Disclaimer:  I don't own Weiss Kreuz.  If I did, I certainly wouldn't be writing fanfiction, now would I?  Author's notes are at the end.

Warnings: language, violence, and mostly shounen-ai with just a little yaoi.  The latter two will be mostly in the next chapter.  

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All the World for You

part 1

There are dead bees on the windowsill.  I suppose I never noticed them before because I never looked. 

It still bothers me, though.

The shop is packed this afternoon, since school just let out and all the girls rushed to see us.  Most of the girls are around Omi and Aya.  The ones flocking near Omi are the loudest and most annoying, and the girls clumped near Aya seem nervous.  Of course, if I was standing that close to Aya when he was having a bad day, I would be nervous too.  There were originally a few girls around me as well, but Omi asked me to move some plants, and they left.   I really don't mind if they talk to me, as long as they don't touch me.  I don't want to get them dirty.  Can't they see the blood?  The lives I have taken?  I can see it.  It is all over my hands, dripping, running, soaking, contaminating everything I touch.  They don't seem to see it, but I can.

I can't hide the blood, not from myself.

A loud squeal from one of the girls brings me back to reality.  Apparently, Yohji has returned from his fiftieth smoking break today.  His group of fangirls quickly gathers around him as he makes his way to where Omi is standing at the register.  How is it Yohji can make an act as simple as walking across the shop seem so graceful?  I wish I could be like that, sensual and graceful, coveted by most of the population of Tokyo.  Not just the female part, either.  Yohji is sexy, Omi is cute, and Aya is mysteriously beautiful.  Not me, though.  I'm just Ken.  I like soccer.  I'm clumsy.  I arrange flowers and kill people for a living.

I let my gaze travel over the shop, not really seeing anything.  Aya is working on a few special bouquets in the back, and Yohji is talking to Omi at the register.  The afternoon sunlight streams in from the front windows, casting a cozy light on everything.  Eventually my eyes settle on the bees again, silent and still on the white windowsill.  The little corpses stand out drastically from the peeling paint.  I found them when I removed a plant from its spot in front of the window a few minutes ago.  I can't get my mind off them now.  Why are they dead?  What did they ever do to deserve such a death?

Or maybe I am the dead one.  It is hard to tell.  What if all the blood I am covered in is mine?  I think that would be better than being bathed in the blood of others.

This time it is a gentle hand on my shoulder that brings me out of my morbid contemplation.  I turn to face Yohji, my eyes meeting his.  I make sure my face does not betray my thoughts.

It would not be good if someone found out what Ken Hidaka really thinks about.

"Ken," Yohji begins exasperatedly, "I have been calling your name for the last five minutes."  He keeps talking, but I am not really listening.

I wouldn't want to burden anyone with my thoughts.  They all have their own problems, why would they need to know about mine?

My eyes slide away from his, wandering downwards until I am staring at the bees again.  They haven't moved.  I didn't expect them to, I guess.

"Ken, are you listening?" he punctuates his words with a slight shake of my shoulder.  I look back up at him and grin sheepishly.

"Sorry, I was spaced out," I say innocently, "What were you saying?"

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds.  His expression is no longer annoyed, it almost looks like he is concerned.

Yeah, right.  Yohji Kudoh, slut of Tokyo, concerned about Ken Hidaka, klutz-extraordinaire?  Don't make me laugh.

"I asked if you wanted to come with me to pick up some dinner," he says finally. "It's a little early, but Omi and I are hungry."

"Yeah, I guess I'll come,"  I reply.  I notice now that the shop has emptied considerably, and Aya is nowhere to be seen.  The afternoon sunlight that used to stream in the windows is almost completely faded, giving the shop a desolate look.  I must have been staring at the bees for a quite a long time.

"Where'd Aya go?"  I ask, curious.

I get another strange, troubled look from Yohji.

"He left about fifteen minutes ago, he said he had dinner plans with his sister…" he pauses, and narrows his eyes slightly, as if he is trying to figure something out, "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

I grin sheepishly again and rub the back of my head.

"Of course I'm feeling alright, I'm just a little tired."

He gives me another worried scrutiny and removes his hand from my shoulder, and then starts to turn away, but then pauses.  I look up from untying my apron to see why he stopped, and notice he is staring at the window.  I follow his gaze, and my heart seems to stop beating.  A tiny bee is clinging to the window.  I am fascinated.  It isn't dead. It won't die, it deserves to live.

Yohji lifts his hand, and I panic.  He is going to kill the bee.  I reach out and grab his arm frantically, yanking on his sleeve violently with both hands.

"Please don't kill it!" I whisper, my voice choking on the words.

"But Ken, it might sting a customer!" His face and voice show his confusion.

"Please!"  I know I am begging, I know I sound desperate, I know I have dropped my happy façade, but I can't help it.  Suddenly, I feel like I am suffocating.  When did the shop get so small, and empty?

His eyes bore into mine for what seems like an eternity, his hand in mid-air, both of mine wrapped about his arm.

"Okay," he says softly, "I won't kill it if you don't want me to."

He lowers his arm, and I let go of it.  My hands are shaking violently, and I can't stop them.  I can't breathe, I can't breathe.  I try to stretch the sleeves of my new red sweater over my hands to hide the trembling and the blood that covers them always.

I still can't breathe.  He is watching me, they are all watching me, and the dead bees are calling my name.

"I'll be outside!" I say quickly, and rush out the entrance and into the cool fall air as fast as I can.  I can hear Omi's startled exclamation from inside at my sudden exit.

I can breathe out here.  There is no scrutiny, no questions.  I take deep breaths, the chilled air piercing my lungs and clearing my head.  If I inhale enough, maybe all these thoughts will go away.

I walk over to one of the windows of the shop and lean my back up against it.  Lately I have been having these panic attacks more often than I like.  I don't know why, and I guess there is nothing I can do about it.  I suppose I deserve to be messed up in the head. 

I look up at the sky, searching for a reason for my new disturbing thought trend.  When I can't find one in the indigo twilight, I turn my search to my scuffed sneakers.  They've been through a lot, my sneakers, so they must be wise.

Yohji chooses to join me now, slamming the gate down loudly as he exits the shop.  He gives me another of those deep, examining glances, but walks toward me without commenting on my recent freak-out. 

"So, where're we going?"  I ask, trying to sound cheerful.  I think I overdid it because my voice sounds terribly unnatural to my ears.

"Omi wants us to bring back pizza," he replies.  The weird concerned look hasn't gone away, but at least he answered my question.  He looks away from me, up towards the stars I was searching a few moments ago.

"Why doesn't he come with us, and we can eat out?"

Yohji just shrugs and starts to walk around the shop to where his car is parked.

It sounded like a good idea to me, but hey, I'm crazy.

I follow him around to the alley behind the shop, watching my wise old shoes shuffle along the sidewalk, until we get to where our cars are parked.  I slide into the passenger seat of his car, his pride and joy, and he gets in the driver's seat. 

He turns on the engine, and I lean my head against the window as he pulls out onto the street.  The glass is cool and comforting against my forehead, and I watch the lights flicker by.  I love Tokyo at night.  Back when Kase was alive, I used to take walks at night, looking at the lights and the people and the stars.  It always helped me calm my mind, gave me a chance to think about peaceful things.

"What're you thinking about?" Yohji's voice interrupts my thoughts.  I'm glad.  Every time I think about Kase, another little piece of me dies.

I'm surprised I'm not completely dead by now.

"Kase," I reply without thinking.

He makes no immediate comment.  After a few minutes of driving in complete and horribly uncomfortable silence, we hit a red light.  The car is illuminated momentarily as he lights a cigarette.

"I know what it feels like to kill someone you love," he comments.

"I never said I loved Kase," I protest, but my voice lacks conviction.  I don't even lift my head from the window.  For some reason, I don't really care if Yohji knows Kase and I were lovers.

In fact, the idea of someone knowing now makes me feel slightly better.  One less secret to keep.

"I can tell by the way you said his name," he continues.

I almost laugh.

"I don't love him anymore, I wouldn't even if he was still alive.  I don't know if I ever loved him to begin with, and I know for certain he never loved me."  It all comes out in a rush, and I have no idea why I say it.  Why am I telling Yohji this?  Why do I even think he cares?  Why would I want him to care?  Why are we talking about this in the first place? What happened to not burdening people with my problems?  Where are all these questions coming from?

We arrive at the pizza place before he can reply.  But right before we step out of the car, he says something I never really expected anyone to say.

"I don't see how someone couldn't love you, Ken.  He must've been really fucking stupid."  And without another word, he gets out of the car and walks into the pizza place.

"Well, shit," I mumble as I get out of the car, "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"  I resist the childish urge to kick the tire of his car in my frustration, and turn to walk into the pizza place, Yohji's strange comment simply adding to my already confused thoughts.

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The evening went downhill from there.  While I was in the pizza place, I dropped my wallet, tripped over a loose floor tile, and walked into the same table twice.  I think I can blame my worse than usual clumsiness on Yohji's presence.  His weird comment made me very nervous.  I tried to avoid the guy, but since we were out getting pizza together, I wasn't too successful.

To top the night from hell off, Birman was waiting for us with Omi when we got home.  We sat around the kitchen table and ate pizza until Aya got back, Omi talking constantly to cover the uncomfortable silence.  Yohji kept looking at me, I stared at my pizza the whole time, and Birman just agreed with whatever Omi said.  Once Aya decided to grace us with his presence, we came down to the basement, where we are now, to watch the tape.          

After the tape finishes playing, Birman flips on the light. 

"Any questions?" 

Nobody answers.  I am too busy staring at my socked feet and avoiding looking at Yohji to respond. 

She takes our silence as a "no" and hands the folder to Omi. 

"Good luck, Weiß," is her final comment, and she walks back up the stairs, high heels clicking on the metal steps obnoxiously. 

Oh, how dramatic.

We all watch as Omi walks over to his computer, the bright monitor the only source of light in the dimly lit basement.  Aya is leaning against his usual pillar, Yohji is lounging in the over-stuffed chair he insisted on buying, and I am sitting in one corner of the couch, as far from the playboy as I can get.  Omi opens the folder, examining its contents.  I glance back down at my socks, wiggling my toes around in their white cocoon.  I've never been a fan of colorful socks.  I don't really see the point to them.  I mean, who cares if your socks are colored?  No one sees them anyways, and even if they did, if wouldn't matter.

"Ken?" Omi's worried voice breaks through my train of thought.  I look up at him, meeting his worried eyes.

"Huh?"

"What do you think of the mission plan?" 

Oh crap, I didn't even realize he had been talking about the mission.

"Uh…great!" I lied quickly, "Can we go over it one more time?  I want to make sure I got it all."  I grin innocently at Omi.  It works, and he smiles back.

"Sure, Ken.  You and Yohji will enter on the north side of the building, and Aya and I'll come in through the south entrance.  I'll hack the system and cut the power and alarm systems before we go in.  We'll all meet up here," and he points to a point on the map displayed on the computer, "And I'll get the data I need while you guys take out the target."

"Sounds easy!" I say, but on the inside, I'm pissed.  Why did he have to partner me up with Yohji?  According to recent observations, the guy is crazier than I am, and that is saying a lot!  He might say more weird stuff and make me even more nervous than I already am.  I notice now that Yohji is staring at me from across the room.

Maybe he heard my thoughts?  Maybe I said them out loud?  I quickly avert my gaze back to my socks, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.  I don't really know why.

"The mission starts tomorrow at midnight.  It should be fairly simple,"  Omi's bright voice ends the briefing. 

"Great!"  I shout a little too loudly, jumping up from the couch and getting the hell out of the basement as fast as possible.

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Author's notes:  I wanted to write something from ken's point of view, and I think he is a rather deep, confused, and kind of crazy individual, and this is what came out.  It will be a Yohji/ken fic, if it isn't obvious (I think it is), and will be short (only two chapters).  I also wanted it to be light, not too angsty, and I think this is as light as I can get without doing a full out comedy.  Comments and criticism are appreciated.