Ken parked the car in the garage while Omi and Aya took Ran inside to be taken care of. If things weren’t as dire as they were (and his head didn’t feel like a split melon) he would find a great deal of humor in watching Ran getting laid out by his little sister.
Ken quietly made his way upstairs, shutting himself away in the bathroom with the first aid kit. As he went, he could hear the sound of Aya-chan’s voice. It was clear that she was furious at her older brother, but only because she cared about him so deeply. He was still a bit shocked that she had that fire in her. Then again, when he stopped to think about it, she’d gone though a *lot* and still managed to survive. Maybe she was a lot tougher than any of them gave her credit for. She was Ran’s sister, after all.
Ran was a lot of things, and tough bastard was high on the list. Who would know better than his teammate, right? Ken turned on the faucet, soaking a cloth in warm water. After a few careful swabs, he managed to wash away a majority of the blood. He had a nasty gash, but nothing a bit of ointment and a bandage wouldn’t fix. Yohji was going to laugh hysterically when he told him about the expression on Ran’s face when Aya-chan reared back and…
His hands hurt. Ken looked down and noticed the white knuckled grip he had on the cloth. It was wrung so tightly that the material was beginning to irritate his skin. He gave it a dark scowl and let go, shaking out the pins and needles sensation that came with it. He quickly bandaged himself and made his way downstairs, even though he wasn’t sure what their next move would be.
He just couldn’t think very far ahead or mull over what went wrong for very long before he felt the keen edge of blinding panic or white-hot rage skulking at the edge of his perception. It was too dangerous, and he simply could not go under now. Getting Yohji back was a moral imperative, a mission he intended to complete now matter what the consequences.
Standing there, Omi wrapped in his arms and the world narrowed down to the space around them, Ken realized that for the first time in a very long time he felt…right. Just right.
There was no Weiss.
No shell of a boy who had to be perfect. No bloodlusty seeker of someone else’s vengeance.
Just Ken and Omi. It felt good.
Ken dropped his head lower, burying half his face in Omi’s hair. He suddenly realized how much he wanted to be as close to perfect for him as he could be. If for some reason or another there was only tonight…Omi wouldn’t have regrets.
Not like him, not if he could help it.
“What do you want?” Ken inquired gently, slightly muffled by the top of Omi’s head.