Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Awake (A Songfic) ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: Awake (Songfic)
Author: Mrs. Shinigami
Archive: None; homeless fic
Pairings: Farfie x Schu
Warnings: Yaoi and a touch of dementia


( The Lord is my shepherd I shalt not want. . .)
One eye moved feverishly beneath it's eyelid. It's blinded companion itched to dance with it's partner. Sweat formed upon the brow and ran slowly from the brow to the hair line.
(ThelordismyshepherdIshaltnotwant. . .)
His body started to shake convulsively. The buckles and chains that restrained his restless form jangled. Hot breath rattled in his lungs.
(Shaltnotwantnotshaltnotwantnotshaltnotwantnot. . .)
Farferello's eye snapped open. The dreams returned. They came every time he seeked the sweet oblivion of sleep. The thoughts that roamed his mind during the day twisted themselves into his nightmares. His feet have fallen asleep. It was time to come down.
"Schuldig. Let me down."
Silence.
"I know ye' heard me ye fuckin' slacker."
The door to the padded room opened. The red head walked in slowly, the ever-present smirk gracing his face. A cigarette burned red in the semi-dark. Farferello heard the intake of the harsh smoke into Schuldig's lungs. Schuldig walked over to where the Irishman was hanging. He kneeled slightly so he could talk face to face.
"So. . .You trussed your self up like a Christmas goose, and now you want to come down." Schuldig rose, exhaling smoke through his nostrils as he did so. With a deft twist of his wrist, he unlocked the padlock at Farferllo's ankles. Farferello fell heavily on his back. He loosened a hand from the chains that surrounded his body.

((Wait another minute -
Can't you see what this pain
has fuckin done to me ))

Farferello loosed himself from the bundle of chain and leather that held him. After he was freed, he remained in a kneeling position on the padded floor.
"So, why are you still hangin' about here?"
Schuldig shrugged his shoulders. He put out his cigarette on the back of his hand. "I'm bored."
Farferello drew a long slender knife out of a inner on his black leather sleeveless coat. The minimal light from the cracked door shone silver along the blade. The light shone light into Farferello's eye. Schuldig noticed the pupil didn't even diliate. "Aye, I'm also bored." With that, he tossed the knife in the air. Over and over it turned end over end in the dark room. Farferello opened his hand and caught it directly in his palm.
Three quarters of the knife embedded itself through his hand. Farferello calmly grasped the knife's handle and pulled it out with a quiet grunt.
Schuldig went pale. "You're fuckin' sick."
Farferello held up his hand. Several crimson rivers ran down his hand, wrist and arm.
(The Lord is my shepherd. . .)
Farferello took the knife and scraped it up his arm. Blood welled on the flat surface. He shook it off.
"Oh no. I'm not sick."
With lightening speed, he got up, rushed across the room. He pinned Schuldig against the wall with his blood stained forearm. The knife was in his other hand. The point poked into the skin under Schuldig's eyelid.
"Don't ye try anything, or you'll be seein' the world as I do."
Schuldig nodded as much as he could.

((I'm alive and still kickin
What you see I can see
and maybe, you'll think before you speak.))

The ochroid eye roamed about Schuldig's face, drinking in all the features. Farferello's voice was less than a whisper.
"Oh. . .Don't ye think about screamin' with that pretty mouth of your's."
The knife's point scratched downward, slowly, leaving a glistening red trail.
"Ah. . .you're so pretty now. Always were, always. So pretty. Always knew how to get into me mind, even when you thought I didn't know."
Schuldig's face darkened. "Let me go."
"Oh not yet. You make me feel so nice inside. The hurtin' stops, ye know?" The knife raised off Schuldig's face. . .

((I'm alive
for you, I'm awake))

. . .and returned to the top of the wound, crossing the original cut with a horizontal slash. . .

(( because of you, I'm alive,
told you - I'm awake))

. . .Schuldig was whimpering now, silently begging. The point came halfway down and crossed the vertical laceration again, this time, not as long.
"There. . .you're now mine." Farferello let go of Schuldig.
Salty tears ran unwanted and uncontrolled down the German's face and into the bleeding "F" on his cheek. "You'll pay for this."
"Oh, I hope so." Farferello walked over to the darker far corner of his padded cell. He knelt down. The only presence of him seen in the blackness was the glitter of his eye. Schuldig turned on his heel. When he got to the door, the dark spoke again.
"I hope ye come back tomorrow. In fact, you are to come to me tomorrow. If you don't, I will follow through and cut your eye out. I don't want to do that. They look so much better in your sockets."
High pitched giggling echoed through the room. Schuldig slowly shut the door, not knowing what to make of anything. A muffled voice called to him through the door startling his jumbled thoughts.
"Sweet dreams."

((swallowing you.))


Part 2

((Take another second
turn your back on me
and make believe that your always happy.
It's safe to say, your never alive))

Schuldig silently walked out of Brad Crawford's bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of the American's boxer shorts. He shut the door behind him and rested his head on it. He rubbed at his temples as he stalked to the bathroom. There was an aura of anger and confusion so thick, it hung about him like a sticking fog. He opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, turning on the light.
The bright 100 watt bulb exposed everything in a sharp relief; the toothpaste flecks on the mirror, the chip in the glass, the large purplish bruise appearing under his right eye.
(Damn it all to hell. I'm through.)
Schuldig tugged on an old button down shirt and a ratty pair of jeans he had hanging behind the door. He stalked out of the bathroom and padded through the house, until he stood outside of Farferello's door. He broke out in a cold sweat. Fingertips of ice trembled as they ran themselves across the scabby "F" on his left cheek. Nervous eyes, darted about in the darkness. Maybe he didn't mean. . .
"You can stop standin' outside my door now."
Schuldig swallowed noisily before opening the creaking door.
The padded room was dark, as always. It seemed empty, but Schuldig knew he was there, oh yes. Schuldig tried to pin point where the Irishman was with his mind, but it was impossible. His presence could be felt, smelled, and tasted. Farferello was an omnipresence in his own little padded world. Schuldig closed the door behind him.
"So. . .what's on yer mind tonight? I see the bossman damaged yer pretty face?" The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"I don't have anything on my mind at all. Where are you Farferello?"
As the redhead spoke the last syllable of the last word in his inquiry, He felt a pair of hands caress his shoulders from behind. The hands then whirled his around to face the lunatic.

((A big part of you has died
and by the way I hope your satisfied. ))

"You know you shouldn't have gone to him before coming to me, my dear." And quick as a cat, Farferello backhanded Schuldig across the face.
Schuldig tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. Before he could get up, he felt the weight of two knees pinning him to the cushiony floor, and the cold steel of a knife against his throat.
"Ach, don't ye worry yer pretty lil' head about anythin'.", Farferello rasped. "I'll take care of ye. You'll see."
He bent over and licked the blood from the corner of Schuldig's mouth. The cut on his mouth began to burn as Farferello's rough tongue passed over it.

((I'm alive
for you, I'm awake
because of you, I'm alive,
told you - I'm awake))

"Stop, you fuckin' psycho before-" Schuldig's words were cut short as Farferello forced his tongue in his mouth. Farferello found his tongue and started to suck on it. The red head's eyes suddenly widened in pain.

(His pins. . .Did'nt remove. . .)

((swallowing you.))

Schuldig was afraid. More afraid than he ever was in his life. He tried over and over again to find a way into the Irishman's mind, a way to disable him, but he found himself up against walls stronger then he's ever seen. He tried to raise himself, but Farferello settled his knees on his shoulders and threw the knife against his throat into a corner, only to pin Schuldig's wrists to the floor in an iron grip.

Warm surprisingly soft kisses began to trail their way from Schuldig's mouth down to his ear. He could hear/feel hot breath in his ear.

"Ye, see, I'm not psycho, my pretty. . ."

One hand went down to Schuldig's shirt and ripped it off. Schuldig could hear the sounds of button rolling away into the dark corners of the Irishman's cell. The hand returned to pin his wrist.

"I just have a true appreciation for beauty. I know how 'e's hurt ye. . .I would never hurt you. . ."

Schuldig relaxed a moment.

"I just want to make ye ever more pretty than you are. . .I can help ye. . .Only if ye trust me."

Green eyes flew open and breath sucked in to scream.

The whispered voice became an angry hiss. "Scream and I'll cut out that pretty pink tongue of yers. You don't want that, do ye?"

Two tears of anger coursed their way down Schuldig's face. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. There was no coersion, so dealing. . .He was helpless. And he didn't know what to do.


Farferello felt something wet on his cheek. He brought his head up and looked the German in the face. he head cocked to one side, as if thinking, then he smiled.

"Yer so pretty when you cry. . .I know you've been wantin' to look in me head. Go ahead, my pretty, but only for a second."

Schuldig's face bore a look of concentration, and then went slack from shock. The Irishman wasn't as mentally inept as he thought. He had been building his mental resistance and walls all this time. . .He was almost as good as he was. . .

"You. . .you were planning this. . .all along."

Farferello slapped Schuldig again. He head went reeling.

"I didn't say ye could talk. But, yeah. Ye make make me feel interestin' inside." Farferello opened his jacket exposing his heavily bandaged torso.

"I tried scratchin' ye outta me. But ye're always there. . "

He scratched his nails down Schuldig's bare heaving chest, leaving red gouges in his flesh.

"Ye make me feel funny inside. And I want ye to feel that way about me too. . ."

((Tearin it back unveiling me
I'm takin a step back so I can breathe
Hear the silence about to break
Fear resistance when I'm awake))

Farferello threw his leather jacket into a corner and got off of Schuldig's shoulders. He laid himself between the German's legs and started to nip the skin around Schuldig's bellybutton with his teeth, leaving little purple-red bruises in his wake. Schuldig remained unresponsive, if he felt anything, he was giving no indication. He was trying to salvage what was left of his mind, and he was failing miserably.

Farferello then ripped off his jeans with a growing hunger and impatience. As he slid the now tattered jeans off Schuldig's lower half, his breath grew short and rapid. He slowly slid off his own pants and laid back against the German's now quivering body. He almost tenderly kissed Schuldig's lips while one hand stroked his thigh.

"Are ye cold, my sweet?"

Schuldig nodded, his eyes still staring at nothing.

"Well, I'm gonna warm ye up my darlin'."

And with that, Farferello sat part way up, housted Schuldig's legs up around his waist, and thrust into him.

((I'm alive
for you, I'm awake))

Schuldig's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes still glassy. Farferello continued slow at first and quickly sped up. Sweat stood out shiny in the darkened cool room. Schuldig started to moan deep in his throat. . .

"Oh my darlin'. . .My pretty one. . ."

He leaned over Schuldig's prone body and bit hard on his shoulder. Blood ran onto the padded floor. Farferello licked his lips and he felt himself nearing the edge. . .

"I. . .I. . ."


((because of you, I'm alive,
told you - I'm awake.))

Farferello cried out hoarsely and his hips bucked savagely against Schuldig's as he finally came. He bent back over Schuldig, his hot breath surrounding the German. He looked deep inot Schuldig's eyes and into the mind he had shattered.

"Now yer mine, inside and out, my pretty."

((swallowing you))

Schuldig nodded.

Farferello stroked the scab incrusted "F" on his new lover's face as he brought his head to his chest. "Sleep now."

Schuldig's eyes fluttered and closed restlessly.

(The only thing I can do now is pray he let me go. . . )

His lips moved feverishly against the Irishman's pale, sweaty skin.

(The Lord is my Shepard. . .)