never even let
himself imagine things too far. It would never happen and he knew better
than to even get his hopes up. But even despite knowing how impossible
it was to ever catch Aya's eye, Omi found himself waiting for him... 

Omi started daydreaming about Aya's face as he got out a fresh glass
from a cabinet and was bringing it over to the sink for some water. He
always liked to imagine Aya smiling, perhaps reclining on the couch with
his arm around Omi, letting the younger boy rest his head on the
redhead's shoulder. Would Aya's wispy forelocks or dangling earring
brush his cheek? Would the young hunter be able to hear the steady
heartbeat through Aya's tunic if his head were so close to his chest?
What would it be like if Omi were so close he could breathe in the faint
scent of his detergent in his clothes or of conditioner in his long
hair, to feel the long, graceful fingers folded possessively around his
slim shoulders?... Omi had stopped walking and stared blankly out the
window, not seeing with his eyes, but in his mind as the scene came into
perfect focus and Omi gave a soft, lovesick sigh. 

"Ohayo," came the abrupt greeting from behind him. Omi's heart skipped a
beat, startled, and, to his horror, he dropped the glass on the floor in
surprise. There was a popping sound as the glass shards flew apart,
scattered across the floor. Omi whirled around, heart racing. Fujimiya
Aya stood in the doorway, his hands tucked coolly into his pockets, one
shoulder leaning against the door frame. He wore a button-up shirt which
was open all down the front and his face was serious as always. Omi
wished that he would smile more as he did in his fantasies. In his
dreams, Omi had always found a way to take away Aya's pain somehow so he
would be happy once again... 

The adopted boy felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at having just
dropped the glass like a fool right in front of the person he'd been
fantasizing about. Aya ignored the glass but nodded his head towards the
boy and asked, "What are you doing up so late?" 

Omi's blush deepened as he fidgeted in the middle of the glass wondering
if he should start to pick it up or just answer the question. "I
couldn't sleep after what happened tonight..." the boy said lamely, not
able to think of anything more eloquent to say. He turned away,
embarrassed and began to wet a wash cloth to start wiping up all the
tiny slivers of glass. 

"Hn," Aya nodded his understanding of Omi's insomnia and, without saying
a word, bent down solemnly to help pick up glass. 

Omi felt foolish even as he let himself feel excited at the thought of
crouching down so close to his love interest. Their faces were close
together, and something about the two of them picking up the pieces
together seemed symbolic. Omi wished that Fujimiya would let him pick up
the pieces of their lives together... 

"About last night..." Aya started in his usual quiet tone. 

"Hai?" Omi said, not looking up from the pieces he was picking up,
worried about his facial expression betraying his mixed emotions. 

"It was wrong. My mistrust in you was unfounded and I should not have
judged your character based on a blood relation to a demon who did not
even raise you," Aya said flatly. 

Omi looked up, then. He was unaccustomed to hearing Aya voluntarily
apologize. If only he didn't limit his words to such emotionless
rigidity... Omi longed for a day when Aya could let himself stop being
terminally serious for a minute and just open up his feelings to him. 

"Arigato," Omi said quietly. "I also wanted to thank you... For what you
said back there earlier tonight. It's really helped me get past this.
Your words meant a lot to me." 

Aya stopped picking up glass and looked directly into Omi's eyes,
looking a little startled and confused, not used to being thanked and
certainly not told that he was helping like that. It felt good to know,
but at the same time, he didn't know how to react. Aya searched Omi's
gaze for any ulterior motive or second meaning and only found a shy boy
who was genuinely grateful for his words of reassurance. He saw the
youth look demurely into his violet gaze for as long as he could, then
turn his face back to the ground to start picking up glass again. A
strange feeling came over Aya as he watched the bishonen go back to the
task at hand, his face automatically reverting to a pleasant expression.
Omi hadn't hesitated in expressing how much Aya's words had meant to
him, and the vengeful swordsman found himself wondering if he could or
would ever be able to express his own feelings towards Omi that way. He
didn't think he ever could... 

Aya had always felt especially close to his sister. His talkative
sibling's sunny disposition was a perfect compliment to his own more
serious demeanor. He loved to buy her things to see her delighted smile
or tease her just to see that cute look of dismay. She seldom let things
get her down and it kept Aya's spirits up, too. Ever since his dear
sister and friend had been hospitalized, though, Aya found himself
without the lighter half of himself, and became darker, cheerless with
the loss of that sweet influence. With all his joy gone, Aya probably
would have lost it had it not been for one boy who always seemed to
bring out the best in people... 

Omi was one of the few people who could keep Aya on the level. Whenever
he felt like frustrated by his lust for vengeance, or became
disillusioned that the world was nothing but a dark place, somehow Omi
would happen to say just the right thing and give him a flicker of hope
again. Whenever Ken and Yohji would pester him by asking personal
questions, Omi always somehow knew that it was best to just leave him
be. If Aya had something he needed to get off his chest, that always
seemed to be the times when Omi was in the mood to listen. Just being
near the boy cheered him up, filled that void of a comforting influence
that he needed. It wasn't that Omi was replacing his sister. Aya never
thought of Omi as a brother, just a friend who he liked to be around.
But he could never let it show... 

Fujimiya Aya had been devastated when he found out that Omi was related
to his hated enemy... The only one who could make him as happy as his
sister did, was the son of the man who had put her in a coma. Aya had
done everything he had not to let anyone know, but it was the most
upsetting thing to happen since his sister had been injured all that
time ago. When Omi had crept into Aya's bedroom at night to ask why he
was being so angry, Aya had snapped at him coldly and told him to leave,
hating himself for saying it even as soon as the words were out of his
mouth and he saw the hurt look on Omi's face. It felt like being cruel
to his own sister, like hurting someone you love... 

But Omi telling Aya about how he'd helped him just by his few words
moved him in a strange way. It was a good feeling, and even though Aya
wouldn't allow his face to break into a smile or ever let the young boy
know that he was glad to help, he felt compelled to do things like that
again. He wanted to lift Omi's spirits in his times of need the way Omi
had never failed to do for him. Aya watched the figure of the boy who he
would never have admitted out loud was his best friend as the slim
figure was bent over the shards, meticulously cleaning. As Aya watched
the subtle cords of muscle work and ripple gently on Omi's tanned
shoulders and back he found his mind wandering to more exotic avenues of
thought... 

He was focused so much on watching Omi, he didn't keep close enough
track of what his own hands were doing, and as he felt the sharp nip of
one large shard piercing his index finger. He didn't flinch or make a
sound, but stopped to regard the crimson pearl that was starting to
form. Omi, noticing Aya had stopped working, looked up to see the cut
and bleeding finger before Aya had a chance to conceal it. 

"Aya-kun!" he gasped guiltily, "You've hurt yourself..." Omi regretted
letting the redhead help him clean up his own mess because he'd only
been hurt for his troubles. "Let me see. Does it hurt?" 

Had he stopped to think about it first, Omi probably never would have
had the courage to do so, but he reached out reflexively and took Aya's
hand in both of his own, examining the hurt finger like a worried
parent. Holding the finger in one hand, Omi gently spread the cut apart
just enough to see that no slivers were embedded inside. He reached
reflexively to draw his handkerchief from his breast pocket, but then
remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt. Only then did it really dawn on
him that he was half-naked down on the floor, holding Aya's hand in his
own. He jerked his head up in alarm and surprise, convinced he would
find Aya giving him a reproaching look of stern disapproval, but instead
when he looked up, he found Aya's searching eyes already on him, an
unreadable expression on his face, one Omi had never seen before. Still
sure that Aya was uncomfortable at being held, Omi started to let go of
the graceful hand, but was prevented from doing so as Aya's other hand
gently rested on top of Omi's with a sense of reassuring finality. 

The young boy's heart began to pound. Aya's words must have been more
comforting than he'd imagined, he'd managed to fall asleep after all,
and this was all just a dream... But Aya's cool skin felt so real...
Still caught up in the dreamlike state, Omi felt his dark lashes lower
as he closed his eyes slowly and brought Aya's hand to his trembling
lips, gently kissing the sensitive fingertips as lightly as the brushing
of butterfly wings. Aya didn't protest, but watched in silent
fascination. The redhead leaned closer giving Omi easier access to the
captive hand. 

The boy did more than just brush the finger with his lips this time, he
kissed the cut fingertip firmly with soft lips until he could faintly
taste the salt and copper of blood. He let his tongue graze the
fingertip for just the fraction of a second needed for Aya to feel it. 

Aya felt the kiss like an electric shock that ran from his hand to his
face and then to the rest of his body. Every nerve of his sensitive
finger tips were on edge with sensation and anticipation. He watched
with a strange feeling of distance as he saw Omi kneeling in front of
him, kissing him tenderly. He could see the graceful curve of the
bronzed back bend down to lick at the finger which was obscured from his
vision by the boy's downy soft hair. The young hunter moved from the
fingertips to Aya's palm and flicked his tongue lightly across one of
the lines there before tracing a line of small kisses back up the
fingers until he boldly slid his moist mouth slightly down the finger in
a manner more erotic than suggestive.. How supple those boyish lips were
and how sensitive something as simple as a hand could be! As Omi gently
sucked, Aya felt a rush of lightheadedness accompanied by a sudden
onslaught of physical arousal and fought to keep the blush from his
cheeks as he felt himself stir into hardness. As he gazed at Omi's
graceful figure, he could see his slender body trembling slightly like a
little sparrow's. /"You're beautiful..."/ Aya thought to himself softly
and only realized he'd whispered it out loud when Omi looked up at him
with an innocent, questioning look. 

"Aya-kun..." the boy whispered in awe, not believing his ears, wanting
to hear those words his whole life... Was Aya just teasing him? Omi
began to open his mouth to ask something, but Aya took the perfect curve
of the boy's chin and jaw in his other hand and drew the youth's face to
his and pressed his firm lips against Omi's soft ones. Omi's ocean blue
eyes widened and his whole body tensed. His mind and body froze and he
was so surprised he couldn't even return the kiss. But then Aya worked
his mouth expertly against his, and the archer felt his inhibitions
fading away... Omi gently sucked at Aya's lip, returning the kiss he'd
only dreamed of before. Aya's lips were thin, but so dexterous, and his
mouth tasted faintly of the mint tea he often drank before bed. 

"Mmm..." Omi heard himself give a soft moan of submission as he let
himself be swept away in the moment, trying frantically to savor every
sensation, knowing he would never believe that it had been true the next
day... Ignoring the pain of his bruised mouth, Omi felt daring and
parted Aya's lips with his own, letting his tongue tentatively explore
his lips and mouth. As he felt Aya return the motion, Omi drew in a
gasping breath and reached up to tangle his fingers in the warrior's
sorrel hair. Oh, God... His tresses were as fine and soft as he'd always
dreamed they'd be... Omi held the back of the other boy's head gently
but firmly and pressed his face against his intently in a firm deep
kiss, expressing the desperation of one who had wanted this for so long.
 
To his horror, the redhead suddenly broke off the kiss, and Omi suddenly
felt with a sinking sense of dread that he had gone too far and angered
Aya, ruining what they had shared. 
Omi's eyes stung with tears of regret in that instant before his fears
were laid to rest as Aya gently kissed Omi's skin where his smooth neck
met his collar bone. He brought his mouth across the boy's shoulder and
his lips nibbled teasingly along Omi's neck. The young hunter felt his
face flush with embarrassment as he felt the hardness which tented out
his sweat pants strain against its confines of his cotton boxers.

As Fujimiya licked at the soft skin beneath Omi's jaw line, the man
brought his hand up to wrap around the youth's chest. Omi couldn't
stifle his gasp of pain and the reflexive flinch as Aya inadvertently
touched the bruised flesh. Aya stopped everything, eyes wide, realizing
instantly what he accidentally done. He looked appalled and then angry
at himself. 

Fearing that his lover would become silent again and leave his warm
embrace, Omi hastily took Aya's hands in his own and kissed his ivory
cheek. "It's okay..." 

Aya looked back at his young lover and knew that everything was even
better than that...