Monday 1.7 - Cleaning Up A Mess

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Omi swiftly escaped the kitchen-- which was getting increasingly crowded-- and headed for his room, still steering Ken along the way. That was the best place to get some privacy, and while all the Koneko was home, his room was his personal space. His turf, and the room in which he was most comfortable.

He closed the door behind them and sighed towards it. That was taken care of. Now it was time to settle back down, and return them both to the conversation Aya had interrupted.

Ken wasn't an enemy. He was a good friend, and Omi cared about him. He looked over his shoulder and pivoted, facing him with an expression of compassion.

"I..." How did he even start this? "I'm sorry, Ken-kun. I honestly don't know what I ever did to make you think I didn't want you around. You asked me to help you but... I don't even know what the problem is... The punching bag and the trash can and... I don't understand where all of this destructiveness is coming from." He seemed to be drinking more than usual, too, but Omi wasn't sure he should directly address that. Not yet, at least.

"And... I'm worried about you. Every time lately that..." Crap. How did he say this? Farf and the grocery. The punching bag. The attempts to talk with him. Catching the lie. Omi looked down at the floor. Sato's words echoed back into his mind, hauntingly.

You cannot control your members.

"You've just seemed... out of control with yourself."

Comments

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"Hnn. That's a good way to put it." Ken stuck his hands his pocket, a frown crossing his face.

"I haven't been sleeping because of nightmares. Of the tower, Farfarello--I can't get rid of them. I was doing ok until..." He stopped, thought for a second.

"No. Not ok. But I was getting by. It was good enough. That, and the stuff about...you. But in the store something snapped and everything went weird. I was there but I wasn't. I wanted to kill him...rip him apart for..."

Ken stopped, took his hands out of his pockets, wiped them on his jeans.

"All the other stuff...it isn't until later that I even realize what I did. Except for you, that was...Yohji and I talked a lot last night and I told him...dammit this is coming out all wrong. I thought that you were freaked out because, I'm a guy and you're my best friend but...I can't help it. I did everything I could to stop but...

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Omi hadn't thought it would hurt to hear he was right.

But being wrong would have been so much better.

Ken really was out of control; that was frightening. Omi listened to the explanation as well as he could, but Ken didn't seem to be very good at finishing sentences, and Omi couldn't discern what Ken had meant to end them with on his own. Nightmares he understood. Everything else was just as confusing as Ken's behavior itself.

"I'm sorry. You surprised me this afternoon, was all. I don't 'not want' to be around you because of it. I want to help but... I can't make out what you're saying, Ken-kun. You'll have to speak in more complete sentences than that."

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Ken groaned in frustration as he ran his fingers through. How could he explain it when he wasn't really sure what he was saying?

He walked over to Omi's computer chairs, turned it around, and sat backwards in it. After a few deep breaths and shoe scuffles, he began to speak, his tone distant but clear, his gaze settled nowhere in particular.

"Ke--I. I'm slipping. The last fight in the Tower with Schwartz took me closer to a brutal death than I've ever been. He was going to tear me apart, like I've done to so many people. You saved be, and in that instant all the feelings I thought were platonic, they changed.

I denied it for a long time. My heart was telling me that there was nothing wrong, but my mind. It brings up what happened before with Kase. How he, how most people, think it's perverted and wrong. I told him I l-loved him. And...well." He shrugged, trying to cover for the catch in his throat.

"I wanted to come to you so badly. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of losing my spot on team, and you have so many other worries, plus you were part of the problem. All this stuff's been building up and building up, and now it's boiling over."

He forced himself to swallow, even though his next words were almost choking him to say.

"I'm failing."

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Ken's frustration was contagious. Omi again listened, and again felt no closer to understanding the problem than before, except to know now that he was a part of it. He resisted sighing and asking straight out what Ken thought he could do to help. This was no time for a failing of maturity.

And yet, he couldn't think of anything else -to- say or do.

"What will help...?" He asked in a whisper, eyes averted.

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"..." Ken exhaled.

"Don't let me fall. Treat me like Ken...be ok with me, even though you've seen such a fucked up piece of me." --love me--

"I don't want to feel like a freak--" --stay with me

"--or a burden." Ken looked up at Omi, trying to gauge his reaction

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Omi did not reply aloud for a time. His expression tightened slightly, head tilted towards the floor, but face visible.

Why would you even think... That’s insulting. That I’d abandon you or think of you any less of a friend? That I’d consider you a freak or a burden or anything besides... What kind of person do you think I am, Ken-kun?

He didn’t say it. Ken didn’t need scorn; he needed help. And what Omi took from that was that Ken needed someone else to control him, because he could no longer control himself. He needed honesty-- don’t forget the fit over a simple piece of cheese-- and he needed proof that he, Omi, was still okay with everything. That they were still friends. That he still cared about him.

Slowly, silently, Omi padded forward, around the chair, until he stood behind Ken. He set his hands on Ken’s shoulders, his grip briefly clenching. Then relaxed, and palms glided across Ken’s collarbone, down his chest, coming to rest with Omi’s arms crossed over Ken’s torso in a gentle embrace. His heart pulsed calm, steady rhythm against Ken’s back.

He leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched the ridge of Ken’s ear, fully aware of the suggestiveness to his hold and proximity-- and fully intent to take advantage of it.

“Ne, Ken-kun...” He whispered sweetly, a smile detectable in his voice.

“Come back here after we have our meeting. There’s a couple of things I want to take care of...”

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The hug was a font of warmth and comfort; Ken could feel the tension in his muscles slowly but surely starting to ease away with every thump of Omi's heartbeat. His eyes slid closed as he relaxed into the familiar embrace.

Just as he was about to say thank you, he felt Omi's nose touch the edge of his ear.

"Ne, Ken-kun..."

The whisper fluttered teasingly in the shell of his ear. There seemed to be an undertone of...something to it. Ken frowned a little; it was probably just wishful thinking, but still--

“Come back here after we have our meeting. There’s a couple of things I want to take care of...”

Ken's eyes snapped open.

...don't even think it Hidaka. He probably doesn't even realize what he's doing--

It was like someone saying not to think of a pink elephant. Once they said it, a pink elephant was sure to pop up in the brain.

So try as he may to mentally shred any mental images that came with that sentence, he could still feel his face and ears turning red, as well as the faint shiver that ran up his spine.

"...mmn" He didn't trust himself to say much more than that.

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The more fiendish side of Omi's personality took a great personal delight out of watching that blush rise in Ken's cheeks. The way his eyes had shot open, The trill of his back muscles, the heat that came back to him.

The more bashful side of Omi's personality blushed. Well, he'd really done it now, hadn't he? But this was what needed to be done. He wanted to help, and, while it might be embarrassing and take a little fumbling (it wasn't like Omi had any experience), he couldn't really say he minded.

Would he enjoy it...? Who knew. He still hadn't fully processed just what it meant to have Ken be in love with him, let alone if he had the potential to feel the same way. But he wouldn't mind it.

Either way... Omi felt at least convinced that Ken wouldn't be a burden this way.

"Ehh?" Omi voiced in another teasing whisper. "What was that, Ken-kun? I couldn't hear very well." Omi sidled around and straddled one of Ken's legs, leaving his arms draped around Ken's neck.

"Are you going to come or not?"

The more fiendish side of Omi's personality loved the subtext of the phrase.

The more bashful side blushed harder.

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--pinkelephantpinkelephantpinkelephant--

Omi knew exactly what he was doing. Suddenly Ken didn't know what to do with his hands, and when had the room gotten so warm, or maybe it wasn't the room but Omi sitting in his lap oh gods...

The backup generators in Ken's brain kicked in to try and cover the fried synapses. The lungs were fuctioning although breathing was a trifle labored. There was a severe retreat of blood to the southern regions, but that was common enough and easily dealt with. Otherwise, all systems were green.

Another, harder shiver, and Ken wrapped his arms around Omi's waist.

"There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be," he murmured.

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It felt strange having Ken's arms go around his waist like that. It was going to take some adjustment, this idea of physical involvement with him. But it was sex, right? It had to feel good. Of course, Omi could only assume that to be true, because why else would society make such a hooplah about it? Surely later that night, it would all be fine and feel right.

Omi stepped in closer and leaned forward, only a brief falter occurring as he hesitated, and then pushed his mouth against Ken's. There was a vaguely familiar feeling of wet heat in the kiss, and the scent of alcohol from Ken's beer.

He shut his eyes and saw Ouka. He quickly reopened them.

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In the movies, there would've been fireworks.

The orchestra would swell; the world would have been bright light, explosion, burning ripping passion. Perhaps there would have been a gentle swirl of sakura blossoms to add a bit of extra romance to the scene.

This kiss wasn't like that.

This was ripping through a mountain pass on his bike on New Year's Eve, the adrenaline of taking curbs at top speed coupled with the shimmering blur of stars. It was a sudden stop just as the first bell rang out, resonant and deep, filling the whole body with sound, peace, newness-

To hell with the movies.

Ken pulled away just enough to mumble against Omi's lips. He was so completely lost that point that the question itself was an involuntary
jumble of words.

"And you're sure about this?" he sighed, his eyes half-closed.

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Omi drew back from the kiss when Ken did and licked his lips. He hadn't cared much for the taste of beer, but otherwise... it hadn't felt that different from any other kiss.

"I'll explain everything later tonight... I promise to be honest with you."

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Ken nodded twice slowly. At that moment, Omi could have told him that they were going to summons demons from the eighth dimension using tin foil and Hello Kitty figurines placed strategically in his open chest cavity, and he would have agreed happily.

"That's fine." Ken reluctantly let him go and leaned back.

Some dark whisper floated up from the depths of his heart and called him a fool for not learning from the first time. But it dissolved in the blinding light of his happiness.

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Omi stepped back from Ken's lap and took a moment to get his bearings. Control. Hold firm and confident. He nodded to Ken and smiled again.

"Then, I'll see you in the mission room in a few minutes."

There was still the kitchen he'd volunteered to clean, after all. Maybe he could rope Ran into helping-- despite his earlier promise to take care of it himself. It would give them a chance to talk without wasting more time. There -was- a meeting they had to get to.