Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Painting You Gold ❯ 01 Go ( Chapter 1 )

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Disclaimer: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out. Or not.

Warning: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza. Squick factor is probably obvious here. ;)

Post-it: As always, thanks for your time.

/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like

Painting You Gold

By Koyuki Aode

1 ~ Go

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"Nagi."

No answer. "Oi, kid!" I pounded the door a little harder. Finally the knob turned, and a rush of cold air greeted me as the door opened a crack.

"Schuldich," mumbled Nagi from beneath his comforter (the thing practically buried him in his bed), "Is there some despicable reason why you're invading my sleep right now?" A tuft of chocolate brown hair wiggled at me on his pillow as he turned over, peeking out from his bed's shadows.

"Of course!" I said, barely holding down a yawn. If it's goddamned four am, there'd better be a reason that my eyes are even open. I hurried over to snatch his coverings away.

Nagi grit his teeth as I unveiled his shoulders. "No-"

"-Come on, just-" The blankets refused to move any further.

"-NO!" He ripped the cloth from my hands. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Fine." I made a tired noise at the back of my throat and knelt down beside the bed. His eyes caught a bit of light and that freaky midnight blue glared at me. "Happy birthday. You happy?" In all of our (Crawford, Farfarello, and I) four years of knowing him, only I knew it was his birthday. He refused to tell anyone, claiming he'd forgotten it. But I found it after only a good hour of searching his memory. I didn't know the year though - that was something his own.

"My birthday," Nagi murmured, sitting up, "Is that all?"

"It's your sixteenth," I continued. "I've decided to give you something this time."

"Well, what is it?" he said blankly.

I stood and pushed his shoulder to the headboard. "It's a memory-"

"-A memory?" Nagi muttered.

"A memory. Only one, to begin with," I confirmed the statement. "And a truth. Something I think you deserve to know." He fidgeted as I settled into a nearby chair. "One of Crawford's memories actually. Just sit back and close your eyes."

"Fine," he squeezed out beneath a yawn. He did what I told him to, leaning his head back. I bit my lip, trying to decide which memory to give him. This had to be something relatively tame. The process of reliving Crawford's life would be stilted, but necessary for the both of them.

"Why a memory?" Nagi asked, his eyes suddenly cracked open with suspicion.

"You know, that's what I asked myself when it hit me. I wasn't looking for anything to give you, but I had this thought, this idea, and it grew into enormous Nagi-sized problem." Nagi looked at me like he would run in about three seconds if I didn't start making sense; you'd have thought I was trying to sell him an encyclopedia. "Just… You need this. -Close your eyes."

I'd found the perfect moment. When Nagi was again settled comfortably, I began to sketch the image in his mind. "Somewhere in that messed-up head of yours, a part of you doesn't trust Crawford." And he didn't know how to, emotionless in self-preservation.

This change, I would give him, both him and Crawford, not because they deserved it, but because I knew no other way to fix the situation. The mere possibility of Crawford becoming more than the asexual type A personality I'd met in his teens was too much to pass up.

I didn't realize then that the issue was soon to be overshadowed.

A coldness settled in my psyche; an echo unsure and frightened - holding too much treasure in a small, dirt-encrusted hand. But it was too late for me. I hadn't really decided this; I was merely the catalyst. Nagi would feel emotions, even if semi-vicariously.

I wasn't quite sure how to apply my voice to what I was about to reveal, but I sped right on; any further hesitation and nothing that I thought should happen would take shape. "The man we know was Crawford, isn't the real Brad Crawford."

Nagi gasped as he heard this, for I'd already plunged his consciousness into the memory. And he could do nothing but watch with me, for a time, as the past played itself out.

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[memory]

White.

Very bright white.

Footsteps and voices echoed through a clearing fog, until finally the memory focused on a panel of lights and the ceiling of a men's bathroom.

With a sob in his throat, and a very distinct pain in his nose, young Crawford glanced to his side to see his own face in a mirror - stained, pitifully in his own five-year-old view, with a bloody nose and tears. Squeezing his fingers over his palm, he realized he was still holding onto the remains of broken glasses.

Another boy appeared in the mirror, poking at young Crawford's nose. This was Casey, according to the memory, our Crawford's first best friend. "Does it hurt?"

Crawford nodded slowly, feeling his lower lip push outward in a pout.

"It's still bleeding!" Casey yelled and gave a frantic hop. "Brad, he's gonna die!" Casey ran to another boy in the room, Brad, a fifteen-year-old to be recognized as Casey's brother.

Crawford dropped his broken frames and backed up against the sink counter. "I'm gonna die?" He opened his eyes wide, trying to imagine it. Maybe his mom wouldn't get so angry about finding his new shirt stained.

"Casey, he's not going to die. Don't scare him like that," Brad said. After rummaging through a duffel bag on the floor and successfully finding a towel, he pulled his own glasses from his pants and nudged the frames easily onto his face. "Here, let me look at it." He knelt down to Crawford's eye level, blue eyes glittering with concern. "Put your fingers here," he instructed, indicating the bridge of his nose with a gentle pinch, "And breathe through your mouth."

"Here?" Crawford asked, wheezing as he opened his mouth wider to breathe.

"No," Brad mumbled, pushing Crawford's fingers up a bit. "There. A little harder." Then he nudged Crawford's chin up and proceeded to wipe Crawford's face clean. "You're going to be just fine..."

"It's a good thing I went with Brad for his punching today," Casey said, "Or we might not have saw you with those bullies."

"It's boxing, Casey, not punching," Brad gently corrected his brother, balling up the towel in his hands.

"Well, I saved him anyway!..."

"True." Brad nodded. He peered over Crawford's still tilted head. "What's your name again?"

[end]

"…That's it?"

"Well," I started, "It may seem like nothing now, but that was a pivotal point in his life." I frowned at Nagi. His expression said that I had sold him that encyclopedia. "You didn't get anything from that?!" Was I losing my touch?

He shrugged, as if to apologize. "The youngest one was our Crawford?"

"Yes," I affirmed. "We see the memory through his eyes, his thoughts..."

"Wha-!" Suddenly, Nagi's face contorted in pain. He jerked forward, and his nose began to spill with blood. His hands, now below his face, filled quickly with the liquid.

"Whoa!" I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and rammed it under his nose.

"What the hell?!" He grabbed the cloth, pushing it further into his face as he waved me away. "What did you do to me?"

"I didn't-" His glare cut me off. "Well..." I peered at his face. "I might have made the memory too strong. Your body might believe that it has Crawford's injury."

He huffed, still keeping his thin gaze on me. "Thanks for the warning."

There was knock at the door. "Nagi?" came Crawford's muffled voice. "Is Schuldich in there?"

"Yeah!" Nagi called out.

"He can't know about this!" I whispered frantically. As the door opened, I jumped up in front of Nagi, and he sank down into his bed.

"Crawford!" I huffed. "... Good… morning? ... !" Ooh yeah, that was slick.

/What are you doing in here?/ Crawford blinked at me through his glasses, then craned his neck to look at Nagi. "I just came to tell you, I'll be at a meeting until noon." Through all this, Nagi pretended to sneeze, and was inching forward on the mattress.

"'Scuse me." Nagi threw himself off the bed and pushed past Crawford, his head bent down over the handkerchief. The door slammed a little louder than Nagi's usual.

Crawford kept up his staring. /Why are you smiling like that?/

I cursed through my teeth as I grinned and held my hands up, implying that I had no idea what he could be hinting at. "... Want some coffee?"

tbc

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