Disclaimer: The settings and characters of Weiss Kreuz belongs to Koyasu-san and Project Weiss © I do not know these fine gents from Japan, nor do I claim these characters are mine at all. There will be no need for international lawsuits, since I am a flat broke otaku that just like to torture these characters.
Feedback: I’m a review whore….. So…… Please review???? >< This fic will be a multi-chapter, and I will need all of your help and support to finish this. ^^;; So please let me know what you think of this!! And for FF.net reviewers: I’d love to send you emails so if you can attach your email in the review I would be honored! >w<
Note: Many settings from this fic is derived from the manga of Weiss Kreuz instead of the anime, so Schuldich hair is green instead of orange, and Aya’s parents were killed in the explosion in their office building instead of their home. Just to clarify that in case there are some confusion in terms of history and colorings. *nod nod* There are still many references to the anime, since the manga was incomplete ^^;;; Also, this fic, as of October 25th, has been completely edited!! Sorry for all the grammatical mistakes for those who read before this date. *lol* ^^;;
It is several weeks since Ken visited us. I told Schuldich about Weiss’ plan in attacking us, which he waved off and assured me that nothing would happen. Even though he appears to be undaunted by the threat, I notice the reappearance of his twin guns that he straps to his back pocket nowadays. He makes a great effort in hiding them so as to not scare our friends and boss, but I know that he is as worried as I am about Weiss. It makes me wonder, however, why they haven’t attack yet. Normally, when we receive a mission, it takes no more than two weeks for us to finish the job. Slaying the Dark Beasts should never wait, as Persia always says. So when it has been three weeks already, I begin to hope that maybe Ken has succeeded in persuading the other two to leave me alone. To leave us alone.
I am more than shocked about how bad Omi and Youji are taken with my departure. It has always been odd for them to say that we will ‘stay together forever,’ even though forever is never possible with assassins. I brushed it off as Omi’s immaturity and Youji’s flirtatious way of talking at the time, but now I see how wrong I was. Schuldich and I reached an agreement that if a fight ever broke out; we would first retreat to the outskirts of town and try to deal with them there, hopefully without maiming each other. Don’t know how well it will go, but at least we need to try. He and I had planned an escape route in case they decided to hit us in our home; luckily there isn’t anybody living in this run-down apartment.
Our schedule hasn’t changed much, except I can feel that Schuldich is using his power once again to be on guard of my former teammates. I often flex my hands; my absent katana provides me no comfort. I hate the thought of fighting my old teammates, but Ken’s parting words echo in my mind continuously: ‘Be selfish.’ I didn’t understand it at first, but Schuldich told me to think back on my way of life before. He said that I’ve always been living for others. First for my sister, to earn money for her survival, then when that was fulfilled I started living for my teammates, sacrificing any hopes of life until the thought of suicide was what pushed me to leave them. I tried to argue on how Schuldich described my life, but I could find no words to rebut his point. It’s just that life is merely a mundane task spread over a period of a lifespan, and it seems no use to me to try to reach my goal. I can’t remember the last time I had a long term goal in mind, something that past more than three months and actually involved a distant future. I seem to recall something that I discussed with Aya-chan when we were chatting in my room all those years ago, but it vanished when she went into a coma and I no longer remember what it was. And then later it’s my goal, a solid purpose in life — kill Takatori. I blushed furiously when Schuldich mimicked what I was before — a maniac wearing a thick trench coat that really had nothing except probably fashion sense, running around with a katana yelling ‘Shi-ne!’ every five seconds. I couldn’t even say that wasn’t true, because I knew it was. I just didn’t think it was that bad….
“Oh, it was bad, all right… You’re like, in the same level as Farfie,” Schuldich had teased. “Him always, ‘this will hurt God’, ‘that will hurt God,’ and you always, ‘blah blah blah, Shi-ne~!’ At least he has more creativity. Last time he said marshmallows hurt God when Nagi asked Brad to demonstrate what s’mores were, and he ended up sitting in front of the television watching Pokemon and ate the entire bag of marshmallows. He said that Pokemon hurts God too. I think he probably heard it on the news….”
Lately, however, it seems that Schuldich has something else other than Weiss lingering in his mind. I notice that he tends to zone out whenever he’s teaching me, and sometimes I would look up from my studies and find him staring at me intensely. He always dismisses it, but I wonder what it is. He will tell me when he’s ready, so I don’t need to pry. But it’s just quite frustrating when he would stare at me as I work on my calculus assignment… the work not exactly easy, especially with someone staring at you at such close proximity.
“…What?” I ask, slightly annoyed as I try to move a function around and see how I can actually solve this question without going through a difficult phase of calculating out another function. I really don’t need him looking at me so weirdly when I’m trying to battle with at least four confusing equations, all have nothing to do with one another and each needs at least twenty minutes in solving.
Schuldich smiles, and puts a hand on the textbook, signaling a break from the work. “You know…. You should go to college.”
My eyes widen, “College? What brings this up?”
“Well, you’re smart, and you obviously have caught up with most of the work they teach in high school and beyond that I don’t foresee a problem in terms of the entrance exam…. Besides, you deserve it. It’s what you had wanted, isn’t it?”
I wave a hand dismissively.”I don’t remember. And even if it was, it’s too late. I’m what, twenty-five? Almost twenty-six. I can’t go to college.”
“It’s common sense!”
Schuldich sighs, and reaches over to draw me into a kiss, “Baby, look, in foreign countries like America, people are going to college at the age of thirty, forty, even fifty! As long you want to learn, you have the determination, and, of course,” he pauses, grinning, “the money, there’s nothing you can’t do. It’s just a degree! Why can’t you go to college?”
I frown, the idea too tempting, yet too far-fetched. “What would I study? How would I pay? What do I do with the degree?”
“Anything legal, and you can do whatever you want with the degree,” Schuldich smiles, his hand cupping my face as he kisses my eyes slowly, moving to my lips before kissing me softly. “Look, I know that it’s something you have wanted. You linger on those ‘How-To’ guides and college rating books too long to fool me.” Drawing me into his arms, he puts his forehead against mine, “Trust me. And we won’t use any of the blood money. You know what? We can go to Brad. Let’s invest in a very legitimate way. He’ll help us out.”
I feel a faint heat rise to my cheeks, and I sigh, “I don’t even know if I can get in….”
“You will. If you don’t, I’ll be the laughing-stock of Schwartz.”
“You mean you’re not already?”
It’s not that I think college is such a great thing or anything, because I know first-hand that it’s overrated. Sure, for people that seriously have no talent but need a job, it’s a must to go through that step and study those God-awful subjects that they’ll soon forget the minute they finish the exams. I mean, do they honestly remember how to do a calculus equation if they’re not a math major? I give them three months tops to forget those insane mathematical things. And a year for them to revert back to one plus one equals two.
But he’s just so… depressed. More so than I have seen him since we started becoming friends, then lovers. He may not say so, but he feels hurt inside, by those wretched kittens that don’t know when to just give up and move on. He never wanted them in the first place, not sexually, anyway, so why the hell couldn’t they just let go? Honestly, I was surprised that Siberian has normal common sense and understands that love isn’t about possession; it’s about letting those you love be themselves. I’m not gloating or anything, but Goddamn, I make him happy. I know that, he knows that, and Siberian knows that. The rest are just too fucking idiotic to see that.
He tries to act normal, really, but being an observer of people all my life, with a specialty in observing a certain beautiful redhead, I know depression when I see it. His smile is more of an act now, especially to the customers, than before. It’s almost painful to see. I’d rather see him stoic and expressionless like before than see him trying to act like everything is fine and nothing is bothering him, because that is certainly not the case. Far from it, I’d say.
He was never a touchy-feely person. Usually, I’m the one that demands attention like a puppy and snuggled up to him forcefully, drawing him into my arms with him complaining, and silencing him with kisses until he relented and let me have my way. No, perverts, not always sexual… All right, sixty, wait, I’ll give seventy percent of the time then. But lately, he likes to sit just a little bit closer to me, always looking up as if to make sure I won’t betray him, and pout just so adorably that we both know I cannot help but kiss him. It’s cute that he needs the confirmation of love from me, constantly, but it also bothers me that he feels insecure. He truly loved those fucking brats, but they just suffocated him so much that he had to get out. He wanted to have a family with them, a dysfunctional one, but even so, he wanted them and loved them like brothers. He cared for them, and all they care about is fucking him and making him kill. He’s not a killer. Fine, none of them were born that way, but he detests killing more so than they. They somehow see it as something that can’t be helped anymore, but Aya seriously wanted to leave and constantly tries to redeem himself. I’ve seen it, and it sickens me. He would go back to his apartment after a mission and immediately peel off the bloodstained clothings as if they stung, and tossed them immediately into the trash. The only clothing that actually had blood on and survived throughout his years at Weiss was his trench coat, but even now it was locked in the farthest, deepest part of the closet, forgotten. He would then jump into the shower; turning the water to scalding hot and scrubbed his body until his skin was red with burns and scratches.
It hurts so much just thinking about it.
That’s why I always get those extra moisturizing and skin repair lotions for him, even though he looks at me strangely.
Those work great as lubricants, too.
Off topic. Down boy.
I just want to let him take his mind off of Weiss, that’s all. I mean, hell, I am in no way happy about him going to college. It’s like sending a sheep to a wolf pen or something. Just the mere thought of him sitting there, studying while all those women and men’s eyes are on him, stripping him bare and fucking him in their minds… Or the professor refusing to give him the ‘A’ that he so deserves until he sleeps with him… her…. I have got to be there picking him up and make sure the entire fucking school knows he already has an owner… or a pet, as he would claim. I don’t care. I just do not want to let anyone put their filthy claws into him. I may restrain myself, but my Ebony and Ivory might want to have a word or two with them.
Yes, I name my guns; you got a problem with that? Be glad I don’t name my dick as some people do.
Though the thought of tattooing the words, ‘Property of Schuldich’, on his ass doesn’t sound too bad though….
Behave, behave. Or we won’t get some tonight.
Besides, I’ve seen some of the works he did when he was in high school. What, are you kidding me? There is nothing that Estet, or Schwartz, can’t get hold of. I have his yearbook picture from kindergarten, and he was so adorable that you could just eat him up. Yes, he was that cute. I didn’t let him know I have those pictures though… he would’ve killed me then burnt them. Those will forever remain in my secret safety box that I visit every now and then, just to coo and aaw at them. I also have his homework and the essay he won first place with in a school contest when he was in junior high. He talked about his dreams of being a musician, which came as a surprise for me. He said that he knew he was obligated to go to business school so he could take over his father’s business, but he really hoped that he could just study music. His father said that music was only for fun and for meditation, but he liked it much better than crunching numbers. He also said that he would obey his father’s wishes but will demand continuous music lessons until the day he died, maybe teach a student or two.
The judges gave him first place for the detail, vivid description of his feelings and passion for music.
His father was furious with him, but his mother agreed to his wishes.
I also have a tape of his recital. A small one consisting of students from his piano teacher’s studio, and he was the second to the last one to perform, right before the teacher. His music was still amateurish, but his skills were pretty good at that age. He couldn’t grasp the meaning of the music yet, playing it just like everyone else, notes and dynamics, but it wasn’t all that bad.
And damn he looks fine in a tux…. Dress pants brought out the curve of his butt….
At this rate, I’m gonna come before I even touch him.
Damn my libido.
Damn my dick.
The primary report of him, attached somewhere within the Fujimiya file that Crawford handed me, listed ‘attend college’ as his wish. Given the fact that it was Brad, with Nagi’s help, I don’t doubt a word of it. And every time when we go to the bookstore, he would always look at the guidebooks and test questions, or the college ranking list and even foreign student exchange books they have on the shelves. They weren’t much, and he really didn’t look that long, but his fingers would always inadvertently graze over them, and a small, almost inaudible sigh would escape his lips before he would turn and follow me to the cashier. What, does he think I’m blind?! I’m the Mastermind, and the certified Redhead Kitten Trainer/Instructor. Nothing he does can escape my eyes.
And making him think about going to college works better than any miracle. Like now, he’s glaring a hole at the poor soy sauce while zoning out about the possibility of going to college. I can literally, without using my powers, hear the internal debate he has in his mind. I reach over, and forcefully take the poor bottle out of his grasp, and put it back onto the shelf. “Honey, you keep staring and I’m gonna start to think you want that as your lover, not me,” I tease, grabbing another bottle, the brand that we always use, and put it into the shopping cart.
He blinks, and looks up at me, “…huh?”
“Yeah, ‘huh?'” I roll my eyes as I put my arms around him to scoot him forward so we can get to the produce section before those vicious old ladies grab all the good ones. It’s always useful to bring him along, because then they always give us room to grab the bargains. I love Japan. Everything that has the word ‘fresh’ attached to it goes on sale half an hour before the supermarkets close, and the price just drops so low that I can squeal about. Not that I squeal, mind you. “Come on, we need to get some carrots and potatoes if you still want Schuldich’s homemade curry tonight.”
“Oh,” he nods, and hurries along. Glaring up, he pouts ever-so-slightly, “…I wasn’t zoning out.”
“Sure you weren’t,” I grin, “You were just thinking about how good it’ll feel with that soy sauce bottle up your ass.”
SLAP. Ouch, that hurts.
But the bright blush is certainly worth the mark that’ll form within five minutes. Luckily, we’re going home, though the giggles and awed stares from those grandmas will make me quite aware of why they’re staring. Then again, I’ve developed two extra inches of skin right on my face, so I won’t feel a thing.
Oh yeah…. I need to give Crawfie a call. I, um… still have his number, right? Damn.
I am so going to get it when I go…. He’s gonna laugh so hard that I better not bring Ebony and Ivory with me. I don’t need Aya to be in the middle of our full-out fight, ’cause that sneaky, no good American would more than likely use him against me. Fuck.
“…No, Frederick Helms, you listen to me. You sell the damn thing tomorrow at four p.m. or you’re fired!” I slam down the phone, irritated. Why do these idiotic people think they are so much smarter than I am? Number crunching will never, EVER do the trick in the stock market, you idiots. Sure, it’ll help, but I’m a precog. I think my powers are far better and more accurate than you sitting in front of a desk hugging a calculator. I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I close the file folder in front of me, sick of seeing it for now. I’ve been on the phone with America since four this morning, and it’s near noon. Nagi wasn’t home last night, some fucking experiment that is somehow more important than me. And honestly, I’m not sex-hungry enough that I need to jump Farfarello. That’s Schuldich’s area.
Speaking of which….
I tap the keys on my terminal lazily, a fist supporting my chin as I yawn, looking at the schedule that my secretary sets for me. She’s a diligent worker, sure, but if she can stop thinking that she can somehow ‘cure’ my homosexuality, I will be even more grateful. Please, I know she has the figure of a model, but I like my bedmates male, slim, tender, and with telekinesis power. It makes sex that much more interesting.
And now I’m thinking like Schuldich. That’s not a good sign.
But the goddamn German disappears for a year to chase after his kitten without a word to us. Granted, I sort of ‘kicked him out,’ but the least he could do is call and say ‘hello.’ Or use the money I gave him so we can trace him. But, no, that money still sits in his bank, making a handsome amount of interest, I might add, and not being any help to us in finding him. And out of the blue, he called my office and set up an appointment, somehow sweet-talked Aki into pushing my schedule around without my acknowledgement and placed him in my two p.m., and pushed my most important client down to five. Who does he think he is?!
I sigh, and press the intercom, “Aki, make two more cups of coffee and a hot cocoa, and leave the door open.”
Used to my random and too-accurate-to-be-coincidental orders, she merely replies an affirmative and goes about making the drinks. It’s one reason that I didn’t fire her. She knows of my power and knows better than to talk. She knows it’s not good for her health, literally.
The door opens dramatically as the man I love and hate at the same time walks in as if he owns the damn place, and grins at me while holding the door open. Abyssinian walks in timidly, flexing his hands nervously. He winces visibly when Schuldich lets the heavy mahogany door slam shut, and glares at the German with disapproval. Grinning, he gives the redhead a kiss quickly before taking his hand and pulling him to my desk, sitting down without waiting for approval. “Yo.”
I arch my eyebrow, leaning back against my plush leather chair, one that I am glad I got at such an insane price. “That’s all you say? After a year? ‘Yo’?”
“What do you want, a crying confession of how much I miss your dick?” he flaunts instinctively, and his eyes widen as he realizes just how wrong that sounded. Sure, it’s what we did all the time, jest and throw sexual jokes to each other without reserve, but he forgets who is sitting next to him. Abyssinian tenses immediately, and he turns to the kitten at once, “No! It was just a joke! He’s too enamored with Nagi to-”
I grin. This is going to get interesting.
The redhead lifts an eyebrow; the movement clearly asks the idiot if he would fuck me had I not been in love with Nagi. Schuldich bites his tongue, and looks at me for help, at which I merely smile and wait for him to climb out of the grave he dug for himself. He glares hatefully at me, and turns back to Abyssinian, now getting so desperate it’s hilarious. “I swear. I’ve fell in love with you the minute I saw you. Believe me! He’s too ugly for me anyway! And bulky! And….. Come on… Aya~~~~!”
Abyssinian merely turns to the side, clearly ignoring the idiotic German. Who needs television when you can have this?
Sighing, dejected, Schuldich turns to me, and flips me the bird and sighs again, slumping in his chair as if he were five and just got scolded by his favorite teacher. He scowls at me, “Listen, Brad, we’re here to um… Hire you, if you would.”
“Oh?” I lift an eyebrow, “I doubt you can afford me. I’m taken.”
Abyssinian blushes at the innuendo while Schuldich rolls his eyes.”Fuck you, you know I don’t mean that,” he growls, and hisses at my smirk, “I want to set up one of those… what are they called… college fund? Something like that. But I want it quick.”
“Don’t you already have around thirty million in your account? It’s more than enough,” I frown slightly at the request.
Abyssinian’s eyes widen, quite considerably large for a man of his reserve. He didn’t know? Schuldich growls, “That’s blood money. Aya doesn’t want to use that, and so that’s out.”
“The interest is not.”
“Fruit of the poisonous tree. Come on, you gonna help me or not?”
Desperate to score points for his kitten, I see. I look over at Abyssinian, and grin. I wonder if the kitten sees the little horns popping out of my head. “So, Abyssinian… How has our Mastermind been treating you? Satisfied?”
He narrows his eyes at me, obviously still uncomfortable in talking with me instead of pointing his katana at my throat. I grin, ignoring the silence and the obvious displeasure of Schuldich for me to speak to his kitten without his permission. “You know, I’m surprised that you haven’t kicked him out yet.”
This time, it’s my turn to widen my eyes as I double over and laugh hysterically. Schuldich scowls at me while Abyssinian remains as impassive as ever. Surely the boy doesn’t seem a bit fazed, but the answer was just hilarious. I can, however, see that Abyssinian submits to Mastermind by way of his cooking. I have heard hideous stories about Abyssinian’s cooking from Nagi in the past, when he was a still net buddies with Bombay. Something about limiting the redhead to microwaveable food and instant noodles.
“You can hire a cook, or eat out,” I suggest, calming myself down as best I can.
“He cleans. And sews.”
Schuldich is beginning to consider whimpering, I can see that much through my tear-filled eyes. The German’s face is flushed slightly, and he pouts at Abyssinian’s expressionless face. Given time, I think Schuldich just might meow.
I wipe away the tear from my eyes, my face hurts from all that laughing. “So he’s a maid? How is his service?”
“What’s your return policy?”
I like him. I really, really like him. And my stomach hurts now, too. It takes me nearly five minutes to calm my laughter, though constant snickering still escapes from me every now and then. Schuldich looks completely flustered, babbling quickly and begging so pathetically that I wish I had a video camera set up in my office. He tugs on Abyssinian’s shirt, trying to gain the attention or evoke any reaction from the stoic man. He tries calling the redhead all sorts of endearment names, reciting love passages to a point that I start to blanch. I clear my throat. A show is starting to go bad when the main character starts being too sappy that it’s disgusting. “How much money are you planning on investing, now?”
Schuldich stops in mid-groveling as he looks up to me, and scratches his head. I notice, for the first time, that the stupid headband is gone. His hair is a bit shorter than before, but he still wears it long and unruly. Instead of using a head wrap or a headband to keep the offensive strands from his face, he ties it up into a thick ponytail and lets it hang behind him. Abyssinian grows his hair long enough for a braid down to his lower back, and I have a feeling that if he puts it in front of him, he can fit into a dress without a problem. They’re not wearing anything fancy, I can see the obtrusive orange turtleneck on Abyssinian has finally been replaced with a soft, lavender sweater and a white knitted scarf, and the expensive Armani that Schuldich and I both favor is gone, replaced by a cheap jean jacket and a washed-out T-shirt. It isn’t a bad look, for either of them, but it is definitely different. The air around the two has changed as well; Schuldich’s cynicism has lessened quite considerably while Abyssinian is no longer the maniacal iceberg. They blend quite well together.
“Actually… We don’t have much money….” Schuldich confesses, and reaches into his pocket to produce a bank account book. He leans forward to put it in front of me.”That’s about it, really.”
I open the book, and nearly choke on the coffee I am drinking. Aki brought them in a while ago, and she gave Abyssinian quite a hungry leer while handing him his hot chocolate until Schuldich scared her away. Now I am seriously considering asking Aki to put poison in the German’s drink. “Twenty thousand yen?! What do you think I am, your Fairy Godmother that can wave her magic wand and make money fall from the sky?!”
Schuldich grins sheepishly, “Um…. Yup.”
Abyssinian sighs, “If it’s too much trouble….” He stands, and I glare at him, waving my hand.
“Sit down, Abyssinian.”
I look up in surprise, finding Aby—Aya, glaring at me with displeasure at his code name. Oh yeah… former code name. I nod, “All right, Aya, sit down. I didn’t say it’s undoable, I just say your pet here is quite unrealistic.”
Schuldich glares at me while Aya retakes his seat. They keep their silence as I ponder, a decision quickly forms and I grin. “Well,” I say, “Here is what I propose to do.” Grabbing a sheet of paper, I start scribbling as the two lean forward to read, “I will loan you… one hundred thousand yen, in addition to your twenty thousand. We can invest in the United States now.” I pause, writing down the numbers in U.S. currency, and a company name.”Four months from now, this company will come out with a good drug that can successfully reduce and even cure some cancers, or so they say, and their stock will skyrocket to about sixty times what you invest.” Without using a calculator, I write down the number that they will be earning in USD, then convert it back to yen quickly. “The yen will also drop at the time, which makes converting worth more. This amount should be more than enough to pay my service fee,” I write down a deduction number, at which Aya winces, much to my amusement.”And after taxes from U.S. and Japan, and paying me back the one hundred thousand…. You should have around ten million yen.”
Schuldich lifts an eyebrow. “Just ten million?” Aya looks at him as if he is insane. The mere notion of the Abyssinian of Weiss gaping at the money we are talking now is quite amusing. He should’ve been here when I started playing this game. I was not dealing in millions; I was dealing with billions and even trillions. Ten million was like ten cents for me. I scoff.
“With twenty thousand dollars as your betting pool, you’re wishing for more?”
Schuldich shrugs, “It’s a thought.”
I smirk, “There is a catch.”
He eyes me suspiciously, “…What are you trying, you bastard?”
I wag my pen at him, “Tsk, tsk, tsk… So rude to the man that can make you millions? It’s nothing, really…”
“Spill it, Crawfish.”
I growl at the hated nickname, “I demand your unpaid work for me for as long as I want, Shoes,” I smirk and wave off Aya’s upcoming protest, “It’s nothing hard, really. There are times where I need to go to various countries to… intimidate, if you would, my worthless employees. It’s taking my time away from Nagi, since he never goes. I don’t understand what stupid molecule can be more important than me,” I hiss at the thought, “So, when I need to go, you’re taking my place.”
“Can I bring my owner?”
I eye Aya, who blushes slightly at the title. “Sure, why not. Just don’t fuck on the plane ’cause I don’t want to scare any of my crew.”
“Private jet?” Schuldich whistles.
I shrug, “Stolen from Estet.”
It didn’t go as bad as I thought, thankfully. I was, needless to say, being tortured by Brad’s constant and non-stop teasing. The man probably got a year’s worth, plus interest, of teasing in that three hours we were there. Of course, we were forced to relinquish our precious address. I have a feeling they’ll raid us when they all get time and a plan. I don’t know how much I can take from Brad, practically leaking every embarrassing moment in my life to the one I love. It sometimes sucks really badly when you grow up with people and haven’t killed them yet. They know too much.
I stop when I feel Aya has lagged just slightly behind me, before he picks up the pace. I turn, and glance to the side. A brand new book store, huh, and quite a large one, too. I guess he still hasn’t become immune to all the worldly pleasures, even though he constantly tries to convince himself that he is.
“Well, I need to see if they have the newest strategy guide for Zelda,” I exclaim, earning myself a slightly embarrassed pout and a half-hearted glare. Damn, I think we need to go to a love motel soon if he keeps it up like this. I don’t think he’d go for the idea of fucking on the train…?
Somewhat dragging him into the bookstore, I smile when he brightens-up, in Aya’s term, when he steps inside. I frown when I feel people’s eyes wander onto him immediately, and I grin nastily, leaning over and kissing him on the head lovingly, my arm so conveniently slipping around his waist. “I’ll be in the game section. Come and find me when you’re done? Or I’ll find you.”
Used to these antics, Aya doesn’t even flinch or push me away, merely nods as he wanders off to the mystery/thriller section that he often loses track of time in. I grin, eyeing those who dare look at what is rightfully mine, challenging them, and walking over to the gaming section myself.
I’m quite satisfied with Aya’s agreement in going to college. I hate to see him just… well… rot in a small town like this. I mean, not that I hate the town, but… People try to get out of there while he curls up and hides. I know that he wants to get away from what reminds him of the past, all of the past, but I just don’t think it’ll do him any good. Ten years from now, he might hate himself that he let time waste away like this. I know I cannot stand seeing him like this, just… well… burying his potential and ignoring everything. It’s not right.
Oh, fine, so sue me for being a mother hen. Big deal. One person among us should bear the sins that we committed, and I believe that person should not be him. I’m the one that drug him into this dark, sinful world of no return, so I should be the one that bears the cross. It’s that simple, and I don’t see an alternative. I’d like to hear if anyone gets a better suggestion. I’m already content; life has given me more than I truly deserve, ignoring the crimes I’ve committed in the past and the fact that I really don’t feel sorry for any of them except one, and given me the one person that I’ve wanted. I have never felt more complete than now, and I think that’s enough for me. But I really don’t want to see him feeling… regret. Dying hope. The mourning of such lost hope. I hate that.
I guess, on some level, I’m using him to repent my sin as well. To see the fire of hope light up once more in the deepest pools of amethyst, to see the slender fingers holding onto those reference books with determination instead of lingering on them wistfully, to devour the subjects more vigorously than just simply studying them for fun…. It makes me feel less sinful every time I think of how I am the one that pressed the button that set the bomb to make sure his parents would die. That… pushed him over the edge and into the world of abyss. He never understands why I clutch to him so tightly each night, but lets me anyway. He’s like that. Submissive on the surface, yet the will inside can overpower any so-called dominants should they dare to try. He has his weaknesses, but he hides them so well that sometimes even he forgets about them. I have my weakness, and I seek solace in his smiles. The blood that stains me seems to wash away whenever he smiles at me, lets me hold him, and is there when I wake up, sleeping more serene than any angel can be.
It sounds corny, sappy, pathetic, but hell, that’s fucking true.
Maybe I should go write a romance novel. I might make more money than being a chef.
Yaoi is quite popular in this country, I’m sure my books will sell just fine.
It’s about nearly three hours later that I finally pry Aya away from the shelves, with at least a dozen books, my strategy guide not included, that we place on the counter. I roll my eyes at him as he complains silently of how I only limit him to twelve, not twelve hundred, books he can buy, something about that being his money and he can do whatever the damn hell he wants. I merely remind him how if he keeps buying books we either have to rent a bigger, sturdier apartment or toss out the old ones. That finally shuts him up enough for us to pay for them.
The lady smiles, almost dreamily, and surprisingly, at me. I shudder as I stand closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and glare back at her. She widens her eyes and sighs, before taking the credit card a bit harsher than she has to, which leaves Aya looking back and forth, thoroughly confused. Sometimes, I just feel that I’m not protected enough… Here, a very, very perverted woman that literally wants to make amateur porn videos with me is devouring me with her eyes, and my lover is still pouting about not being able to buy another six books he wanted. Oh dreadful weep on why I had to choose the most ridiculously dense lover in the world. Sigh, sigh, and sigh.
“Would you like to enter the contest for our Arsene Lupin mystery set?” the lady asked drolly. I couldn’t care less, really, woman. You are NOT touching me, not even when I’m getting my change.
Aya looks up, and I sigh. I really don’t feel like giving out my address to her… Who knows if she’ll stalk us? But from the looks of my beloved I think I really have no choice. “Yes, please,” I say, defeated, and Aya smiles softly, a small tug at the corner of his lips, that shows his satisfaction.
Oh well…. If she ends up stalking me, I’m blaming it on Aya and demanding payback…. Which reminds me, he hasn’t paid me back for the last time I covered his shift when he felt overwhelmed by fangirls in the summer…. Need to get that back.
And I think the porno shop isn’t that far from here…. I do need to update the DVD collection I have, and that orgy one I saw yesterday in a magazine just looks too delicious to be ignored. Yes, I subscribe to porno magazines, especially the BDSM ones; you have a problem with that?
He doesn’t. He reads it with me. Blushing as if he could have a stroke any minute because of all the blood going to his brain, but he reads them. And that leads to very delicious sex afterwards.
The mailman looks at us funny though, not that I care.
Wonder if Aya would say okay to the whip I’ve been eyeing for a while…?
I seriously need to drag him to a love motel… Fast.
—To Be Continued.
Author’s Mewlings: Wai! Finally! Another chapter! I’m sorry it’s been taking so long… *sniffles* Major chaos erupted in life that really just killed any creativity I have in me. T_T And so, taking the chance, Ayan and SchuSchu went out on happy vacation yet once again, leaving me here in life to try to sort through. *pout* Anyway, things are finally getting back to order, and I managed to track down those two and roped them back. Yayness.
This chapter didn’t go as far as I had wanted, and it’s actually shorter by at least six hundred words when I counted it. Oh well. ^^;;;; I was hoping this chappie would already have some major events but, alas, they decided to be sappy before that so I couldn’t. ^^;;; So yeah, next chapter will be much longer, I think…. *crosses fingers* But as default, I don’t think I will update at all in November. The quickest I can update is in mid-December, but even that may be a bit of a stretch. *sweat drops* I do have a valid reason though! I am participating in NaNoWriMo this year~! It’ll be hectic, and I really doubt I will have enough time to write anything on this. I will try if my mind permits, but at this point I’m pushing this fic out and then completely shuts WK down and focu on my NaNo fic, which is an original fiction…. And in December I’m leaving the country from the 16th and not coming back until the 31st of December, couple hours before we start counting down. *lol* I’m going to bring my USB drive with me and hopefully my Godmother’s computer can use it (hm, maybe I should find out) and I can have some computer time to write. I can find internet in Taiwan, sure, so I’ll try to write in Taiwan as well. *nod nod*
For those of you interested, I will be posting my writing progress on Live Journal, user name pika_scribbles, that include where I will be posting the NaNo work in case you guys want to read. ^_^ Go ahead and post comments too. >w< I’d love to get comments there. *nod nod* It’ll be easier, I hope, to keep track of what I’m doing lately. ^_^
Special thanks to all those that asked about the progress of this ficcie and why it’s taking so long to update. Me love you all. *heart* Also, the Marshmellow hurts God credit goes to Raeven Wynter (Moira-chan >w<). She instilled the idea in my head, so it’s her fault. *lol*