Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ scarlet sunset ❯ Scarlet Sunset ( Chapter 2 )

Title: Scarlet Sunset [part 2 out of 3]

Author: Farfarello

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: angst, lemon, yaoi and disturbing content

Disclaimers: Weiss Kreuz does not belong to me...

Crawford stood at the door of the church, not making any move to enter. The church was small, made mostly of wood with a few chandeliers leaving the place quite dark except for the streaks of sunlight that passed through the stained glass windows by the altar.

There weren't any people inside the chapel, filling the place with an eerie silence that sent a chill up the American's spine. It had been so long since he had last gone into a church, and the feeling left him confused.

Walking down the middle aisle, mahogany orbs focused on the lone cross situated above the altar with the figure of Christ nailed to it.

Crawford simply stood in the middle, staring at the wooden figure as his hands tightened on the handle of the gun he had brought with him.

"Who do you think you are?!" Crawford was shocked to hear his voice shout, shattering the silence that enveloped the sacred place. He wasn't shouting at anyone in particular, just the same person nailed to the cross in front of him.

"Do you think you have the right to manipulate our lives like this?!" Anger surged through the American's veins as he pulled out his gun and pointed it directly at the wooden image's forehead gritting out, "You have NO right to do that!"

Perspiration dripped from the side of Crawford's head, his finger threatening to pull the trigger and blow a hole right through the statue's head. His grip on the gun was so tight it hurt. The American could feel the metal dig into his flesh, piercing him like the turmoil devouring him inside out.

"That will not hurt God, that is an inanimate object, unworthy of his time."

Brown orbs snapped from the trance that held their owner and found themselves looking into a lone amber eye. "Farfarello."

Sure enough, it was the Irishman walking stealthily to where the Schwarz leader was standing. There was a constant dripping sound as he went, and Crawford only figured out what it was when Farfarello was standing beside him.

The silver-haired boy's arm had a huge wound on it, it was a perfect slice with blood freely dripping down his knife which he held tightly in his hand then unto the dark oaken floor. Farfarello's clothes were soaked with blood, Crawford knew how fresh it was from the way it glinted crimson against the sunlight.

"Where have you been and why are you here?" Crawford's throat was dry and his voice sounded more like a croak.

Farfarello smiled an insane grin and said, "I mad God cry today..." he then raised his blood-soaked knife to his lips and ran his tongue over it once before pressing the flat of the blade on his cheek, smearing his pale cheek with blood. "I hurt him really deep..."

Crawford put his gun away and reached out to touch his companion's cheek. He felt the warm blood against his palm as he wiped the blood off Farfarello's skin, uncovering another deeply engraved scar. The Irishman didn't move, confusion evident in his golden eye as he regarded the older man.

"What are you doing here?" Crawford asked again as he let his hand fall to his side. "This is somewhere I have to be." Was the dull reply while Farfarello watched his blood pool by his feet.

They just stood there, neither one speaking yet their eyes held a silent conversation. Crawford heaved a big sigh, somehow, he felt this was the time and place to talk to the Irishman.

The American's voice was the first to break the silence as he spoke, "Farfarello, why do you kill?" The Irishman dipped two fingers into his own blood and pressed them against the image of the savior's face, right at the edge of both eyes, "to make him cry... to make him cry crimson tears." Then he dragged the digits down, staining the face of the figure with red streaks that ran from its eyes down finely-chiseled wooden cheeks. "I kill to make him cry crimson tears."

Crawford could hardly comprehend the answer, his mind was in chaos, and he didn't know what to do. In his mind, he knew that Farfarello needed this choice but his hart refused to believe in it. After running a hand through his hair, the American made up his mind. Farfarello needed this chance.

"If you could forget everything, would you do it? ...to be normal... to live away from what you are right now, from what WE are..." The question was hushed and nearly inaudible but still, Farfarello heard it, heard it full well.

Farfarello shook is head and took Crawford's hand in his saying, "We have been smeared with so much innocent blood, too much that it has tainted our very souls..." he raised Crawford's hand so that the American could see the blood dried on his palm.

"Our sins weigh heavy on our shoulders that will soon drag us into the depths of hell..." Farfarello traced another bloody digit down Crawford's cheek. "Forgetting is like... escaping... escaping from what you have lived for all you life..." Then he drew his hand back.

Crawford was silent for a moment, ideas coming and crashing into each other as he struggled to gather his thoughts. Then he turned around so he faced the rest of the church.

The sun was setting and the stained the floor with blood red patterns with specks of other colors from the stained-glass windows. The American gave Farfarello a helpless look before walking off, the soft rustling of his clothing was the only that could be heard as he went.

"Hey Crawford! Do you believe in God?"

Crawford turned his head to gaze upon the owner of the voice then shook his head. "If that's your God then I don't. My god has long forsaken me."

"I believe in Him but I want to hurt him for what he did to me..." Farfarello pressed his palm on the carving's chest and smeared his blood all over it. "Are you crying now God? Can't you see that your son has been tainted with the blood of a sinner?!" He shouted, looking up from the altar.

Crawford took out his gun and aimed it straight at the statue's forehead once more. "I can't make him cry... because I don't need to." Then he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight to its target. The brown-eyed man put his gun away and walked out of the church. "I don't need a god who can't even save himself..."

~tbc

[comments and suggestions please...] -Farfarello