One Song Glory: part four
25 May 2000
Van Donovan
trowa@trowa.com
---------------------

Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned May 24th, '00 while 
his mother is/was dying of cancer.  I suddenly have so much more for this story.  Please, 
learn something from it.

--------

	"I mean, I'm not . . . you're . . ."
	"Don't say that,"  the redhead cut him off.  Youji felt trapped suddenly, with the
redhead holding him gently from behind.  
	"I couldn't possibly . . . I can't even think . . ." Was this really Aya?  The cold
stone faced redhead who never smiled, let alone showed any sexual tendencies?  Was the red-
head -really- hitting on him?  Did he really have HIV?
	Of course he did.  That was why this bond had formed.  They were the same.  Could it
possibly be that Aya had refrained from his own sexual desires because he was afraid of 
infecting whoever he fell in love with?  That seemed so likely.  Aya was exactly that kind
of considerate person.  That was why he himself had stopped going out as well.  The idea 
that he had already infected girls haunted him.  He refused to bring Death to anyone else.
	But Aya was a man.  He hated men.
	All men?  Or just those assholes who hurt women?  Aya had given up himself and his 
identity to protect and save his own sister.  Aya was like him.  The only women he hurt were
those who were worse than the men.  Aya hadn't probably hurt a girl before, beyond turning
down the polite date requests they all got at the flower shop.  
	Finally, his mind came back into the kitchen, looking at his reflection in the dark
window glass, seeing those arms and hands around his neck, and feeling Aya's warm body
pressed against his back.  It was an eye opener.  
	"That was wrong."  Aya quietly said and Youji could feel the regret in the other's
voice as he started to pull back from him.
	"Aya."  Youji softly said, looking at his own eyes in the glass.  He took Aya's
stop-motion and silence as proof he was listening.  "Have you ever even kissed anyone 
before?"  he waited in the silence.
	"No,"  the redhead answered, and somehow, even though the redhead was going on
twenty-three now, Youji wasn't surprised.  "But I want to before I die."
	Youji bit his lip, feeling an obligation arise in him, but also a desire.  "But, me?
Are you sure . . .?" the idea that Aya was a man had fleeted out of his mind.  Aya was pure.
Pure people were not people he liked to deal with.  Some men swore on how excellent sex with
a virgin was.  Youji tended to despite it.  No virgin needed a one-night stand with Kudou
Youji.  That included Aya.
	"I'm sure," the younger answered and Youji exhaled.  
	"I don't want to hurt you,"  the older man said.
	"I'm already hurting."  Aya plainly replied.
	"If I leave . . ."
	"You won't."
	"I might, if I--"
	"Trust yourself.  Close your eyes."
	If it hadn't been Aya, perhaps he could have been more willing.  He regarded Aya as
a masculine enigma.  He could never imagine himself bending to kiss him out of desire.  He
couldn't imagine the redhead submitting under him, letting him loose that firm control he
always had.  If it were Ken, . . . or even Omi instead, perhaps.  Perhaps.  But, these were
his friends.  
	"I don't want to loose the friendship we have, Aya,"  he softly said.  He knew that
a sexual relationship would pull cords.  It would strain them.
	"Stop thinking for once, Youji."  The redhead breathed into his neck and pulled his
arms away from his shoulders.  But instead of backing away, one hand turned his shoulder,
and Youji found the window circling out of view as he was rotated to face Aya.
	Aya reached up and stroked his face, brushing his bangs from his eyes.  Youji was
stiff again, all the massaging Aya'd just performed going to null.  He had -never- seen such
a compassionate look in the other's eyes before.  He'd never been this close to him before,
either.  Aya's hand curled through his hair, fingers brushing his jaw bone and finally going
to cup around his ear, fingers tangled with his hair.
	Youji couldn't move.  He could only look down into those luminous lavender eyes, and
let the other touch his face.  -Aya- was going to do it.  -Aya- was going to make the move.
Never in his quarter-century of life had he been so unprepared for an intimate moment.
	Never had the thoughts that flashed through his mind been this arousing.
	Aya's cupped hand around Youji's ear and jaw gently tugged and Youji found himself 
bowing slightly.  Aya raised to his toes, his eyes half shutting as he titled his head.  He 
glanced up at Youji, who bent in a silent stupor but didn't resist, and then closed his eyes 
and softly danced his lips over Youji's.  His breathed washed out over their lips and a few 
more seconds passed before Aya shuffled into him more and made the kiss real.

-----

	Everything fell into place after that.
	Youji showed no shame in their sudden relationship, and it hadn't been a "one night
stand" at all.  After the kiss, they'd just gone upstairs and fallen asleep talking.  There
was no sex.  There was no need to rush that.  Ken and Omi had just accepted it.  Neither one
really understood how or why the two would go from friends into an open gay relationship
together.  Neither one knew Aya was HIV positive either.  All they really understood was that 
somehow the least caring and open of them had latched onto Youji and made the other flourish.
Youji'd found his reason to live again.
	Several weeks passed in uneventfulness.  Youji and Aya charmed the hearts of every
girl who came to the shop and watched the redhead openly flirt with Youji, who, for once,
seemed to be the less aggressive of the four.  They never directly admitting to being 'in
love' or even in a relationship, but both Omi and Ken had walked in on them kissing at least
once.  It wasn't hard to tell they had a closeness together that they didn't share with the 
other two boys.  
	Aya went on being exactly the same, unaffected by his own ailment, but opening up
a little to his new best friend, Youji.  He smiled a little more, and he laughed a little 
more, but he was still largely the same person.  Youji benefited most from his attention.
	Youji's vibrancy, however, couldn't hide the fact that he was being ravished by his
killer.  The already slender man was loosing weight and finding himself out of breath faster
and tired more often.  They tried to get him to eat more, to fight off the way his body was
burning calories, but he had no appetite for anything but his cigarettes, which could kill 
him just as fast, if not faster.
	"Haven't I told you to stop smoking?"  Aya chided, striding into the room where 
Youji sat, feet on the table, ashtray in his lap.  Youji flicked some ashes onto the tray,
coughed and looked up at Aya with crystal green eyes.
	"Getting sick makes me nervous, and smoking relaxes me,"  he replied.
	Aya made a face and plucked the cigarette out of his hands and crushed it down to 
Youji's protesting.  "Smoking is what makes you sick.  Besides, I hate the taste of smoke."
	Youji chuckled at that and leaned back, feeling more sick.  It'd just been a few shy
months, but he was already below the 500 T-Cell count and well into his battle with AIDS.
Ten to fifteen years my ass, he thought.  Then, his eyes fell onto Aya.  The man looked as
healthy, strong and beautiful as he always had, with his ruby hair, amethyst eyes and ala-
baster skin.  No one would ever be able to tell Aya was infected just by looking at him.
Maybe smoking -was- killing him faster.  He felt depression set in again.  Depression and
that nagging sixth-sense he had about Aya.
	"Aaa, I'm sorry, Aya."  He muttered, looking down at his lap.
	Aya blinked, thinking Youji was apologizing for something other that just smoking
again.  His brows beetled.  "What for?"
	Youji took a breath and softly said.  "I'm going to die before you."
	Aya cradled Youji's head in his arms and bent, kissing the top of the honey-blonde
hair.  "Shh, don't say such things."
	Youji didn't buy into his comfort.  "What'll you do when I'm gone?  You'll be all
alone again,"  he whispered.  Aya stroked his hair and his eyes fluttered closed.
	"I'll be fine.  Don't worry about me,"  he reassured.  There was a long silence.  
	"Aya?"  Youji quietly asked, his voice a soft whisper.  "Can I ask you something?"
	Aya blinked and stroked the other's hair more.  "Of course."
	Youji took a deep breath.  "You . . . you promise you'll tell the truth?"
	Aya's brow's beetled.  "Of course."
	Youji's lips pursed, his brows knotting.  "You swear on your sister's life to?"
	"Youji!"
	"Swear it, Aya.  Please."
	Aya frowned, contemplating the alternatives.  "I swear, okay, what is it?"
	Youji's eyes closed, and he took another deep breath.  "You don't really . . . have
HIV, do you?"  he finally asked.
	Aya blinked, his hand pausing in it's caressing pattern.  "Why do you think that?"
he inquired.  He felt Youji tremble a little, under him.
	"Because we've never . . .," he started, then shook his head.  "You said you had it 
for so long, but I never see it affect you . . . I never see you taking drugs for it."  His 
voice wavered a little, but he controlled his breathing.  "You're so healthy and perfect, 
and here I am, half a year diagnosed, and ready to drop."  His voice quivered a little, and
he continued after Aya remained silent at his pause.  "Is this just a game to comfort me?"
he asked, turning his head back and up, trying to look at Aya.  He'd already deduced his 
answer.  "Hold and kiss me for a few months before I die?  Is that all this is?"
	Aya shook his head negatively, his brows turned up, looking at Youji as he circled
around him.  "That's not it at all."   He knelt before Youji, looking up at the other.  
Youji swallowed tightly, afraid with how Aya would answer him.
	"You do like me, then."  Youji stated, warily.
	"More than that,"  he softly answered and met Youji's eyes.
	"You still lied to me."
	"Does it really matter to you whether or not I have HIV?"  Aya questioned.  Youji's
lip curled a little, hurt.  Did it really matter?  Yes.  Yes to him it did.  If Aya was 
clean now and contracted it FROM him, he'd never ever be able to forgive himself.  Ever.  
Even if he died.
	"Yes, it matters,"  he breathed, his heart cinching tightly.  "Aya," he moaned. "Aya
what've you done to yourself?" he cried.
	Aya stood up, taking Youji's hands in his own.  "Shh,"  he said, pulling the older
man to his feet.  Youji didn't want to be held then.  He wanted to die.  Why would Aya have
done this?!  He couldn't possibly have liked him enough to throw his life away.  He didn't
obviously want to die from AIDS, because they'd only ever really kissed . . .
	Aya took his hands and lead him through the shop and out back to their apartments.
He glanced down the hallway and then brought Youji upstairs to his room, guiding him to
sit on the bed.  Youji trembled as he sat and Aya returned to the door and locked it.  He
glanced over his shoulder at Youji, who was still on the bed, his hands trembling a little,
but doing alright for the most part.  He raised his fingers to his shirt, wearing a button-
up kind today and turned back to Youji as he began unbuttoning the shirt and walking to him.
	"HIV affects different people different ways," he breathed, working on the last 
button as he stopped in front of Youji.  The blonde had blinked, looking up as Aya advanced.
The redhead shrugged his shoulders and bared his ivory skin.  The shirt slid down his 
arms and he wriggled his wrists until it dropped to the floor.  "It's just affected you a 
lot faster than it affected me," he said, stepping out of his shoes and placing a hand on
Youji's chest, pushing the older man down onto his back.  Aya sunk his knees to either side
of the mattress around Youji's legs and bent over him.	
	"Just because we haven't had sex doesn't mean you should doubt my word, Kudou."  He
breathed and placed his hand on Youji's chest.  "But if sex is what you want to stand as
proof, I'm more than happy to provide.   You just weren't ready before."  He hadn't been 
ready either.  He still wasn't sure he was, yet, but he was on the edge.  Right now, he 
felt he could do anything.
	"Aya." Youji breathed, staring up at him, feeling his breath picking up.
	Aya bent and kissed him on his lips, and then started down along his neck and then
paused to breath into his ear:
	"I have never, ever lied to you, Kudou."

	Youji had never felt such relief in his life.


--end part four--