Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Der Widerspruch ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz.

 

AN: I have NOT stopped writing! Muahah. Finishing this chapter was like pulling teeth. Ending is cheese, and for that I apologize.

 

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Chapter 3

 

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November 3rd, 7:00 P.M

 

Nagi sighed, closed his book, and resigned himself to watching cake-cut slices of moonlight tickle the surface of the lake.

 

It was late. The paper lanterns in the main area provided little light to where he was sitting, and he was probably well on his way to ruining his eyes.

 

He hated it here.

 

Long past the point of regretting not bringing his laptop he leaned back against the tree and folded his arms, hoping to provide a buffer between his body and the chilly autumn air.

 

It was November 3rd--bunkano-hi, a national holiday. His school sponsored a fieldtrip for the students to Hakone, so that in addition to getting a break from school they might take part in the festival and see the city's annual Federal Lord's Parade. Nagi was in favor of skipping the ordeal altogether until the ever sensible Crawford advised it unwise to do so, especially since he was required to put together a cultural presentation worth a significant portion of his grade.

 

He had given the presentation in the morning, hours ago. It was long over and now he sat and suffered, bored to tears.

 

Laughter and chatter drifted down to where he was situated, a vestige of the joy and ebullience the festival brought to the people just over the hill. He would have rolled his eyes, had it not been such a useless waste of energy.

 

In his growing tedium, the brunette's thoughts dawdled over the Weiss boy.

 

The blond had come to his school the other day to return that stupid notebook. An act which simultaneously broke the monotony of school life and defied all logic. If one thought about it scientifically and reasonably (which Nagi tended to do with all aspects of life, be they personal or study-related), there was no personal gain in walking several miles to return someone's book--much less a declared opponent's. In fact, the gain seemed to be in simply tossing it and forgetting; the Weiss boy would have gotten to eat his lunch, socialize with his friends, and avoid a long walk on a nippy day.

 

But then again, Nagi mused, all of Weiss seemed to enjoy breaking the laws of logic. They consistently acted in such ways that had absolutely no benefit to their own existence, putting strangers' lives before their own, committing random acts of heroism that promoted the well-being of the public and eliminated threats to society's prosperity.

 

It was all quite silly, Nagi thought. Why bother helping a race that didn't appreciate it, didn't want it, and just didn't care? And who would later go on making the same mistakes over and over again, like a child who can't learn?

 

How tedious.

 

Nevertheless, Nagi found the blue-eyed boy somewhat interesting smudge in his monotonous life, able to seize his attention and stir his curiosity--giving him the same feeling as hacking into protected government files or interpreting Giger's cyber-morbid paintings did.

 

And it did not escape Nagi's attention that as of late a greater force has been trying to push the two of them together, wanting them to interact and develop some sort of relationship through the suspicious coincidences that kept being thrown their way (something that was unlikely to happen, as the boys' personalities and jobs repelled each other like two protons).

 

And lo and behold, in yet another strange meeting of circumstance, it seemed that the boy's school had also participated in this trip. In all honesty, Nagi was not surprised. He had caught sight of the blond earlier laughing with his friends on a fountain ledge, stuffing his mouth with spoonfuls of artery-clogging ice-cream sundaes. Nagi artfully averted becoming ensnared in this `coincidence' by immediately ducking and heading in the opposite direction. He just hoped the blond would also avoid falling into the strange cycle.

 

His thoughts suspended momentarily when he heard the shuffling of feet nearby (he regretted to induce that this probably meant an actual tangible person was coming to bother him, as feet don't usually walk by themselves). The steps stumbled for a second, accompanied by a countertenor yelp.

 

Omi, most likely. Idiot.

 

A few seconds later the intruder presented himself.

 

The gods liked to pretend they are comedians, Nagi decided, running a cursory glance over the smiling face of the Weiss hacker. And they were about as good at it as Nagi was at presenting the history of Ancient Rome through interpretive dance.

 

For a brief moment Nagi thought how it would feel to claw, scratch, tear off that infuriating, ever-present smile with his nails, leaving the blonde's mouth a lipless, bloody, black cavern.

 

Nagi quickly extinguished _that_ idea. Quite frankly, it was not something one did in polite company.

 

“Um, sorry if I'm bothering you. If you want to be left alone, I understand………” The blond bowed quickly in apology. He watched Nagi, gauging for a reaction, ready to leave if he was asked (or threatened) to. The brunette shrugged, leaving the answer open to his own elucidation, and turned his gaze back towards the lake.

 

Omi (who Nagi determined must be either the most persistent or most naïve boy he had ever met) offered him one of the sticks of yakitori he held.

 

Nagi wordlessly took the presented skewer and stared at the meat, unimpressed.

 

This situation reminded him of a twisted, real-time parody of Orwell's “1984” concept, doublethink—the ability to believe two contradictory ideas at the same time. Omi was and wasn't his foe. Omi was a casual friend who came to chitchat with him about school and girls and other normal high school things. Omi was part of Weiss, a group whose goal was to disable his own group. Omi wasn't part of Weiss. Omi was trying to help him.

 

“Contradictions.” He said quietly, rolling the skewer between his fingers.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Hm. Nothing.”

 

“Uh, okay………” Silence. Then, “Um, some of my friends and I are taking a canoe out on the lake. Do you want to—“

 

“No.”

 

“Alright,” Omi plopped down beside Nagi and started plucking nervously at the dying grass. “What do you want to do? We could eat at one of the stands. Orochi-san has the best mackerel-stuffed onigiri—oh, I still want to get a goldfish at the game booths, though I don't seem to have much luck at those things, so we could--”

 

“'We'? Why are you here?” Nagi interrupted, trying to sound indifferent though he was unreasonably far from being so. The babbling sent a faint spark of annoyance through Nagi, and he came to a sudden realization: Omi disturbed him. The smiles disturbed him, the happy-go-lucky attitude disturbed him. Omi was………like a dog. A dog that was always there, simple-minded, moronically heroic. One that, given enough time, would hopefully learn that he was not welcomed.

 

Nagi decided to hate dogs.

 

“Well, it is a festival and all……… Everyone's having fun; I saw you come down here earlier and thought I'd see how you were doing when you didn't come up for so long.”

 

This situation—Weiss being here--………made him a bit nervous. Which was completely irrational, as he was perfectly capable of defending himself………

 

But what annoyed him most was that he couldn't figure out what Omi hoped to accomplish by being here with him. What was Omi's purpose? Did he want to hear the Schwarz tidbits that he hoped Nagi would let slip? That was all the brunette could offer that could be of use to him; the only reason he'd keep his company, Nagi thought somewhat bitterly. The Weiss boy should be wise enough, then, to know that Nagi was trained in this sort of thing and was _very_ good at keeping his mouth shut.

 

Having time to stew in his thoughts, Nagi found himself quickly growing more and more irate.

 

“What do you want?” Nagi nearly growled, uncharacteristically frustrated.

 

“I—“

 

“You want me to betray Schwarz? To tell you everything about the nature of our missions, our purpose, our data?” He clamped his eyelids shut, feeling angry beads of sweat break out across his forehead. The blond stared with wide eyes. He should stop, Nagi thought, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. “You want me to snoop for you, you want to turn me to your side and fill me with ideological bullshit, make me forget the blood stains, make me believe that what I'm doing is for the common good?” His voice rose dangerously in volume, his breath came more difficultly. He tried to keep his mind focused and within the boundaries of balance by methodically digging each nail into his palm. He knew what he said wasn't true, and he wasn't sure why he'd said it-- but perhaps the words would chase the blond away.

 

“No, that's not it!” The blond sprang to his feet in response, holding his hands up in defense. “I'm sorry I came down here. Maybe it was a mistake. But I was genuinely trying to be nice, to be _human_. I don't want to preach to you. I don't care about Schwarz, Weiss--any of that stuff, right now.” Omi took a breath, looked down to gather his thoughts, then continued firmly and sincerely. “I'm sorry you feel the way you do, but we need a break from what we do. Everyone needs someone--to………I don't know……… talk to, be around, --that doesn't judge them and who doesn't ask questions. I honestly thought that maybe………that somehow—“ Harsh, self-deprecating laugh. “Never mind. Sorry I bothered you.” He turned in a flurry of dead leaves and disappeared.

 

Nagi took a shaky breath, then swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.

 

Oh dear. He coughed lightly into his hand.

 

He overdid it a bit this time, he acquiesced.

 

Anger did serve as a valuable motivator at times, but here it was unnecessary. He wasn't sure how it was even possible for him to get as angry as he did. It was an emotion he rarely felt. What was even more curious, however, was that this boy, quite insignificant in Schwarz' realm of vision, was the one that brought this feeling out of him.

 

No matter, he sighed. It was unlikely that he'd be seeing the Weiss boy again. The blond probably thought he was a raving lunatic, which most likely wasn't far from the truth. Best to put it out of memory.

 

Nagi glanced at his palm, taking in the bloody half-circle cuts his nails created. They resembled four red sunrises, he observed. It was kind of nice and rather symbolic, indicating that every day began with bloodshed and murder. He ran a thumb over the wounds and spread out the few drops of blood over his hand, covering as much surface area as possible with the liquid until it looked like a dry layer of rust had settled on his skin.

 

He finally took out a napkin to clean the hand. Afterwards he intended to do something productive, but found himself too restless to concentrate. Something was nagging on the back of his mind, leaving him unfocused.

 

Nagi didn't want to think it could be anything but his prolonged inactivity. He _had_ been sitting there for a while. Most of the day, in fact. He should get up and walk a bit, spend some of his extra energy.

 

Nagi gracefully made his way up the hill and into the maelstrom of people, lights, colors, and food. He heard the music of wind instrument playing in the background, mostly drowned by the noise. Its airy sounds seemed inappropriately tranquil amidst the commotion.

 

He reached into his pocket experimentally, pulling out some spare change, four game tickets, and a pass for one free ride on the ferris wheel. He drifted down the rows of stands, inspecting the little shops with cursory notice. Some sold gaudy hand-made jewelry and other trinkets. A large majority provided costumers with a variety of smoked meats, fish, fried vegetables, and deserts. And, of course, there were the game booths, intended as a more unnoticeable and indirect way to empty people's pockets.

 

He went up to one such booth and traded his four tickets for a pair of white ping-pong balls. The game was that the player had to throw the ball into one of the many tiny fishbowls arranged in tight rows on a clothed table several feet from the player. Because of the miniscule size of the openings the task proved nearly impossible for most, but was a cake walk for Nagi, providing his………distinguishing abilities.

 

He easily got the ball into the center bowl on the first try, disguising it with the same arch and speed of a regular throw.

 

Even if Nagi had wanted to try his luck winning the old-fashioned way, it took more effort and energy than he cared to expend. His telekinesis often acted on instinct, kicking in when a situation such as this presented itself. He likened it to a literate person whose brain can't help but interpret a sign that catches his eye at the side of the road. Even if he closed his eyes afterwards, the image and meaning of the words is already burned in permanently.

 

He left the stand as a proud owner of a chubby, fluttering orange fish, finding the creature mildly repulsive as he inspected it through the clear plastic bag. He promptly headed back towards his silent asylum near the lake, walking a bit slower than necessary as he couldn't help looking around for……… _something_.

 

He didn't want to admit what (or who) that something (or someone) was, as he feared the knowledge might disturb his already fragile mental faculties.

 

As he passed the picnic area, he found the unmentionable thing (or person) he had been searching for. It had not been overly difficult, as most of the people had cleared the tables in favor of getting some last minute activities in before the festival's closing at nightfall.

 

The blond was sitting at one of the picnic tables bent over a book, splayed fingers drumming to the beat contained to the earphones he was wearing. Nagi approached soundlessly, not feeling as relaxed as he should have been or as he would have liked to admit. He set down the fish by Omi's arm wordlessly, not believing that he was obligated to explain his actions, and began to saunter away.

 

He only took several steps when he heard a muffled “wait!” and the ungentle metallic clanking of the CD player. Nagi paused, weighing his options. He couldn't pretend he hadn't heard the other boy. There were very few other options to choose from, and even less that appealed to him. In the end he shrugged mentally and turned back to the table, unable to find a feasible reason for not acting hospitable, when it was obvious that there wasn't going to be an altercation. He sat down at the edge of the wooden bench when a seat was offered, gazing at the worn and slightly rotted boards that held together flimsily to form a semi-sturdy surface. He immediately made it a priority not to touch any bare skin on the tabletop; considering how many people had used it, it was probably contaminated with a third of the world's bacterial population. The right side of his upper lip curled slightly in revulsion.

 

Omi sent a tight, nervous smile the brunette's way. He said thanks, and Nagi shrugged out loud in acknowledgment. Omi's eyed moved back to the floating creature, his tight smile instantly morphing more open and delighted as he poked at the plastic until the fish sought sanctuary at the other corner. Nagi wished <i>he</i> could find such happiness in a fish.

 

“I was never good at carnival games………” Omi started, laughing delicately. “Uh. Um………Well, I'm glad you're here now. Sorry about before, I didn't want you to get the wrong impression or anything………” Nagi instantly labeled the statement as insincere, brought on only by the blonde's foolish need for communication, and therefore tuned out the rest. When he decided to register sound again, he caught another round of the Weiss boy's embarrassed laughter and “thank you's”.

 

The laughter was quite needless, and Nagi didn't feel the urge to shrug again. But he did, to keep up the appearance of attentiveness. He wasn't sure why he was making such an effort for a guy like Omi. Nevertheless, he was pleased that Omi didn't do something stupid like asking him why he had given him the goldfish in the first place. If the blond boy had inquired, Nagi was sure he would have been entitled to cause the boy some kind of physical pain. Nagi liked basking in the safety of that violent reply rather than opting for the much more sincere and vulnerable answer, “I don't know, I've never really given anyone anything.”.

 

He looked over at Omi who now had his arm on the table with chin resting on top, eyes level with the fish, face a shade redder as his index finger traced an amateurishly carved design in the wood; most likely picking up millions of potential diseases along the way.

 

Nagi now made it a priority to avoid Omi's index finger.

 

A few minutes of silence followed, which Omi spent shifting restlessly on the bench while the brunette blinked slowly into the crimson-tinged horizon. Nagi thought the color mixture resembled a bleeding bruise. He liked it.

 

Some more minutes passed idly. Suddenly Omi's eyes lit up, an idea obviously forming behind them. “Hey,” He started, holding a pastel-colored piece of paper, “did you get one of these?”

 

Nagi fished in his pocket for the rumpled ferris wheel ticket, setting it on the table beside the blond's.

 

“Do you want to go?” The boy asked eagerly, almost losing the words through the intense smile that appeared on his face.

 

Nagi stared at him. For the second time, he wished he could find such joy in such simple things. The boy was entirely too happy. Nagi was quite certain he could give the boy a stick, saying it was infused with his love and diligence, and the blond would have passed out after his uncontained screeches of happiness. Perhaps this enthusiasm for life was influenced by some sort of drugs, but Nagi had a sneaking suspicion it was a genetic abnormality.

 

Drugs would have made more sense, though.

 

Nagi had stared too long without reply, as the expression on the other boy's face started crumpling. Nagi looked away. “Ok,” He agreed quietly.

 

The smile was back up, reminding Nagi of one of those toothpaste ads in which the models' grins were so wide and unnatural that the lips must have been stapled in place.

 

He wondered if the blond would perhaps let him staple his lips into a permanent frown, as the constant smiles were giving him a headache.

 

“Alright, let's hurry then,” The blond exclaimed, “it closes in less than an hour.”

 

The blond bounced up and bounded ahead of him through the crowds, glancing over his shoulder every few steps to make sure Nagi was still following. The brunette ambled behind at a leisurely pace, somewhat mystified at the other boy's uncanny ability to weave his way through the maze of people and arrive at their mutual destination quickly and efficiently.

 

Luckily they made it into the line before the closing rush of people stampeded from behind, most of which were couples holding hands and doing other nauseatingly sweet couple-like things. Seeing this made Nagi want to choke himself. But then again, lots of things made Nagi want to choke himself.

 

They waited patiently, each leaning against opposite side of the queue rail, shuffling forward in half steps when the line moved. Nagi watched as Omi picked at his fingernails, obviously uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. Predictable, given the blond's needy nature. Nagi envisioned that some sort of sound would come out of the blonde's mouth within the next ten seconds.

 

As usual, he was correct.

 

“So………Do you want to sit at the side overlooking the lake? It's probably a great view, especially at the top………”

 

Nagi's lips quirked wryly and he quickly ducked his head to hide the unacceptable slip of expression with his bangs. “You take it. I've stared at that bloody lake for most of the day.”

 

“Are you sure? It's really ok, if you want—“

 

A sharp glance from the brunette killed the rest of the words. It was decided.

 

The gates in front of them opened soon after their short exchange, and a gristly man in an equally gristly cap let them into one of the carts.

 

Nagi sighed, laid his elbow against the back of the seat, resting his chin against his hand. He had been in a ferris wheel once before and still failed to grasp what the appeal was. They were slower than anything he had ever ridden in, expensive for only the half mile diameter they covered, and left you in the same place you started when all was said and done. Completely illogical and pointless-- like he'd lately been thinking his existence was. Only he was definitely cleaner and nicer to look at.

 

As the wheel started crawling upwards, Nagi stared down at the blue-capped ride operator until he became another speck in the sea of people. Even he managed to look non-repulsive from this altitude. It was only when you let yourself become close to someone that you realize how dirty and useless they are, and how much better off you are alone, Nagi reaffirmed to himself. He briefly looked behind him at the parking lot below. He contemplated unlatching the door and taking a swan dive out of the cart, landing in a poetic heap of defective molecules on the pavement, hidden between the cars. Maybe he could add a somersault or twist for aesthetic purposes. Maybe a snot-nosed toddler would find his mangled corpse and be scarred for life. He smiled a little at the thought.

 

Their cart completed the first half-circle and stopped at the highest point, allowing them to experience a breathtaking view of the lake. Looking past Omi, Nagi admitted it _was_ pretty nice, not something that could be found every day in Tokyo. The lake was dark and still, colorful paper lanterns and other decorations sprinkling playfully along its edge. Nagi heard a few murmured words of appreciation from Omi as he leaned over as far as the rail would allow, drinking in the view and probably filing it for remembrance on a cold night in the cramped, polluted city.

 

Nagi closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. To be truthful, the blonde's company wasn't _too_ irritating. Omi was easy to deal with, not really requiring anything of the brunette except his presence. Which really wasn't hard or tiresome for Nagi to give.

 

The blue-eyed boy swiveled his head towards him, intense contemplation in his eyes and warm flush in his cheeks. “Don't you think life is sorta like this?”

 

Nagi forced himself to make uncomfortable eye contact with the other, faint crease appearing in between his eyebrows at the blond's curious tone. He just hoped this wasn't the start of some half-baked pseudo-philosophical shit about the meaning of life or the origin of UFOs; he had heard enough of those from the drunken Schuldig.

 

Omi fixated his eyes thoughtfully on a point past the brunette's shoulder. Or maybe on his shoulder, but Nagi couldn't tell.

 

“I don't know……… This may sound stupid to you, but……… life leads to one point, one climax. That is the one place we wait for from the time we are born, the one place we find true happiness. We never want that moment to end, but it <i>has</i> to. After that, our purpose has been fulfilled, and nothing can compare to that one high place. Life becomes monotonous, gradually drudging downhill. There's nothing between that one beautiful point, that one glorious stop, and the end. This is what we've been waiting for during the whole ride; but it only lasts a second, and then there's nothing. It all ends so abruptly……… without warning.” The blond trailed off quietly.

 

Nagi inspected Omi's face. The words seemed uncharacteristically pessimistic coming from a member of the group whose motto and mission was to `change the world, one good deed at a time'. He glanced at the blue eyes, temporarily retaining a certain raw sadness as they floated in their own memories. The cheeks were still flushed, the lips still parted. He looked like some young Greek legendary hero, just learning that the cause he was fighting for was a farce or that the princess he had nearly died saving had been a lowly, expendable servant girl.

 

Omi was nice enough to look at, the brunette decided, and continued to study the planes of the Weiss assassin's face. The good points overrode its flaws. The eyes were big, so clearly defined that they appeared to glow at times. The nose was rather plain and looked squishy; the cheeks were probably a little too round and could use to be shaved down a tad. Time would take care of that. His favorite part was the shape of the other boy's mouth. It was flawlessly full and pouty and red. Nagi envied its almost-perfection.

 

The telekinetic had to finally avert his eyes when an innocent swipe of tongue across the blonde's bottom lip caused Nagi to have………. strange thoughts about said mouth. More frightening still was that he saw said mouth interacting with his own mouth. Mildly shaken, Nagi glared ahead of him, berating himself for the weird course his mind had taken. He wrote it off as yet another aspect of his mental instability. He must be going crazy. More crazy.

 

His concentration ground to a brilliantly explosive halt when he felt something wet and warm against his cheek, leaving that area of his skin a patch of burning, tingling flesh after it lifted. The brunette's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as he turned to find the source of the moisture and pressure. He found Omi inches from his face, the blonde's damp breath brushing the bridge of his nose. They remained in the position for a long moment--Omi leaning over him, his arms supporting his weight, and Nagi paralysed into the corner of the compartment.

 

Nagi blinked a few times, unable to clear the fog from his mind. Suddenly the ferris wheel jarred back into movement, leaving the top and starting on what Omi called the “downward cycle”. They both jerked forward following the law of inertia, and this seemed to break both boys' spell. Omi immediately jumped back, flush turning from salmon pink to raging red, stuttering out an apology and moving as far away from Nagi was allowed in the small space. Nagi in turn released his breath, which in turn unfroze his thoughts. The blond looked sort of pitiful, face in his hands and knees up to his chest. So easily embarrassed, he was. Nagi envied him for at least _knowing_ how he felt, while he was cruelly left to figure out his emotions for himself.

 

He relaxed and hesitantly rubbed a finger over the spot which Omi's mouth touched. <i>Kissed<i>. He'd had only one kiss before, from Tot. He likened that one to a slab of raw meat smacking his face; her lips were wet and lukewarm and left a residue of saliva and lip gloss and other gunk on his cheek.

 

He scrubbed his face with a loofah for over an hour after that.

 

This one was different. It had been more like a pinprick, the jab of lips instantly sending a electric jolt through his nervous system. As he mulled over that, he was suddenly struck by a feeling of vengeance and a need for retribution. Why was <i>he</i> the one that was caught by surprise and left speechless? How dare the blond do something like that, and not expect consequences and revenge? Injustice. It was like beating up a clown and not expecting for the rest of the circus to show up on your doorstep the next day with explosives. His blinding sense of social justice entreated him to give Omi the same treatment.

 

He turned to the blond, determined to exact his revenge. The blue-eyed boy's head was turned away from his, upper body still hunched over his knees, leaving only his back and the wheat-colored hair in Nagi's line of sight. A kiss to the back of the neck would be weird. And it left open the very real possibility for getting a bloody nose if the blond decided to snap his head back or whip his face around. That would effectively ruin everything. Unless the blond was into blood play or sadism, which Nagi was fairly certain wasn't the case.

 

After exploring his options, Nagi settled on moving his body closer and resting his head on the protective metal cage in the front of the compartment (he was _so_ going spend the next day soaking his head in a vat of disinfectant). It was an uncomfortable position since his torso was hanging off the seat and his legs were angled away from his body, and he winced at the growing throb of tension in his neck and shoulders. He leaned forward, brushed a few intrusive locks of hair from the blonde's face, and put his lips to the other boy's cheekbone. The lightest weight the human body could feel upon it is two micrograms, approximately equivalent to the mass of a pinky-tip sized piece of paper falling onto the palm of one's hand. Nagi was sure the light pressure he was exerting couldn't have been more than that. He blinked against the skin, suddenly too aware of his inexperience as he felt the body beneath his turn rigid. Nagi moved away several millimeters to allow the blond room to face him. Or pull away from him. Whatever.

 

The blue gaze locked into his own, and they stared at each other for a dozen seconds.

 

It seemed like a thousand years.

 

The natural thing for Nagi's body to do was to move closer and seek more contact. And for the first time in his life, he acted with no deliberation. He pushed off the cage and gently assaulted the blond's mouth, mind unreceptive to everything but the primal presence of the other boy. The lips beneath his were pleasantly soft and firm, not gooey and dirty and raw meat-like as Tot's were. He kept his lips frozen in place until the blond started to relax, his body melding comfortably into the contact.

 

Finally championing his initial shock, Omi celebrated by parting his lips and sighing a gust of hot air against Nagi's mouth. The brunette caught his breath when a prickly tingling danced along his spine, making him shiver and press closer. He retaliated by setting his knee against the other boy's thigh and leaning over him, no longer able to ignore the pain in his back. Some time during the shift, the brown-haired boy's mouth also eased open, and the blond maneuvered the offered bottom lip into his mouth. The gentle suction sent a stream of heat through his body and specifically his gut, enflaming his sensory system more so than the adrenaline of a dangerous mission. One of Omi's hands clenched spasmodically around his shirt, jerking him forward until the brunette was nearly straddling his hips.

 

Nagi pulled his mouth free for a second, adjusting his arm against the seat for better support. “See,” he murmured as his free hand settled on the blonde's forearm, fingers rubbing tenderly at the skin. “Sometimes good things happen in-between.” He dipped his head down again, teeth tugging at the other boy's lips teasingly, wondering if the treatment could maybe turn them even more red and full. One of the blue-eyed boy's hands still danced between them, fingers nipping at the skin through the heavy cloth. The other hand pulled on the brunette's hair, twisting the strands and brushing the scalp so skillfully that for a second Nagi wanted to lean back and enjoy the massage. Until he realized there were bigger and better things within reach, of course.

 

Omi's lips ventured down, pressing light feather kisses along the jaw line and neck. Nagi tipped his head back, trying not to analyze what was happening, or why it was happening, but simply to enjoy it and just <i>feel</i>. And by some unexpected onslaught of emotion being dragged out from the depths of his person, Nagi suddenly realized he felt depressed, unhappy, dependent, and in need of someone, in need of exactly <i>this</i>. The feelings overtook his pride, and he found himself collapsing into the other boy, head buried in the crook of his neck and arms wound tightly around the body. Sometimes life just became too real, too miserable, too <i>lonely</i> to handle, and the guise of normality exploded like a dam holding one too many drops of water. One only realized his misery when a catalyst like Omi entered into the equation bringing a new, foreign, and unexpectedly <i>nice</i> aspect into the despondently monotonous cycle. He clung to the compassionate body like an alcoholic to his bottle, wishing he could melt into the everlasting warmth.

 

The blond was again surprised into unresponsiveness, blinking at the shaking boy clinging to him. He soon regained his wits, however, and though he wasn't aware of what was happening with the other boy, he provided comfort wholeheartedly by hugging the brunette close and massaging his back in soothing circles.

 

Nagi stayed in place because dammit, it felt _good_ and _safe_ and _harmless_, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

 

Finally, guilt and shame replaced the warm haze of selfish pleasure. He had no right to use the other boy like this, to take and take and not give anything back. Plus, it wouldn't do to become attached, or allow the other boy to become attached. This was not a permanent arrangement. And what the hell was he doing, anyway? Acting like some little needy child, afraid of the big bad world, hiding under his mother's skirt? It was embarrassing. Really.

 

He pulled away somewhat reluctantly and closed his eyes, a temporary escape he used frequently.

 

Well, wasn't this awkward.

 

What was he supposed to do now? `Hey, sorry I nearly broke down on you there, but you know, I hate myself, I want to die, and I have a whole slew of other mental problems. No worries, though. I'm pretty sure I'll last another couple of years before doing something <i>really</i> mental like hanging myself. Pretend like this never happened.' Riiiiiiiight.

 

The only way Nagi could come up with to save face was continue with their make out session, pretending like the mental breakdown was some weird form of foreplay. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be fooling Omi, and he definitely wouldn't be fooling himself, but what else was there to do? Detaching your emotions and distracting yourself seemed like the best option.

 

He slitted his eyes open, automatically staring into the watery cerulean eyes just below. And was he hated what he saw etched in them, written as plain as daylight: Pity.

 

<i>Pity</i>.

 

He felt his blood boil.

 

“Nagi, it's alright,” The blond started quietly, reaching out.

 

“Shut up,” He snapped, slapping away the hand and shoving the blond back. Hard. Nagi grabbed the other boy's chin roughly, making him reflexively wince and bite his lip. “Shut up………” He murmured again, before leaning in and sliding his eyes closed.

 

This time Nagi decided not to fool around. He pressed his tongue purposefully against the other boy's lips, wedging them open, then running it slowly and slickly across the roof of the blonde's mouth. Pulling away he nibbled at the lips and neck while the blond stretched up like a panther, mewling at the intensity. One of Nagi's hands slid from gripping the chin to threading his fingers through the short hair at the base of the other boy's neck, while the other sought blindly to rest on his waist, accidentally coming into contact with bare skin where blonde's shirt lifted off his body. The telekinetic faltered for a second, surprised by the naked contact (though not unpleasantly so), then boldly dragged his fingers further up to the blonde's ribs, liking the smoothness of it under the rougher skin of his palms.

 

Nagi suddenly became aware of insistent tapping on his shoulders, and realized a bit late that it wasn't caused by either of their fingers. He broke their contact and turned in irritation. He met with the scowling face of the ride-operator.

 

“Ride's over, boys. Hurry up and get out, we've got people waiting.”

 

Behind the blue-capped man were several dozen inquisitive eyes peering into the compartment to get a glimpse of what the hold up was.

 

A few seconds stretched eternally as Nagi looked away from the crowd, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

 

Well. This certainly was an embarrassing situation to be in.

 

He shuffled gracefully out of the car, smoothing over his clothes and jutting his chin out in feigned nonchalance.

 

“Don't forget your boyfriend,” called out the man, twisting his lips.

 

The brunette glanced over his shoulder to see where the other boy was, and was surprised to see that he was still sitting motionless in the compartment, staring ahead and pressing his fingers to his lips as if checking for damage. Nagi went back and pulled him by the wrist from the seat, leading him quickly through the crowd of judgmental faces as easily as if he were a toy balloon. As an afterthought, he made sure the ride-operator face had a very nasty collision with the floor for his snide remark.

 

The telekinetic dragged Omi through the picnic area and down the familiar hill, letting go of his arm when they found themselves in Nagi's quiet sanctuary from earlier.

 

The blonde's voice finally cut through the nightly silence like a razor “What was that?” he asked, once again touching his lips as if he needed to indicate what he was speaking of.

 

“I dunno,” The brunette replied with a careless shrug. “You want to do it again?”

 

“O-okay………”

 

And soon they were entwined once again.

 

This lasted shortly, however, as a horn sounded repeatedly somewhere in the distance and Omi reluctantly pulled away. “That's our bus…...... I should probably get going.” Omi looked around, scratching his head. “Are you leaving soon?”

 

Nagi shook his head. “Our class staying the night.”

 

Both boys made their way up the hill, Omi occasionally brushing his fingers against Nagi's hand in a wimpy attempt for hand-holding. They stopped at the gate to the parking lot, lingering, Omi not knowing what to say and Nagi not really wanting him to.

 

After some more not-talking passed, Nagi broke the silence. “You should go, they'll leave without you.”

 

“Uh, Yeah, you're right. Heheh.” Break. “Do you wanna maybe hang out or something sometime soon? Or you know, whenever you have time and stuff, `cause I know you're busy………”

 

Nagi pursed his lips and tried to look contemplative, though he already knew the answer. He took a notebook out of his bag, pressing it against the blue-eyed boys chest. “You should hurry in returning it. I may need it in a few days,” He ducked his head to hide a half smile.

 

Omi hugged the notebook, beaming smile nearly cracking his face. He pressed a few quick kisses on the brunette's mouth, then, waving, headed for his bus with a bounce in his step.

 

Nagi sauntered back to the lake, kicking up puffs of leaves in his wake. He leaned against the tree and looked at the sky. For the first time in forever, he felt he could count the stars.