Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Henkersbraut ❯ The Waters of Lethe - Nostalgia ( Chapter 1 )

 

 

Author's note:

 

Part of the “White Shadows and Black Reflections” arc, set several years into the future (Post-Glühen)

 

Thoughts.

 

/Telepathy/

 

Disclaimer:

Weiss Kreuz belong to Project Weiss and Takehito Koyasu. I just get to play with them.

 

Warnings:

Yaoi. Mention of sex. Bits of bad language and a spots of violence.

 

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Sometimes Ryo Itoh wonders. He knows that there are things his beautiful, sweet wife won't tell him, things in her past. There are burn marks on her arms and on the insides of her thighs. Round, puckered and faded.

He asked only once. She gave him a look, weird and wounded and afraid, and then she burst out in tears. He doesn't ask anymore.

He keeps telling himself that in the greater scheme of things, it doesn't matter. They love each other. They have a nice, quiet life, which contains at the same time enough action to keep it interesting. He can respect her need for privacy, even if he doesn't understand it. Still, it hurts him a bit that she won't trust him with her secrets. He wishes he had some secrets of his own which he could share with her in order to bridge that tiny gap, but his past is a complete blank.

His present is doing just fine though.

He's content at work. Not much ever happens in accounting, but it's an income and the work atmosphere at his company is good. Once or twice a month him and the guys from work go out for drinks together and its fun.

Despite being busy at work, the weekends belong to him and Asuka. Weekends can get a little wild and he loves it. They go clubbing together and his friendly, well-mannered, good little wife will turn into the hottest thing on the dance-floor. They grind into each other to the feral beat of the music and he feels alive. They flirt shamelessly, despite the fact that they've been married for nearly two years. They are magic in bed. And in other places. They've done it in back-alleys, in luxurious hotel-rooms and on one memorable occasion in the park at the Meji shrine, beneath the star-filled sky.

They do other things together too. Hiking, visits to the museum and the Noh-Theatre, bungee-jumping and candle-light dinners. Her warmth cuddled against him is the last thing he feels when he goes to sleep, and her smile is the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

Still, sometimes he wonders.

 

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He stood in front of the mirror for what had to be the seventh time this day, fussing with his fiery tresses. Damn, he was feeling nervous. There were fucking butterflies dancing tango at the pit of his stomach and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert.

 

Just a few more hours…

 

Screw this, he shouldn't be feeling like this in the first place. A few minutes earlier, Jules had passed him in the hallway, scanning him briefly and then she had had the audacity to snicker.

 

His fingers strayed to the nearly invisible scars at his throat, mementos of a time where his life had been a hell of a lot more exciting, with one adrenaline high chasing the next. No, he certainly didn't have any fucking, bloody reason to feel like this at all.

 

 

 

The butterflies didn't agree.

 

/Oh, get over it. It's just a bit of nostalgia, mixed with a sprinkling of a crush you never admitted to./

 

/Jules!/

 

/Well, it is./

 

/I hated his guts! He was one of the most whiny and pathetic people I've ever met!/

 

/Yeah. And also one of the most easy-going and caring ones. And you've always been a sucker for caring and affection…which is why you and Brad are currently at odds./

 

It stung to be reminded of the fact that he woke up alone each morning and had done so for nearly two and a half years. It had been his decision, and a good one at that, but after all this time, it still hurt.

 

/Brad and I aren't just at odds….we're over./

 

/No, you're not. You're just waiting for Brad to get his head out of his ass./

 

Like that would ever happen. Brad Crawford was a cold fish who only cared about abstract things like efficiency, power and control. Never about people. People were replaceable. He had been replaceable.

 

/Am not waiting for him./

 

/Are too. But never mind that. You'd better get in position, because we've got a dozen or so coming in at 12 `o clock./

 

His mental sigh reverberated down the link as she withdrew, caught up in her own preparations.

 

Schwarz still got out and killed people, sometimes for money, sometimes because it was necessary and sometimes just for the heck of it. But things were a lot calmer nowadays. More stable. Less risky. Less fun.

 

And yes, he did get a lot of kicks out of messing with impressionable young minds, bending them ever which way it pleased him. He wasn't called Mastermind for nothing.

 

He sighed again. Nevertheless, these days, they had responsibilities, no small thanks to the young woman he'd see again in a few hours. It had all been a series of awkward coincidences, but in the end, it had landed them here, doing stuff he had never imagined himself doing, even in his wildest dreams.

 

He hadn't expected to see thirty, but nowadays, Brad assured them they all had a decent chance to live and see a hundred, which was kinda nice. He preferred being alive to being dead. The last two years, ever since they'd taken down Epitaph, had been a bit boring though, so yeah, he looked forward to seeing Balinese again.

 

Even though their reunion wouldn't be as exciting as it could have been.

 

For one, fucking amnesia. All those possibilities for malicious innuendo…completely wasted. Feh.

 

Torture of any kind was out too. Crawford said they needed the guy as a hostage, the more unwitting and the more cooperative the better. Never mind that Maki would have his head if he so much as scratched her husband. And knowing Jules she would gleefully assist her. Farf couldn't care less, but he usually backed Jules. Schwarz was definitely less fun than it used to be. Fucking responsibilities.

 

The rest of Weiss was out of range, so he couldn't even eavesdrop on the shock and the outrage once they discovered Balinese was gone….and Nagi wouldn't let him hijack the surveillance equipment so he could spy on Persia when the leader of Kritiker got the news. Their chibi was just too bloody protective of his lover.

 

Had this been Schwarz seven years ago, when they'd first tangled with Weiss, he'd have had Kudo in chains and a collar and he would have made him weep and moan and beg….but these days…

 

/Oh, come on!/ Jules piped in. /You still get lots of action. Corrupting innocent kids, spreading chaos and misery, broadening our power-base, taking care of the competition, sometimes rather permanently….you're still the big bad himself./

 

He grinned at that. /Certainly am./

 

/You're evil incarnate and always will be!/

 

/Damn straight./

 

/Good. The first three just got in. That'll be three latté macchiato, one Apfelstrudel with extra whipped cream and one Earl Grey/.

 

He groaned.