Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Rain Doesn't Grieve ❯ 30 ( Chapter 30 )

30

 

fukaku fukaku ima mo
sou...aishiteiru

 

Rex ~ Initiation

 

“Thank you for doing this. You really don't have to.”

 

I parked the car and smiled at my passenger. “You're very welcome, Aya-chan.”

 

She got out and stood for a moment gazing at the stately building in front of us. She seemed awkward and coltish in a way that reminded me of myself when I was fourteen.

 

I wondered briefly if she would ever make up for all that time spent sleeping, or if the world had spun beyond her reach. This private academy would be her best chance for it, since she'd never finished high school.

 

Kritiker has for some time kept a trust fund set aside for her full tuition, including college, through whatever course of study she may decide on. And if school is not to be, she'd have an apartment and a job at a quiet little flower shop for as long as she'd want them.

 

Persia had said that we owed her at least that much.

 

As we walked toward the admissions office, I tried to puzzle out why he'd sent me to escort Aya to her new school. She didn't seem to be at risk, though she was related to one of our operatives. They say that every encounter makes each of us teacher and learner, inseparable. What was he trying to teach me today?

 

“Look! Wildflowers!” Aya knelt and cupped them in her hands as though she'd never seen anything so amazing.

 

When she looked up at me, she was crying.

 

I hurried to her side. “Are you all right?”

 

She smiled and hiccupped a sob. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. It's foolish, I know. But when I…went to sleep, it was raining, and I dreamed that all the flowers were drowned by it.”

 

I swallowed and nodded, trying to smile back. “It hasn't rained much here since you woke up, has it?”

 

“No, not like that day,” she whispered.

 

“And now it's summer, and time for new beginnings.” I helped her to her feet, such a small weight to bear. “Come on, let's get you started.”

 

 

Yohji ~ Union

 

“It's so easy to just be with you, and I'm down to counting the hours before I have to go again.”

 

I blinked as the preceding day seemed to evaporate into nothingness. He's leaving, going back to his team. Back to Brad. I found myself staring blankly at my guest.

 

Schuldig smirked at me, though his eyes looked sad. “You sure you don't want to run away with me, to Amsterdam or something? Be a couple of hippies or whatever?”

 

I blurted the first thing that came to mind, hiding bitterness behind laughter. “You think I want Crawford hunting me down and shooting me where it hurts? Hell, no!” A part of me wished he'd been serious about it, and then I realized he had been but it just wasn't an option. “It's a nice idea, though. I've never been to Amsterdam.”

 

“Me neither. But I hear it's a friendly place.”

 

Sunset colored the window red-gold, deepening with evening and an expectant sort of quiet. He'd be gone tomorrow. I couldn't expect to ever see him again. Knowing this…just hurt. There was so much about Schuldig that spoke to me, whispered to the darkness in my soul.

 

If we only had this one night before the end of the world, what would I do with it?

 

I shut the window and turned the stereo on, still searching for that answer. To find it, I realized I needed to know one more thing about my friend, one thing that could be the key to his nature. If that nature belonged to Brad Crawford, all I could do would be to let him go gracefully. But if not… “Can I ask you something without you getting a headache over it?”

 

“Depends,” he replied. “Try me.”

 

“Why Schuldig?”

 

“Beg pardon?”

 

“Did you choose that name for yourself,” I asked, returning to the couch, “or did someone give it to you?”

 

Schuldig fidgeted, stubbed out his cigarette with a savage twist. “No, I chose it.”

 

“What are you guilty of?”

 

He bit his lip, then whispered, “Everything.”

 

Everything, he said. No man is so debased as to be guilty of everything. Not even me. His pain struck that chord within me, sounded it so strongly that I knew I'd had my answer before I'd ever asked the question. We were two lost souls trying to remain human, and damned if I was going to let him fall.

 

I gripped his jaw, tilted his head back so I could look into his eyes. I could still be wrong about this, I had to know for certain, but there it was: the anguish, twin of my own, burning deep within those shadowed eyes. Self-recrimination and blame, and a sorrow too thick to swim through. I felt myself smile as I shook my head at him and said, “No, you're not.”

 

And then I kissed him, softly, barely touching his startled lips.

 

Again.

 

On the third pass, I let my tongue caress his lips, and Schuldig moaned against my mouth. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me still as his mouth opened to mine. He kissed back tentatively, hungrily, as though he had never kissed before and found it intoxicating.

 

If this were the last night of the world, I would be content to spend it right here, with this beautiful, damaged man in my arms.

 

He clutched at my shoulders as I ran my hands down his spine, and I felt more than heard him whisper, “Just touch me, everywhere, anywhere!” Logic told me he hadn't spoken that out loud, because I still held his mouth captive with mine. It didn't matter, I'd heard it clearly enough to make me smile against his lips before moving back from the kiss and winking at him.

 

Schuldig looked as flustered as a teenager and as helplessly aroused. He seemed about to protest as I knelt in front of him, my hands moving toward his waistband. What kind of games was he used to, if this made him so uncomfortable? “Stop worrying about it,” I told him. “Or do you want me to stop?” I let one hand rest across his hard-on, then squeezed gently.

 

Schuldig groaned and clutched at my hair.

 

Fascinated by his need, I continued rubbing him, watching his face as he threw his head back and gasped. Such a simple thing, such a simple touch; what had this man endured to make this moment so powerful for him? No matter; I'd decided to make this night everything we could want, there was no need for questions.

 

He moaned again and bucked against my hand.

 

My own cock throbbed in sympathy.

 

I rose up from my crouch to kiss Schuldig again, deeply, with a promise of things to come. It had been a while since I'd done this, but I doubted that Schuldig would be criticizing my technique. I knelt between his feet and unzipped his jeans. The heat of his arousal pulsed through the fabric of his underwear, and I caressed it gently with my fingers before pressing my lips to the cotton and nibbling. He groaned, and I smiled against him, working my way up to the tip.

 

Schuldig's need seemed catching; I responded to his urgency by tugging his underwear away from his straining cock and mouthing the shaft. I wanted to go slower, but found myself moving quickly back up to the head. A soft pressure behind my eyes seemed to pulse in time with my own erection, and for a moment I had the weirdest feeling that Schuldig and I had exchanged places. Then my mind cleared and I concentrated on pleasuring my friend, nibbling at his foreskin and licking delicately around the tip.

 

His hands clenched in my hair, and I purred against his flesh, making him groan and buck. My fingers traced his shaft, so similar to my own that I could imagine my own touch - or was he doing something to my mind? It didn't matter, Schuldig teetered on the edge of climax, and so did I. I decided to slow things down a moment, see if that echo of his pleasure was real or an imagined thing. I paused and looked up at his face.

 

Schuldig whimpered, his eyes drawing up in momentary anguish. He caressed my hair, so gentle in spite of his need. These few moments let me clear my head a little, and I smiled at him reassuringly. Then I took him in my mouth again, soothing that fevered flesh with my tongue.

 

Schuldig cried out, the first real uncontrolled sound I'd ever heard him make. It was sudden, loud, and gutteral, and sounded like cursing. I suckled him as he came, drawing the climax out as long as I could without giving him pain. He trembled and gasped; I could almost taste his astonishment, and his gratitude.

 

My own need demanded attention. I moved up across Schuldig and kissed him, letting him taste himself on my lips. I wanted him, however he would have me.

 

Schuldig seemed to recognize this, and surged into the kiss. He gripped me tightly as I straddled his legs and ground against him, but just as I thought we'd decided our roles he freaked out, pushing me off and scrambling away until he stood panting against the wall. “I can't,” he gasped. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Is it Crawford?” I asked, concern and jealousy making my cheeks burn.

 

“No, Yohji. It's me.” He re-zipped his jeans and paced back and forth like a caged animal. “I don't belong here.”

 

“I didn't know you were Taoist,” I quipped, banishing the jealousy and focusing on my distraught friend. “Does anyone truly belong anywhere, Schuldig? Where do you want to be?”

 

He leaned against the wall, head back, eyes closing as though in prayer. “I want to be home.”

 

If only he knew, he already was.

 

My heart skipped as I tasted the truth of it. I loved Schuldig, without any promise of its return. If I could keep him with me, I would. But I know I can't.

 

So he'll just have to keep a bit of me with him instead.

 

I crossed the room and stood in front of him, staring at the face that had so recently and so thoroughly etched itself upon my heart. He sensed my presence and opened his eyes. He looked as though he were about to cry.

 

Schuldig couldn't accept a simple gift of love. It had to be complicated, demanding.

 

I had to be stronger than his past.

 

I gripped his left wrist and pinned it over his head.

 

His lips parted to protest, and I claimed his mouth with my own. I slipped my left hand around to the small of his back and pulled him into me. His entire frame sagged with his surrender. Schuldig whimpered, his free hand gripping my shoulder as if to keep himself from falling.

 

If Schuldig needed a dominant lover to grant him permission to feel, I was more than willing to play that role for him. I let go of his wrist and reached up under his shirt. He groaned as I pinched and teased and scraped fingernails across his nipples, and his reaction fueled my own desire.

 

Damn, I wanted him!

 

Without a word, I took hold of his hand again and tugged him away from the wall. His eyes gleamed as I led him into the bedroom.

 

I stripped him deliberately and sensuously, tasting his skin as I went. He barely seemed to breathe at all. I had shrugged out of my shirt, intending to slip off my pants next, when I caught his gaze and just stood there a moment, staring into his eyes. Such trust, and such need!

 

One night. We had just this one night, we didn't dare pretend otherwise. I held Schuldig close and kissed him; he melted against me with a sigh.

 

But then: “Yohji, I can't.You don't understand.”

 

Schuldig's fear seemed as tangible as fog to me. I tried to reassure him, but I couldn't shield him from the monster in his own mind.

 

He was afraid he'd hurt me.

 

I seduced him anyway.

 

Sex and death had long been mingled in my heart. How many times had I flaunted my luck in bed and in combat? A tell-tale point: though I kept condoms handy, I rarely bothered with them anymore. Why should I, when my night job had offered so many more interesting ways to die?

 

Schuldig's frantic surrender told me that he was the same.

 

We are so very much alike, he and I. So alive, and so terribly alone.

 

His voice at once raw and soundless, Schuldig cried out my name, and for a moment everything seemed to stop. Perspective inverted as though I'd been shoved through a mirror; my body shivered as every nerve seemed to fire at once. I heard a roar of white noise and within that deafening blur -

 

::Stefan::

 

- a name darted faster than the sleekest bird and was gone.

 

As reality began to make sense again, I peeled myself away from Schuldig's back and tried to make him comfortable. He crouched where we'd parted; he was bleeding from the nose.

 

“You all right?” I asked, my heart pounding in my throat. His face, the blood - I felt sick at the thought that he was hurt because of me.

 

But he nodded and smiled, and cleaned up as though this were perfectly normal for him. Within minutes he lay asleep in my arms. I could still taste the sweat from where I'd kissed him goodnight.

 

I missed him already.

 

 

 

A/N:

fukaku fukaku ima mo
sou...aishiteiru

 

deeply deeply even now,
yes...I love you

“Hoshi no Suna (Stardust)” - Gackt Crescent

 

Rex ~ Initiation

Persia's secretaries must embody three values: discretion, loyalty, and vigilance. They must be ready for any situation, and protect Kritiker's mission at any cost.

 

The current Persia has learned that this is not enough. Though he can't do this with his field agents, he can try to make certain that his secretaries, at least, maintain a sense of humanity. This, then, is the lesson.

 

Yohji ~ Union

Yohji hasn't had a lot of luck in love. Usually, as soon as he risks his heart, it's broken - or crushed by his own hands. To try again is either foolhardy or brave as hell.

 

I vote brave.