"When are you going to come out of that bathroom?"

The knocking became harder in the door, almost as if the person knocking wanted to tear the door down. The young blond heard his heart skip a beat, scared by the power of the beatings, and gripped his arms tighter. Closing his eyes, he swallowed the tears he felt falling down his nose and turned toward the faucet. He ran his wet hands over his face and patted himself dry quickly. The person at the door sighed loudly, but the young man pressed his lips tight and opened the door.

"Jesus Christ, kid," the tall, lean boy at the door said, his arms in his hips. "How long were you going to be in there? Other people gots to use the tub as well."

Bowing his head so that they couldn't tell he had been crying, the young blond moved away from the bathroom door. Not that the tall boy would even care that he had been crying. Not that it mattered. None of the people in the room cared if he had been crying. He could've been invisible and they would not have cared at all.

"...the tub is not all yours, you know. Other people need it. Christ, what am I around here, some piece of painting on the wall? There's..."

He ignored the screaming voice of the tall school boy and walked over to the side of his bed where he kept his backpack. He tossed his things inside, a bag of Trolli gummies and some coockies as well, and took the book that lay on the table. He didn't bother to pick up the bed or to fix the place where his pillow had been scrunched while he slept. It would not matter.

"You leaving?"

He nodded and ran a hand over his hair. The brush was inside the bathroom. He pulled his jacket over his head and opened the door. The sunshine bounced of the trees and over the fences and stilled itself on his eyes. Then, it all became white.
 
 
 
 
 

"Omi!"

He had been too deep into his book to notice that he was being watched. From a few feet bellow in a sliding hill, he could see a tall dark haired young man. He smiled at him and waved frantically, trying to get his attention for who knows how long. Blushing, the young blond closed his book and rose to his feet.

"Ken san!"

"One would think you were being tortured at that summer school, what with the way you leave you hair uncombed, slugger."

Ken ran swiftly up through the hill, his short hair thin in the wind and his jacket blowing wildly. It had begun to be windy these days, the grass in the field dancing in its touch. Omi liked to come here, away from everything. The green field was just a wide grassy slanting area with a few trees and wooden fences, but he took the time to walk the long distance just to get there. The grass was so tall it reached Ken's belly and he looked like a scarecrow in the yellow. It never failed. Ken always made Omi feel good. A smile came to his lips as the taller boy hugged him.

"They make us get up way before sunrise so we can get used to the early rising," Omi said bending down to pick up his book bag. "It's torture alright."

"Shikashi," Ken said. "Is that a school or a concentration camp?" He laughed and took the bag from Omi's shoulder, ignoring the look from the boy. "Come on, I've got a ride down there. What ya put in here? Rocks?"

Omi smiled apologetically but had no choice but to follow Ken down through the slope to where he had parked his bike. The grass made their feet slide, but the steadied themselves as best as they could. the wind blew circles of leaves around them and made Omi's clear hair get in his eyes.

Ken stopped walking. Lifting his head to the sky, he breathed in the smell of the fresh trees. Omi stopped a few feet behind him and looked at him. A smile had come to his face as he looked about at the grassy slope and the leaning hill with its trees.

"I like it here," he said. It was almost a breath, almost a whisper to himself. But Omi knew he had wanted him to hear. Ken turned around and stared at his friend. "The wind makes everything more yellow and green."

"It's all so pretty it makes me cry."
 
 
 
 
 
 

The night had fallen and he "You know what I wished once? was holding him so hard. Just holding him so hard. That I could see my father just before I dissappeared His arms around his waist, and looked at his face. his strong arms around his neck I would have liked to see his face and he had buried his face inside his chest, inside his shirt when I was missing, when he decided not to come for me. because he needed to be safe and he needed to be strong Did he just decide to turn me off, and he needed to like they turn off lamps? I wanted that once."  breath him inside and out and outside and in and every where they went all was them, but he didn't want to go anywhere but where he was. Ken looked at him in silence. "What do you want now?" Feeling his hands hold him tight."Now?"

"Ken san?" Omi sat with his hands under his chin, his bookbag next to his legs. "When did you decided not to play soccer anymore?"

Ken turned his head to look at his friend. They had not gone back to the city as he had suggested. Instead, they had sat a few feet away from the bike and lied under the sun. His hands folded behind his back, Ken wondered why Omi would ask him such a question. The young blond had been mostly quiet all afternoon, merely sitting in the grass and staring at the sky. He had answered Ken's questions about the classes he was taking and about the book he was reading. It wasn't anything he wanted to finish, but he had to or else he'd fail the final and that was something he didn't want to do, not since he did poorly in the last test. Ken had thought Omi should've told him that before, warned him that the course wasn't going as he wanted, but Omi had not said anything. Ken had just stared at him then, quietly, and looked up at the sky where the sun was moving behind the clouds.

"I didn't give it up..."

"No, I mean, when did you decide to stop wanting to play the game? When did you give up ever wanting to play with a team." Omi bowed his head and buried it between his legs. "Don't you want to go back to competitions and world cups again?"

A bird flew between the clouds, perhaps hoping to catch a bit of the sun that had hid there. Ken watched as it soared higher and higer, only to slide down again. He rubbed the back of his arm.

"Sometimes I wish I could give up school and the ordinary life I lead just like you did," Omi said.

He didn't like what he heard in that voice. Ken lifted his body from the grass and stared at his friend. Was it the grass and the field what made the young boy look so small and tired, so sad? Omi wasn't looking at him, but staring at the trees and the moving grass. He ran a hand over his face, almost as if he were caressing himself and was not aware that he had company.

"We had to die, Omi," Ken said. "It wasn't a choice."

He rose from the ground, stretching his arms and legs wide. Maybe if he stretched loud enough and made a fuss out of it, Omi would stop thinking about whatever he was thinking. The young boy looked at him, a sharp blush coming to his face. He was talking nonsense, he knew it. That's why Ken didn't much give him an answer. He shook his head and watched as Ken hoped from one foot to the other, testing his legs and muscles.

"Slugger, what's bothering you?"

It wasn't a question. It was a demand, a gentle and kind demand, but loud enough to be make Omi stop breathing. It's was so hopeless to be tiny, to be like the grass under his shoes and around him almost reaching his waist and touching him. He looked up at Ken's hurt face, not wishing to be the reason why his eyes looked so worried. A joke, he needed a joke to get away from all the sadness.
 
 
 
 
 
  "This washroom is so hot! Oh, God!"

The young boy froze in his stall, the water falling over his body and making the same amount of noise it had done before when he had been scrubbing and washing. But, it sounded so much louder now. Too loud. He could feel the movements of the other boy in his own wash stall, the water rushing off his body and into the floor. The room was full of steam and the wetness sweated of the wall and the windows. The washing room was quiet, each of the tiny bath stalls empty except for a quiet shower in the left corner where some quiet student took a bath, and his own. The only noise came from the new boy who had just turned on his shower and gone under. Feeling the water run down his hair like rivulets, the young blond wanted to turn off his shower and go away.

"Fuck me, baby," the voice came from the other stall. Loud, obnoxious, like the constant banging of a fist on a pan. "I didn't know this school had such good showers."

He closed his eyes and went back to scrubbing the lower part of his leg. He'd go away. Like all the others, he'd go away and then he'd be alone again, and the other quiet boy would be the only one in the washing room with him. He'd go away. Like everyone in the history room, he'd go away.

Omi shook his head as the sight of the teacher came into his mind, the long pointer on his hand and the small lips. A question, he was asking a question about the beginning of the Mind Dinasty in China. But, Omi couldn't understand what it was and didn't want to understand. So, he had failed again. Failed another test. That made up three Bs, one C, and a shaky D. What did that give him in the class, C? He closed his eyes shut, opening his mouth so he could drink some of the cold water.

"You like the water this hot?"

Omi gasped as he felt himself being addressed. He felt his hand shake as he gripped the knob of the shower and stared at the wall, feeling his body freeze. The voice had sounded too loud, too intense.

"I saw you in history class, this morning."

Omi gasped. Insticntively, he hugged his naked body so it could not be seen. But, no one had seen him. The voice was still floating from the shower where the obnoxious boy was bathing. What's wrong with me? Omi ran a hand over his wet hair and decided he would cut the water and get out, no matter that he had not finished. Whoever the person in the shower was, he did not like the way he sounded. "You all jumpy in there, boy," the voice said. A hint of a laugh. "You'd think it was cold in here. Haven't you ever been spoken to when you take a bath? It's a common event in these shower rooms. Christ, like those prep-school movies. Fuck, those movies always have such a fantastic look on school, eh? The creeps don't tell you what a drag it is."

"I've never seen any of those," Omi said. His voice sounded really small and tiny, almost shaky. He hoped the shower had drowned it and taken it under into the floor, where he wanted to go.

The kid in the other stall finished his bath and turned off his water. Omi could hear him walking down the hall with his towel, the sound of his steps squicky in the floor. He had a quiz tomorrow. He had not studied enough, needed to go back to the lybrary and read up on chapter four and the reasons behind the fall of the Tokugawa shogunate. Only, he didn't want to. He didn't want to go there and didn't want to read. He wanted to go home and lie in his bed and know that Yohji would return soon and put on some lame TV show, that Aya would sit and read the funnies and take his time without a word. That Ken would return from the flower shop and tell him about the palm tree he had replanted.But, Ken wasn't here and he could not just turn off the shower and go to his room.

He turned off the shower, listening to the water go down the drain and feeling it cold against his toes. He smiled as it tickled him. It felt weird on his face, that smile.

"Oh., baby, I need help here. Make me come, baby."

Omi's body froze again, his hands gripping the shower knob. He didn't like this place, didn't like the sound in the room. The steam was rising too high and he could hardly see the end of his toes.

"Help me out, baby, help me out."

He felt his body scream as the shower curtain was yanked aside, one swift and harsh movement, and the wet head of the boy in the other stall burst into his stall. Omi reached down to cover himself, his hands moving fast. The sound of his heartbeat was too loud on his ears. Wide eyes stared at him, their pupils dilated with red. But, the boy was smiling. And Omi didn't have any words. None at all  
 
 
 
 
 
"Heads up, Omi!"

The blond boy gasped as he snapped out of his thinking and look straight at Ken. The tall boy stood a few feet away. Omi, startled into action,
looked up to see the fast, incoming soccer ball headed down at him.

"Mouii!" He lifted his hands and tried to make a decent sort of catch, but his legs stumbled beneath him and he slid like a fool towards the left
side, the ball hitting him on the shoulders. "Ken san, I wasn't ready!"

"Of course not," Ken had his hands on his hips and was laughing. "You've been in la-la land for about fifteen minutes. Toss is back."

Omi frowned and picked up the ball. His head felt dizzy, but he didn't want to tell Ken. The dark hair boy waited for his pass and extended his
arms ready to catch the ball. He was looking at him intently, wondering where his mind had gone to when he stared out at the field and lost sense of time. Omi moaned as he flung the ball out at his friend. Like the flow of water, Ken jumped high and caught it in his head, smashing it to a soaring altitude. The ball made a soft noise and zoomed all the way towards the young boy, who was ready for it this time.

"I was ready for that one," Omi yelled as Ken returned his attack. He felt his chest rising and falling faster. Ken laughed and threw him another one. And another. It seemed Ken was not tired at all, even if his sweating body took ball after ball, smashing them with his shoulders, legs, arms, hands, head. He was a bronze, lean receiver waiting for the next move. Omi staggered forward and stood amidst the grass, staring at his friend as he caught yet another flying ball with his head and now bounced it between his knees.

"Yoshi!" Ken put the ball under his arm. "I think it's time to go back, eh? You better head on to that school."

There was a hint of laughter in Ken's voice. Omi looked away, hoping Ken would not see his face. He brushed the sweat of his brow and shook his hair. He wanted to stop thinking, just wanted to forget and be able to catch balls with Ken as if the world were still and the day was all that
mattered.

"I just want it to be over," he breathed. "Why is it taking so slow?"

"Omi!"

Ken was staring at him, but there was anger in his eyes. Omi felt his face blush incredibly and he could do nothing but lower his eyes.

"Nande, nande monai... It's nothing..."

But, his friend would not have believed that, not Ken. Omi gasped as he gripped the sides of his arms, holding his tight by the shoulders. Large dark eyes looked straight at him, searching for the source of the sadness inside the blue. Omi's breath came faster, but he could not force himself to free himself from Ken's grip. Somehow, he wanted that. He wanted Ken to hold him.

"You know better than that, Omi," Ken said. His eyes were darkened with fury.

"Ken san..."

The wind picked up, moving harder and blowing the grass into their bodies. The stalks felt like tiny knives in their skin.

"He... he... he hurt ... me, Ken san..."

"Who, Omi, who?"

"It's so cold... so cold... and empty..."
 
 
 
 
 

No, please. No!

It's no fun when you do these things alone. Just no fun at all. I'm lonely, kid.

Please.

So lonely, kid. Aren't you lonely, Omi? Alone and without friends? Just spending time by yourself without a hope of ever being part of the larger crowd? I can never be part of that crowd. They don't want me... He felt his feet slide on the wet tiles of the bathroom, his toes sliding
into the tiny cracks in the tiles. His heart. His heart was ripping out of his chest, out of his throat. With one hand, he tried to push the boy out
of his way, but he wasn't strong enough. The water was making his body so much slower, the water smashing itself harder into his limbs. Why couldn't he move faster? Why?

Laugh, kid. Laugh. Smile, kid. Smile for the love of Christ. For the fucking love of Christ...

Black. He felt his legs slide beneath him, the soapy tiles cracking into his feet. He heard himself scream. His scream was a madness, hitting the
walls and the tiles and swallowed by the water. His hands and legs were shaking, his tongue smashing against the roof of his mouth. The water, the water was swallowing him up. And he was screaming again, but his words were hardly a whisper. Black. And cold.

No! No!

I'm so lonely, boy. So lonely pretty boy. Let me love you, so we won't be alone. For the love of Christ. Help me, baby... Help me...

The back of his body was smashed against the tiled, wet floor, his head pulled backwards, yanked by his hair. A strong had held him down, gripping his throat. His mind was a madness. His body was not his own, he didn't feel it beneath him, didn't feel. Hands and legs pressed his legs apart, the palm of the boy's hand pressed his neck into the tiles. Gripped his hands. Christ, kid. His mind was screaming, screaming so hard. The water rushed over him, and he felt it was drowning him entering through his mouth and eyes. He moaned as he felt the hot tongue over his chest, but he was cold. So cold. His body was not his own, he felt it like a convulsion, his skin against the floor, tears falling from his eyes. Inside and out. Harder and harder. The tall boy pushing his organ harder and harder into him. The water, the water was swallowing him.

He must have screamed loud enough to be heard. Loud enough to be heard... Loud enough...
 
 
 
 
 

"Ken?"

Yohji jumped out his seat as the tall, dark hair boy smashed the door open. He was not looking at him, was staring straight ahead and some
distant place across time. Yohji stared at his face but Ken was not looking at him. In his arms, he carried Omi's body, holding it as if he
didn't want to let it go.

"What happened?" Yohji felt the sides of his head begin to pound and he gripped the sides of the seat where he had been lying reading a shopping catalogue. "Ken, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Yohji," Ken said, his voice low and sterile. "Take Omi to his room."

His shades slid down into his face tangled with hair, but he took the body of the young blond in his arms. He lifted him and held him close to his chest.

"He feels so cold!" He frowned at Ken who had walked past him, as if he were in a dark cloud of pain.

"You see, man..." Yohji said, " you don't talk to me."

Ken could feel Yohji's anger rising, could feel it in his voice, but he said nothing. He merely continued down the hall not looking back or even caring if the young man followed him. He could hear Omi's struggled breathing rise and fall almost as if it had to fight to come out of his lungs. He wanted a drink of water.

"Ken!" The eyes that stared at him were cold and narrow. He heard the sound of his voice escape like a whinning shrill as soon as Ken looked at him. Blushing, he lowered his eyes

"Yohji," Ken said. He looked away as well, aware that the way he was acting was upsetting the concerned boy. He hadn't meant to scare him or seem superior, not at all. Rubbing the side of his head he looked at Yohji again but the young man still looked away. "I just need you to take care of Omi. Nothing else. He's been through a lot."

He ran his fingers over the blond's forehead quietly. Yohji didn't speak. He looked at Ken's face and down at the boy's hand moving tenderly over Omi's face and eyes. Yohji hated not to know what had happened, hated to be rushed and ordered and left in the dark. Something felt wrong and out of place in his body whenever he felt useless and helpless, but he didn't even dare speak. There was something in Ken's eyes and the way he looked down at the sleeping boy's face that kept him quiet.

"Yoshi!" he said at lenght, feeling the heavy atmosphere drowning all of them unless somebody would get the guts to speak. He felt something like a paper ball caught in his throat. "I suppose you'll be running off and I'm just suppose to stay here, no?"

Ken looked at him sternly. Yohji could be such a case. "I'll explain when I come back. I don't have the time."

"Who does these days, bro? Who does? Certainly not you, not Aya, not Omi. Yohji doesn't either. So we're all in the dark, ne?"

"Yohji... I..."

"Ie, ie, Ken san!" Yohji's eyes found his and held him in place. The tall, thin boy pouted as if he were scolding a kid, but his face remained serious. "You rush of and do whatever you have to do. There's plenty of time to explain later..."

He would have laughed and hit him playfully, but he didn't want to laugh. He felt hurt inside, felt a horrible grip as if someone were ripping the walls of his stomach and the blood were struggling to escape through his mouth. Making his hands fists, he nodded more to himself than to anyone else and turned away. Yohji didn't follow him, but he felt the boy's eyes on his back.

"...when you come back."

Yohji closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Omi's labored breathing, and the bang of the door.
 
 
 
 
 

It was a haze of fever and sweat and he was drowning. He could hear the sound of his voice as if it were faraway in a tunnel and someone was calling out at the same time. It was like and echo and it hurt to hear it. The voice was laughing, making fun of him.

He was lonely. So very lonely.
 
 
 
 

Ken's mouth trembled What do you think I want when I hold you... as he pushed the huge door Out of the nothing, I just reach out and hold you that lead to the bathing room. He looked at his naked hand so white against the surface of the dark metal, and I don't want to let go; I just want to stay there and feel that you are near and that I am safe. If I keep pressing mybody against yours and my hands on yours and he wriggled his fingers once he stepped inside. I will know that you and I are the same and that we are both The lights were low and the only source of sunshine inside the room was coming from the furthest corner in the westside from three large breathing. I can feel your happiness and it rushes into me like water and I feel alive. I envy you when I see you smile so easily, windows. The sound of his steps echoed in the empty corridor as he moved through the washing stalls, when I feel your heart beating like the world meant nothing and your voice is all there is. I want some of that too. So I hold you, stronger and stronger. I don't want to loose you, ever. If I do, I'd loose myself... passing each one slowly but not looking at them. He stared ahead and concentrated on holding the gym bag with his clothing and the towel wrapped around his naked body. Loose myself. Loose myself. That sounds so greedy... so much like a lie. I don't care about myself. All I want is you to hold me and stop the pain The only other sound in the bathing room was coming from the last stalls, a young boy who showered quietly and slowly. and cold.

He found his locker. Opening it quietly, Ken placed his gym bag inside and took the deodorant tube from the inside. Almost empty. The toothpaste cap not quite rolled into place. He ran a hand over his sweating hair and closed the locker. Removing his towel, he stepped into the bathroom stall.
 
 
 
 
 

"Laugh, kid. Say something." Yohji lowered his eyes and pounded his nuckles on the sides of his arms. The light coming from the small Yogi Bear nightlight he had placed on the wall didn't help him see. Maybe he needed better light than that, but he didn't get up. Instead he turned his head towards Omi's sleeping body and he could not help but frown. Omi's tiny fingers had gripped the bed covers but he had not woken up. Yohji felt the tip of his mouth sore from his constant bitting. "Anything."

"Ken didn't tell you anything, did he?"

Yohji's eyes became little else but slits as he looked at the floor. He felt foolish and he knew the other boy was thinking he was foolish. They were a team, no? Wasn't that what Ken himself would sometimes say? Not the quirky sort of team and Ken was certainly not the type to say the were a team and grin as if the wolrd were an oister, like some superhero sap. No, Ken would say it better than that, Yohji thought. He'd make it seem like a reality and Omi would believe and he would smile. But, Yohji had left him rush away down into the city or wherever he went, alone, so no one else could help him.

"He just left Omi with me and then ran out the door."

"You didn't ask, as usual."

An unsettling silence fell over the two boys and they could only hear the sound of Omi's breathing.

"No, I didn't."

Aya sighed and leaned back against the wall, almost closing his eyes. But Yohji knew they were still open.

"Left us in the dark with this Yogi lamp."

A sort of crooked smile came to Yohji's lips as he heard Aya say those words, feeling them bounce off the dark walls and into the pale yellow light reflected from the bear's painted face. He ran his hands over his sore shoulders.

"Omi likes that silly bear thing," Yohji said.

Aya turned his head sideways and looked at the tall young man. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes were serene.

"So does Ken," he said.
 
 
 
 
 

The water found its way down his back, Sometimes I have a dream and the shapes and people begin to move and twist cold and careless and crawled down to his feet. and the darkness enters and swallows them. I try to hold on He ran a hand over his hair, feeling the gooey shampoo to them, but they shift like Jell-O under my skin and I can never grip them hard enough. Then I am running down a tunnel work its way into his skull. And heard the footsteps. Closing his eyes, he felt the water smash into his head and into the hair. And heard the footsteps and I am hearing a voice again. Only this time it's calling out your name and you answer. and the shower curtain drawn aside in the stall beside his own. He worked his fingers deeper into the ladder in his hair and opened his eyes as the water began to run in the stall besides him.

"Aren't you lonely?"

Ken's voice sounded hollow in the room. He heard the boy on the other side ceize to breathe, could almost envision the reaction in his face as he spoke. The water ran on the boy's stall but the boy did not dare move. He gripped the sides of the tiled walls with his outstretched hands.

"Aren't you lonely, boy?"

Ken had closed his eyes, You walk away. I'm trying to tell you about the shapes and the Jell-O... bitting down hard on his lip so he would not cry out. but you're walking away... But he breathed as hard, his movements fast and silent. and I'm trying to tell you about my knee how it won't work The sound of the curtain caught him by surprise as he whirled around and I've fallen and it's bleeding. and felt his feet slide on the wet tiles, but his eyes found those of the boy. But, I can't see you and you are Jell-O as well ... and I can't hold you ... The tall boy's mouth trembled, his naked chest heaving, his eyes staring at Ken, with a smile on his mouth like a lizzard. And fear in his eyes.

Fear in his eyes.
 
 
 
 

"I like coming out here, to this field."

The young blond blinked and turned to look at him. Ken smiled to himself and pushed at a long blade of grass that attempted to reach up to his face. Omi didn't say anything but stared into the rolling hillside and the yellow grass swaying in the breeze.

"It's like the whole world is still and I am one of these yellow stalks," Ken said, staring up to the sky.

Omi turned the soccer ball in his hands around slowly, feeling it under his palms and looked at Ken. It was silly to voice it, silly to say anything at all. He looked down at the ball, the bangs of his hair in his eyes. He gasped as he felt Ken's hand reach out and pull him closer. Ken was smiling, his eyes staring the the moving grass and the tree, and grinning down at him. Omi's eyes smiled up at him, the wind rushing through his ears. He laughed as Ken took the soccer ball from his hands, ready to fling it and make it soar as if the world were still and the day was all that mattered. Omi watched him croush fowards as if he were out in the soccer field and Omi were one of the oponents. He ran a hand over his blond hair.

"Me too," he said. "I like it here too."
 
 

This silly story is dedicated to my best friend (Ken san!) who always stands by me and urges me not to be so shy and write whatever I wish to write. This isn't half of what I wanted to do, but it's a lot closer than before. Egao, Ken san, ne? Arigato for reading everyone.  All comments welcome.
 
 

@May 6th-13th, 1999 Team Bonet. Weiß Kreuz is @1997 Koyasu Takehito and Project Weiß. Please do not use without permission from the author. Yogi Bear is copyrighted to Hanna Barbera, but we have absolutely no idea who manufactured the night light.