Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Zweiter Chancen ❯ The Real Schuldrich ( Chapter 14 )

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

*****14*****


One would almost think the sun would be too ashamed to show her face the day after such a tragedy, but if she followed ideals like that, she would never be able to show her face again. So, naturally, it is a beautiful day - unparalleled and perfect. Bright sun, blue sky, not a single cloud, and just enough of a breeze to threaten your memory, even if it doesn’t have the power to whisk it away.

It is a weekday; Weiss had to open the shop, had to move on, and they did. As much as they could, anyway. All four miraculously appeared in time to open the shutters, aprons tied, but not even the most skilled at wearing masks can fake a smile for the customers.

They speak little to each other, only if they have to, and work like machines, doing their jobs but taking no pleasure in it. How foolish. *He* - who for their sakes must remain nameless - had only been in their company for a little over a week. Sure, they have known him for years, but it isn’t the same. There is no reason his absence should cause so much heartache.

No reason...other than humanity. Something most of them thought they had long forgotten.

“Youji-kun, are you sure you don’t need any -”

“Itai!!”

A large pot slips from the tall blonde’s hands, crashing to the floor. Nursing his burning side, Youji falls to one knee, grimacing through a wave of pain.

By some miracle, the wound Farfarello left him had not punctured anything major, though it had grazed his stomach enough to cause him intense pain, and an injury that will take weeks to fully heal, if not more. He is lucky to be alive, but for some reason, he doesn’t see it that way.

“Stop fussing over me!” Youji yells, jerking away from the hand Omi has placed on his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not *fine*, Youji-kun. You could have died last night. Why are you pushing yourself so much today? You know you shouldn’t be lifting anything heavier than a spray bottle...” Omi trails off and looks despairingly at the floor. “I...I’m just worried about you.”

Slowly getting to his feet, and turning to face the boy who is wearing an expression no one could rightfully ignore, Youji’s anger crumbles. “Gomen, bishounen. I’m being an ass today. I know I’m suppose to take it easy, but all I want is to keep myself busy enough to stop thinking about...”

“...*him*.” Omi finishes in a whisper, smiling up at his friend weakly. “I know. We’re all on edge. But...please don’t try to lift anything else. I don’t want you to open up your wound again.”

Grinning down at this kind and caring support, Youji can’t resist the urge to tousle Omi’s bouncy, blonde hair. “Arigato.” he breaths, before drifting off to attend something that won’t aggravate his aching side, or his teammate.

Two down, with spirits brought at least a little bit up, but there are still two to go.

“K’so!” Ken cries through clenched teeth, having cut his finger on a thorn while pruning a soon to be made bouquet of roses. He brings the cut to his mouth, sucking on the wound, but the instinctive action offers little comfort.

“Stop being such a klutz” Ran growls, passing by with a glare. “And watch your mouth. Cursing is bad for business, and this *is* a business, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Ken returns that glare like an old pro. “Shut up, Aya. Someone piss in your tea this morning, or are you just being cheery for my sake?”

The deathglare match that ensues nearly withers the roses that are scattered on the table between them. Noticing this friction, Omi quickly disposes of the customer he had been helping, and rushes over to stop whatever is about to happen before it can.

“Problem, minna?” he asks, with a sunny disposition that is anything but real.

“Nothing a good punch in the face won’t solve.” Ken grumbles.

Naturally, Ran is more than willing to take such a comment to heart. “Is that an invitation? No thanks. Hitting you in the head wouldn’t be worth it. I’d rather hit you somewhere that *isn’t* hollow.”

Ken’s eyes flash angrily, and it is quite clear that the table separating them isn’t going to be enough to keep them from tearing each other apart for much longer.

“Please, minna! Not in the shop!” Omi protests, rushing in between them. “You’re not really mad at each other, you’re just...blowing off steam after what happened last night.”

Immediately, Ken opens his mouth to protest, still ready for a fight, but the words don’t come. The longer he glares into Ran’s fierce, violet eyes, the more his soften.

Strangely enough, Ran begins to back down as well, both leaving their misplaced anger behind sooner than they would have in the past. Why is it easier to cool down now than it was...say...last week? I think you can guess why.

“Gomen, Aya. I don’t wanna fight.”

“I know. Neither do I. It seems to be our constant fallback plan, ne? Something goes wrong, something we can’t fix, so we beat each other up. *That’s* intelligent.” Ran adds with a sneer. “I feel like a child letting this affect me so much.”

“Maybe...we need a break.” Omi offers. After all, none of them got much sleep last night, if any at all.

“I hear that!” Youji agrees, moving haltingly towards them, still favoring his left side, but wearing a very grateful - hopeful - smile. “How about closing up early? It was stupid to open anyway. We did it to take our minds off that mess last night, and only ended up driving each other crazy all day. I vote for an early supper and relaxing in the living room. While going over a couple game plans.”

“Game plans?” Ken repeats, raising a brunette eyebrow questioningly.

“Dang straight. I hate this moping around. I say we rack our brains till we come up with a plan to get him back. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“But Yotan...” Omi begins softly. “...we don’t even know where Schwartz is. It all seems so hopeless.”

“Which is exactly why we need to try.” Ran replies.

The others eye him at first as if he must be some impostor. Then they remember how changed he has been, more and more from Em...*him*...staying with them.

“It may be impossible.” Ran continues. “We don’t know where to begin, and even if we found them, it may be too late. But I swore to have faith in him, and Fujimiya Ran does not go back on his word.”

Smile. A smile from every last one of them. This is most likely nothing more than wishful thinking, but sometimes that is enough to inspire hope. And hope is all anyone needs.

It is settled. There are no customers, and all four members of Weiss are ready to call it quits for the day in order to focus their attention on something impossible.

Despite numerous protests, Youji moves swiftly to pull down the grating at the front, a job he prides himself on always being able to handle.

Soon enough, the others have almost everything else closed down around him, leaving Youji’s task the only one left to be performed. Just as he is pulling down the shutters, however, a large, pale hand catches it a foot from meeting the ground, revealing a pair of feet on the other side. With the grating almost completely set in place, those feet are the only thing Youji can see of this...stranger, but they are not a pair he recognizes.

Or...perhaps they are merely a pair he has forgotten...

This hand is strong - stronger than Youji - and it steals control away from the injured playboy, jerking the grating back up all too easily. Suddenly, Weiss is brought face to face with a very unexpected guest.

“What? Not happy to see me?” asks a rather nasal voice.

The man before them stands tall, with long, orange hair, narrow, blue eyes, and a familiar - devastatingly familiar - smirk.

Weiss stand stunned. All flank the doorway, all are close enough to reach out and touch this...guest, but none have the strength to say a word.

Finally, when the silence in the room is about ready to burst, Omi makes a desperate lunge forward, clinging to the man’s chest as he breaks into light sobs, and cries. “Emery!”

The tall red-head grimaces, pushing the young boy away roughly, and smoothes out the fabric of his tailored coat. “Uck! Don’t cramp my style, kid. I just had this suit cleaned.”

Schuldrich. That, and only that, is what hits all of them like a rainstorm of bricks. This is Schuldrich. The strange light in his eyes, the curl of his lips, his presence, and even his clothes, are purely Schuldrich.

He is wearing an outfit that truly symbolizes him as he was. A bright blue, button-down shirt that matches his eyes, grey pants, and an ebony-black blazer, much like his old green one from years before. No bandanna. No sunglasses. Just the outfit, and that old demeanor. That’s all it takes.

All it takes for hope to come crashing down around them.

“Demo...” Omi tries, blinking away tears as he regains his balance. “I thought...you...you were...I...I don’t understand this, Emmy-chan?”

Again...a grimace. “Gimme a break, you little twerp.” Schu sneers. “Emmy-chan? You actually thought I was gonna be all hugs and sweet sentiments when I came back? Typical. I’d think you’d understand how the world works by now.”

“That’s enough.” Ran breaks in, clearly having a hard time keeping himself under control, although he is hiding it far better than the others.

Youji has gone as pale as a ghost, Omi is struggling to contain his tears, and Ken looks about ready to maul Schuldrich into the ground. Ran is on the verge of all of these emotions and reactions, but he hides it, only allowing it to seep out through the one place it can.

His eyes.

Schuldrich looks straight into those eyes, seeing right through him, and grins. “My, my, Fujimiya, you aren’t gonna cry, too, are you? I hope you don’t regret refusing me that night. After all...” the grin grows. “...I did warn you.”

The fire behind those violet eyes is beyond being ablaze now, but the force of it is nothing to Schuldrich. He takes it in and lets it wash away as if it wasn’t even there.

A few questioning looks pass between the others, for obvious reason - (I hope you don’t regret refusing me that night) - but they decide not to pursue the subject. There really isn’t much point anymore anyway.

“Such glum faces.” Schu notes, stepping forward, and laughing lightly at how they back away as he moves through them. “You really thought you were gonna win, didn’t you? What a shame. Guess you boys aren’t as intelligent as I gave you credit for.”

“Cut the shit, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch.” Youji growls, sounding eerily dark and deadly, even in his injured state. “What the hell is going on? When you woke up you were still Emery. One night back with psycho and company and you’re ready to turn on us. I thought you were-”

“What? Your *friend*.” Schu mocks, stepping right up to the blonde until they are nearly nose to nose. “I don’t make friends with self-righteous killers who don’t even recognize what they are.” With that same smug smile, he raises a hand to Youji’s side and presses two fingers hard against the blonde’s wound. “Enjoying Farf’s little gift?”

Sucking in air through clenched teeth, Youji can’t help backing away at that searing touch, hating how he is showing weakness, and hating even more how it is exactly the reaction Schu was hoping for.

Schuldrich moves his hand away and tosses Youji a cruel wink. “Guess not.”

“What do you want, Schuldrich?” Ken breaks in, his biting tone sounding as if a single push could send him over the edge.

“What do you think I want?” Schu shoots back, turning out to gaze scornfully at all of them - Youji still wincing in pain, Omi still fighting back sobs, Ken clenching and unclenching his fists, and Ran...appearing cold as always, with only the smallest hint that he is just as affected by this as the others. “I came for my stuff. The outfit I first showed up in, my wallet, and the spell. For a souvenir. It did work, after all. I can hear your thoughts, but only if I want to.”

“And what do you hear?” Ran challenges.

Sending back an even more challenging grin, Schu gives a slight toss of his wild, red hair. “Nothing interesting enough to listen to.”

Tense quiet stretches a despairing hand over the next few minutes, with no one moving, and barely anyone daring to think. At long last, Schu moves further into the shop, and gestures to the door that leads up into the apartment above.

“Isn’t anyone going to invite me in?” he asks, mocking injured pride. “What terrible hosts.”

Still, Weiss can’t think of anything to say or do. They have been proven wrong, and it hurts more than they ever imagined it would.

“Fine. I’ll just let myself up.”

Even after Schuldrich has slipped up the steps, the four stunned florists remain in place, staring after him. Eventually, the full realization of what is happening - their enemy in their home with free reign over their rooms and their lives - dawns on them, and all go sprinting up the steps.

Just as they head for the hallway upstairs, however, Schu is already coming out of it, with a large bag, full of his things, swung over his shoulder.

“Hey...that’s one of our laundry bags!” Omi protests, feigning anger, but still displaying his lingering heartache in how he cannot bring himself to look Schuldrich in the eyes.

“Correction: *my* laundry bag.” Schu explains pointedly. “You did say it was an extra one you had lying around, and if memory serves me, which it finally does again, you said I could use it.”

“We said *Emery* could use it.” Ken bites back.

Schuldrich isn’t even the least bit phased by the venom in those words. “Get over it, Hidaka. Emery...was nothing but a figment of your imaginations. This is the real me, so get used to it, and get out of my way.”

Pushing past them, Schu walks into the living room, making a point to step as close as possible to each one of them when he passes.

“See ya around.”

“Wait - !” Youji yells after him, before even realizing he has opened his mouth.

Schu turns back, peering at the tall blonde expectantly.

“You...you’re just gonna leave.” Youji stutters, unable to hide the hurt in his eyes.

“What did you expect? Huh? What do you want from me? A goodbye kiss?”

Youji stumbles away as Schu takes a step towards him, and the German replies to this by tossing his head back with a scornful laugh. Whether he seriously would have acted on his apparent intentions is anyone’s best guess.

“Thought so. Now, unless anyone has anything productive to say, I’m outta here.” Turning on his heels, he heads once again for the stairs. Before getting too far, however, he pauses in his hasty retreat. “Don’t think just because I didn’t start up a fight today I won’t be ready for you next time we meet. You could have killed me when I was that snot-nosed, little brat, without powers or any idea who you were, but you didn’t. I’m not saying I’m grateful. I’m just returning the favor. Wouldn’t want the obligation of owing you anything. We’re even, so let’s just leave it at that.”

Weiss almost can’t believe their ears as Schu descends the steps, but there was a definite slip of sorrow in his voice for a moment, a big enough slip for them to notice.

He is human after all.

“Matte, Schuldrich!” calls a nearly emotionless voice to stop the red-head’s last few steps. He is now standing just in front of the shop’s door, with the members of Weiss left behind upstairs.

Except for the member that has followed him down, that is.

“Did you really think I’d let you go so easily.” Ran speaks softly to the German’s back, since Schuldrich has yet to turn around. “I promised to believe in you. And you promised...that you would stay.”

“Who’s the fool then?” Schu sneers, whipping around and allowing his bag to drop to the floor. “Me for giving that promise, or you for believing it?”

There is very little humor left in Schuldrich’s tone, and Ran catches it easily, tilting his head to the side as he sizes the young man up. “You sound as if you’re about to lose your temper. I hope I haven’t struck a nerve.”

Caught. Schu realizes that he has been caught without his mask, and quickly compensates with an even larger smirk than usual. “I see what’s going on here.” he purrs, slinking across the floor towards Ran. “You don’t want me to go...because we have unfinished business.”

Ran tenses, eyeing Schuldrich very closely as the German circles him and comes up from behind to entwine long arms around his waist.

The outmatched red-head does not step away, but the feel of those arms, those eager hands, is not what he is after.

“Don’t...touch me.” Ran warns, remaining rigid in his posture, even as Schu teasingly plays over his chest, while stepping in close enough for his breath to warm the back of Ran’s neck. “I don’t want you.”

Schu grins wider, pressing in closer, forming his body completely against Ran’ back. Unwittingly, Ran releases a shudder, and Schu absolutely devours it, before leaning in to whisper. “...liar...” And then begins nibbling at a very tempting, white earlobe.

Holding his breath, Ran simply refusing to react. He refuses to give Schuldrich the pleasure of getting the better of him.

“So stiff...but I think I can soften you...Ran...” Schu breathes, stressing that name as if knowing how wrong it is for him to use it.

“Let...” Gasp. “...let go of me.”

Schuldrich is no fool, and he is no inexperienced, 16 year old boy, either. Expertly, Ran’s shirt is already unbuttoned, and Schu’s hands are smoothing over the muscles, applying just enough pressure in all the right places.

Ran’s breathing is picking up pace, but he still refuses to act in return.

(If you really wanted to get away, you would have pushed me off at square one.) whispers that haunting, nasal voice into Ran’s mind.

“You...have no...affect on me...” the worked up red-head breathes back, desperate to still the growling that is building low in his stomach. Too low.

“Of course I don’t.” Schu laughs lightly, nipping at Ran’s perfect, white neck. “I could take you right here if I wanted. Come on...live on the edge. You can’t tell me you’ve never fantasized about doing it in the shop.”

A quick peak inside Ran’s mind proves him wrong, but that does nothing to detour him.

“Well, then, we’ll just have to create a new fantasy.”

“I told you already.” Ran expresses sternly, regaining a little of his lost control, despite the hands on his skin, and the warm mouth pressed into his neck. “I don’t want you.”

“What *do* you want?” Schu asks heavily, trailing his hands lower and lower down Ran’s chest until they reach low enough to rest gently over the curve of the front of Ran’s pants. “You want the kid, is that it? I didn’t peg you for the jailbait type.”

“What I want...is for you to remove your hands and back away.”

“No.” Schu answers simply, squeezing the tiniest bit through the fabric beneath his grasp. “I don’t believe you. I’m finding far too many reasons to think you’re lying.”

“I don’t want you.” Ran says again, angrier, fiercer. “I want to believe in something. I want back what Emery gave me, and what *you* are now trying to take away.”

“Hmph.” Schu grunts, his intentions deflated. He removes his hands and steps back, sizing Ran up the way Ran had scrutinized him. “You want hope.” he says in disgust, practically spitting out the words. “Keep dreaming. People like us don’t get hope. We don’t get sweet romances and happy endings. We don’t get...second chances. Not ones that last.”

In the blink of an eye, Schuldrich is back by the doorway, his bag once again over his shoulder, and he is ready to leave everything behind.

“I would have blown your mind, ya know?” he smirks, tossing Ran a wink on his way out the door.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ran answers, without humor or any discernible emotion. Then, just as Schu steps out into the setting sunlight. “Would you do something for me...?”

“You asking for a favor, or do you just want me to sneak into your room tonight.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Ran narrows his eyes dangerously, and Schuldrich’s smirk sinks.

“Fine. What do you want?”

“Nothing much. Just remember something for me...” Ran trails off, for the briefest moment allowing his true emotions to show on his face. “Emery...is always welcome here.”

Schu releases a bitter laugh, before turning again, and heading down the street.

(I’ll be sure and tell him for ya...Ran...)

If he could think of a good enough reason, Ran almost would have smiled at the thought Schuldrich pressed into his mind before leaving, but that thought did not have what Ran wanted.

Hope. All he wanted was to believe it was possible. But now he knows...it isn’t...

“Hey, anyone seen my soccer gloves!? I can’t find them anywhere!” echoes Ken’s voice from the floor above.

Ran tilts his head up to listen.

“My keychain! It’s gone! Which one of you took it!?” bellows Youji’s voice next.

“Minna! Don’t laugh, but...my stuffed cat is gone!” finishes Omi. “Have you seen it?!”

Ran turns his attention away from the ceiling and the commotion upstairs, bringing a quivering hand up to his neck.

Nothing. The chain, the cross, the necklace that should be there...is not. It’s gone. Like the gloves, the keychain, and the cat, it has mysteriously gone missing.

(...you had all the time in the world, didn’t you...?) Ran muses, remembering how Weiss had taken a few missed moments before joining Schu upstairs. (And you were more than close enough to get what you wanted from me...weren’t you...?)

This time Ran allows that pestering smile to claim his features, at least for a moment. He has what he was looking for now. Perhaps. Even the mere idea is enough, after all. And second chances can only exist in the wake of the very thing he has been left with.

Hope.