Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Zweiter Chancen ❯ Passion ( Chapter 11 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

*****11*****


Our greatest fears are often that which is most foreign to us. Something that we simply do not understand. A women may fear walking alone at night because she does not know what lurks in the darkness. She doesn’t understand it; she isn’t apart of it. A man may fear telling the person he loves of his true feelings because he doesn’t know how they will react. He doesn’t understand the other person’s feelings; he would be putting himself out on a very dangerous limb.

Is it stupid to fear something because we don’t know how things will turn out? Yes. No one knows for certain what their life is going to be like until they have lived it. Well, one person knows. But He usually doesn’t share.

Actually, there is a rather powerful, mortal man with a knack for seeing the future, but even he doesn’t know what to expect from recent events. Not this time. Which probably explains his dark mood, and why a certain young boy is terrified to approach him.

“Cra...Crawford...?” little Nagi whispers, peering around the door into Brad’s office.

It is still midday, but no light shines in through the window on the far wall, and the false lights on the ceiling are - oddly enough - turned off, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. Nagi can barely make out anything inside, other than Brad’s stiff outline, sitting in his chair behind the desk, half-turned away from the door.

His face covered in shadow, the American takes no notice of his young apprentice.

“Crawford?” Nagi says again, cautiously entering, and taking small, timid steps further inside the room. “...Brad?” he tries, risking the use of the older man’s first name. It isn’t a rule not to use it, or anything, but the only one who ever does...ever did...was Schuldrich.

“What?” Brad snarls, at last giving an answer, although the word drips of venom and fueling anger.

“I...I just wanted to see if...if you...ahhh...well...if you wanted...”

“I don’t have time for your sniveling, Nagi. If you have something to say, say it and get out!”

Nagi involuntarily flinches. First, he is frightening out of his mind by the lunatic downstairs, and now he is being sent into fits of fear once again, this time by a man he once considered a father.

An abusive father, at best, but still a father.

“I wanted to see if...you needed anything.”

“I’m fine.” Brad answers shortly, not doing a very good job at making that statement sound truthful.

“I know...” Nagi starts in again, following along with Brad’s denial. “...but...you haven’t eaten anything all day. I don’t think you ate anything yesterday, either. In fact, you haven’t been your self since...since...” he trails off, retreated ever so slightly after Brad shoots him a very nasty look. Clearly, this isn’t a topic he wishes to discuss.

“Get out.” Brad commands, turning to avoid the boy’s gaze once again.

“But Brad -”

“Don’t...call me that.”

Nagi quickly swallows his words. “Gomen...Crawford. But...you can’t keep doing this. All you ever do is work and worry. Yes, worry. I know you’re worried about him.”

“I said, get out!” Brad yells, spinning his chair around to face the window and block out Nagi’s words.

Steadying himself, Nagi takes a breath, and clenches his fists so tight, they become whiter than the albino down in the basement. “No.” the boy breathes, and suddenly, Brad’s chair whips back around, though Brad had nothing to do with it. “You need to talk about this. Schwartz can’t function if our leader is falling apart. And you *are*. I know you haven’t been able to see anything about him. I don’t know why, either, but something is keeping you from getting any premonitions that might tell you what happened to Schul -”

“Don’t.” Brad stops him, still sounding dark in his tone, but softer, as if pained by the idea of hearing that name.

“Yes, I *will* say it.” Nagi shoots back. “Schuldrich. I’ll say it again - Schuldrich. Schuldrich is gone, and it’s driving you mad not knowing what happened to him. You can’t see if he’s dead or alive. If he was taken or if he left. If he misses you...as much as you miss him.”

“Stop this. Stop this right now, you insolent, little -”

“What? What are you going to do if I keep going? You’ve done everything else to me. What’s left for you to do?”

Mentally holding Brad down in his chair, Nagi advances on the desk, shaking despite his courage in standing up to his leader - the man who raised him. The man who taught him how to hate.

“The only thing that makes it bearable to live this way, is that...even in a morbid sense...Schwartz is like a family. At least to me. Now, I need to know the truth. Why do you want him back? Is it for him, for you, or just for the mission? If you can’t admit the truth, then maybe it’s better that he’s out there instead of trapped in here with the rest of us.”

“That’s it!” Brad cries, forcing himself out of the chair. Nagi instantly backs down; Brad’s anger has risen enough to overcome the young telekinetic’s hold. “I want him back because this is where he belongs. He doesn’t fit anywhere else. I don’t need another reason. Do you understand, Nagi? Or do I have to make it more clear to you that Schwartz is for life?”

Nagi continues to back away, though his expression remains resolute.

(...once you become one of us...the only choice left is to stay with us...or to face death alone...Schwartz is for life...)

“You don’t have to make anything clear to me...Crawford.” Nagi answers, devoid of true expression in his voice. “I know what I came to find out.” Defiantly, he turns to leave, but pauses just as he is about to walk through the door. “You don’t deserve him.”

Brad’s pulse quickens, unaware of the reason, as he watches Nagi leave, without stopping the boy to divulge punishment for such brash disrespect. He wouldn’t have been able to move anyway.

(You don’t deserve him.)

“Hmph...” Brad sneers, forming himself back into the chair and turning to glare out the window. “What fantasy world is that boy living in...?”


*****


(Come on, Bradley, I just wanna have a little fun.)

(How many times must I say this? We don’t have time for your games.)

(I’ll be back home before you even miss me. Pretty please. Let me make him squirm.)

(The mission was not to kill, Schuldrich, just to frighten. Some things can be solved in a civilized manner. Besides, we may need him alive later on.)

(Him? Gimme a break. We don’t need him. Come on. You know you can’t refuse me.)

(What makes you think that?)

(My devilish charm, of course.)

(.........)

(Please...)

(...fine. But clean up the mess afterwards, and if you get caught -)

(I know, I know. I’m on my own.)

“On my own...?”

“Hey, Em, you finished with the till yet?”

“...always on my own...”

“Em...?”

“...warum...warum muß ich allein sein?!”

“Emery, snap out of it!”

Jerking upwards, Emery’s eyes fly open, his breathing labored and erratic. He had been hunched over near the cash register, eyes tightly closed, with beads of sweat forming over his crinkled forehead.

Ken stands beside him now, rightly concerned, and places a hand gently on the boy’s shaking shoulders. “You okay...?”

Blinking back tears that sting his cobalt blue eyes, Emery gradually calms himself down, and offers Ken the closest thing he can to a grateful smile. “Ja...I mean...Hai, Ken-san.” he stammers, flinching away from that kind touch on his shoulder. “I was just...having a bad daydream.”

“Don’t lie to us, Emery.” sounds a new voice from behind them. “Lying to your friends is the first step in losing them.”

From out of the back room, Ran emerges with a thin-lipped frown, and begins to make his way towards them. Soon, Youji and Omi appear at the cashier counter as well, after closing up the front and ushering the last of the customers outside.

“You’ve been a little off again today.” Ran begins softly, attempting to hold back his mistrust. “My promise to you holds only if you are honest with us. What’s been going on?”

Surrounded now, though by support more than suspicion, Emery folds. As before, something inside of him had kept him from telling them the truth. But the part of him that is truly him, is overcome with relief that he finally can.

Throughout this new day, he has been afflicted with the past.

“Every now and then...I get these flashes...” he begins, sitting down in the chair beside the register, and lowering his gaze to the floor. “I see myself as...*him*...and watch scenes from the life I don’t remember. Didn’t remember. It’s still vague and chopped up, but it’s more than just the knowledge of what I did. It’s as if I was really there.”

“You *were*, chibi.” Youji smiles painfully, leaning back against the counter. “But don’t get so choked up over this. Memories can’t hurt you.”

“But what they bring can.” Emery snaps in reply. “The more I remember, the closer I am to becoming -”

“To remaining...who you are.” Ran finishes, and despite his recent change towards Emery, and the others, his teammates are taken slightly aback. Ran. Kindness. They don’t generally go together.

“He’s right, Emmy-chan.” Omi chimes in, oozing enthusiasm and optimism as always. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I know. I know I shouldn’t be. But some of the things I remember are so...urg!” he cuts off, reaching up to grasp his sudden, throbbing head. “...bleiben sie von mir fern...nehmen sie mich weg nicht...Ich will nicht sein was ich bin...bitte...hilft...jemand mir!!”

The members of Weiss instinctively back away, all wearing masks of concern and undue fear at this sudden outburst. Emery is not himself in these declarations. He doesn’t even sound like himself.

Still grasping his head, the young German twists and turns, snapping from whatever memory he had been reliving, to another. “Und wer haben sie angenommen sind zu sein?” questions his lilting, nasal voice, at times staring into nothing, at others holding his eyes closed as tightly as possible. “Brad Crawford? Was wollen sie mit mir?” He jerks again, pushing past the others into the empty shop.

“K’so...what should we do?” Ken whispers, eyeing Emery just as nervously as the others. Their young tenant has been having odd episodes all day, but none have wracked his body in such a manner. Few have even caused the other to notice anything was wrong. “He’s freakin’ out. What if he turns back now? What if -”

“I do what I’m ordered to do.” Emery continues, in Japanese once again, back into memories of his more recent past. “I also do what I want to do, which usually ends up being a hellava lot more fun.”

Collapsing to his knees, the others rush to enclose him, all on edge, and all tensing their trigger fingers against weapons that aren’t even there. Old habits die very, very hard, after all.

“It isn’t all honey, all the time. Thoughts mess you up, Farf. Sometimes...I don’t know which are mine...and which belong...to someone else. I forget myself and...I...I...I want this to stop!” he cries at last, shouting the last line as himself - as Emery - and falling back on the floor exhausted and out of breath.

He isn’t unconscious, but lies there breathing heavily, eyes closed, while the others stand hovering over him, debating what to do.

At long last, Ran bends down and scoops Emery into his arms, taking control of the situation, as is his rightful area of expertise. Naturally, this actions immediately gets the boy’s attention, forcing him fully awake, but even if he had the strength left to struggle, he wouldn’t have wanted to.

“Aya-san...what are you doing...?” he questions, his voice dripping with fatigue.

“Taking you upstairs to put you to bed.” he answers, motioning for the others to follow him upstairs since the shop is already locked up. “You need your rest after that...attack. We’ll bring you something to eat in a few minutes.”

Emery doesn’t argue, and neither do the others. They all could use a little rest after that.


*****


Knock. Knock.

“Are you decent?” Ran calls through the door, already dressed for bed himself.

“Yep. You can come in now, Aya-san.” Emery answers from his spot beneath the covers. He is once again in Ran’s room, in Ran’s bed, and has been since the evening first began. “Thanks for letting me sleep with you again.” he smiles as Ran enters, following the older man’s lithe, white outline move across the room. “I know you didn’t want it to become a habit, since I’m old enough to sleep by myself, but I guess I’m...even more afraid now...than I was that night I tried to run from the shadows in the hallway.”

Ran offers a stiff nod, somewhat distracted with hanging his clean clothes up in the closet, and surfaces only to continue moving about the room.

Blue eyes descend upon his form and devour it, gazing at the curves and gentle movements of his smooth body. Emery knows he shouldn’t be watching Ran with such naughty thoughts fluttering about in his mind, but he can’t help himself.

The tall red-head’s chest is bare, his black pajama pants hanging low on his hips, revealing the indent of his hipbones, and sending a cold shiver through Emery’s body at the sight.

(He’s so beautiful...and so kind when he allows himself to be...)

“How have you been feeling?” Ran asks, itching with residues of concern. He closes the shades on the window then, before resuming his tidying up, mechanically putting things away where they belong. “It’s good that you ate a healthy meal, but I want to make sure you haven’t had any more...moments...like you had downstairs.”

(He’s worried about me...)

“I feel fine, Aya-san. Haven’t had a single episode since. Maybe it was just a fluke.”

(I don’t care what it was. Not if I can stay this way. I just hope the faith they all have in me is worth all this trouble. I don’t want to let them down.)

“Good. It’s almost certain that you will turn back eventually, but the more time you spend as Emery, the more - hopefully - you will want to remain him when Schuldrich takes over.”

At last, Ran is finished with his nightly rituals, and bends over the alarm clock on the night stand to set it for morning. The table is on Emery’s side of the bed, so Ran is now extremely close to the young boy. Close enough to touch.

(Just look how his hair falls over his face...bright red...with eyes like lilacs lit on fire...and perfect features so white...so...incredibly...)

Stunning. Not just Ran, but what Emery does next. Truly, it is a stunning act.

Lunging forward, Emery captures Ran’s all too near lips, consuming them in a kiss that not only surprises the recipient for its sudden arrival, but for its hungry, forceful appetite.

When he at last realizes what is happening, pushing past his initial shock, Ran pulls away, leaving Emery flushed and desperate for more. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he barks, his ears turning bright red, though most of his face remains white. “Why...why did you do that?”

Whatever surge of bravery and dominance it was that pulsed through Emery’s young veins, surges out again, and the poor boy is mortified by how vulnerable he has just become.

Turning completely red himself, Emery draws back against the headboard, shivering uncontrollably. “I...I...I don’t...I didn’t...oh God, I...I...please...please don’t hate me...”

Ran takes a calming breath, studying Emery carefully, and wearing his emotionless mask all too well. “I’ve told you before, I don’t hate you, and I’m not about to start. I am, however, going to ask you this again. Why did you kiss me?”

“Because...I had to.” answers a very small voice, almost too soft for Ran to hear.

Scowling doubtfully, Ran backs away and moves around to *his* side of the bed. Before climbing in, he spends a good minute or more merely staring at Emery, watching him, and causing the boy to tremble even more than he already is.

Emery doesn’t know what to do. He can’t think of anything else he can possibly say to make this better. He doesn’t know why he did it, he just did. It was an impulse. A very foolish impulse, but it had been out of his control the moment Ran’s perfect face and perfect body came close enough for him to act on his desires.

Life’s like that sometimes. We wait and wait and wait for one of those perfect moments, and when it comes, we act, whether it is a sane choice or not. Regret only comes from not doing anything at all, looking back on it to wonder: what if? Shame, however, can accompany every outcome.

After what seems like endless hours, Ran flicks off the lamp to his right, and moves through the darkness to climb onto the bed. Emery sulks, sliding down until the covers are right up to his chin. What he doesn’t notice by doing this, though, is that Ran is not slipping under the covers with him.

Crawling across the bed like a graceful Tomcat, Ran sneaks over to Emery’s side and stares down into his frightened, boyish face.

Before Emery has time to think or move away, Ran claims his still damp lips completely, while two white hands gently hold him down. The kiss is much different coming from Ran’s point of control. It is softer, more tender and less clumsy. It moves and whispers, tasting every inch of soft skin, but still avoids going any deeper. It is chaste, while at the same time filling Emery with more of his naughty little thoughts. Very naughty thoughts.

“Wh...why...did you do that...Aya-san...?” Emery questions, thoroughly breathless and fully flushed from head to toe.

Still holding onto slender shoulders and hovering above the boy’s smaller frame, Ran merely tilts his head. “Because...I had to.” he repeats in answer, seeming confused not only over his action, but over his explanation. Like Emery, he doesn’t really have an answer. “Just...go to sleep.”

And upon these commanding words, Ran rolls away, back to his own side of the bed, and at last slips under the covers.

Meanwhile, only inches from his tormentor, Emery’s body is on fire. His own kiss had been so rushed and haphazard, but Ran’s kiss back to him had been light enough, sensual enough, to cause a very distinctive reaction.

“That’s it?” he whimpers, turning to Ran to discover the older man’s back is now facing him. “You kiss me like that and then just tell me to go to sleep?”

“What were you expecting?”

“More!”

With a raised eyebrow and critical gaze, Ran turns over to look back at the boy, offering no signs of sympathy. “More? You’re just a child.”

“Then why did you -”

“Because I did. Because the moment was there and I took it, just like you.”

“That’s not fair.” Emery grumbles, glaring in reply. “If you think of me as nothing but a child then you shouldn’t have kissed me back. You’re playing with me. Playing with my feelings for you, and...” he trails off, realizing he has once again set himself up to be vulnerable.

“Your feelings for me?” Ran repeats, sitting up on his elbows. “What feelings? I’ll admit that kissing you back was...a thoughtless act on my part, but what exactly do you feel for me that made you do it first?”

“I...I...”

(...I love you. No! I don’t love him...do I? Oh God, I don’t know. Maybe I do...)

“I’m not sure...how I feel...but I feel something...and it hurts that you would...tease me the way you did.”

“I wasn’t teasing you.”

“Then what were you doing? Acting on the moment? That isn’t fair to me, either.”

(What are you thinking...Aya-san...?)

(This is insane. He’s right, I’m not being fair. But...why did I kiss him...? He isn’t just a child. He’s young, but old enough to make his own decisions. So...what about me? What do I want? It isn’t right for me to want...him.)

“Why isn’t it right?” Emery asks innocently, forgetting for the moment that the information he just heard was not spoken to the open world.

Strangely enough, Ran gives little reaction to the fact that his mind had been invaded. “Because it isn’t.” he answers simply. “You’re 16 years old. I stopped Youji from -”

“From doing things to me that I didn’t want. I never said I didn’t want this. That I didn’t want you...”

Neither able to think of what to say next, an uncomfortable silence settles between them. The room feels stiflingly hot, and yet Emery is wracked with chills coming from no where, and that Ran seem immune to. After all, everyone’s favorite Ice Queen is impartial to the cold.

Gaining confidence, perhaps out of wishful thinking more than anything else, Emery inches closer to Ran, and taking a leap of faith that may just send him tumbling down a thousand high-rise floors above the ground, he meets his lips to Ran’s for a third time that night.

The stone-cold red-head does not fight this renewed sensation, but kissed back, allowing those young lips to set his body ablaze. This time, he daringly brushes his tongue against those tantalizing lips, and Emery’s mouth parts ever so slightly, allowing him entrance.

Although the younger of the two had initiated the kiss, Ran takes control, and Emery gladly allows it. More gentle than most would suspect from such a pillar of ice, Ran strokes the inside of Emery mouth, tasting something like sugar, anticipation, and stale memories that burn with every rush of flavor.

Not one to lose control completely, Emery moves his hands to Ran’s bare chest and plays across the smooth muscles. Sliding ever closer, he then begins to brush his foot up and down Ran’s leg, needing that intimacy, that rush of skin upon skin.

Whatever defenses Ran had left to stop himself are burnt away by this kindling fire between them, and he finds himself pulling up on Emery’s T-shirt, managing to slip it off over the boy’s head between kisses.

Soon, they are inseparably close, hands straying, kisses deepening. Ran pulls away from the kiss soon after, allowing them both to breathe, and moves to brush his lips against the side of the boy’s neck, up and down, before going lower to his shoulders, to the soft skin of his rapidly rising and falling chest.

Emery’s head is tossed back, his body bucking forward, entwining their legs together. He moves his hands lower on Ran’s chest, down to those tempting hip bones, and strokes at their gentle groove. A groan escapes Ran’s busy lips at this, and Emery is well aware of the reaction he has caused with his small, playful hands.

This friction, this fire, is ready to erupt and boil over, making it impossible for them to stop. All too soon, there will be no turning back.

Craving to hear that feral sound from the back of Ran’s throat once again, Emery slides his hands lower, down the front of Ran’s loose, cotton pants, moving his hands and his body to the rhythm that has began playing between them.

Ran’s violet eyes widen at the feel of those soft digits working their way lower, and he suddenly realizes that they are far too close. Too close, too far. He can’t let this happen.

“Stop.” Ran breathes, grasping those hands before they can cause any more delicious damage. “This is wrong.”

“Please...Aya-san...please, don’t stop...” Emery begs, allowing his hands to be moved, but curling their legs more tightly together and madly striking kisses at Ran’s skin.

“We have to stop.” Ran states firmly, pulling out of reach of those lips, and forcing their legs to untangle. Only his arms remain around Emery’s waist. “We’d regret this in the morning.”

“No, please, I want -”

“Listen to me. I am not rejecting this, or you, but it isn’t right. The future is too unclear.”

“That’s why I don’t want you to stop. What if I change back and choose to leave? I’ll never know this feeling again. Your touch, your kiss, your heart beating so fast I can hear it vibrating against my chest.”

“Haven’t we discussed this enough for you to have faith in yourself.”

“Nothing is absolute, Aya-san. You know that.”

“Exactly. We don’t know anything for certain. Have patience...and go to sleep. You’ll see things my way in time. I’m ashamed I let things go as far as they did.”

“Why? Because I’m just a child?” Emery pouts, staring with puppy-dog eyes back into Ran’s stern features.

“No. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m ashamed, because passion like what you thought you were feeling should come over time, only after knowing without a doubt that you want no one else in the world but the one you are with.”

“But I -”

“You...are still young. Never rush into anything. Most mistakes in life are made because we act before we think. Please, try and understand what I’m telling you.”

Ever so slowly, Emery’s childish expression crumbles, and he knows that Ran is right. Snuggling innocently against his companion’s chest, he sighs, curling a small finger around a strand of Ran’s flame-red hair. “Gomen, Aya-san. I guess I want something that’s more adult than I am, but I want it with all a child’s demanding.”

Ran releases an unnatural laugh, something even more rare than his smiles. Then, unexpectedly, he speaks again. “It’s Ran.”

“Hmm?”

“My name is Ran. You’ve heard the others say it every now and then.”

“Oh. I guess I have. But...you introduced yourself as Fujimiya *Aya* that first night.”

“Old habit.”

Emery nods, still playing with that fiery strand of hair. “So...you want me to call you Ran-san?”

“No. I want you to call me *Ran*.”

The exasperated tone of Ran’s voice causes Emery to giggle, before digging deeper into the red-head’s thin but comfortable chest. “Ran...” he purrs. “...can we change that rule about this not becoming a habit?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Grin. “Danke, Ranny-chan.”

“Eh? Ranny-chan?”

Grin again. “Just kidding.”