Falling Forever
A Weiss Kreuz / Gravitation crossover
By Miko no da

---

Chapter 1

Hiroshi leaned against the bar, sipping idly at his beer and watching the dance floor. The patterns of light and movement struck his artistic fancy, and he absently hummed along with the song pounding out over the speakers. Appropriately enough, they were playing a Nittle Grasper song.

Bad Luck had finally gotten its first break - and it had come on the heels of its biggest disaster. He still couldn't believe Shuuichi had just frozen like that - it wasn't like his friend to suffer from any kind of fright, stage or other. And it certainly wasn't like him to forget the lyrics to his own song!

If not for Ryuichi's intervention, the concert would have been a disaster. With the former Nittle Grasper star's help they'd turned it into a hit, capturing the hearts of the audience - and more importantly, the attention of NG's president, Seguchi Touma.

And all because of Shuuichi's obsession with that writer, Yuki Eiri. Hiroshi couldn't believe how hard and fast his friend had fallen for the intractable jerk. Yuki certainly hadn't done anything to encourage his attentions - on the contrary, the bitterly sarcastic author had gone out of his way to hurt Shuuichi at nearly every opportunity. In Hiro's opinion, Shuuichi could do much better.

Yeah, like you for instance? his subconscious tugged at him. He scowled and drained his beer, fighting to ignore it. Sure, he'd been in love with his fiery friend for as long as he could remember, since he'd first been old enough to understand lust. But it had long ago become obvious that Shuuichi was never going to think of him that way, though Hiro'd never really had any doubts as to his friend's orientation. About a year ago Hiro had decided, once and for all, that when Shuuichi finally found someone who could capture his heart, his best friend would smile and encourage him and generally do everything in his power to make Shuuichi's life happy. Just as he'd always done.

But YUKI? his mind protested. He might as well crawl into bed with a scorpion!

Hiro sighed and gestured for another beer, slapping some bills onto the counter to cover it. He caught the long-necked bottle the bartender slid his way and raised it to his lips, tipping his head back to drink half of it in one long, practiced swallow. The facts were that Shuuichi was head over heels, for better or worse - and he'd left the concert to chase after Yuki, not even taking the time to help pack up the equipment. So much for the after-concert party he and Hiro had planned for weeks. Ironically, Hiro saluted them both with the bottle, mentally wished them luck, and drained it dry.

He slammed it down onto the counter with a little too much force, and winced. He'd already drunk more than he usually let himself, and he'd done it in half the time, too. It wouldn't do to get plastered - maybe he'd better take some time out and hit the dance floor.

Weaving his way through the crowd, he tried to empty his mind and let the music take hold of him. It wasn't hard - like Shuuichi, his life revolved around their music, and all music fascinated him. He didn't have the kind of creativity that Shuuichi did, but he loved to lose himself in the interplay of melody and counter-melody, harmony and counterpoint. The DJ had shifted from Nittle Grasper to something a little more modern, but the music itself didn't really matter, just the rhythm. Hiro let the beat grab him, and started to dance.

Even tipsy his dancing was probably better than most of the people there. The crowds parted a little to make room for him, a few people on the periphery pausing their own movements long enough to applaud him. He accepted the praise expressionlessly, hardly even aware of it, and continued to dance.

If this night had gone the way they'd planned it, Shuuichi would have been here, dancing with him. The two of them together were phenomenal, Hiro knew - a side effect of all the martial arts training they'd taken together, and the closeness of their friendship. They could almost read each other's minds, predicting what their partner would do so they could echo it in perfect time. It was the same kind of synergy they got when they played, and it was what made Bad Luck as good as it was.

The feeling of something missing became so strong, so rapidly, that Hiro almost imagined he could see Shuuichi dancing before him. That artfully messy haircut, the big, shiny eyes, the boneless grace of a martial artist in motion...

Then he blinked, and blinked again, when the image didn't fade and disappear. Shuuichi WAS there, dancing just a few feet away, Hiro's view of him blocked occasionally by other dancers coming between them. Hiro glanced around, but there was no sign of Yuki, either on the dance floor or at any of the tables ringing the open space. What was Shuuichi doing here, alone, after ditching Hiro earlier? Had he been unable to find Yuki? Had the bastard tossed him out on his ear?

He stopped dancing and shoved his way forward, ignoring the few complaints he got, making his way to his friend. He rested a heavy hand on Shuuichi's shoulder, stopping him in mid-movement. The smaller boy blinked up at him, surprised.

"Shuuichi!" Hiro shouted at him over the noise of the music. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going after Yuki!"

The huge eyes looked up at him with no sign of comprehension. "I'm sorry?" he shouted back, voice straining to be heard. "Do I know you?"

Hiro frowned, and stared down at him. After a few seconds the subtle differences began to register - this boy was a little bit shorter than Shuuichi, and though the flashing coloured lights in the club had made it difficult to tell from a distance, Hiro saw now that his hair was actually some light shade of brown. More importantly, his voice was much higher than Shuuichi's. He flushed, and bowed slightly. "Ah, gomen! I mistook you for a friend of mine. You even dance like him!"

The boy smiled, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth. "That's okay! Though I hope that was a compliment, and not an insult..."

Hiroshi chuckled, finding himself unaccountably drawn to the boy. "It was a compliment. You're a great dancer. Do you have martial arts training?"

The boy flushed slightly, and tilted his head in an endearing manner. "Not really. I just love to dance."

Someone bumped into Hiro from behind, and he stumbled forward against the smaller boy. They both nearly went over, and only a desperate grab for each other's shoulders saved them from a nasty tumble. Hiro found himself pressed up against the boy's lean body, and felt himself react to the sensation. Blushing, he pulled away. "The dance floor's not really the place for a conversation, I guess," he commented, grinning.

The boy shrugged. "I was getting tired of dancing anyway," he replied, and glanced up at Hiro shyly through his lashes. Hiro wasn't entirely certain he was reading the boy right - this seemed an awful lot like a very subtle come-on. He decided to take a gamble.

"Want to grab some drinks and a table?" he invited. The boy smiled and nodded, and they both made their way off the floor.

Once settled with a pair of beers in a relatively quiet corner, they found themselves at something of a loss for words. Picking up strange boys on the dance floor was a new experience to Hiroshi, and he discovered he was embarrassed. Finally he decided to start with the obvious. "I didn't really introduce myself. I'm Nakano Hiroshi."

The boy frowned a bit, like he was trying to remember something; then his eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh my gosh! The guitarist from Bad Luck?"

Hiroshi was a little taken aback. They'd had a grand total of one concert so far, and that was really only as the opening act for another band. And it had been earlier that night. How did this boy know who he was? "Ah... hai."

The boy's smile widened another notch, and in his excitement he reminded Hiro even more forcibly of Shuuichi. "Wow! I was just at your concert! Well, I mean the Ask concert, but you guys were so much better it might as well have been yours. How on earth did you ever get Sakuma Ryuichi to sing with you?"

Hiro shrugged. "That was none of our doing. Apparently he just happened to be in the audience, and felt like bailing us out. Thank god! I can't think of anything else that would have jumpstarted Shuuichi like that!"

"You're so lucky," the boy replied enviously. "I'd have given anything to be that close to Ryuichi!"

Hiro raised an eyebrow at him. "Not another one!" he exclaimed in a teasing tone. "Is everyone obsessed with him?"

The boy blushed. "I wouldn't say I'm obsessed, exactly," he objected, and Hiroshi chuckled.

"So it's just an accident that you have exactly the same hairstyle as him?" he asked. The boy blushed more.

"Well, no..." he admitted, then had to laugh along with Hiroshi. "I'm Tsukiyono Omi," he finally introduced himself. "I wouldn't normally have been at a concert like that, but a friend of mine got the tickets for her birthday, and the person she'd planned to go with cancelled on her at the last minute. Her parents wouldn't let her go alone, so she begged me to go with her." He smiled and shrugged. "I don't like Ask much, but Bad Luck was great, and getting to see Sakuma Ryuichi live...!"

Hiro quirked his brow again. "You don't have to say you liked it just 'cause I'm in the band," he told Omi off-handedly. "I can tell your main interest was Ryuichi..."

"Oh, no!" Omi cut him off, distressed that he'd misunderstood. "Bad Luck was wonderful, really! I think you guys are going to go really far. And I'll be able to say I met you when you were just starting out!" He dimpled again, the smile infectious.

Hiro found himself fascinated by the boy across from him. The physical resemblance to Shuuichi was overwhelming, but their personalities were very different, while at the same time being very similar. Where Shuuichi was restless to the point of hyperactivity, this boy had a boundless energy that flowed from him in a gentle, steady stream. Where Shuuichi had a driving need to be seen and appreciated by everyone around him, Omi seemed to want to make everyone around him happy. It struck Hiro that watching the two of them together would be like watching a puppy and a kitten play.

He was startled to realize that he was staring, and he blushed and looked away. He was even more startled to see a similar blush on Omi's face when he looked back, and to see that his wide blue eyes were focused anywhere but on Hiro's face. Could it be that this attraction wasn't just one sided?

"Uh... do you want to go dance again?" Omi blurted, still blushing. Hiro glanced at his mostly untouched beer, and discovered that he really didn't want any more of it anyway.

"Sure!" he replied, and Omi glanced up to smile at him again. They made their way back onto the dance floor, finding a relatively empty space to one side.

Omi was at least as good a dancer as Shuuichi, Hiroshi realized quickly. They moved together like a matched set, echoing and anticipating one another's moves so smoothly it looked like they'd practiced it for hours. It felt natural to move like this, brushing up against Omi's body every so often as their orbiting courses brought them closer together before swinging them apart again. Each teasing pass raised his internal temperature another notch, and the flush on Omi's delicate features said he felt it too.

They danced together for hours and Hiro barely noticed the time flying by. Occasionally they would stop for a breather and a drink, before heading back out to dance some more. There was none of the awkwardness between them that should have existed, no sign of strain in their rapidly forming friendship as the moves turned more and more frankly sensual.

Finally, during one break in the music, Hiro debated with himself. It was getting close to midnight, and while he wouldn't have minded dancing until dawn, sooner or later this magical-feeling night was going to come to a close. Should he risk making a fool of himself, or risk losing a chance to pursue this odd relationship further? He was still trying to decide when a very drunk young girl staggered up to them and deposited herself in Omi's arms.

"Ne, Omi-kun!" she said over-loudly, tugging at his sleeve as he deftly helped her stay upright. "'R you gonna dance all night? 'F I don' leave soon, I'll miss curfew!"

"Ah... hai, Yumiko-san!" he replied, steadying her again as she started to tilt. There was an embarrassed glint in his eyes as he looked over her shoulder at Hiro. "Anou... I think you've had a bit too much to drink... I'm sorry I haven't been better company!"

She giggled tipsily, leaning against him. "That's okay, Omi-kun. I forgive you - as long as you get me home on time, so I don't get grounded again!"

"Hai, hai," he answered, draping her arm over his shoulder and putting his own arm around her waist. "Are you sure you'll be able to stay on the bike behind me? Maybe we should call a cab..."

She made a derisive noise. "I'll be fine! It's not far."

Hiro felt his opportunity slipping through his fingers - and found that he didn't want to lose it. "Ne, Omi... this is going to sound an awful lot like I'm trying to pick you up or something weird, but... do you want to get together some time? To, uh, hang out or something?" He was mortified to feel the heat blossoming in his cheeks - the blush would make it even more obvious that this wasn't an entirely platonic invitation.

Omi had a similar expression on his face. "S-sure," he stuttered, shifting his weight to compensate for the listing girl in his arms. "Uh... most afternoons I'm working..."

"Neeeee, Omi!" the girl interrupted, whining petulantly. "When're you gonna make me that flower arrangement you promised me last week, anyway? The one for my birthday?"

Omi rolled his eyes. "I told you, Yumiko-san, the lilies won't be ready for another week yet. And you said you wanted lilies, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah." She giggled again, and turned her attention to Hiroshi. "Omi-kun makes the best arrangements!" she informed him grandly. "Better than the other three. You should come see him work!"

Omi's blush deepened. "Yumiko-san, I wouldn't go that far..." he protested in embarrassment.

"Where would I go to see him work?" Hiroshi asked, amused at his new friend's predicament. Omi sighed with a long-suffering air.

"The Kon'ko!" was the girl's unintelligible answer.

"I work at the Koneko no Sumu," Omi elaborated, leaning back a bit against the girl's weight as she tried to pitch forward.

Hiro tilted his head. "The flower shop downtown? I know it." He'd walked by it all the time on his way to and from school before he'd graduated, and often been intrigued by the swarm of ever-present schoolgirls around it. "I'll see you sometime soon, then?"

Omi nodded, and smiled at him. "Hai! Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get Yumiko-san home. Mata ne!"

Hiroshi watched him make his way to the exit of the club, the bubbly girl hanging on his arm and occasionally tugging him off-balance. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a nagging at the back of his brain. Something told him that this chance encounter was the beginning of something very important in his life.

Chapter 2

Omi hummed softly to himself as he worked among the seedlings, carefully transplanting them into larger pots. These would be ready for sale in a few weeks, since the first of their flower buds were already appearing. The Koneko grew as many of their own flowers as they could - it gave them an excuse for having FOUR workers, plus Momoe-san.

Up front he could hear Ken singing along to a song from the radio, occasionally wandering off-key but making up for it with his enthusiasm. He was putting the finishing touches on the afternoon's orders, getting them ready for delivery. Omi wondered absently if he could talk Ken into making the delivery run that day.

The bell above the door jangled, and he heard Ken break off in mid-song to greet the customer. The usual rush of schoolgirls had been mostly absent that day - with summer holidays in full swing and a gorgeous day in progress, most of them were at the beach.

"Irrashaimase!" Ken greeted the newcomer energetically. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was looking for Omi?" The familiar-sounding voice made the statement more of a question. Curious, unable to put a face to the voice, Omi peeked around the edge of the door.

"Ah, Hiroshi-kun!" he exclaimed, dropping the trowel and wiping his hands on his apron as he made his way to the front of the store. It had been nearly a week and a half since their meeting in the club, and Omi had long since concluded that Hiroshi had no intention of looking him up after all. He was pleasantly surprised to be wrong.

"Hey!" Hiroshi replied, giving him a big grin. In the bright summer sunlight Omi got his first good look at the other boy, and fought the blush that wanted to spring to his cheeks. He'd been stunningly handsome on-stage, and primally attractive in the club afterwards - but in daylight in casual clothes, he still exuded an aura of casual sensuality that caught Omi's interest. The sunlight struck sparks off his long auburn hair, forming a fiery halo around his well-defined features. His body was lean and muscled, showed off by the tight t-shirt and denim cut-offs he wore.

Ken was looking back and forth between them. "School friend of yours, Omi?" he asked curiously.

Omi shook his head, glad for the distraction. He'd been having a hard time tearing his eyes away from Hiroshi's body, and didn't want to give himself away. "Iie. We met at a club a little while ago. You remember, the night I went out to that concert with Yumiko-san?"

Ken chuckled. "How could I forget? Youji kicked up such a fuss about you finally having a date..."

Omi lost the battle with the blush. "Mou, Ken-kun!" he protested, flapping his hands at the older boy. "It wasn't a date, I told you already! She needed someone to go with her so her parents would let her go out. She's GOT a boyfriend already!"

"He certainly didn't spend much time with her, I can vouch for that," Hiroshi put in, winking at Omi. The young assassin felt flustered by the possible implications that could be read into Hiro's statement, and was glad Youji wasn't there to overhear. He decided to take refuge in formal introductions.

"Ken-kun, this is Nakano Hiroshi - he plays guitar for Bad Luck, the band I was telling you about. Hiro-kun, this is Hidaka Ken."

"Hidaka Ken?" Hiroshi repeated in some surprise. "Not the J-League player?"

Now it was Ken's turn to blush. "Uh... yeah. I used to be. I try not to advertise it, though - most of the press still thinks I'm dead, thank God."

Hiroshi nodded. "The one thing I'm not looking forward to about making it big is living in a fishbowl. I've seen some of what the tabloids will go through to get a story, and it's not pretty."

Ken shrugged. "You never really get used to it, but you do get to the point where you can mostly ignore it. I'd just as soon NOT have them chasing after me here, though. So, you're a musician?"

"You've seen him Ken-kun, on that game show I was watching the other day." Omi broke in.

Ken snapped his fingers. " Oh, sure, I remember. That's why you looked a little familiar. You were pretty impressive - I can't remember the last time one of the contestants on those shows got more right answers than Omittchi here."

Hiro smiled his thanks, as Omi blushed again. "I still can't believe K got us involved in that. What a mess! And Shuuichi demanding to be allowed to sing like that..."

Omi's eyes gleamed. "Sakuma Ryuichi sings at your debut concert, and Seguchi Touma bullies the network into keeping their agreement so you can sing on live TV... you sure lead a charmed life, Hiro-kun! But who was the third person with you?"

"That was Fujisaki Suguru, our new third member. NG agreed to give us full backing - on the condition that we took him on to do our arrangements for us. Shuuichi's been relegated to lyrics only, and he's not very happy about it, but Fujisaki's not a bad kid."

"I thought Rage Beat sounded a little different from the concert version. It was good, though!" Hiroshi nodded.

"Yeah, he's Touma's cousin, believe it or not, and just as much of a prodigy. Once Shuuichi finally settles down about it, Fujisaki's really gonna be good for the band. Though it's a little weird to have someone else in it after all these years together - really changes the group dynamics."

Omi nodded. "Un. I remember when Aya-kun first started working here at the flower shop with us - Ken-kun and Youji-kun and I had been working together for more than a year at that point. It took us a long time to adjust, but when we finally did, we worked even better than before!" Ken cast him a warning glance at that oblique reference to Weiss, but left it alone. There really wasn't anything indiscreet in what Omi had said.

Hiro nodded, and with a glance at Omi for permission, slung himself into one of the chairs at the central table, across from where Ken was working. Omi joined them, taking up the last of the arrangements and letting his hands fly along the supple stems.

"Do you want me to do the deliveries today, Omi?" Ken asked, tying the last ribbon on the bouquet. "There aren't many, and I should be back before Youji gets here. I'm off once he's here, and Aya'll be along shortly after, then you're off."

Omi nodded, giving his friend a grateful smile. "Thanks! Here, just let me finish this..." Bending his head in concentration, he worked the last of the blooms together. "There. All done. Be careful, Ken-kun."

Ken laughed at him as he scooped up all the deliveries. "Hai, kaa-san," he said teasingly, rubbing Omi's head with his free hand. "I'll see you in half an hour or so. Mata!"

The chimes over the door rang pleasantly as he exited the shop, leaving the two boys behind in silence. Omi found that he was nervous, his fingers fidgeting, so he grabbed the leftover flowers and started working on an arrangement for the window. Some of the displays there were starting to look a little wilted, and needed replacement soon anyway.

Hiro watched him work with undisguised fascination. "You're really good at that," he complimented Omi. "Where'd you learn it?"

Omi shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on the flowers so he wouldn't blush. "Just picked it up over the years, I guess. I've been working here the longest of the four of us, and Ken-kun after me, so we usually get the creative stuff. Aya-kun and Youji-kun take care of the books and stock and replanting and stuff like that."

Hiro nodded, and leaned back in his chair. "Are you still in high school?" Omi shook his head.

"No, I graduated a few weeks ago. I skipped a year, though, so I really shouldn't have finished until next year."

Hiroshi's eyes gleamed. "In other words, you're too young to have been at that club." Omi flushed to be caught out.

"Uh..."

Hiro laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell on you. I'm only nineteen, myself, but Shuuichi and I faked IDs years ago, and they still work just fine. Personally, I only care about kids with fake ID who're too immature to be drinking - you don't strike me as the type."

Omi nodded. "I've never really liked alcohol - I just like to dance, so I figure it doesn't really hurt anyone. I'm certainly not going to help Yumiko again any time soon, though! Her parents were so mad..." They both chuckled, then fell silent again for a moment, the quiet more comfortable now. Omi was strangely content, working there with Hiro keeping him company.

"So how come you're working here at all?" Hiro finally asked curiously.

Omi carefully clipped the stems of a couple of roses, and inserted them into the growing arrangement. "I'm an orphan," he explained, giving the official version of his background. "The woman who owns the Koneko is my legal guardian, but she's a sweet little old lady who really didn't know what to do with a kid. I started working here to help support myself, and found that I liked it. When Ken-kun and Youji-kun started working here, and they both needed a place to live, we all agreed to split the rent on the apartment above the store. Then Aya-kun came along, and we gave him the spare bedroom. It works out well - it means we don't have to pay much for rent, and we get along pretty well."

"Orphaned, huh? That must be tough," Hiro commented, idly twirling a daisy between his fingers. "How old were you - if you don't mind me asking?"

"Eleven or so," Omi replied. "I don't really remember much of my life before coming here - I have trauma-induced amnesia, or so the doctors tell me. I get little bits and pieces back now and again, but for the most part..." he shrugged again. "It used to bother me, but it doesn't any more. I'm pretty happy with my life."

Hiro nodded, still watching him work. Omi had the feeling that he was working up to saying something, trying to dredge up his courage.

"I'm sorry I didn't come see you sooner," he said, blushing faintly. "I really did mean to, but life's been crazy since K took over as our manager. He's been dragging us all over the place, trying to get us more exposure."

"That's okay. It must be pretty busy, trying to get noticed and promoted. Though I admit I'd given up on seeing you again." Omi watched him obliquely, trying not to hope that Hiro had felt the same way he did.

Hiro apparently came to a decision. "Look, I'm probably about to make a complete and utter idiot of myself, but... would you like to go out sometime, to dinner or a movie or something?" His blush was in full bloom now, and he studied the scratches in the tabletop like they would give him the answers to life.

Omi's first impulse was to accept unconditionally, but something held him back. His life wasn't entirely his own - so much of his time and energy was wrapped up in Weiss. Could he spare enough for a relationship? He still remembered what had happened to Ken and Yuriko, and to himself and Ouka. Would he be placing Hiroshi in danger? His strange double life was already complicated enough. Could he deal with the lies and frustrations that would inevitably come with any relationship he was in? Could he be in a relationship with the almost certain knowledge that one day it would come down to a choice, and he would choose Weiss?

And what if he didn't take this chance? All his life that he could remember, he'd put Kritiker first. Even his brief relationship with Ouka had been more a side effect of a mission than anything else. Wasn't it about time he tried doing something just for himself?

He'd taken too long to answer - Hiro's face had closed up and he looked like he was readying a hasty exit line. "I'd love to," Omi blurted out before he could say anything, and the warmth in his chest when Hiroshi gave him a startled smile told him he'd made the right choice.

"Really? Uh, that's great! When did you want to go?"

Omi thought about it. They didn't have any missions right now, he didn't have homework to worry about, and he was off as soon as Aya arrived at the store. "How about tonight? If I'm not being too forward..."

"No, tonight's great. We can grab a burger or something, and catch a movie - I hope you're not expecting anything fancy," Hiro teased him, "because I'm just a starving artist right now. You're probably making more than me."

Omi laughed, delighted. "That sounds great to me. You're welcome to hang out here until Aya-kun gets here, then we can take off." They smiled shyly at each other, both a little uncertain but hopeful. However this turned out, Omi had a very strong feeling that he would never forget this relationship.

Chapter 3

Hiroshi stretched as he climbed off the bike, loosening muscles stiff from staying in one position too long. He wasn't used to being the passenger on a bike, but his was in the shop so they'd ridden double on Omi's.

He unsnapped the chinstrap of his helmet and pulled it off, letting the gentle evening breeze ruffle through his hair. Omi was still straddling his bike, though he had likewise removed his helmet. Hiro gazed down at the boy blinking up at him in the light from the streetlight, and reflected on how strange life could sometimes be.

It had only been three weeks since that first date, but Hiro could hardly remember life before he'd known Omi. They'd seen each other nine times, and talked on the phone almost every night. Becoming a pop star was a lot more difficult than Hiro had ever imagined, and he'd imagined it could be pretty difficult; Omi had been a fountain of strength and reassurance for him whenever he needed it. He found himself turning more and more to the younger boy for support as Shuuichi became increasingly entangled with Yuki.

Their friendship had blossomed rapidly, forging a bond stronger than most peoples' years-long friendships. Thus far they hadn't done anything physical with each other beyond occasionally holding hands and trading a few shy, awkward kisses, but the strength of the attraction between them was obvious to them both. It was only a matter of time before they moved on to the next level; Hiro was willing to wait until they were both ready for it.

"That was fun, Hiro-kun," Omi commented, breaking into his train of thought. They'd spent the evening at a video arcade, blowing a ridiculous amount of money trying to best each other's scores. Omi had finally inched out on top, but only barely.

"Aa," Hiro agreed readily. Even if he hadn't thought so, he would have agreed just to see the brilliant smile Omi bestowed on him. Those smiles are addictive, he thought headily as he drank in the sight. Omi had a way of smiling that including the entire universe around him in his delight, making it impossible to stay upset or depressed around him.

"Do you want to come in?" he blurted out impulsively, not wanting the evening to end just yet. "We could have some coffee or something."

Omi glanced up at him shyly. It was the first time either of them had offered to let the other come in after one of their dates, and it felt like a significant step in their relationship. "I'm really trying hard not to stunt my growth," he murmured in reply, his smile turning ironic. Hiroshi laughed and reached out to ruffle the shorter boy's hair.

"Hot chocolate, then. Wouldn't want to feed you anything that might keep you from finally hitting puberty."

"Hey!" Omi protested mildly, swinging his leg over the seat of the bike and propping it up on the kickstand. "Are you saying I'm prepubescent? Doesn't that make you a cradle robber or something?"

"Yup," Hiro agreed cheerfully, leading the way up the walk and fumbling for his keys. "I'm a chibi hentai, can't you tell? I'm not interested unless your voice hasn't changed yet."

Omi rolled his eyes. "My voice has too changed. Hidoi."

Hiro chuckled and opened the door, kicking off his shoes in the entry. "It's a lot messier than usual - I made a mess this morning looking for something and didn't get a chance to clean it up," he apologized as Omi came into the little one-room apartment behind him. "And it's really small. But it's not like I spend a lot of time here anyway."

Omi glanced around, and grinned. "Yes, and yes. But I've seen much worse. You should see Ken-kun's room - I forget what colour the floor is. Or Youji-kun's, for that matter; I'm pretty sure he doesn't HAVE a floor, just a pile of clothes that goes down to infinity."

Hiro chuckled as he pictured that. He'd spent a fair amount of time at the flower shop over the last three weeks, and he was on friendly terms with the other florists Omi lived with. They were a strange bunch, and he couldn't imagine how they could all live and work together without killing one another, but life around them was certainly never boring.

There was only one chair, and it was piled high with sheet music and notepaper. Omi flopped down onto the bed instead, putting his hands behind him and leaning back on them. Hiro moved to fill the little electric kettle and plugged it in.

He joined Omi on his bed, sitting at the head and leaning against the wall. The silence between them was a little awkward; the small confines of the room made their proximity feel more obvious. They'd only have a shift a few inches, and they'd be touching...

Omi sighed and gave an odd little half-shrug, and crawled up the bed until he was even with Hiro. He settled in between the other boy and the wall, head on Hiro's shoulder and touching all down the length of their bodies. It was the closest they'd ever been, and Hiro thrilled to the warm little streaks of feeling it sent running through his body.

"This is nice," he commented lazily, and Omi nodded against his shoulder.

"Mm. I like being near other people like this, but I don't get many chances to do it."

Hiro thought over what he knew of Omi's childhood and friends, and nodded to himself. No parents, raised by a guardian old enough to be his great-grandmother, and of the three people he spent most of his time with only Ken was really the type to go in for hugs. Hiro worked his arm out from under Omi's body and wrapped it around the younger boy's shoulder, squeezing.

There was silence again, but it was a comforting silence this time. They lay quietly together, soaking up each other's body heat and being lazily content. Hiro half-subconsciously started stroking along Omi's shoulder and back, and he leaned into the touch like a cat, practically purring with pleasure.

"You know, I think you must have a neko somewhere in your ancestry," he told Omi in some amusement. "You certainly act like one sometimes."

"Niao," Omi replied, and they both chuckled. "All four of us resemble cats sometimes. That's why it's so appropriate that we work at a store called the 'Koneko no Sumu'. As Youji-kun put it once: I have the traits of an affectionate kitten, Ken-kun is like a playful kitten, Aya-kun is the sort of cat that never lets you forget that humans worshipped them as gods once, and Youji-kun is like a tomcat on the prowl."

"Kawaii!" Hiro exclaimed in delight. "That's adorable - and a very accurate description of your personalities. Out of curiousity, does Aya ever smile?"

Omi sighed. "Sometimes. Not very often, though. Mostly when Aya-chan is around."

"Who's Aya-chan?"

"Aya-kun's imouto. She was in a coma for two years, and she just woke up a while ago. She's all the family he has in the world, and he loves her to pieces. But we don't see her very often, unfortunately - she's in college in Kyoto, and only comes home on breaks. She wanted to go to Tokyo U, but Aya-kun thought it would be better for her to go someplace new, where she didn't have to deal with two years of sudden changes all over the place."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "Two years? She's lucky she woke up. After that long, the chances of a coma patient waking are practically zero. That must have been hard on him - no wonder he seems so withdrawn. But why do they have the same name?"

"Oh." Omi chuckled. "Aya-kun's name is actually Ran, but when he first came to live with us he introduced himself as Fujimiya Aya. We didn't even know about Aya-chan's existence until a few months ago. He told me once that he'd felt guilty because he lived through the bomb that killed their family, so he took her name so she could kind of live through him. Of course once she woke up he tried to go back to using Ran, but..." he shrugged, "we just couldn't get used to calling him that. We kept messing it up, until he finally told us just to forget it. So whenever we're talking about his sister, we call her Aya-chan."

Hiro couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he fell silent again, just enjoying the feel of Omi's warm body against him. "So..." Omi started, then broke off as though he were embarrassed. Hiro glanced down and saw that the other boy's cheeks were pink.

"So?"

"So... we've been together for three weeks now." Hiro nodded when Omi paused as if for confirmation. "I guess... does that make us boyfriends?"

Hiro thought about it. "Do you want to be boyfriends?"

Omi blushed a little harder. "I wouldn't mind."

"Then I guess we are," Hiro smiled down at him. Omi smiled shyly back. "I've never had one before. Never had a girlfriend before, for that matter."

"Me neither. Well, I sort of had a girlfriend for a little while, but it turned out she was my half-sister, and I wasn't very upset when I found out - in fact, I was more relieved than anything. It meant she wouldn't expect me to kiss her any more."

Hiro chuckled at that. "It must have been nice to find out that you still had some family alive after all," he commented. "Where is she now?"

Omi's face closed up all of a sudden, his eyes becoming lifeless. "She died," he replied shortly. Hiro sensed that it wasn't something the other boy wanted to talk about, so he didn't ask what had happened. Instead, he changed the subject.

"So does that mean you wish I wouldn't expect you to kiss me any more?" he teased gently. Omi remained pensive for a moment, then let the dark mood slide away as he smiled again.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied lightly. "I guess I can just close my eyes and think about something else."

Hiro growled at him playfully. "You think so, huh? All, right, trying thinking about something else during this!" He shifted so he was leaning half-over the other boy, and sealed his lips over Omi's mouth.

Omi responded willingly, wrapping his arms around Hiro's neck and opening his mouth to the older boy's assault. Hiro slid his tongue inside, the first time they'd gone beyond just touching lips, and caught and tangled with Omi's tongue. They dueled back and forth for a moment, then gave up the struggle for dominance and just concentrated on exploring each other.

The need for air forced them to break apart just as the kettle started whistling, and they stared at one another, panting. "Go unplug the damn thing," Omi whispered to him, and Hiro lifted himself off the bed, groaning.

It was two short strides to the kitchen counter, and he yanked the cord out of the wall with uncharacteristic force. Just that one simple kiss had been enough to set his body on fire, but he felt chilled now without Omi's heat against him. He turned back to the bed, and his heart skipped a beat. Omi was sprawled out over his coverlet, watching him through half-lidded eyes with a sensual smile playing over his lips. The beginning of a bulge was just visible at the front of his jeans, and Hiro felt his own body respond.

"How do you manage to be both adorably cute and unbearably sexy at the same time?" he asked as he slid back into place at Omi's side. Omi leaned up and locked lips with him again, and Hiro forgot the question.

For several minutes they just held each other and kissed, each hotter and deeper than the last. They were both healthy teenagers, and the pressure of their bodies built at a steadily increasing rate. Eventually hands started to wander, tentatively touching and exploring the planes and angles of their torsos. Hiro rubbed circles over Omi's back, and Omi returned the favour by trailing his fingertips over Hiro's chest.

Hiro broke away breathlessly and brought his hands to the front of Omi's shirt, hovering over the top button. "Is this okay?" he asked, not wanting to rush Omi but desperately needing the touch of skin against skin. Omi nodded, eyes shining brightly, and Hiro feverishly set to work.

"I'm going to feel underdressed," Omi whispered into his ear as he worked, taking the opportunity to nibble on his earlobe. Hiro shuddered.

"Then I guess I'd better join you, huh? Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable," he returned huskily. Omi wasted no time getting to work, nimble fingers flying over the buttons. Soon both their shirts were hanging open, and they embraced again, gasping at the heat generated between them.

Hiro forced himself to slow down, wanting to savour this first experience. He worked his hands under Omi's shirt and around to his back, kneading the flesh there and drawing moans from Omi's throat. The skin was fantastically soft, but here and there a scar marred the surface. "What happened?" he asked curiously, tracing a finger along one of them.

Omi jerked at the sensation, and pulled away a little. His eyes had gone dark again, and he looked away. "I don't really remember," he answered, voice shaking a little.

Hiro glanced down, and spotted a few more on Omi's chest, some of which looked fairly recent. "What about these?" he asked, touching one lightly. Omi shrugged, and forced a weak smile.

"What can I say? I'm a klutz. I'm always injuring myself one way or another. Youji-kun says it's just growing pains, and I certainly hope so! I don't want to be this short forever." It was a lame attempt at a joke to redirect Hiro's attention, but he let himself be distracted. It was clear that Omi didn't want to talk about this, either. "I hope they don't bother you..."

Hiro kissed him silent. "Don't be silly," he chided him gently. "They're just lines - I've got a few of my own. They're part of you, so how could they bother me?"

Omi gave him a sunny smile and kissed him by way of thanks. That succeeded in completing the distraction, and Hiro returned to what he'd been doing originally.

Omi gasped and arched against him whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot with his fingers, and he set to searching out every sensitive spot he could find. Omi retaliated by pinching his nipples and toying with them, setting off little sparks in Hiro's body. He slid his hands down to the younger boy's ass, cupping the flesh through the thick denim of his jeans and pulling him closer.

The both moaned as their groins brushed, and Hiro moved against him again. Omi kissed him passionately, making soft sexy little cries in the back of his throat with every brush of Hiro's fingers. Hiro brought his hands around to the front again, working at the button of the jeans.

Omi broke away and reached down to catch his hand, blushing. "I... I don't think..."

Hiro shook his head to clear it of the haze over his thinking, and smiled at him. "Not ready yet?" Omi nodded.

"I'm sor..." he started to apologize, but Hiro hushed him with a quick kiss.

"Don't apologize, baka. Now that I'm thinking again and not just reacting, I don't think I'm ready for that, either." He sobered, gazing down at Omi seriously. "Don't ever think that I only want to be around you for sex, Omi. IF the time ever comes when we decide to go all the way, don't feel like that obligates you somehow, either. If there's a day when you don't feel like anything but some cuddling, just say so. I'm just as happy lying here holding you and talking as I am lying here holding you and making out." He grinned wryly. "Certain portions of my anatomy may not agree with me, but I've never let them rule me before, and I don't intend to start now."

Omi's eyes shone. "Hiro-kun," he whispered, overwhelmed. "Gods, going to the club that night was the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm so lucky to have you!"

"Don't you forget it, bishounen," Hiro teased in reply. He returned to rubbing Omi's back, stroking the skin gently and occasionally stopping to knead a tense muscle.

"Do you want to stop for the night?" Omi asked, sounding a little wistful.

"I think I can deal with a little more frustration if you can," Hiro answered with a grin. He leaned in and kissed Omi again, taking it slow and easy this time.

Gentle and sweet proved to be just as powerful in the end as fast and passionate, though they kept their focus above the waist. Hiro found that he wasn't as frustrated as he thought he'd be - though his body made it very clear that it wouldn't mind going farther, just holding and touching Omi was enough to content him.

It took him a moment to register the knocking on the door as something separate from the pounding of his heart in his ears. Omi caught it first, pulling away and glancing over at it in confusion. "It's nearly midnight," he said, puzzled. "Who would be coming over now?"

Hiro shrugged. "Shuuichi's at Yuki's, and you're here. That accounts for the only two people I'd bother letting in at this time of night, so they can just come back tomorrow. Ignore them." He suited actions to words and kissed Omi again.

The knocking became a pounding, and Hiro thought he could hear his name being shouted as well. Sighing, he gave it up for a bad cause and rolled off the bed with a groan. Glancing down he found that his shirt had been lost entirely somewhere along the way, and the state of his body was really damned obvious in his tight jeans, but he decided he didn't care. He was presentable enough - whoever it was could damn well deal with the fact that they were interrupting something.

Omi rolled over onto his stomach to hide his own condition, and Hiro stalked over and threw open the door, ready to chew the hell out of whoever was standing there. He was brought up short as Shuuichi tumbled abruptly into his arms, having obviously been leaning on the door for support.

"Shuuichi?" he exclaimed in surprise, catching his friend awkwardly. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were going with Yuki..." he trailed off as he took in the tears on his best friend's cheeks and the overpowering smell of alcohol on his breath. Swearing under his breath, he led the wobbling teen into the room and lowered him to sit on the foot of the bed.

Shuuichi was sniffling, still crying in jags, and completely plastered. He couldn't even sit upright without help. Hiro was a little alarmed at the state he was in, and wondered how the vocalist had made it all the way here alone. "Shuuichi?"

"I hate him!" the overwrought boy burst out, suddenly furious. "He's an arrogant, insensitive, overbearing pinprick, and I hate him! I'm never going back there, not ever. Not even to get my stuff! Well, maybe to get my Nittle Grasper video that Ryuichi gave me - but I'll do it when he's not there!" he finished, incensed. Hiro was a little bemused by the torrent of words and emotions, and glanced over Shuuichi's shoulder to the other end of the bed.

Omi was sitting up against the wall now, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, watching them wide-eyed. Seeing him and Shuuichi in such close proximity for the first time made the resemblance between them even more obvious, though it also made the subtle differences easier to see. Omi tilted his head towards the door and raised an eyebrow, silently asking if Hiro wanted him to leave. Hiro shrugged back at him, mouthing, 'it's up to you.'

Omi slid off the bed and cleared his throat softly, to let Shuuichi know that there was someone behind him. "I think I'd better go now," he murmured, reaching for his helmet. He paused as he realized his shirt was still undone, and blushed.

Shuuichi glanced at him in surprise, and then looked back at Hiro, finally taking in his friend's disheveled state. "Oh! Hiro, I... I thought you were just sleeping or something..." He wobbled to his feet despite Hiro's attempts to keep him seated, looking miserable. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I'll go somewhere else..."

"No, don't be silly," Omi broke in gently, reaching out to touch his arm and subtly lending him some support. "You're his best friend, and you need him. I should really be getting back now anyway, or the others will worry."

Shuuichi hiccupped and listed, and both Omi and Hiro had to jump to catch him and hold him upright. "I thought you were straight, Hiro," he mumbled, confused.

Hiro snorted. "About as straight as you, baka. I'm just a little less obvious about it. Don't you think I'd have had a girlfriend by now if I was interested in one?" Between them they managed to maneuver him back to the bed, but somehow Shuuichi wound up leaning against Omi's shoulder, effectively trapping him in place.

"You look just like Ryuichi," Shuuichi told Omi in a slurred voice. "Do you like Nittle Grasper?"

"You mean there are people out there who don't worship Sakuma Ryuichi?" Omi asked in mock surprise, winning a weak grin from Shuuichi.

"Sorry to break up the Ryuichi fan club meeting, guys," Hiro interrupted them sarcastically, "but Shuuichi, would you mind telling me WHY you showed up drunk at my door at midnight?"

Instantly Shuuichi was mad again. "It's all Yuki's fault! I was working on the new song, and watching the Nittle Grasper video for inspiration, and that jerk started in again about how I have no talent and he had the nerve to say that I was copycatting Nittle Grasper's stuff!"

"You have lots of talent!" Omi protested, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "I was at your first concert - if your songs weren't any good, then Ryuichi wouldn't have sung with you!"

Shuuichi calmed a little. "That's true," he mused. "And K actually left Ryuichi to come manage us..."

"Touma thinks we have enough talent that he's willing to give us NG's back-up," Hiro reminded him. Shuuichi made a face.

"Touma doesn't want me to write my own songs either! He sent that annoying little KID to us, when Bad Luck has always been just the two of us..."

Hiro rolled his eyes. "I thought you were over that. Fujisaki doesn't write the songs, he just does the arrangements. And you have to admit he's a genius at it. The melody and lyrics are still yours, Shuuichi."

"But Yuki said..."

"Screw Yuki!" Hiro interrupted him harshly. "Damn it Shuuichi, you never had any confidence issues before you met him. Why do you let him mess with your head like that? Why do you stay with him at all?"

Instantly Shuuichi was on the defensive, and Hiro knew he'd said exactly the wrong thing. "What's that supposed to mean? I thought you were happy for me! You said you supported me..."

Omi broke in before Hiro could get frustrated enough to start yelling. "Hiro-kun is your friend, Shuuichi-kun, and he worries about you. He doesn't like seeing you unhappy. And you certainly seem unhappy right now - so why DO you stay with him?"

"Because... because..." Shuuichi's eyes filled, and he dissolved into tears. "Because I love him. No matter what he does to me, no matter what he says, I just keep going back, because every once in a while he lets his guard down and I can see how much he needs me..."

Omi smiled at him encouragingly. "From what Hiro-kun has told me about Yuki-san, he reminds me a lot of my friend Aya-kun. It sounds to me like someone has hurt him very badly in the past, and now he doesn't really believe that anyone could love him. He wants to believe you when you tell him you do, but he's sure you're going to change your mind eventually. So he keeps testing you, trying to push you away, to see if you'll come back. People like that tend to make their lives a self-fulfilling prophecy, unless someone very stubborn just keeps refusing to be pushed away until they're convinced."

Hiro marveled that Omi could paint such an accurate picture of Yuki Eiri without ever having met him. And the way he put it, Hiro suddenly understood the surly writer a little better, and didn't feel quite so hostile towards him for the way he treated Shuuichi.

For his part, Shuuichi looked like he was having a revelation. "Push me away to see if I'll come back... I never thought of it that way. But he does, he really does!" He started crying again, but they were tears of happiness this time. "That means he really does love me, 'cause he wouldn't be afraid of me leaving him if he didn't care, right?" Omi nodded, smiling encouragingly at him, and Shuuichi struggled to his feet again.

"Well, if there's one thing I'm really good at - besides music - it's being stubborn! I got him to let me move in with him in the first place - I'll just keep coming back until he knows he's never going to get away!" He staggered for the door, and Omi and Hiro leapt after him to keep him from knocking himself silly. "I'm going home right now to tell him so!"

"He lives all the way across town, Shuuichi!" Hiro protested, trying to hold back his overly determined friend. "You're completely plastered, you'll never make it there."

"I'd offer to give him a ride, but I'm afraid he'd fall off the bike," Omi confided in a whisper. Hiro nodded.

"Look, Shuuichi, just sit down, okay? I'll call Yuki and get him to come pick you up."

Shuuichi turned big wobbly eyes on him. "What if he doesn't come?"

Omi patted him on the back. "I'm sure he will. He's probably spent the last few hours since you left trying to convince himself that he's better off without you, and failing. He'll be anxious to see you come back, even if he won't admit it to himself."

Shuuichi nodded happily - then his expression suddenly changed. "Uh... I think I'm going to be sick," he announced miserably.

Before Hiroshi could even react, Omi had Shuuichi's arm over his shoulder and was half-carrying the other boy the few steps to the bathroom. They made it just in time - no sooner was Shuuichi in place before the toilet than his stomach heaved up its contents. Omi held his hair back from his face and rubbed his back soothingly as he threw up, and Hiro leaned against the wall and watched in amusement.

"You look like you've had practice at this," he commented to Omi, who threw him a smile.

"Youji-kun comes home drunk more often than not sometimes, and I'm usually the one who ends up helping him to bed. Ken-kun gets sick himself if he sees someone throw up, and Aya-kun can't be bothered. He and Youji-kun don't get along very well. Ne, can you wet a washcloth with cold water for me please?"

Hiro moved to obey, handing him a damp cloth. Omi folded it and laid it across the back of Shuuichi's neck. "I'm going to go try to get a hold of Yuki," Shuuichi said, "if you can handle him?" Omi nodded and waved him out of the tiny room.

Yuki picked up on the first ring with a curt, "Yuki here." Hiro rolled his eyes.

"Shuuichi is currently emptying his guts in my bathroom," he said conversationally, "and just finished the worst crying jag I've ever seen him on. Whatever you said to him, you really did a number on him." Yuki apparently couldn't find anything to say to that, because there was silence on the other end. "Anyway, he wants to go home now, and I don't think he's going to be able to stay on the back of a bike. And no way is he going to make it all the way over there walking. I'm amazed he made it here in one piece."

"I'm on my way," was all Yuki said, and he hung up abruptly. Hiro sighed. There were days when he really wondered if Shuuichi's life wouldn't be better if Hiro bashed him over the head and dragged him off somewhere far, far away from Yuki Eiri. If Shuuichi hadn't been so completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with the guy, he might have done just that.

"He's on his way," he called into the bathroom. The sounds of puking had ceased for the moment, and he could hear the two of them murmuring softly to each other. As he approached the door, he could make out Ryuichi's name and the words 'Nittle Grasper' on a regular basis. Smiling to himself, he opened the door to find Shuuichi sitting on the floor leaning against the bathtub sipping at a glass of water, with Omi perched on the edge of the tub keeping him distracted with conversation.

"...thought he looked so cool, so I ran right out and got the same haircut," Omi was saying as he entered. He looked up and smiled at Hiro, and continued. "I wanted to wear the eyeliner too, but my guardian wouldn't let me."

Shuuichi sighed. "Eyeliner really shouldn't look that good on guys, but Ryuichi manages to make it look like the sexiest thing ever..."

"Momoe-san was right, though," Omi replied practically. "For one thing, I get enough teasing for working in a flower shop. For another, my eyes are too big - the eyeliner would just make them look even bigger, instead of emphasizing them they way it does for Ryuichi. You'd have the same problem, I think." Shuuichi nodded, then gulped hard as the motion upset his stomach again.

"I remember when they broke up, I was devastated. I moped around for a week, just listening to their albums over and over and being upset because there wouldn't ever be any new songs."

"I have all of Ryuichi's English albums," Omi contributed. "The early ones are kind of funny, because his accent is pretty strong, but the latest ones are fantastically good. He's getting really popular over there, too."

"Do you speak English?" Hiro asked, intrigued. Omi nodded.

"Yes, all four of us do. We get a lot of the American customers because of it." He grinned. "Personally I think Youji-kun only agreed to learn it because it impresses the girls, but..."

An authoritative knock on the door interrupted him, and Hiro rose to his feet. "That's probably Yuki. I'll get him." He made his way to the front door while Shuuichi was still trying to get to his feet, and opened it to find Yuki on the other side.

"He's pretty plastered," was Hiroshi's greeting, "but I think he's done being sick, so you should be able to get him home okay. He's in the bathroom. Try to get him to drink some more water so he's not too hung over tomorrow, please? We've got an early practice."

Yuki looked as arrogantly confident of himself as ever as he brushed past Hiro to get inside, but Hiro thought he could see a glint of remorse in the author's eyes. He paused before going into the bathroom, staring straight at the door as he spoke. "I didn't mean it to come out as harshly as it did," he said stiffly. "He ran out before I could take it back."

It was the closest thing to an apology Hiroshi had ever heard the man make, and he knew it had cost him to unbend even that much. Despite himself, he softened to him. "You know how high-strung he is, especially about his music," was all he said, but his tone was forgiving. Yuki nodded, and strode into the bathroom.

He came out a moment later carrying Shuuichi in his arms like a child, with Shuuichi protesting the whole way that he could walk just fine, thank you. Omi trailed behind them, looking amused and trying to hide it from Shuuichi.

They got the complaining musician safely into the car, and Omi paused to admire it. "Is this a Porsche?" he asked, running a hand gently along the contours. "It looks a little like Aya-kun's car, but it's hard to tell in the dark."

"Aya has a Porsche?" Hiroshi asked incredulously. "How much do you guys get paid, anyway?"

The shadows made it hard to tell, but he thought Omi flushed. "I think he bought it with the inheritance from his parents. It's his pride and joy."

Yuki patted the roof of his car possessively. "I can understand that," he replied smugly.

Hiro frowned down at Shuuichi, who had passed out and was now snoring away in the passenger seat. "Wasn't he wearing another shirt over that one?" he asked. Omi's eyes widened.

"Oh! I took it off so he could move a little easier. He kept getting tangled in it. It's still on the floor in the bathroom."

"I'll get it," Hiro offered, and jogged back into the house.

He found the baseball jersey on the floor as Omi had said, and turned to go back outside. Just before he reached the half-open door, something made him pause and listen to what Yuki was saying to Omi. He didn't know why - normally it would never have occurred to him to eavesdrop - but something told him this conversation was important.

"...don't mind helping out," Omi was saying cheerfully. "I just hope you manage to sort things out."

Yuki sighed. "You seem like a decent kid. I hate to say this - but you do realize that Hiroshi is only interested in you because of your resemblance to Shuuichi?"

Hiro felt his heart stop in his chest - and then he got mad. How DARE that jerk say something like that? Omi would be crushed...

"Of course."

He stopped just short of charging outside to yell at Yuki, staring at the door blankly. Did Omi just say what Hiro thought he said?

"What do you mean, of course?" Yuki sounded as surprised as Hiro was.

"Do you think I haven't noticed how much I look like him? Hiro-kun and I met because he mistook me for Shuuichi-kun in a club."

Hiro hadn't realized he'd been so obvious. Omi thought he was only interested in him because of a chance resemblance to someone else - gods, that must hurt...

"Then why do you stay with him?" Yuki asked in exasperation.

"Because I'm falling in love with him," was Omi's simple answer. Hiro's eyes widened, and his breath came short. They'd never said those words to each other, skirting around them but never quite touching them. Hearing Omi say it sent a thrill through his heart like nothing he'd ever felt before.

"Because I'm falling in love with him, and because if that were the only thing that Hiro-kun liked about me, we wouldn't still be together," Omi continued. "My personality is nothing like Shuuichi-kun's, and Hiro-kun isn't a shallow enough person to stay with someone just because of looks."

Hiro finally got his feet to move, and stepped through the door. "Omi..."

"Oh!" Omi gasped, startled, and spun to face him, blushing. "Hiro-kun, I... I didn't realize you were listening..."

Hiroshi saw the glint in Yuki's eyes. "You knew I was listening," he accused, puzzled. "You set that up, didn't you?"

Yuki shrugged and turned away, walking towards his car. "Consider it payback for the night you came to me to ask me to treat Shuuichi well. And you can take that to mean whatever you like." He slid into the driver's seat, started the car, and was gone.

Omi was still blushing furiously, staring down at his toes. Hiro walked up to him and put one finger under his chin, tilting his face up until he could look him in the eyes. "Baka," he murmured affectionately. "You should have told me."

"I was afraid you'd think I was pressuring you," Omi answered him truthfully. Hiro shook his head, and leaned down and gave him a soft kiss.

"I think I'm falling in love with you too, bishounen," he whispered softly. "So don't worry about it too much, okay?" He handed Omi his helmet, which he had retrieved at the same time as Shuuichi's shirt. "Much as I'd love you to stay, it's after one in the morning now, and I don't want to get you in trouble with your friends. Call you tomorrow after practice?"

Omi nodded, and leaned up for one last kiss before running to his bike. At the end of the driveway he turned and waved, and Hiro waved back, feeling truly content with his life for the first time in a long time.

Chapter 4

Omi caught himself humming blissfully for the fourth time that hour, and bit his lip to make himself stop. Damn it, could he be any MORE obvious? Ken had already given him a few strange looks today, and Youji had been teasing him more than usual, trying to find out why Omi was so pleased with himself.

Omi could have answered that question with two simple words: two months. Two months of having someone to hold and comfort him whenever he needed it; two months of being able to go out and forget about his double life for hours at a time; two months of some of the best days of his life.

Oh, it hadn't all been wine and roses; Hiro was an intelligent person and knew that Omi was hiding something from him. He'd had to break two of their dates because of missions, and the excuses he'd given weren't particularly believable. After that first meeting, Shuuichi had been oddly hostile to Omi, and that caused problems between them as well. And most of all, Hiro was suspicious of the injuries he kept getting. In the two months since they'd agreed to be boyfriends, Omi had been shot once, knifed twice, and broken his ankle - an unusually high number of injuries for that period of time, but then they'd had more missions than usual. 'I'm clumsy' wasn't holding up well, especially for the bullet wound. Their first real argument had been over Omi's refusal to explain the injuries, and they hadn't spoken to each other for nearly four days after that.

All in all, though, it was going pretty well. They'd gotten through their first major fight with hardly a bobble, and discovered that they still loved each other just as much when they were angry at each other. As for their physical relationship - Omi fought down a blush just thinking about it. Their experimentation had progressed further and further, until they were comfortable being completely naked together, touching and kissing and caressing.

They still hadn't gone all the way - but that was going to change tonight. It was their second month anniversary, and they had been scraping cash together for the last week to celebrate it. They were going to a fancy restaurant for dinner, then out to a movie, and finally they would end up in a hotel room they'd rented for the night. Omi had already told the others not to expect him back that night. He'd been a little embarrassed at the idea of going to a hotel with Hiro, but they'd both agreed that their first time should be in special surroundings. Hiro's apartment was too small and his bed wasn't very comfortable, and they certainly couldn't do it in Omi's room above the Koneko.

That was one thing Omi felt kind of bad about - he still hadn't told the rest of Weiss that his relationship with Hiroshi went a little beyond just friendship. He was afraid of their reactions to finding out that he was 'like that', afraid of the stress it might put on their teamwork. He was reasonably certain that Ken wouldn't care, and Youji was a fairly easy-going kind of person; but you never knew how people would react, and he couldn't predict Aya's reaction at all. He figured it was best just to keep it quiet as long as possible.

He realized he was humming under his breath again, and stopped in annoyance. Ken glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. "What's with you today, Omittchi? You've been acting weird all day."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd gotten laid," Youji threw in from across the shop. Omi fought very hard not to blush and give himself away, and for once he succeeded. Thankfully there was no one in the shop to overhear this little conversation but the three of them.

"Youji-kun no baka! I've just got this song stuck in my head and it's annoying me, that's all." He thought he managed to be casual as he fluffed up the leaves of the arrangement he was working on.

Youji wasn't going to leave it alone, though. "Oh? Don't I recall you saying something about staying out for the night tonight? Something you're not telling us, bishounen?"

Omi rolled his eyes. "Hiro-kun invited me to a concert that NG is producing, and then afterwards he's promised to take me backstage and see if he can introduce me to Seguchi Touma." In fact Hiroshi had promised that very thing, but the concert wasn't until next week. "It won't be over until two am at least, and since I don't have work tomorrow, I figured it would be easiest just to crash at his place."

"Man, our little Omi's getting to hang out with rock stars," Ken teased him, grinning.

"Well, J-League stars are starting to get boring," Omi teased back. Ken chuckled.

The bell over the door rang, and Omi looked up to greet the customer. The words died unspoken on his lips as he realized who it was.

"Yo, Birman!" Youji greeted her instead. He sidled up to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "When are you going to give in and give me a date, hmmm? I promise you won't regret it."

Ken rolled his eyes. "When are YOU going to give in and give up, Youji? Honestly."

"I'll get Aya-kun," was all Omi said, and he ran up the stairs to the apartment. His stomach was churning, and his mind was going in little circles babbling 'not tonight, not tonight, not tonight!' He tried to calm himself down, telling himself that the actual mission might not be for days, and that even if it was for tonight he had the right to turn it down. All the others turned down missions on a regular basis - even Aya, now that he didn't have his sister's hospital bills to pay anymore. Omi almost never did, and he hadn't backed out on either of the last two missions that conflicted with his dates with Hiro. But this was special! Hiro would never forgive him if he cancelled at the last minute - the dinner reservations were already made, and the hotel room had already been paid for. Surely they'd understand if he refused just this once...

He still hadn't convinced himself by the time the mission tape started. The simulated Persia no longer jolted him, but it did always send a stab of nostalgia through him. He'd never really had a chance to get to know the man who was his uncle, and he thought he could have learned a lot from him. If only he hadn't died so soon after Omi discovered who he really was - he had been the last family Omi had. Now everyone he was related to was dead, which was just as well in most cases, but sad in others.

The mission was infiltration and information gathering, and if they managed to confirm the identity of the target they were to make the hit as well. The location was a club that had opened a few months before in the downtown Tokyo area. People had been going missing from it on a semi-regular basis, and the bodies were now starting to turn up, horribly mangled and tortured.

"I don't get it," Ken said when the video was finished. "More than a dozen people have gone missing from the same place in the last two months - even before they found the bodies, why wasn't a big deal made out of it?"

Birman nodded. "A good question. The answer is: because of the nature of the club. It caters to the - 'alternative' crowd, and though it gets a lot of publicity because of that, it's mostly negative publicity."

Omi blinked, confused. "Alternative crowd?" he repeated.

"It's a gay bar," Youji clarified, rolling his eyes at Birman's evasiveness. "I've been by it a couple of times, it's pretty swanky - on the outside, at least." That last bit had been added just a little bit too hastily, and Omi gave him a sideways look.

"It's an unfortunate fact that there are a large number of people in law enforcement and administration who are of the secret opinion that 'a few less of THAT kind is a good thing', so the investigation hasn't been as thorough as it could have been. We'd like two of you to go undercover as a couple, with at least one person outside for backup," Birman continued, and Omi sighed with relief. This wasn't a mission that required much hacking, and he wasn't in the running for one of the infiltrators anyway - with three people who had perfectly legal ID, it would be silly for him to go in with a fake ID that could potentially be spotted. He could just give the others a disk in case they needed to get into a security system, and they wouldn't need him at all.

"Don't look at me," Aya said flatly. "This is not my style. I'll do the backup."

"Balinese and Siberian, then..." Birman started, but Youji broke in.

"Ah... that's not necessarily a good idea," he hedged nervously. "I think it should be Bombay and Siberian."

Omi looked at him in dismay. "Youji-kun, I've got that concert to go to tonight! Hiro-kun went to a lot of trouble to get tickets and backstage passes for us!"

"Why shouldn't it be you, Youji? Afraid your reputation would be compromised?" Ken teased him mercilessly.

Youji muttered something under his breath, flushing. "What was that?" Birman demanded.

"I said, 'someone will recognize me'," he finally admitted with a sigh, as the rest of the team looked at him in shock. "If we do end up going for the target tonight, it wouldn't be a good idea to have one of us identified at the scene of the crime."

"Youji, you..." Ken trailed off and shook his head. "Who would have thought? The great ladies' man is a regular at a gay nightclub..."

Youji glared at him. "I'm bi, all right? I just don't advertise it." Omi was flushed, but pleased. Maybe he'd be able to talk to someone about Hiroshi after all.

Birman sighed. "Abyssinian, will you reconsider?" Aya shook his head stubbornly, and Omi's stomach sank. "Then it will have to be Bombay and Siberian."

"Can't we do it another night?" Omi pleaded desperately. "Or even just send Ken-kun in as a single?"

Birman gave him a Look. "First of all, you know better than to send any one operative in alone if it can be avoided. Second of all, only couples are being taken. As for doing it another night, so far the kidnappings have been on a very regular schedule. The next one should be tonight - it will be about a week before we can try again, and two people will have died in the meantime."

Omi felt sick. He couldn't, he just couldn't let two people die because of a choice he'd made. That would violate everything he believed in, everything that had made him a part of Weiss in the first place. But he KNEW that Hiro would never forgive him for this; even if they managed to get through it with their relationship intact, it would always hang between them, and Hiroshi would never quite trust him again. "I'm in," he confirmed miserably.

Ken gave him a sympathetic look. "There'll be other concerts, Omi. I'm sure you'll get a chance to meet this Touma guy some day."

Omi just shook his head and stood. "I have to call Hiro-kun and let him know I'm not coming," he said listlessly.

He felt like he had a heavy weight crushing down on his chest by the time he reached his room, and he was fighting hard not to cry. He reminded himself that he'd always known the possibility existed that his relationship with Hiroshi might interfere with Weiss, and he'd made the decision from the start that Weiss was more important. But now that it had come to the test, he found himself sick at heart by the decision. Why was it that every time his life started to look like it might get a little better, that he might actually have someone to love him, it inevitably took a turn for the worse?

"At least Hiro-kun's not in danger of dying," he muttered to himself as he punched in the phone number from memory. Somehow the thought didn't cheer him up much.

"Moshi moshi?" Hiro's voice came over the phone. Omi drew a deep breath, and plunged in.

"Hiro-kun, it's Omi. I... I'm really sorry... I can't come tonight."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a long moment, then Hiro asked, "Why not?"

He hadn't even had time to come up with an excuse - but what excuse could possibly cover this? "I... it's... I can't... I just can't, that's all." This had to be one of the lowest points in his life, surpassed only by discovering who he really was, and losing Ouka.

"Omi... if you're nervous, if you're not ready, just say so. We'll just go to dinner and the movie and not..."

"No, it's not that!" Omi exclaimed. "It's not... I really do want to, Hiro. It's just... something's come up, and I have to be somewhere else tonight. I can't really explain it, I know this sounds really awful, but please believe me I really do want to be there with you..." He was babbling, and he was startled to realize that he was also crying. It must have shown in his voice because Hiro sighed.

"I don't understand you sometimes, Omi. Why can't you tell me where you're going?"

"It's complicated," Omi replied miserably. That had to be the understatement of the century. "I'm really sorry..."

"It's okay," Hiro interrupted him gently. "Look, I know I've been badgering you a lot lately, about not telling me things. But I already made a decision earlier this week, and I guess now it's being put to the test - I trust you. If you say you have a reason, then I believe you. I just hope that someday you'll trust me enough to tell me what's going on with you."

Omi wanted to protest that it wasn't really a matter of trust, but he knew he couldn't explain it without giving himself away. "Thank you," was all he could say, his voice so choked with tears that it came out as a whisper.

"I love you, bishounen," Hiro replied softly. "We'll do it another night, okay? Will I talk to you tomorrow?"

"Probably," Omi replied, grateful beyond words for his boyfriend's forgiving and understanding nature. "I love you too, Hiro-kun. I have to go now - thank you so much!" He hung up, and scrambled to get into clothes that would both be appropriate for the mission, and allow him to conceal some of his darts. If the sleeves of his shirt were a little salty where he'd wiped away his tears, no one would notice.

Omi and Ken circulated both singly and together, making contacts and subtly digging out information from the people they talked to. Many people had heard about the abductions, but the common consensus seemed to be that it was a horror story started by anti-gays to keep the club from prospering. No one seemed to know anyone who had actually been kidnapped, though everyone knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who'd been taken, and so on. If it hadn't been for the awful pictures of the recovered bodies, Omi would have started to agree with them.

After three hours of fruitless searching, they were no closer to discovering their target than when they'd started. Youji and Aya were both on the rooftop, watching to see if any other couples were being approached in a suspicious manner through a hacked security system link that Omi had set up. Ken and Omi were both fitted with tiny microphones, allowing the other two to hear everything that was said around them.

Omi was hanging out at the end of the bar, idly sipping a non-alcoholic drink while Ken scouted the dance floor. They'd been separated for half an hour at this point, and it was about time for them to regroup and try again as a couple. He found himself wishing that he could have been here with Hiroshi - the music was good and the dance floor was large, and the acoustics were good enough that the individual benches on the other side of the club were actually relatively quiet.

"Omi?" came a startled voice from behind him. "Is that you?"

Omi's eyes widened. The voice was familiar, though he could quite place it through the interference of the music. Who could possibly be here that would recognize him? He had to get away before they confirmed that it was him, or hitting the target would have to wait for another day even if they did manage to find him. Kritiker had a strict rule about that; if any operative was recognized and could be placed at the scene around the time of the assassination, then the hit didn't go off. If that happened, the target would get away, he'd take two more victims - and Omi would have missed his date for nothing.

He tried to slide away into the crowd before whoever it was could get a good look at him, but a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. "It is you!" Shuuichi exclaimed, coming around to where they could see each other. Omi felt his stomach bottom out - of all the people it could have been...

Shuuichi's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Hiro had a special date tonight... is he here?"

"Eh?" Omi tried to hedge. "No, I'm here alone. Are you sure you weren't thinking of some other night?"

"How could I?" Shuuichi retorted. "He's been talking about nothing else all week. He was so worked up today that he actually missed a verse in one of our songs!"

"Oh. Well, uh... it's kind of a long story..."

Shuuichi's eyes widened. "You stood him up again, didn't you?" he demanded, angry. "He told me about the last two times... you stood him up on your anniversary? To come HERE? And he thinks Yuki is a jerk! I can't believe you'd have the nerve to do something like that, you bastard!" His voice was getting louder and louder as he spoke, until it was an all-out rant at full volume.

Desperately, Omi tried to defuse the other boy's temper. "Shuuichi, it's really not what you think..."

"Do you have a problem with my boyfriend?" Ken's voice came from behind him, low and dangerous. Omi buried his face in his hands, losing all hope of salvaging the situation. Ken must have seen Shuuichi arguing with him, and thought that Omi was in trouble.

"Boyfriend?" Shuuichi repeated incredulously, looking back and forth between them. "He's your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he's taken, so get lost!" Ken replied, having apparently completely misread the situation.

"Ken-kun, you are NOT helping!" Omi hissed at him, and Ken gave him a puzzled look. Too late - Shuuichi was absolutely furious now.

"I don't believe this! You stand up Hiro on your anniversary to go on a date with someone else?" Shuuichi actually spat in his face. "You two-timing bastard! I'm going tell him about this, you can bet on that." He turned to Ken, and with deliberate maliciousness said, "Are you aware that your 'boyfriend' has been seeing my best friend for the last two months?"

"Oh, gods," Omi cried in despair, covering his face again. Of all the ways he could have chosen to out himself to Weiss, this was NOT on the list. He wondered vaguely what Youji and Aya were thinking, listening to all this.

Ken turned to him in shock. "Omi? You... and Hiro?" Omi nodded, figuring there really wasn't any reason to hide it any more. "Christ, first Youji, now you?"

Shuuichi was looking supremely smug. "I wouldn't suggest trying to see Hiro again," he informed Omi in a superior tone. "He's pretty easy-going, but when you really piss him off - well, he's got his black belt, and he's not afraid to use it." Having said his piece, he spun on his heel and stalked off. Omi sagged against the bar, tears slipping through his fingers as he realized the truth of what Shuuichi had said. Hiro was slow to anger, but once he did get mad at someone their days were numbered. He would have no reason to disbelieve Shuuichi, and every reason to believe him - it would explain most of Omi's odd and secretive behaviour.

He felt a hand come to rest awkwardly on his shoulder. "Omi... I'm sorry," Ken told him sincerely. "I didn't know... I wouldn't have..."

Omi turned away, not wanting the sympathy at the moment. "I know," he said shortly, trying hard not to be mad at his friend. It really wasn't Ken's fault. "Just... just leave me alone, please? The mission's botched anyway, Shuuichi knows who I am. Obviously. Oh, shit!" Omi jerked upright, eyes wide. "If we don't get the target, he'll take another set of victims, and Shuuichi and Yuki are here... I have to find Yuki and warn him!"

Ken caught his arm as he was all set to go running off. "Omi! You can't warn anyone, it would look suspicious. Use your head!"

Their watches beeped simultaneously - engineered to sound like a watch alarm, it was actually an indication that Aya or Youji wanted them to get somewhere private and put their receivers on, so they could talk. Immediately they both headed for the door, Omi still fighting back tears as they grabbed their jackets and exited the building. The moment they were out of sight, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his earpiece, sliding it into place as Ken did the same.

"We've got our man," Youji's voice murmured over the line. "He's taken his victims - and it's not your, uh, friend, Bombay, so don't worry."

"Whether or not it's someone I know, two people are still going to die tonight because of me," he returned miserably.

"Not if we kill him first," said Aya.

Ken's eyes widened. "The hit is off, Abyssinian! Bombay was made."

"So we can't get him here," Youji replied. "We're following him right now - he drugged them with something and is leading them off down the alleys. We're already almost far enough away that it won't be connected with the club - another block and we'll drop down and take him out, and get the two of them someplace where they'll be picked up and given medical attention."

A chunk of the weight that had settled on Omi's chest lifted, as he realized that he wasn't going to be responsible for the death of two innocent people. But the majority of it stayed, knowing he'd lost the best chance at real happiness that he'd had in a long, long time.

Hiro, forgive me, he prayed silently, hopelessly. I never meant to hurt you. I hope you find someone who deserves you, who can make you happy. Obviously, it's not me.

Chapter 5

Hiro stared blankly at the wall, fingers resting lightly on the strings of his guitar. He'd been sitting like that for nearly an hour and he hadn't played a single note. In fact, he'd barely played all week, and the rest of Bad Luck was getting irritated with him. He'd been flubbing simple phrases and riffs, and the music he did manage to play correctly was lifeless and dull, with none of his usual passion behind it. Finally today Shuuichi had told him to go home and deal with it, that they would practice with Fujisaki's programmed arrangements instead of live guitar.

That had hurt, but it was just one more little thing added to the rest of the pain in his heart. He was a little dismayed by just how strongly he was reacting to Omi's betrayal - he'd known he was falling hard for the other boy, but he hadn't realized how far gone he already was.

He couldn't even talk to Shuuichi to try to work through his feelings. When his friend had first told him about what had happened at the club, Hiro had accused him of making it up, and they'd gotten into a big fight. He'd believed in Omi, trusted him - not that he didn't trust Shuuichi, but his friend had been getting progressively more hostile towards Omi since they'd met. Hiroshi had finally realized why - Shuuichi was subconsciously jealous that he was no longer Hiro's sole focus of attention. It was much the way Hiro himself had reacted to Shuuichi's relationship with Yuki, except that he had recognized it in himself and worked hard to root it out.

But Shuuichi had insisted, and Hiro had eventually confronted Omi about it. Omi hadn't even tried to deny it, except for saying once that it wasn't what Shuuichi had thought, but no, he couldn't explain what it actually was. Omi had looked miserable enough that Hiroshi had wanted to forgive him - if he'd even tried to offer an explanation, however lame, and promised not to do it again, Hiro probably would have taken him back. As it was, how could he ever trust him again? He didn't need that kind of stress in his life.

Not that he was doing too well now that they'd broken up. He constantly found himself thinking Omi, making a mental note to share some story or joke he'd heard during the day, planning what they would do the next time they got together. He almost thought it would have hurt less if Omi had just died.

He finally started to play, but it was a morose song, full of minor and diminished chords that wandered all over the landscape of despair. He stopped after just a few moments, because it was only depressing him more.

There was a knock at his door, and he glanced up, puzzled. Shuuichi would still be at the studio, practicing, and he couldn't imagine who else it could be. He set the guitar on his bed and wandered over to the door.

The person on the other side was pretty much the last person he'd ever have expected to find there - Hidaka Ken, the person Omi had stood him up for. The other boy wore a determined look on his face that promised it would be less painful to hear him out than to try to make him go away.

"What do you want," Hiroshi growled at him, not particularly intimidated.

"To talk to you," Ken replied implacably.

"Why the hell would I want to talk to you?" Hiro asked him incredulously.

Ken shrugged. "Well, if that music I heard as I came up was any indication, you're nearly as depressed as Omi is. And given that the studio told me they'd sent you home early when I went looking for you there, you must be annoying your friends at least as much as Omi has been driving us all crazy."

"So?" Hiro snarled at him. "I'm glad he's upset! He damn well should be!"

Ken sighed and shook his head. "Look, I don't know what this Shuuichi guy told you, 'cause he wouldn't talk to me, and I don't know what Omi told you, 'cause he hasn't said more than three words to anybody all week. But I can tell you this much - it's not what you think it is."

Hiro rolled his eyes. "So Omi said. But he also didn't bother to tell me why I should believe him, given that he was admitting that he stood me up to go to a club with you."

"It's not what you think it is," Ken repeated patiently. "Omi and I are not and never have been together. We're very close, and we always have been, but he thinks of me like an older brother. The three of us are the family that he never had."

"Shuuichi said you called him your boyfriend," Hiro accused. "That doesn't sound very brotherly to me."

"I did. I thought I was rescuing Omi from a bad situation. All I could see was some guy arguing with him, and I figured a boyfriend would be better back up than a regular friend."

His words had the ring of truth behind them - and yet Hiro instinctively knew there was something he wasn't being told. "Why the hell was he at a gay nightclub with you, then? After breaking a very important date with me?"

Ken glanced around as if checking to make sure no one was listening. "Look, can we maybe have this conversation inside? It's bad enough I'm telling you this stuff, I don't need anyone else overhearing it."

Despite himself Hiroshi found that his curiosity was piqued. He stood aside, holding the door wide enough that Ken could get past him, then shut it behind the other boy.

Ken looked around at the mess that had taken over the apartment, and shook his head. "For me this would be ordinary, but I have a feeling you're usually as organized as Omittchi."

"Did you come here to explain all this to me, or to comment on the state of my living area?" Hiro growled at him, impatient. Ken sighed, and turned to face him.

Hiro was just a little taken aback at the deadly seriousness in the other teen's eyes. He'd seen that look before - any time mention of Omi's sister came up, or the times Hiro had probed to find out where Omi got all those injuries. Ken was naturally such a happy-go-lucky kind of person that the expression was strange on him; but then again, it was just as odd on the perpetually cheerful Omi.

"What I'm about to tell you now goes no farther than this room, understand?" Ken told him firmly. Hiro nodded, mystified. "All right. I can't give you most of the details, but here's what I can tell you: Omi and I - and Aya and Youji, for that matter - are not what we seem. The flower shop is a cover; the damn thing rarely turns a profit, and it certainly couldn't support all four of us. What we actually do is part of what I can't tell you. Suffice it to say that Omi literally had no choice about breaking his date with you to go out with me. And it's not that he doesn't trust you, or doesn't want to tell you what's going on - the four of us are not the only people whose lives depend on us keeping this whole thing quiet. Do you understand a little better now?"

Hiro was gaping at him, speechless for a long moment. "This... this is why he keeps getting those injuries, isn't it?" he asked slowly, and Ken nodded. "I thought that looked an awful lot like a bullet wound. Is this some kind of undercover government thing? Isn't Omi a little young for that?"

Ken shook his head. "I've already told you pretty much everything I can. Take it or leave it - but I hope you take it, because Omi's been absolutely miserable."

Hiro closed his eyes, and thought about it hard. Finally he sighed, and shrugged. "I'll talk to him," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as brittle to Ken as it did to him. "I can't promise any more than that."

Ken smiled at him. "That's enough. He gets off shift at the shop as soon as I show up - you can come back with me and talk to him now, if you want." Hiro nodded and grabbed his helmet, and Ken preceded him out the door.

Hiroshi had to pause when he caught a glimpse of Ken's bike, parked off to one side where he hadn't seen it before. "That is not the engine the factory put on that thing," he commented, crouching to admire the sleek lines. Ken's chest puffed out a little with pride.

"I spent nearly a year overhauling it," he told Hiroshi smugly. "Omi helped. We took it apart and rebuilt it from the ground up. We're working on his bike, now, but he's not as much of a fanatic as I am. He's more worried about making sure his computer is state-of-the-art than his bike."

Hiro had to chuckle as he stood and made his way to his own bike. "I'd noticed his unhealthy fascination with those things," he commented wryly. "He showed me the one in his room, and you'd think he was a proud father showing off his kid. I've never seen a private system that well outfitted - if I didn't know better, I'd think he was a hacker!"

Ken twitched a bit when he said that, and Hiroshi raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe I don't know better... IS he a hacker?"

Ken rolled his eyes. "I can't follow half of what he does on that thing," he replied, which both was and wasn't an answer. He started his bike and pulled out onto the road, heading towards the Koneko. Hiro followed, mind churning with questions.

Omi was swamped by the fangirls when they arrived, and there was no one else in sight. He looked up in trepidation as the bells over the door jangled, then sighed in relief when he saw Ken. "Ken-kun! Thank goodness you're..." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Hiroshi behind Ken, and he gulped.

"Where's Youji and Aya?" Ken asked, making his way through the piles of girls to grab for his apron.

"Uh..." Omi shook his head and snapped out of it. "Aya-kun's in the back filling an order. Youji-kun disappeared about ten minutes ago - I suspect he's out back smoking again. I finished today's deliveries about half an hour ago, but there might be a few more to go out later."

"I'll handle them," Ken replied, moving to take over at the cash register. "You get out of here before you get sucked back in again, and wind up working two shifts. Go on, get!" He gave the younger boy a playful shove, pushing him towards Hiro.

Hiro was just leaning against the doorjamb, watching his erstwhile boyfriend with an inscrutable expression. Omi looked pale and more than a little nervous, but there was a flicker of hope deep in his blue eyes as he hung up his apron and made his way to stand before Hiroshi.

"Omi-kun, who's your cute friend?" one of the girls squealed, sighing. "Will you introduce him to me, since you're not interested?"

"I'm not interested either," Hiro informed her bluntly. He jerked his head at the door, and Omi nodded. They exited together, still not having said a word to each other.

Outside, and out of sight of the girls, they paused. "You... you wanted to talk to me?" Omi asked, voice so soft Hiro could barely hear him. Ken had been right about one thing - he looked even more miserable now than he had when they'd last seen each other.

"Is there somewhere we can go where we won't be overheard?" Hiro asked him, feeling his heart melting at the sight of those wounded eyes.

"Uh... the apartment will be empty right now, so we could go to my room, or we could go down the street to one of the coffee shops..."

"Your room," Hiro decided instantly. Omi nodded hesitantly, and led the way up the back stairs so they wouldn't have to go through the shop again.

They kicked their shoes off in the entranceway and headed down the hall to Omi's room. Hiro flopped down onto the bed as Omi locked the door behind them. Omi chose to perch on his computer chair rather than joining Hiroshi on the bed.

"Ken came to talk to me today," Hiro started, watching Omi's face carefully. The younger boy looked puzzled.

"Why?"

"He wanted to explain a few things to me. He told me that you hadn't had a choice about missing our date, though he was kind of vague on why." Omi had paled a little more, and his eyes went wide, but he said nothing. Hiro continued. "He said you were involved in something, that the shop was a cover, and that was why you kept getting injured."

"He TOLD you that?" Omi squeaked, looking horrified. "Oh, Ken-kun... he'll be in so much trouble if they find out..."

"He didn't give me any details," Hiro reassured him. "And I'm not stupid enough to go around telling other people about this. It stays between you, him and me, as far as I'm concerned." Omi looked relieved. "I guess I just have one major question that I need to have answered."

"I can't tell you much more than Ken already did," Omi started, but Hiro held up his hand to hush him.

"You can tell me this much. Are you in this willingly? I mean, are you being forced to do this? Because if you are..."

Omi looked surprised at the question. "Oh, no! No, I... I'm doing this of my own free will. We all are. Kri... the organization doesn't work that way. We're all free to refuse a m... er, to not do what they want us to do any time."

"So why didn't you?" Hiro asked, confused. Omi sighed.

"Because Youji-kun couldn't do it, and Aya-kun wouldn't do it, and I couldn't let Ken-kun go in alone. People's lives were on the line, Hiro-kun - I begged them to change their minds, but everything was set and it was me or nobody. Having the choice to turn them down doesn't mean that I always can - not and live with myself in the morning."

Hiro sighed, and passed his hand over his eyes. "All right - I don't really understand, but I think I know you well enough to believe that you wouldn't have done this lightly."

Omi's eyes shone with suppressed tears. "You... you forgive me?" he whispered, hopeful. Hiro nodded.

"I guess so. I wish you could explain more to me, but I'm willing to take it on faith. I... I'm sorry I didn't believe you in the first place..."

"Why should you have?" Omi replied, smiling now through his tears. "I knew how bad it looked, that's why I didn't even bother trying to make excuses. I figured that if I couldn't tell you the truth, the least I could do was not lie to you. I'm sorry..."

Hiro scooted to the edge of the bed, and silenced him with a tender kiss. "You apologize too much, baka. Just shut up and make up with me already, will you?" He tugged and Omi willingly tumbled into his lap, squirming around so they could embrace fully, and set to making up with a vengeance.

Chapter 6

Omi lay quietly in bed, watching his lover sleep in the darkness. Hiroshi's face was softer in sleep, radiating a quiet peacefulness that Omi drank in like water. After three months of waking up to this on an irregular basis, he still felt a sense of wonder and astonishment. There was something amazing about falling asleep in his lover's arms, safe and content, and waking up the same way.

Hiro murmured and rolled towards him, wrapping himself around Omi in a tight hug. Omi reveled in the feeling, rubbing his cheek gently against Hiro's shoulder. Hiro opened his eyes slightly, and something on Omi's face must have alarmed him, because he opened them all the way.

"Omi?" he mumbled, still too sleepy to be completely coherent. "What's wrong?"

Omi sighed, and wrapped his own arms around Hiroshi's torso, snuggling up close. Something HAD been bothering him for a while, and he wanted to talk it over with his lover.

"Hiro..." Omi started hesitantly. Hiroshi had finally managed to convince him to leave off the '-kun' about a month and a half ago. It had amused Hiro that even after they became lovers, Omi still used the honourific to speak to him. "Are you happy like this?"

Hiro frowned down at him, puzzled. "I'm not sure what you mean, Omittchi," he admitted softly.

"I guess I mean... do you like having me here, like this? When I'm able to stay over, and we get to wake up together?"

Hiro snorted softly, and tightened his grip. "Isn't it obvious? I wouldn't ask you to stay if I didn't enjoy it."

"But... would you like me to be able to do it more often?"

"Of course. I ask you every night we're together, don't I? I love having you here with me. I wish I could have you all the time."

"What if you could?"

Hiro glanced down, to see that Omi was staring pensively over Hiro's shoulder at the wall. "What are you thinking, bishounen?"

Omi sighed, and shifted to look into his face. "I'm thinking about getting out. Leaving the organization. I... I'm tired of having to hide things from you, of only getting to stay with you maybe one night a week because of... of the things I have to do. I'm tired of living a double life. But... if I leave... well, I can't live at the Koneko any more. It would be awkward, and they might need my room in case they decide to replace me."

"Is this a subtle way of asking if you can move in with me?" Hiro asked with some amusement. Omi blushed.

"No... I've got enough money saved up to pay for an apartment of my own. I'm not really sure what I'd do - go to college, I guess. What I wanted to know was..." he hesitated. "I guess what I wanted to know was if you thought this was really going to last. I don't want to cut all my ties to my other life, and then have us break up in a month. Mou, this isn't coming out right."

"I think I understand," Hiro said gently. "You're asking if I'm really serious about this relationship. The answer is... I can't make any promises, nobody can, but I could very easily picture spending the rest of my life with you. And I can't picture not doing it."

Omi buried his face in Hiroshi's neck, and felt warm tears slipping out to splash on Hiro's shoulder. "I feel the same way," he whispered, choked. "I'll do it, then. We're in the middle of something right now, and I can't just leave them stranded. But I'll tell them that after this, I'm out."

"Will they be mad at you?"

Omi shook his head. "They'll be upset, but that's more because we've all become very close over the last two years or so. I'll miss them, but I guess I can go visit them sometimes. Krit... the organization won't like it, but they won't try to stop me."

"It's up to you," Hiro said, his voice infused with love and reassurance. "But if you do leave, you don't need to get your own place. I'd love to have you here - or rather, maybe we could split the rent and get a bigger place, ne?"

Omi smiled against his collarbone. "I'd love that," he replied, sighing happily. "I'll tell them. This job should be done by the end of the week at the latest, and then I'll be free to do what I want."

Hiroshi smiled back down at him, putting his fingers under Omi's chin and lifting until he could see his expression. "Then I guess you'd better start packing, hadn't you?"

Omi paused with his hand on the door to the stairs, steeling himself. This wasn't going to go over well, and he wanted to be as prepared as possible. No matter what, he told himself, he wouldn't let them talk him out of this.

He trouped down the stairs, making enough noise so they'd know he was coming but not so much that he'd interrupt whatever they were doing. As the mission room came into sight, he saw that they were huddled together over a blueprint of the building they were infiltrating that night. Ken looked up as he hit the bottom step, and waved him over.

"There's an eighty percent chance that the targets will be in one of these two rooms," Aya was saying as he joined the group, pointing out the locations on the paper. "There may be a few scattered around this area," he waved at one side, "but hopefully we'll catch most of them in the first attack. Omi, I want you stationed up here," he pointed to a place on a catwalk above the main factory, "where you can watch all the doors to the offices and pick them off as they come out. We need to take all ten out as quickly as possible, so that none of them have a chance to get away once the alarm has been raised."

"What about the rumours that Schwartz has been sighted in the area?" Youji asked, eyeing the diagram. "It's been a while since we ran into them..."

"All we know is that a tall redhead with a German accent has been seen speaking with some of the targets," Aya replied. "It might be Schuldich, but it might not be. Be prepared, and if you do spot Schwartz get the hell out of there. They're still furious that we ruined their chance at immortality, and we don't have the resources to deal with them right now."

"That's the understatement of the century," Ken muttered.

"Which, that they're furious at us, or that we can't deal with them?" Youji wanted to know.

"Both!" Ken replied with a grimace.

"Does everyone understand the plan?" Aya asked, glaring them both into silence. They all nodded, and he looked satisfied. "Good. Then let's get going."

"Wait..." Omi interrupted him, trying to swallow his nervousness. They paused and turned to look at him. He stared back at them levelly. "I have to tell you guys something. This... this is my last mission."

"Last..." Ken trailed off, eyes wide. "Omi... you're leaving?" Omi nodded, and the others looked shocked. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I've made my choice. I've already given seven years of my life to Kritiker - I want to try living like a normal person for a change."

Youji gave him a knowing look. "This is because of that sweetheart of yours, isn't it? Omi, don't you realize..."

"Don't you dare, Youji!" Ken broke in, startling them with his fierceness. "Don't you dare pull the same crap on him that you did with me and Yuriko. If Omi wants to leave, that's his choice, and I won't let you guilt trip him out of it!"

Youji looked surprised. "Are you still mad at me for that? It's not like I twisted your arm, Kenken, I just pointed out..."

"You just nothing. I'm not still mad at you for it, but a part of me will always regret that I didn't go with her. I won't let Omi have the same regret because of you." Youji had the grace to look abashed, and Omi gave Ken a grateful if somewhat puzzled smile. Whatever conversation Ken was referring to, it wasn't one he'd mentioned to Omi.

"I won't lose touch with you guys," Omi promised solemnly. "You're the closest thing to a real family I've ever had, and I don't want to lose that. And if you ever need any help with hacking and the like, let me know."

Aya nodded, and surprised him by saying, "I hope it works out for you, Omi. You deserve a chance at more happiness than you've been given in your life."

"Thank you, Aya-kun. Minna-kun. I'll miss you all."

Omi crouched on the narrow grating of the catwalk, crossbow drawn and ready as he watched the doorways with an eagle eye. The others were almost in position, and two of the targets were unaccounted for. They were somewhere in the complex, and the offices here were the next most likely place for them to be after the lab and the shipping office, where the others were. Any moment now, the alarm would be sounded and two birds would come flying out of the bush...

"Siberian to Bombay, we're in position," Ken's voice came over the headset.

"Bombay to Siberian, acknowledged," Omi returned quietly. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's do this thing, then!" Youji said, voice tight with anticipation. Seconds later an alarm sounded throughout the complex, and two doors slammed open beneath Omi.

He aimed for the one farthest away first, and pulled the trigger. The bolt caught him high on the shoulder, staggering him but not dropping him. Swearing, Omi drew another bolt from his leg sheath and cocked the crossbow. The second shot hit his heart squarely, and the running man fell to the floor, twitching. Omi spun to track the second target, and swore again as the man disappeared around a corner.

"One of the targets got past me, and he's heading away from the rest of you," he said into his comm. "I'm going after him."

"Be careful, Bombay," Ken replied over the sound of fighting in the background. Omi dropped his crossbow to the catwalk and vaulted over the rail, bending his knees and rolling to absorb the shock of impact. He was up and running an instant later, three darts already in hand as he tore after the remaining target.

He just caught sight of the man ducking into a door at the end of the corridor, and he put on an extra burst of speed. That door led to a series of rooms that had a side exit, and if he didn't move fast the man would get away.

He burst through the first door, which was only half-closed in the man's wake. The next door was just swinging shut, and Omi instinctively ducked as he caught a flash as of light off of metal. The bullet zinged past him, barely missing his left shoulder. He rolled again, plowing through the door and coming up with his darts already in the air.

The man recoiled back from the darts, bringing his gun up to shield his face. Omi grabbed for another set, and these were better aimed. One took the target in the throat, and two more in his chest. The poison coating the tips worked fast, and he was dead almost instantly, slumping to the ground across the room from him.

Omi sighed and clambered to his feet, panting a little. Sprinting wasn't his strong suit, and he disliked having to chase after targets. Pacing over to the body, he bent to check the pulse to confirm the kill.

The last fluttering of the man's heart twitched beneath his fingertips, barely felt through the thin cotton of his gloves. He nodded, satisfied, and reached up to activate his transmitter again.

"Bombay to Abyssinian, target kill confirmed. I'm on the other side of the warehouse from you now - it'll be easier for me to go out this way and regroup with you later. Someone pick up my crossbow on the way out, please?"

"Acknowledged, Bombay," Aya replied. "We're finished here - get out and meet with Siberian at the secondary pickup point."

"Ryoukai," Omi said, and let the transmitter fall silent again. He had a few minutes - it would take Ken longer to get to the pickup point from his side of the building. He took the time to gather up his darts - he didn't often get to recover them, but there was no point in wasting these. He turned to go - and stopped short in shock.

Standing in another doorway that he hadn't noticed at first, Hiroshi was staring at him in undisguised horror and revulsion. Omi opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, unable to find his voice, and finally burst out, "Hiroshi! What... what are you DOING here..."

He trailed off as another figure appeared behind Hiro in the doorway, looking oddly like a larger, brighter version of the musician with his long, flaming red hair. "Schuldich," Omi growled, reaching instinctively for a fresh dart. The poison on the ones he was holding was already expended, and wouldn't affect the telepath enough to hurt him.

"Ah ah, Weiss," Schuldich scolded him almost paternally. "You wouldn't want to risk hitting your little boytoy here, would you?"

Omi checked his throw, realizing that Schuldich could easily duck his shot such that Hiroshi would be hit instead. "Why are you here?" he snapped instead, every nerve strung wire-taut. Hiroshi hadn't moved or said anything since he'd appeared, and Omi knew that he was under Schuldich's control.

Schuldich practically purred at him. "I never did get to see what you'd do with Ouka once she found out your secret," he replied smoothly, green eyes shining with anticipation. "I was so disappointed, and Sakura wasn't much substitute. So I thought I'd try again. Hiro here has been very satisfying so far - he's quite disgusted by you, Omittchi. I didn't even need to play with his head!"

Omi's heart sank as he saw the truth of Schuldich's words in his lover's eyes. The cocky German wasn't above lying to get the reactions he wanted, but in this case he clearly didn't need to.

"Anyway, I guess I should leave you two lovebirds to your fun," the telepath continued gleefully. "Do try not to fall apart TOO badly, Omittchi - I've got a bet on with Nagi, and the poor kid can't afford to lose much more to me this month." With that he vanished, blurring out the door with the impossible speed only he could achieve.

Hiro gasped as he was released from the telepath's control, and stood shaking in the doorway. He alternated between staring at Omi and the body behind him, looking pale and more than a little green. Omi found himself at a complete loss for words.

Finally Hiroshi spoke. "THIS is what you couldn't tell me about?" he asked, voice trembling badly. Omi nodded, mute. "And you do this of your own free will?"

"Hai," Omi whispered, finding his voice. It didn't help, because he still didn't know what he could possibly say to fix this. "Hiro, I..."

"Don't!" Hiro cut him off with a violent gesture, looking like he wanted to be sick. "I don't want to hear it. I can't believe... this isn't who I thought you were, Omi. I don't know you at all. You're not the person I fell in love with - he would never kill someone like that."

Omi felt the tears sliding down over his cheeks now, but he couldn't deny it. "I am who I've always been," he replied, anguished. "I never lied to you. I never wanted to hurt you! I only did what I had to do..."

"You're a killer," Hiro replied scathingly. Omi bowed his head miserably. "You're an assassin! I thought you were some kind of government agent, or an undercover cop or something. Not this!" Omi couldn't find a reply to that.

There was a heavy silence between them for a moment. "You'd better get out of here," Omi finally said listlessly. "The police will be here soon, and you'll be a suspect if they catch you here." He paused, choking back his sobs, and continued, "I won't... I won't try to see you anymore. If you ever want to speak to me, you know where to find me. And Hiroshi..." he raised pleading tear-filled eyes to his lover - now ex-lover. "Please, please don't tell anyone about this! You already knew too much before, and now..."

"Is that a threat?" Hiro asked him quietly, dangerously. Omi shook his head.

"No! A warning. If they find out how much you know - you could blow all four of our covers. They can't allow something like that to happen - they've got too much invested in us. I'm not saying they'd kill you, but they would make sure you couldn't expose us, or them. There are too many lives on the line for them to take risks."

"Fine," Hiro replied coldly. "You have my word. Just so long as I never see you again."

"Agreed," Omi choked out, and turned away. "There's a door to the outside in the room behind you. I have to go." He paused at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. Hiro was already making his way towards the exit, still shaking a little as he walked. "I love you," Omi whispered, half hoping and half dreading that Hiro would hear him. He went through the door at a run, knowing that he had only minutes to get to the alternate exit and get out before the police arrived. The world blurred around him in a haze of tears, and he wondered if he'd ever feel happy again.

Chapter 7

Hiro stared at the front of the Koneko no Sumu from a block away, fighting with himself. He'd already changed his mind about this a dozen times since he'd left his house, and he was beginning to think he'd never reach a real decision. On the one hand, he didn't want or need the pain of seeing Omi again, of rubbing salt in the wound that his loss had caused. On the other hand - he had to know. Either Omi had been a fantastically good actor during the entire six months they'd known each other, or Hiro had completely imagined everything he thought he knew about the other boy - or he was missing something.

It just didn't make sense! Despite the fact that the sight of Omi burying those lethal little darts in that man's body replayed itself every night in his dreams, Hiro still couldn't believe it had really happened. Surely it was all some strange nightmare. Omi was a sweet, loving person, and Hiroshi just couldn't reconcile that with the image of a cold-blooded killer who would assassinate people for money. There had to be some piece of the puzzle, some bit of information that he was missing, that would make it all make sense.

Of course, the only way to get that piece of the puzzle was to talk to Omi. After everything that had happened between them, Hiro wasn't sure Omi would be particularly happy to see him. After all, it had been over a month since that terrible night, and they'd had absolutely no contact since then.

He took a few more steps towards the Koneko, then halted again, indecisive. This really wasn't like him. Normally he made a decision and carried it through come hell or high water, and dealt with the consequences later. Now he was vacillating back and forth, unable to commit himself to one course of action.

He still wanted to know the identity of the orange-haired foreigner who had shanghaied him and revealed Omi's secret to him. Omi had clearly recognized him, and from some of the things they'd said Hiro thought he might be Omi's enemy. But who was the enemy of an assassin? The police? Federal agents? Hiro hadn't gotten that kind of feeling from the man. What kind of law enforcement officer hunted down the loved ones of their targets and forced them to watch the criminal in action?

Then there was the fact that the entire time he'd been in the man's company, he'd been utterly unable to speak or move unless he was told to. But he hadn't felt the sting of a drug injection, and his mind had been perfectly clear. And the moment the man had vanished Hiro was himself again. Omi hadn't seemed particularly surprised at his odd behaviour, either.

He took another step forward, and cursed at himself when his feet stopped moving again. This was getting ridiculous. At this rate, by the time he made it to the store it would be closed for the night!

"Hiroshi?" Ken's voice came from behind him. Hiro spun, startled. Ken stood just a few feet away, holding several precariously balanced bags of Chinese takeout. "What are you doing here?"

"I... uh..." Hiro wasn't sure how much Omi had told them about the encounter, and didn't want to get himself or Omi in trouble. Ken was watching him with a curious expression, and didn't seem at all hostile.

"I haven't seen you around in a while," the ex-soccer player said, walking up along side him. "Did you two have a fight or something?"

"Or something," Hiro admitted, trying to find a place to rest his eyes. It had just occurred to him that Ken was every bit as much of a killer as Omi - an obvious conclusion, but still one his mind had skipped over until now. Suddenly he wasn't quite sure how to treat the other teen.

"Look..." Ken bit his lip, looking like he was trying to decide something. "I know this is totally none of my business - but Omi's my friend, and I really hate seeing him like this. I don't know if you know this, but just before you guys had your fight - or whatever - he was talking about leaving Wei... leaving the group. For you. I don't know if you understand what a sacrifice that would have been for him, but he really loves you. Enough to give up everything he's ever known."

Hiro started. He'd actually forgotten that Omi had spoken of leaving and moving in with him permanently. Ken misinterpreted the action, and nodded.

"Whatever happened between you, you guys really need to work it out. Any idiot can see that you both need each other to be happy - otherwise why would you be hovering around a block away from the Koneko?" Ken asked practically. Hiroshi couldn't think of what to say to that. "C'mon back with me, and you guys can have it out, get it all settled. I'll cover for Omittchi - God knows he's bailed me out of enough shifts when I had a game or something."

He started walking towards the shop, not looking back to see if Hiro was following. Hiro was startled to find himself moving after the man with no hesitation. Apparently his mind had been made up for him.

The bell jangled cheerfully as they entered, and Aya looked up from the counter. He raised a brow at the sight of Hiro, but said nothing, just moving to relieve Ken of some of his burden.

About three seconds later Youji came bounding in from the back, sniffing the air exaggeratedly. "Is that the divine aroma of wantons and egg rolls I smell?" he asked grandly. He too raised a brow at Hiro, but unlike Aya he undertook to comment. "You and Omittchi finally make nice with each other, Hiroshi? It's about time - I'm getting real tired of watching the poor kid dragging around. He was less depressed after losing his sister than he is now!"

Ken shot Youji a warning look, but Hiroshi shook his head. "I just need to talk to him, and see if I can sort some things out."

"Where is Omi anyway?" Ken asked, setting the last of the bags down and swatting Youji's hand away from one. "Hold your horses Yo-tan, we're splitting these up evenly. And we're leaving some egg rolls for Omi!"

Youji rolled his eyes and grinned. "You can't blame a guy for trying. Omi's doing deliveries, but he should be back any..."

The bell over the door interrupted him, and the topic of conversation entered the room. His gaze was on the floor and his gait was more a shuffle than a step, and he didn't look up as he came in. Hiro felt a pang in his heart, watching him move like someone wounded. "I'm back, guys. Is dinner ready?"

Ken tilted his head at Omi and raised an eyebrow at Hiro, as if to say, 'see what I mean?' Aloud, he said, "Yeah, dinner's here - but you've got something more important to deal with."

Omi frowned and glanced up, and froze like a rabbit in headlights at the sight of Hiro. He gulped, and his eyes went wide. "H-Hiro... wh-what are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," Hiro replied, steeling his heart against those huge blue eyes. He wasn't going to let himself be distracted by Omi's sweet outward appearance, or by the attraction that was still at full force between them.

Omi glanced at the others, then moved back to the door and pulled it open. Hiro exited the shop and Omi followed, shutting the door behind him. "They'll probably end up upstairs shortly," he said quietly, and nodded down the street. "There's a park just down there, by the waterfront. I go there all the time when I want to be alone for a while." Hiro nodded, and they set off.

It was a short walk, no more than five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Hiro. The silence between them was more awkward than it had ever been, and every step sent a physical pain through his chest. Finally they reached the walkway along the water, and Omi leaned up against the railing, staring out to sea. "What did you want to know?" he asked listlessly.

Hiroshi copied his pose, trying to draw calm from the vastness of the ocean. There had been almost no wind that day and the water was flat and placid, shining like a mirror in the setting sun. "I know you probably can't answer most of my questions," he started, not quite sure where to begin. "But can you at least give me what answers you can?"

Omi glanced sideways at him, and nodded. "I'll tell you what I can. I trust you not to betray us."

Hiro tried to gather his thoughts, sorting his questions in order of what he needed to know. "Who was the guy that kidnapped me? And what the HELL did he do to me, anyway? I couldn't move or even speak, until he left."

Omi sighed. "His name is Schuldich - at least, that's the only name we know for him. He's a member of Schwartz, another group of assassins that we go up against on a fairly regular basis. I guess you could say we're enemies. When I first met you we had just finished going head to head with them - they'd kidnapped Aya-chan."

Hiroshi had to think for a moment to remember that 'Aya-chan' referred to Aya's sister. "The same way they kidnapped me?"

Omi shook his head. "No... not exactly. She was... well, she was supposed to be the sacrifice at some kind of summoning ceremony."

Hiroshi waited for Omi to smile and tell him the real reason, but the younger boy seemed serious. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No. Esstet - the people that Schwartz were working for - were attempting to raise... well, we're not sure, exactly. Something very evil, and very powerful. They wanted Aya-chan because in the two years she'd been in the coma, she hadn't aged a single day."

"And they honestly believed that it would work?"

Omi finally looked at him, and the sincerity in his eyes was disturbing. "It almost did. Trust me, I'm not the mystical type - I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Schwartz has never forgiven us for ruining their chance at immortality. As for what Schuldich did to you - well, he's a telepath. He was controlling your body through your mind - I've seen him do it before."

Hiroshi closed his eyes, feeling his knees go a little weak. He wasn't a coward by any stretch of the imagination, but the idea of someone digging around inside his head, controlling him... "A telepath. My God. But... why did he do it? What did he get out of it?"

Omi shrugged, and the smile he gave Hiro was more than a little bitter. "I don't know. He seems to take great delight in making my life a living hell. He loves to torment all of us, but I seem to be his favourite target."

"Ouka... and Sakura?" Hiroshi ventured a guess, remembering the names the man had dropped.

"Ouka was my half-sister - I've mentioned her before. Back when we still didn't know we were related, he used to follow me around and threaten to tell her about Weiss. He used her to blackmail me into a position where it looked like I had betrayed Weiss - and then Farfarello, another member of Schwartz, shot her in front of me. She died in my arms."

Hiroshi had known that the circumstances surrounding Omi's sister's death were dark, but he'd had no idea it was this bad. Omi sighed and leaned his chin on his arms, staring out to sea once more. "Sakura was a... well, not a friend, really, but I don't know how else to describe her," Omi continued. "She happened to look almost identical to Aya-chan. She fell in love with Aya-kun, and used to follow him around everywhere. She found out about us; Schuldich convinced her that he was a friend of Aya-kun's, and kidnapped her. He controlled her, the way he was controlling you, and made her shoot Aya-kun."

Hiroshi closed his eyes and digested all of that, trying to make sense of it. There was silence for a long moment between them, then finally Omi asked, "Was that everything you wanted to know?"

"I guess the main thing I wanted to know was... why?" Hiro finally said, honestly bewildered. "I've thought and thought about it, and I just can't reconcile the person I know you as with a mercenary killer. So... why? Why do you do it?"

Omi sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "That's a bit of a loaded question. The short answer is - because I believe in what Kritiker is doing."

"Kritiker - that's the name of the organization?" Hiro asked. Omi nodded. "How can you believe in what they're doing? They're killing people!"

Omi closed his eyes, bowing his head and apparently gathering his thoughts. "We're a necessary evil, Hiroshi," he finally said, voice low and tight with emotion. "We're not mercenaries, we don't do this for money, although Kritiker does pay us for each hit. We're - we're fighting for a cause, I guess."

"What cause?"

"We're trying to make the world a little bit of a better place. The people we target - they're not just random targets, or contracts for big money. Kritiker researches the wealthy, powerful and influential people of the city, looking for the skeletons in their closet. Most of those skeletons are pretty harmless - rats and mice, the occasional cat. But some..."

He turned to face Hiro, and the look in his eyes was the same deadly serious look that had startled Hiroshi before. Now Hiro had a better idea of what had put that look in that normally carefree gaze.

"Some of those skeletons are humans," he continued darkly. "These are the people who are too well-connected to ever be brought to justice the normal way. They've got half the police force and three-quarters of the judges in their pockets, and they think they're safe. They think that nothing can interfere with their little 'games' and 'experiments'."

His voice was passionate, rising in intensity with every word he spoke. "I've seen people used in horrible experiments without their knowledge or consent, just by drinking a certain brand of bottled water, or listening to a certain cd. I've seen people kidnapped and hunted for sport, as a bribe so that the hunters would vote for a certain politician. I've seen desperate people offered an ungodly amount of money as the prize for a 'human chess game', where the winner is the person who's left alive at the end."

He paused to judge Hiro's reaction, and looked grimly satisfied by what he saw on his ex-lover's face. "I could go on for hours, Hiroshi, and still cover only a tiny bit of the things we've dealt with. You'd never believe most of it - and you wouldn't believe some of the people involved. These people believe they are safe from justice - we show them differently. For every drop of blood on my hands, I know I've saved a hundred lives from torment and death."

Hiro was badly shaken, both by Omi's words and by the look on his face. It was a resigned look, a look that said he had seen far too much of hell in his short life. "Why you?" he asked. "Of all people why the four of you?"

Omi turned back out to face the sea, leaning most of his weight on the railing. "For one thing, it's not just the four of us. Kritiker is at the lowest ebb it's been since it was founded over twenty years ago, and there are still dozens of us. Weiss - our group - is currently the only lethal unit Kritiker has. There are several other non-lethal groups, who take the less dangerous people and capture them, handing them over to the police. And then there are all the support people - the people who research the targets, who make sure that there is no chance we are taking out innocent people.

"As for why the four of us, specifically - it's because we're all dead."

Hiro blinked at that, certain he'd heard wrong. "Dead?"

Omi nodded. "Ken-kun was framed for cheating on his game by his best friend. His water was drugged at halftime, and when it looked like the investigation might go for instead of against him, the yakuza involved engineered his death in that warehouse fire. Kritiker had been tracking their activities, and managed to rescue Ken-kun before he was damaged too badly.

"Youji-kun was a private investigator, and he and his partner went up against a cartel called Riot. His partner was shot and he should have died, but again, Kritiker rescued him.

"Aya-kun's father was a prominent local banker. He was framed for his business partner's embezzlement, and a bomb was set to destroy the evidence. Both of his parents were killed, his sister was put in the hospital in a coma for two years, and Aya-kun barely survived. Officially, he didn't live."

He halted, and after a few moments Hiro prompted him. "And you?"

"I... wasn't born Tsukiyono Omi. My father was a powerful politician and businessman. When I was eleven or so, I was kidnapped. My father refused to negotiate with them - he wouldn't pay the ransom." Omi's voice was shaking and Hiro wanted to reach out and touch him in reassurance, but he was afraid that if he interrupted, he'd never hear the whole story. "I should have died. I almost did. But Persia rescued me, took me back to Kritiker. When it turned out that I'd completely suppressed the memories of what had happened to me, even the memory of who I was, he gave me a new life and a new name. Kritiker practically raised me. Even if I didn't believe in them, I'd owe them for that."

Hiro digested that for a long moment, sorting through the bits and pieces to try to make sense of them. "So, you're not an orphan?"

Omi grimaced. "I am now. Both of my brothers, my father, my uncle, my half-sister... they're all dead. My uncle was Persia, which is how he knew to look for me."

"Persia?"

The ghost of a smile crossed Omi's lips. "His codename. I didn't actually know he was my uncle until just a few days before he died - I never met him face-to-face after that first night. Weiss uses cat names - the other groups have different methods of creating codenames. There's one group that uses saints, one that uses dog breeds, there was one once that used chess pieces - it varies. Most groups don't even know the real identities of their own members, but because Weiss works together so closely outside of missions we had to break that rule."

"So, let me see if I have this straight. This... Kritiker... they rescued each of you from a situation where you should have died, and let the official records show that you were dead so that you couldn't be traced." Omi nodded. "And then they train you to go out and kill people who can't be brought to court, for whatever reason." Omi nodded again, still not looking at him. "So... you're kind of vigilantes, right?"

"Basically, though I wouldn't put such a romantic spin on it. As I said, we're a necessary evil. We are killers, and I'll never forget the blood on my hands; that's one reason that Weiss doesn't use guns. Even my crossbow doesn't give me enough range that I can keep from seeing the look on their faces as they die - it brings it home, makes it more immediate that we're taking someone's life. But for the lives I've saved, it's worth it."

"And you were going to give this up... for me?" Hiro was a little awestruck by that, and more than a little ashamed of the things he'd thought of Omi. Here was someone who didn't just complain about corruption and evil in the world - he went out and did something about it, at the risk of his own life and with blood weighing down his soul. And yet he still managed to be endlessly cheerful and supportive of the people around him.

"I was tired of lying," Omi said wearily. "I wanted to be able to be with you all the time, not just when I wasn't out killing people. I didn't want to hide things from you anymore."

"Do you still want that?" Hiroshi asked him quietly. Omi nodded, and Hiro didn't miss the tears at the corners of his eyes. "Omi... I misjudged you. I should have known that you weren't like that. Hell, I DID know you weren't like that - that's why I came here today. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Forgive YOU?" Omi repeated, voice trembling. "For what? Hiro, you were right. I'm a killer - I don't deserve someone like you. I just keep hurting you..."

"Because I keep jumping to conclusions," Hiro interrupted him fiercely. "Omi, don't you ever say that you don't deserve something again. You deserve happiness more than any other person I've ever known. If I can be part of what makes you happy..." He gave up on the inadequate words, and simply embraced the smaller boy tightly. Omi resisted the contact for a moment, then melted into his arms with a sob.

"I've missed you!" Omi exclaimed tearfully. "Gods, I didn't realize how much I'd come to depend on you to help me forget about all of it until you were gone. I think my time with you may be the only thing keeping me sane anymore..."

"Come back to me," Hiro whispered in his ear, pressing against him until he thought their bodies would merge into one being, the way their hearts and souls already had. "I promise I'll never lose faith in you again. I won't even ask you to leave them - I understand now why it means so much to you. Hell, I wish I could help you guys - you make me feel guilty for sitting around bitching about my life when you're all out fighting to really help people."

"Just love me," Omi replied in a voice so soft Hiro almost didn't hear him. "That's more than anyone's ever done for me before. Just hold me when I have nightmares about the people I've killed, and the innocents I couldn't save. Tell me that you don't think I'm evil, when I start to have doubts about what we do. Just love me, please?"

"Always," Hiroshi answered him, equally soft. "Always, Omi, I love you." And as they stood there clutching each other, Hiro felt a sweet pain in his heart that told him he was doing a good thing, the RIGHT thing. In his own small way, he would be able to help make the world a better place, by helping these four brave men in any way that he could. And if the reward was the love of this sweet, caring youth in his arms - well, he certainly wasn't going to complain.

---

• To Crossover Corner - fics by author page
• To Crossover Corner - Weiss Kreuz crossovers
• To Crossover Corner - Gravitation crossovers
• To Church of Crossover Yaoi Couples