Disgusted, he threw the door open, and slammed it shut, simply because it made him feel better. /Stupid, stupid, STUPID.../ he berated himself. Despite their rocky past, somehow the two youngest of what had been Weiss and Schwarz had been drawn together, and when Omi had ascended the Throne of Kritiker, as Nagi privately referred to it, he'd sworn to keep him safe. Bodyguarding was what he did, after all. It was who he was.
And tonight, he'd nearly betrayed that bond of trust by not being fast enough.
The head of Kritiker was hiding something, Nagi knew, but it wasn't his business and he didn't pry. He was there to keep Mamoru's life safe, but he did it because Omi was special to him.
Although one and the same, he separated them in his mind. Mamoru was ruthless and cold, calculating, and almost scheming. Frighteningly intelligent, Mamoru was the spine and soul of Kritiker, keeping it afloat just under the watchful eye of the public.
Omi, on the other hand, was a sweet guy. He sent Nagi flowers on valentines day, and sometimes just because. He'd leave notes of encouragement on Nagi's un-used desk, and was always there for him when he just needed someone to vent to. He understood, more than anyone, what Nagi was going through, and often without Nagi having to say anything to him. He was empathetic, and caring, and funny, just a normal fresh-from-college kid.
There was another side to Omi, one Nagi rarely interacted with, and even more rarely even thought about him. Bombay. The killer, the assassin, the murderer. The darkness under Omi's light, and even Mamoru's grey. He didn't like to think of the fact that the person whom his life revolved around was that ruthless and cold, to be able to go out and take one, three, ten peoples lives, and then come home, and laugh with his friends.
He'd gotten caught up in traffic of all things, and been late to meet Mamoru at the restaurant. As he'd driven up, he'd noticed a dark shape at the top of one of the buildings that shouldn't have been there. There was a small red dot, and Nagi hadn't thought, just reacted.
Lunging forward, he grabbed hold of Mamoru, and pulled him behind the car he'd just climbed from. A bullet grazed one of the people he'd been about to go inside and talk out a deal with, but the damage was only superficial. Had Nagi not arrived exactly when he had, and moved Mamoru from the path of danger, he'd be nothing but a corpse in the morgue, a bullet in his brain. Blood soaking that beautiful blonde hair of his, and sliding wetly down the side of his face, marring the soft skin.
Nagi shuddered in horror, and anger that he'd nearly lost the only person in the world he called friend.
Because of -traffic.-
Definately completely, totally, and utterly unacceptable. The rest of the evening had gone well, without mishap. As soon as Omi was out of harms way, Nagi had used his powers and teleported over to the man, leaving him a mangled bloody wreck. He'd taken out a lot of anger on him, and would be surprised if the police found anything more than a pile of blood and some bones.
Ripping off his clothes, Nagi berated himself over and over for being a foolish incompetant imbecile who wasn't fit to sweep the floors of the Takatori mansion, much less guard one of the most important men in Japan from harm.
Turning the hot water on full blast, he stepped under the burning spray, and washed away the cold sweat that had broken out when he saw the man with the gun.
Half an hour later - 20 minutes longer than he usually spent in the shower - he finally emerged, dressed in sweats.
Grabbing a soda from the fridge, he plopped down on the couch, and made sure that his cell phone was charging, in case Mamoru needed him at all. With nothing better to do, he turned on the news, and watched stories about pandas mating in the zoo, and having baby pandas, much to the relief of everyone involved, and the boating accident off the coast.
"And now, our breaking news." The anchor woman was a hideous specimen, all blonde hair and white teeth, and she seemed to have about a hundred of them, all gleaming white and ...
"And all involved were killed instantly. This is a tragic loss to the Takatori family, and he will be dearly missed. Now a weather report from Suhikito Ayana. Ayana san, what's the forecast?"
Another blonde woman, all legs and teeth, began yammering about rain, the perfect accompaniment to the tragic loss that night.
Nagi didn't hear a word of it. /Takatori... loss. ... killed instantly... oh god, Omi.../ He'd failed again. He wasn't there when Omi needed him, wasn't even LISTENING when the woman reported about what had to have been a car accident, a car accident that involved the Takatori's, which meant that he should have known about it anyway, but wait, Omi wasn't there to call him, to tell him...
The dark looks he'd been recieving all night from the blonde about the lateness and near miss had bothered him before, cementing his almost-failure to perform his job perfectly. Now he remembered that there had been worry for Nagi in those eyes, and an affection that he'd always seen, but passed over as something else.
It was too much, too suddenly - Omi couldn't be dead, Nagi hadn't been there to protect him! But he was. He was never coming back. Nagi would never see his face or hear him laugh, or fight with him over the flowers that he swore he hated, but ended up drying and hanging around the kitchen anyway. With a thought, he was in the kitchen, cradling the newest bouquet close. Freesia. He'd always included freesias in anything he sent over, it had been his favorite flower. Nagi absorbed the smell of freesia, and smiled, remembering that Omi had always smelled of flowers and dirt, side effects from working in the flowershop.
The next thing he was aware of, there was a loud banging on the door, and someone was hollering his name at the top of their lungs. His legs were cramped; he'd sunk to the floor in his grief, still cradling the flowers. Stiffly, he stood, and moved over to the door. He was going to kill whoever it was that had dared to bother him at his HOUSE in the middle of the fucking NIGHT...
If they'd needed him, they should have called his cell-phone.
Not come banging on his door. Scowling, he unlocked it, and ripped it open. Before he could register who was there, he found himself with an armful of sobbing blonde, and only the familiarity of the body kept him from killing him where he stood.
"NAGI! My.. my grandfather!" Tearfilled oceanic blue eyes stared up at him, and he gaped in amazement.
"Omi?" It was really him. He was still... still alive! Nagi tightened his grip around him, and swung him around, whooping uncharacteristically. Omi laughed breathlessly, and wiped his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You weren't answering your phone, I was scared something had happened. My grandfather was in a car accident a few hours ago.. I just managed to get away."
Nagi knew that there had been no love lost between Omi and his grandfather, but it still must have been hard to lose the last surviving member of his family.
"I saw the news report. I thought it was you, they didn't give any names, just 'Takatori'." He was pale, and smiling. "I was so worried. And I'm sorry. I should not have allowed the lapse to take place. I endangered you needlessly."
Omi put a finger to his lips, and Nagi blinked at him. "Shh, it's okay. You were there when I needed you. That's all that matters. You were there when I needed you. And you're here now."
"Omi, I'll always be there when you need me."