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 likes to torture these characters.
I stand in the back of the makeshift reception hall, gazing at the almost exaggerated, overly-extravagant traditional Japanese funeral ceremony in front of me. Really, with this setting, one would think that some powerful political idiot had died instead of a show. The hall is decorated with white sashes draping off from the beams of the ceiling, large flower displays of chrysanthemums lined side by side, covering three walls and out the reception hall, and at the end of the reception hall was a large casket, opened for viewing.
And my beloved sleeps in there, soundly like the dead. White roses, trimmed of thorns, make his bed as he wears a white robe, making his blood-red hair stand out even more so. Only those not affected by my powers, namely the Schwartz that scattered around helping the ‘funeral’, could see his slow, steady breathing.
And I curse Crawford once more, vehemently in my mind.
The scene unnerves me greatly. What should be a punishment for Weiss — showing them that their stupidity and sick sense of ‘justice’ and ‘vengeance’ has led to their ex-teammate’s death, was decorated too close to the real deal that it makes me shiver and pale without any acting neccesary. The casket reminds me how close I came to losing my love, and it burns me greatly. The dread that is associated with the crying, the sobbing, and the whispered comment of how good people die young around the small hall only make me even more upset and
jumpy. No, this is not only a punishment for Weiss. This was also a torture for me. Why did I agree to this?
Oh, right, because despite what public perception of me is, I’m still an idiot.
::You all right, Schu?:: a soft voice that tries his best not to sound overtly concerned asks, and I glance over at Nagi, who is thanking yet another visitor for coming to the funeral without looking up at me. ::Stop sending depressing thoughts all over the world. We do have a job to do without you trying to fuck it up.::
::Gee, I’m touched, Nagi-chan,:: I retort, and sigh mentally before I try to avert my anxiousness by taking a peek at Aya’s dream, when the service is rudely disturbed by someone running into the hall and pushing others in front of him away. A crazed Balinese runs in, and the room becomes dead silent as he nearly stomps on the soft tatami-covered floor towards the casket. Blocking in front of Aya in a protective gesture, I suddenly feel as if my suffering of seeing Aya lying in that goddamned box was all worth the look on Youji’s face. His pupils are dilated, he has whiskers all over his face, and his hair and clothes are messy, to put it mildly. One can easily mistake him as some homeless person with mental problems, and that would be a very accurate description of him. His eyes are fixed on the sleeping redhead, and one poke at his thoughts and I retreat almost immediately.
Farfarello has met his match, I’d say.
“Not one step further,” I say softly, almost a whisper, when Youji got too close and bumped into me. The pressure to his stomach clearly informs him of the barrel that threatens his life, and he finally looks into my eyes as his reddened, blood-shot eyes enlarged even further. Hands on my collars, he grips me with frightening strength as he screams, his voice hoarse and deep and mad.
“How did he die, Mastermind?! HOW?!”
“You killed him,” I say coolly, my glare equally murderous.
“Don’t care for the truth, Balinese?” I smirk coldly, mildly alarmed yet amused that my feet aren’t touching the floor.
A force yanks him off of me, so sudden that I almost don’t catch my footing, as a folder slaps Youji hard enough to leave a reddened imprint when Nagi looks absolutely disdainful at Youji as he shoves the man away with his hand for show,”See for yourself, Balinese. You killed him.”
Glaring at the boy who acts so protective in front of me, the blonde opens the file hesitantly as he reads the altered medical report that pretty much shows everything the doctor diagnosed about Aya except for the end, which shows him to be dead rather than alive, as I look up at the entrance where a very shocked Ken and a frighteningly-cold Bombay watch the display quietly. Omi walks forward to Youji slowly and takes the report from slackened hands, and reads it carefully for any mistake or forgery. Unfortunately, the report is only too
authentic, since the best lies are part-truth, and we have imparted many truths in that fake report.
Closing the folder with deliberate calm, Omi looks up to me with a very deadly glare, one that even I want to flinch from, “This is a fake.”
“Believe what you want,” Nagi says coldly before I can speak, “but your selfishness and self-absorbance and your twisted sense of justice killed your own beloved Aya.”
“We did what was best for him.”
“Road to Hell was paved with good intentions.”
Omi crumbles the folder in his hand, his words drip of poison. “No, you were the one that killed him. Had he not been with you, Schwartz, he would’ve been alive.”
I scoff, amazed at Bombay’s logic. And this is supposed to be the one that carries out justice for the weak? That others are always wrong if they disagree with his self-righteousness? And here Aya frowns everytime I mock the justice he so dearly upheld in the past. If this is justice, then we must be angels. At least we are not afraid of the truth. “Really? You mean living like a corpse with no hope in life except that he might be accidentally killed in a mission? Some nice life you provided him, Weiss. Stop pretending that you are the only hope for him, and maybe you will see the truth for once, Omi, that he was in pain when he stayed with you. Now, because of your foolish belief, he ended up dead. Are you happy now?”
The young Takatori glares at me viciously as he spits, “We were his only family! We only did what was best for him.”
“For him, or for yourselves?” Crawford asks coldly as he walks in with Farfarello, and I realize with a mild surprise that everyone has been cleared out of the reception hall and sent home. The man has somehow convinced them it will be better for them to leave as these strangers that popped in are past friends of Aya’s who have betrayed him and stuff. Such good storyteller, that Crawford is. “Are you so jealous and blind that you cannot accept the fact that Aya had found happiness outside of your little ‘family’?”
Omi looks about to say something else, but Youji beats him to it as he roars like a wild beast, and takes a swing at Crawford, who, living up to his code name, merely steps aside and lets the brunette fall to the ground gracelessly. The enraged Weiss jumps up from the ground, and rushes forward as he swings out his piano wire, wrapping it around Crawford’s neck tightly before Nagi easily cuts the tough steel strings off.
::Somebody forgot to tell us about this…:: Farfarello sing-songs in our minds, ::Can I kill them?:: he asks, his voice filled with glee. I cannot help but concur with his desire, which in and of itself is scary already.
::No, it will be more fun to watch them suffer in life,:: Crawford smirks mentally as he watches Nagi proceed to toss both Youji and Omi out of the reception hall effortlessly, the boy making sure the two Weiss land on top of each other painfully on the gravel, perhaps with a bone or two broken for spite. Ken, who has been standing near the entrance the entire time, frowns disapprovingly at us before rushing to his teammates, calming them down and somehow convincing them to leave.
::You didn’t have to do that,:: Hidaka projects his thought to me, a little bit too loud for my liking, but I can tolerate him. ::They are just upset….::
::And we’re not?:: I ask coldly, sending a wave of pain, hatred, and sadness towards him, which Hidaka probably physically hissed at as well as mentally. He makes a quick promise of trying to keep the Weiss kitties away, before shutting down his mind, trying to sever the mental connection. I let him go without giving him further grief, since he had tried to be helpful and is the least harmful of them all.
Now that we are left to our lonesome, I sigh, exhaustion suddenly overwhelms me as I sit down on the tatami floor next to the casket, letting the others do the finishing work while I recuperate from the mental outburst. It isn’t common for me to be so absorbed in strong emotions. Amusement, maybe; resentment, definitely. Love, only after I met Aya and got to know him, and the affection blossomed from a trickling stream into tidal waves only the past year. Even though I have been in love with him for the past three, four years, that love wasn’t as passionate and breath-taking as the moments I spend with him in our little world. It was almost suffocating, the love for him, with each thought a painful sweetness, and I am addicted to it.
And fuck anybody that tries to take that away from me.
A hand lays on my shoulder firmly, and I look up at Crawford when I notice that the van is ready outside and we are ready for transport. Standing up with the older man’s aid embarrassingly, I shake my legs slightly to work out the kinks and cast one last look at my sleeping lover before closing the casket with a painful thud, and walk out the back with Crawford as Nagi carries the white wooden bed with his powers as if it’s nothing. We make a believable gesture in loading the casket onto the back of the black van before getting into the car, and Crawford takes his seat behind the wheels as we drive out of the town that Aya and I have called home for the past year. We will miss them, surely, but it’s for the best if we leave. If Weiss is insane enough to use poison, I doubt it would be beneath them to start using those around us to threaten us.
They say it’s easy to taint white with black, but it’s hard to purify black to white. How very true of that.
When I open my eyes and feel awake enough to keep them open, I nearly have a panic attack from the completely different surroundings than what I last viewed in the world. I vaguely remember being in and out of feverish and chaotic sleep for a while, yet I wasn’t that worried as I felt Schuldich’s presence close by, and if I ever had doubt, his large hand would wipe away the sweat and feed me some water before sleep once again took hold of me. If it wasn’t for the familiar feel of calmness inside my mind to stablise me, I think I would’ve
leapt out of the bed and taken a hostile look at my surroundings. As such, I sit up slowly, looking around the expansive bedroom curiously while marveling that whomever decorated the room had elegant and expensive taste. The room is probably at least three times larger than my little apartment, furnished with eccentric, modern minimalist taste, with chrome and glass and smooth, silver lines throughout. It has several large windows and a French glass door opens up to the balcony I can barely see behind the curtains. The linen, upholsteries, and even the bedding all scream money at me, and while it is not as bad as many of the dark beasts we have slain in terms of taste, the elegance is enough to make someone like me slightly dizzy as a mental calculator starts to punch in numbers in a horrifying thought.
A chuckle drives my mind out of the swirling numbers, and I turn in time to see Schuldich walk in with a tray of steaming food in one hand and balancing a pitcher of cold water in another. Smiling at his awkward position in setting everything down, I look up at him when he sits down on the chair next to the bed and take the glass of water he hands me with a mute thanks. Checking my mental health first while I sip the water, he moves onto the basic physical check-up when he is satisfied that I am adjusting fine with the medicine kicking in successfully. While I am not particularly happy about taking a cocktail of drugs three times a day, and the constant fog clouding my senses is still a bit difficult for me to get used to, I am simply happy at being alive for the first time since my parents’ deaths. And when he gets up to fetch the food he just brought in, I think I can tolerate this discomfort if it means I am to spend another living moment with him.
The porridge and soup gone, I wrestle the napkin from his hold to wipe the corner of my lips while waiting patiently for him to explain our current situation. Much to my chagrin, he takes his sweet time in getting the small dessert before clearing his throat overdramatically. “Well, we’re in the U.S. of A. now.”
I glare at him for stating the obvious, and bite his feeding finger lightly to hurry him up. Grinning, he picks up another whipped-cream covered strawberry.”We’re on the mountains, in a gated neighborhood. Brad installed several security cameras around that no one knows about. Nagi worked his magic with the computers and so this place is safer than a citadel. Then we have the Irish dog guarding the door— We’re good.” I chuckle at the sudden image he pops into my mind of a large bulldog with Farfarello’s head, barking loudly. “And Aya-chan is down the hall, the other room on this floor with a view to the ocean and large, open windows. You can see her later when you’re feeling better.” Pausing, he smiles proudly at me, “And the medical team Brad put together guarantees a ninety-percent recovery rate for her. They say that her waking up is just a matter of time.”
My eyes widen at the thought of my sister waking up, opening those large, deep blue eyes of hers and smiling at me. It was overwhelming. My vision blurs when the questions of ‘How do I answer her when she asks about mom and dad?’ and ‘What do I explain to her about what happened in the past six years?’ plague my mind immediately, and it isn’t until a large, warm hand cups my cheek and wipes away the moisture on my face that I snap back to reality, looking up into the eyes that I have learned to trust this past year.
“You’re not alone, Love,” he whispers as he leans in for a lingering kiss, “and she’ll understand. She loves you too much not to.”
And they wonder why I love him so.
It took about a year before everything was settled. I realized the first day I stepped out of the house how little and useless my language skills that I picked up in our little apartment were and how much more I needed to learn. It was exciting, not to mention frightening, to walk into a restaurant and not understand almost all of the items and descriptions on the menu. Schuldich had to explain everything to me and order for me. For a good three months I felt like I was illiterate in this country, and I was, but slowly I was able to grasp the language, and it becomes easier as time goes on. Schuldich is a great teacher, surprisingly. Perhaps because he had so many experiences of cramming a language to fluency in under a month, that he knows the best way to teach someone quickly and efficiently. Depending on my health, which isn’t as good as in the past, we either go for a walk and Schuldich has me practice speaking with people we meet, or we stay home and watch the television and he has me translate what is going on while we watch. It’s interesting to see the controlled patience of the waiters when we are ordering, because it takes me four times longer than normal people to understand the menu and to place the order.
I can’t say I have completely forgiven what Omi and Youji tried to do, I just try not to think about it. But everyday, on the dot, when Schuldich comes to me with a large glass of lukewarm water and a handful of pills, I cannot help but feel a bit of anger and hatred towards my ex-teammates. Farfarello has laughed at me more than once about how I am now taking more pills than he is, and therefore must be more insane than him. It’s annoying, so I keep telling myself that seeing Schuldich grab his gun to shoot at Farfarello is enough compensation. The insane Irish is still fixated on Aya-chan, something that I find it horrific that I am used to. With Nagi’s research, Schuldich got the best Neurologist to actually make house calls weekly, and Dr. Sander said that even though her treatment was delayed, Aya-chan is looking at a full recovery. She will need physical therapy for at least six months before she can walk without the need of support, and Schuldich and I have been talking about converting one of the guest rooms into a physical therapy room for her.
He spoils me too much, and I can’t find it in me to complain. The happiness and contentment that I once thought was impossible was given to me freely by him, and I have done nothing to deserve it. After mother and father’s death, and Aya-chan…. I’ve only pictured myself exacting my revenge on Takatori, the stretch of my imagination only reaches to the various ways of killing and torturing Takatori… to make him feel the pain I feel. I know I’m not the only person whose life Takatori ruined, but I felt… lost, after he was dead. I didn’t know what to do, how to feel, when my then-life long dream was accomplished. It’s like playing one of those role-playing video games… After the final boss, the beautiful ending, and the screen turns black with the words ‘The End’ on it. Nothing more can be offered, and nothing more was expected.
Then I realized, nothing, is a terrifying thing.
Then he forced his way into my life, gave me no choice but to accept his love, and the bastard fucking made me love him back. The way he smiles, his lips curve upwards at the right angle, his eyes that usually look at the world with cynicism brighten with pure delight. How I had hated the fact that he was taller and broader-built than me in the past, but now I cannot think of anything more perfect than being in his arms and falling asleep with him being my protector. Suddenly, death became the most horrifying thing instead of nothingness, simply because I didn’t want to leave him. Not now. Not yet.
I will kill anyone who dares come between us. Weiss, Schwartz, anyone…. If they dare to even suggest Schuldich be away from me for more than a couple hours at the most….
No, that’s not right…. Crawford, Nagi, and I believe part of Farfarello, would never do that…. If anything, they care for Schuldich, otherwise they wouldn’t accept me as a part of their family, right? Wait… Can I even be so presumptuous as to think that way? Maybe they are just pretending, and when Schuldich finds someone better than me, they will be more than happy to get rid of me…. And why wouldn’t they? There are so many people that deserve Schuldich, he was probably out of his mind when he chose me. But… I don’t want to leave him, even when he finds someone better than me. What can I do? I—
::Aya,:: I jolt when his voice interrupts my dark thoughts suddenly, and I look up to find him standing by the French door to the garden. He had deposited me on the reclining bench by the water fountain earlier, after I begged and made him take me in the kitchen. I couldn’t help myself, a side effect of the drug that I’m taking, and Schuldich is doing his best to control my occassional sudden rage or depression while satisfying my unending lust. Not that he minds the last part, I think. ::You awake?::
“Was I asleep?” I ask tiredly, shifting under the thin blanket that covers my nudity. Extending a hand, I take the glass of water and the pills from him and swallow with practiced buck of my head. Dark thoughts evaporated, I nuzzle the hand that soothes and plays with my hair lovingly.
“For an hour,” he says softly, his fingers lacing with the long strands and brushing out the tangles without pulling or hurting me. Perching on the arm rest of the chair, he pulls me into a half-embrace and I can feel his powers wiping away the lingering bitter taste of depression.
Resting my head on his thigh, I sigh, “You must be tired of taking care of me.”
He chuckles, “Not really. I’m enjoying the perks.”
He hums, reaching into his pocket to get a ribbon and some hairpins before starting to braid and wrap my hair into some kind of shape and attach it to my head, making me shiver as cool air touches bared skin. “The privilege of seeing you come to me with ‘a problem’? Be the one trusted by you enough to let me see your vulnerability… Not to mention fucking you wild with no abandon? I’m having a blast.”
I glare up at him, knowing he is pretending but can’t find any argument to diffuse his ridiculous claim. We stay like that for some time, waiting for the drugs to kick in so I can have some energy and enjoy the afternoon sun in our private sanctuary. Though Schuldich blocks off the nausea and mental fog that psychotic drugs often give me, whenever the drug wears off I start to have fluctuating moods. Sometimes I may even see things that shouldn’t be there. My parents showing up suddenly in the living room, screaming at me for not protecting Aya-chan like I’m supposed to was the most vivid one a couple months ago. Schuldich had to put me to sleep with his powers because I was screaming and crying uncontrollably. But they looked so real, and their condescending voices nearly broke me. I was later told I had knelt in the middle of the room, hitting my head on the carpeted floor repeatedly.
Even Farfarello was shocked. I should consider that my life achievement.
Suddenly, the lust hits me again, the urge so strong it envelops me, almost suffocating. I know Schuldich feels it too, his arm tightens while fingers stop their stroking and travel downwards. He’s permanently in my head now, helping me cope with the mania and side effects of the pills and monitor my progress for Nagi to keep track. It’s only natural for him to feel my needs the moment I have them.
Stretching to meet his touch, I pout and inevitably whine softly when he eludes the most sensitive part of my body, only trailing circles and outlining my chest teasingly. I look up at him with annoyance. He smirks, the evil kind that says he knows what I want him to do, but he won’t do it until I meet his terms willingly. Bastard.
“What do you need, Love?” he asks oh-so-innocently, his finger tracing closer to my right nipple, but not touching it, making my body shiver in anticipation and need.
I growl, lacking the intensity I desire because of the damn need I feel. “You know what.”
“Yes, but I want to hear it from your lips.”
I struggle against him, finding it a disappointing fact that I can no longer just throw him onto the ground and demand my way, but rather must succumb to his greater strength. It has its advantage sometimes, but at times like this I just want to strangle him. He grins, and flips from where he sits to trap me in between the chair and him, his knee just close to my shaft. “Come on, indulge me, Lover. Say it.”
Glaring up at him, who returns with an undaunted, teasing wink, I give in after knowing he isn’t likely to back down, and sigh as I look at his chest. Feeling the insufferable heat on my cheeks, I whisper softly, hoping he can’t hear it except from the mental connection we share. “… Just fuck me already.”
“As you wish, my Love.” With that, he attacks the sensitive joining between my neck and shoulder. Fingers finally take a nub on my chest in between fingers, providing a temporary relief. The other hand slides downwards, brushing off the blanket to grab hold of my forming erection none-too-gently. I whimper
when he twists my nipple and tugs hard on my shaft, which earns me another chuckle before he kisses me deeply. Moaning into the kiss, I didn’t realize until too late when the cuffs clicked and I couldn’t move my hands anymore. I glare up at his grinning face, but otherwise don’t make a move as he gracefully gets off of me and reaches to the back to cuff the other end of the three-way cuff to the chair, stretching and arching me completely. Strolling back forward, his hands behind his back, he examines me as if a great piece of sculpture.
Licking his lips like a cat, he murmurs a quick “itadakimasu”* before spreading my legs wide to rest on the arm rests. Sitting on the lounge himself, he positions my hips for easy access, like a meal presented to him, and nuzzles my healthy erection with his face. Mewling despite myself, I watch him as if in a trance while he licks my reddened tip like a cat, savoring each lick and enjoying my shudders. Looking up at me, he smiles before taking my entire length into his mouth. I try to move my hand to my mouth instinctively to cover my hitched cry, only to be rewarded with a sharp pain to my wrist. He chuckles lowly before using his teeth to caress and tease the vein on my cock, making me jolt and push deeper into his welcoming mouth. Damn German… why can’t he just fuck me instead of forcing me to lose control?
Large hands cup my buttocks. He soon sets a rhythm, moving my body up and down and in and outof his skillful mouth, pushing me closer to the orgasm that is just inches away from reach. And at the point of reaching that height, he stops and releases me, making me whine and glare exhaustedly at him. Standing up from the lounge, he pulls my body so I stretch long before him, my legs shamelessly still wide open and my opening clearly presented to him. With a soft whisper of “I love you,” he pushes his length into me. Still lubed from earlier, he fills me completely, making me sigh out in content. Kissing away the dew on my forehead, he doesn’t move until I kick him as best as I can from this position. He laughs softly before starting a comfortable rhythm, forcing me to let go of all inhibitions and control and submit completely to him. I think he enjoys that fact a little bit too much.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I gasp and moan to his thrusts, feeling him with every cell of my being. It feels right, for some insane reason, to be joined like this, where he buries deep inside me, sharing his passion and warmth with me. Each thrust tells me just how thankful he is that I am still here with him, and each sound I make echoes my need and love for him, something I still have trouble telling him verbally. Occasionally he teases me by pulling out and rubbing the tip against my entrance, a test of will between us, and only when I whimper in need does he push back in to satisfy me. Of course, he is so going to pay for that later.
Eventually, his pace quickens, and I get lost in the sensation he builds in my body. The heat becomes unbearable, the pleasure too much, and soon, blinding light fills my vision as I cry out his name, the bite of the metal cuffs on my wrists only pushes me over the edge and into a blissful darkness.
Unlocking the metal cuffs, I smile at the beginnings of the bruises that I find most erotic and should be illegal to be on such fair skin. Some renegade tears escape from his closed eyes, and I can’t help but feel a wave of possessiveness when I recall his beautiful eyes of amethyst glistening and shining with lust and pleasure. Only I can do that.
Mine. All mine.
“Had a good show?” I ask while rubbing the mark with my thumb, kissing his wrist and sucking on the flesh, feeling the pulse underneath. Healthy and alive.
“Not too bad. Not rough enough,” Farfarello comments while sipping his juice, leaning against the opened French door leading to the kitchen. I wonder mildly whether Aya had sensed him looking at us from almost the beginning. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised if he did and kept on going…. He did pull me into a dark alley last time we were out taking a walk and demanded to have my cock shoved into him. Those are such sweet memories.
I laugh. “Shut up and go get me the thicker blanket in the living room.” Grabbing the thin quilt that covered Aya earlier, I toss it at Farfarello before walking into the kitchen to moisten a cloth. He follows behind me after taking an appreciative glance at the naked, sprawled out redhead. I don’t mind as long as he only watches. Besides, he’s more into girls and currently only interested in soiling the angel upstairs when she wakes up. I wonder how Aya-chan will react when he pounces her?
“I don’t work for you,” he complains half-heartedly, dropping the blanket on the back of one of the dining room chairs before walking to the front section of the mansion. This place is too big for the three of us, not counting the sleeping beauty, but it’s comfortable and spacious. Not to mention completely safe. Nagi sure went overboard when he designed the security system for this place. Not only is it theft and natural disaster proof, but it detects all living things within fifty-meters, identifies all suspicious people and records them into the database. If the same figure, based on some kind of parameter that Nagi set, appears more than once, we will get alerted and are able to take ‘proper action’ when needed.
It’s only happened once and the thief was never seen again. I just hope Farfarello didn’t bury him in our back yard.
Finished cleaning Aya up, I take the blanket from Farfarello and wrap my beauty carefully. Ignoring the mocking snicker from behind me, I carry Aya and let him take a rest on the day bed in the sun room. He has gotten pale over the past several weeks, the new medicines making him weak and tired almost all the time. Hopefully with some sun he can be healthier, as much as possible, and more energetic.
Tucking Aya so he won’t catch cold, I straighten and turn to the smirking Irish, who hands me a stack of mail. I frown at the package on top, and open it quickly. Upon seeing the contents inside, I hiss and glare up at the laughing Farfarello. Throwing the packet of Viagra samples in his face, I wish I could have Nagi’s power so I can slam the shit harder. Even if he doesn’t feel pain, the sound would give me a satisfactory thrill after the joke he tried to pull.
“I heard on the news the other day that too much sex will render a guy impotent,” he says with amusement while tossing the packet onto the desk.
I scoff, sorting the mail to put advertisements apart from bills and other important things. “You don’t watch news!”
“So I pretend,” he shrugs. “By the way, Crawford called while you two were fucking like rabbits in heat.”
“I heard. You didn’t have to use the phone on the kitchen counter, you bastard.”
“The view’s better there.”
I slap him mentally, hard, from which he winces slightly. Even though it has been at least three years since Farfarello started to take his medications regularly, I’m still having trouble getting used to this calmer, saner side of him. I suppose his obsession over Aya-chan is also a reason he hasn’t left us to have his ‘fun’ among the lesser populated states the past several months. Usually, Farfarello would wait until Crawford and Nagi came to visit us, then sneak away to do his killing. I imagine he will make one of those trips soon, his agitation at being domestic and docile easily felt and definitely disturbing. Aya doesn’t need any more aggravations around him. Leaning over the marble counter, he plays with the knives from the knife block and occasionally cuts himself in boredom. I slap him again, “Go play elsewhere. Don’t dirty the mail.”
“There’s no important mail.”
“Bills are important,” I say without conviction, then wave an envelope in front of his face, “and so is an admission letter.”
“Hm, Crawford says to tell Aya ‘Congratulations’,” he says off-handedly, licking one particularly deep wound and sucking the blood happily. His mind shifts towards Aya, wondering mildly how good he tastes, before I hiss and slap him again, reminding him just whom the kitten belongs to. Grinning, he licks the knife he cuts himself with before speaking again. “He says that Weiss broke up. Ken’s dead,” he makes a quote-unquote gesture in the air, at which I smirk, and continues, “Omi’s gone to be the next Persia, and Youji’s disappeared.”
I arch an eyebrow at the last bit, pondering to myself how wrong that had sounded. The bastard is probably in hiding with Kritiker’s help, no doubt. But if Crawford bothered to mention this, that means Nagi hasn’t been able to find the brunette yet. While it seems ridiculous that we are paying attention to a group of make-believe assassins, that only because Japan has such a low crime rate and their bodyguards are a joke can Weiss accomplish anything at all, Crawford and I made the decision to keep each of those kittens in check so they won’t pull a stunt like they did to Aya again. Crawford is also upset at how he never foresaw the drugging attempt. Nobody gets past the Oracle, so he claims.
“When are the two lovebirds coming?” I ask, reading the admission letter mumbo-jumbo with obvious boredom, quite proud of my kitten getting in without the need of taking remedial courses for his English. I had taught him well.
Farfarello shrugs again, adding a couple drops of his blood into the orange juice he is drinking, making me blanch from the idea of how horrid that crap will taste. “Didn’t say. Sometime next month. I think he finally begged Nagi to take a break from the research.”
I chuckle. Crawford should be worshipping Aya. Nagi has been my kitten’s physician for a while, even though Aya also sees the Neurologist that his sister is using just to make sure, but the little boy has been treating him for the past year. That means they are taking more vacations to fly here to check up on Aya, which Crawford certainly has no objections to spending ‘quality time’ with his lover. It’s hilarious to see Crawford leading a life of abstinence when not here with us, since his lover practically lives in his laboratory six days a week. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
— To Be Continued
Author’s Mewlings: I am in awe at how long it has been since I last wrote a chapter to this fic. A YEAR and a half?! Somehow I was stuck with the biggest writer’s block one can possibly imagine, and these kids just refuse to work with me. T_T 2006 has been the most unproductive year ever, and I am grateful to all of you who wrote to me and commented on my writing LJ inquiring about this fic. I thank you wholeheartedly. *hearts*
There should be, probably, at least two more chapters with a short epilogue before this demon will end. I have another Weiss fic planned, and I’m becoming more active in terms of writing nowadays. I started joining fic-challenges and whatnots since December 06, and wrote a FF8 fic and have a short Weiss fic planned for Weiss Day challenge. Please do look forward to my writing LJ at: http://www.livejournal.com/users/pika_scribbles
for updates. ^^ Also, if you wish, please do email me at firstname.lastname@example.org or visit me on my personal LJ at http://www.livejournal.com/users/hieru ^_^
New website alert! I changed my website and my new one is called Illuminatia! The URL is: http://www.illuminatia.net/en. I really like the layout I have right now, but I’m not particularly sure if the table will work for me or my browser. Somehow it’s been a bit funky when I try to use it. >< I’ll try to fix it soon after this fic is posted.
Special Thanks to the wonderful Espaa for beta-ing all my fics and asking about them, and Azuki for being my in-house lemon scene expert. XD Azuki is also the one that helps me overcome writer’s block and does research
with me in regards to the insane drugs in this narcotic-filled fanfiction. ^^;; Love you both!