Author's Note: Yes, this fic was posted here well over a year ago under my account of StaceS. My account was deleted a while ago because I broke the naughty content rule oops so I'm reposting something, and writing new ones under the name mastermindsphinx.

This is essentially the same as when it was first uploaded but I've gone though and fixed glaring errors. I'm not pleased with my switching tenses back and forth kicks 16 year old high school self who first wrote it but to fix that completely I'd nearly have to rewrite it and I don't want to.

I hope that if you've read it before that you may enjoy it again, and please don't give away the ending to any new readers that it might have! Thanks for reading.



I've never had a problem with gay people, not in the least. For one it meant less competition for me, not that there's really any competition anyway. Aside from that though who am I to judge others? I who lies to the world by being a florist during the day and then as soon as the garage like door is lowered upon the Koneko, I'm an assassin. . . No, I don't have any problems with homosexuality.

. . . At least I didn't. However, when I started having those feelings myself, well. . . That's an entirely different story.

I never meant to be attracted to the cold bastard. . . But damn, men shouldn't be allowed to be so pretty. When Persia had first sent us his files, I had thought he was a girl. . . The picture was fuzzy all right! Besides Aya is a woman's name. . . It was an honest mistake and I didn't let it get to me, but when we finally met him, I was still attracted to him! Despite the fact that it was pretty damn obvious that he was no woman.

Luckily for me he has a personality so rotten that it could make your teeth fall out. He's cold, arrogant, apathetic, cruel, a bastard. . . Nevertheless, after a while that makes for an utterly irresistible enigma! I feel like one of the stupid schoolgirls that infest our shop, being allured by the mystery of our leader.

So for years I've put up with this ever-residing crush, trying to push it far away in the recess of my mind with the hopes that if it were left long forgotten that it would never come back. . . All us Weiß' fingers and toes combined wouldn't be enough to count on all the women I've made a show of dating in front of Aya, making sure that he knew damn well I was 100% grade A heterosexual meat. . . Not that he'd ever given me a reason to assume that he was interested. But I just couldn't take that chance. For if he was ever to come on to me. . . Well I can't say in good faith that I'd turn him down.


I think that I fell in lust at first site when I met him. . . Then he opened his big mouth. Youji, he is the most perverted florist/assassin that you could ever hope to meet. Seriously, who divulges their entire sexual history within the first hour of meeting you? Not sane people that's for sure. . . Then again, I'm not particularly sane either.

The thing about it though is before Aya-chan's accident my sexual prowess had been near equal to the hentai's, just with a lot less people, people that I was at the very least acquainted with. . . I had just never made a grand showing of it seeing as it was none of their damned business. . Besides that, my experience wasn't with women.

No one in Weiß knew of that though; I didn't see the point in saying anything seeing as they knew practically nothing about me anyway. I made a particular point in not letting Youji know. Honestly, I doubt he could even grasp the concept of gay. If he knew, he'd either tease me to the point that I'd murder him, or he'd drag me to those horrible clubs that he enjoys so much in an attempt to reform me. Neither option sounded terribly appealing.

Still, despite the fact that he gets on my nerves more than both Ken and Omi combined. . . I harbored a little weakness for him. It's hard not to. Not only is he gorgeous, and well aware of it, but his personality is both loathable and loveable at the same time.

Luckily, I have too much on my mind to be worried about juvenile things such as crushes and jealousy. . . For the most part.