Part 2 - Oops
I was just trying to clear out the window display. Easy task. Take out the old flowers, throw them away out back, come inside and put together some sort of new display—theoretically a beautiful series of bouquets brimming with meaning and irony.
Now I'm sitting in an alley enjoying the wonderful nuances of a thorough beating.
I had to have that cigarette. Then I had to follow Farfarello on my own without at least telling anyone where I was going.
Where the hell did he come from anyway? I was just leaning against the wall and actually feeling slightly distracted and satisfied with work, when he walked right up to me like an old friend.
He always startles me.
So we had a little conversation until he walked away from me without a word. I don't know why, but I hesitated as he walked away. I didn't want to just let him do that, but honestly, I'm not sure I took one breath between when he showed up and when he walked away. That man scares the shit out of me.
As he left, every bit of anxiety turned to rage, rage over Omi leaving us for them, rage over Schwarz being the one thing that made me feel completely helpless. And mediocre.
On normal missions, sometimes it's easy to feel almost superhuman, slipping through the night like a graceful god of death. So that's a little bit of a romantic thought, but it's easier to imagine than thinking about the sound a person makes when the walls of their throat are closing together.
Schwarz. Schwarz reminds me of fear. Schwarz makes me feel weak. It's like they can do everything we can, twenty times better. They are like gods.
So, as Farfarello walked away from me, I decided to follow him.
This was probably a pretty stupid idea.
A woman walked up to Farfarello near the Koneko. Good looking. Seemed like he knew her pretty well. I remember thinking that she had balls to take him by the elbow like that. He seems like the type who would find a woman even more beautiful with her throat slit.
Of course, they were heading toward the hospital. Big surprise, after all, Omi told me that Schuldig was laid up. When you're laid up by Ken you usually do require some member of the medical depression. Or a morgue attendant. Now I knew where at least part of Schwarz, and probably Omi, was.
I was so busy feeling smug for a moment that I didn't notice that the woman had stopped and I'd walked right up to her. She acted like a frightened deer from the moment she saw me. That hurt. She could walk down the street practically holding hands with Berserker, and I was scary?
I asked her about Schuldig. She lied. I asked her about Omi. She lied. The conversation was going great until I decided to freak out and go sentimental on her. The thing was…I had a strange feeling that she'd seen Omi recently, and she looked like the kind of woman that he would trust. I asked her to take care of him.
I'm not even sure what I was talking about.
I'm his enemy now.
Schuldig chose about that time to drop me a line. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was flattered. If he was talking to me, maybe he wasn't talking to Aya for once.
Even in your mind, his voice is sexy.
I stood against the façade of a building and had the strangest little conversation with him. I was smiling, laughing to myself, feeling sympathetic. With Schuldig.
It's strange how sometimes you know what you're doing is truly and absolutely wrong, but you don't stop, because it feels good.
So I guess I deserved having Farfarello approach me and catch me completely off guard. Not that he attacked me outright. Oh no. I had to provoke the hell out of him first. I'd like to think that Schuldig had done something to alter my perception. Why else would I pick a fight with someone like Farfarello without even being geared up?
But I believed Schuldig when he told me that he had no idea his teammate was approaching. Farfarello didn't even want a fight. I didn't even need to be set up.
I looked at his face, smirking and confident, and all I could think of was that this was what Omi had left us for. This was another of Omi's new teammates. Farfarello had done nothing to deserve Omi's respect; he had no history with the boy. He'd never held him while he cried washing a target's blood out of his clothes. He'd never watched him sleep, or laughed with him, or risked his life for him.
At the same time, I think I was still thinking about Schuldig, enraged at myself for speaking to him like that, flirting, letting his voice flood my mind like a drug—an arousing, sultry drug.
Schuldig, the man Omi was willing to die for now. The man, who in one week, had made Omi happier than I ever had. Schuldig, the man who soothed Aya through his nightmares. And, I figured, the only one Aya wanted.
I didn't even think I could beat Farfarello.
And I didn't care.
It's impossible for me to deny my nature. In a way, I was fighting myself, part of me wanting Farfarello to beat me until I couldn't feel anymore, and part of me defending myself the way I'd learned. But I'm sure that if his heart had been in it my self-destructive side would have been satisfied by my bloody, painful death. You don't fight someone like Farfarello half- heartedly. He kept asking me if I'd had enough. I probably made his day.
When I hit the wall after that last kick, it was over, and we both knew it. As did Schuldig, who perked up just in time to advise me to give up. I guess I must have hit the wall hard, because it made Schuldig's voice sound weary and pained.
Farfarello stood over me and laughed, making little ambulance noises.
He's awfully fast.
I managed to stand up as he left. The thought struck me, perhaps a little too late, that I was not just representing Kudou Yohji-in a particularly unprofessional mood-but Weiss. Damned if he was going to walk away thinking Weiss was completely down. I was already going to be in enough trouble from Aya and Ken.
As soon as he rounded the corner I had to sit down again. And here I am, not ten feet from a busy street somewhere between the Koneko and the hospital that Omi and company have mostly likely vacated by now.
I'm almost certain Farfarello's done no permanent damage. I cut the shit out of my hands. My face is swollen on one side and my lip is split. My ribs aren't broken but they'll be reminding me of this little excursion in the morning. I just feel tired, and sorta dazed. It must be the adrenaline wearing off. I'll just rest here for a while, and drag myself home. Probably to another beating.
I smile to myself, consoled slightly by the thought that at least Aya looks damn sexy when he's pissed off at me. I reach in my pocket for my cigarettes and frown as my fingers fumble with the lighter. Eventually I give up, setting them beside me and shutting my eyes. My head is killing me.
I was just trying to clear out the window display. Easy task. Take out the old flowers, throw them away out back, come inside and put together some sort of new display—theoretically a beautiful series of bouquets brimming with meaning and irony.
Now I'm sitting in an alley enjoying the wonderful nuances of a thorough beating.
I had to have that cigarette. Then I had to follow Farfarello on my own without at least telling anyone where I was going.
Where the hell did he come from anyway? I was just leaning against the wall and actually feeling slightly distracted and satisfied with work, when he walked right up to me like an old friend.
He always startles me.
So we had a little conversation until he walked away from me without a word. I don't know why, but I hesitated as he walked away. I didn't want to just let him do that, but honestly, I'm not sure I took one breath between when he showed up and when he walked away. That man scares the shit out of me.
As he left, every bit of anxiety turned to rage, rage over Omi leaving us for them, rage over Schwarz being the one thing that made me feel completely helpless. And mediocre.
On normal missions, sometimes it's easy to feel almost superhuman, slipping through the night like a graceful god of death. So that's a little bit of a romantic thought, but it's easier to imagine than thinking about the sound a person makes when the walls of their throat are closing together.
Schwarz. Schwarz reminds me of fear. Schwarz makes me feel weak. It's like they can do everything we can, twenty times better. They are like gods.
So, as Farfarello walked away from me, I decided to follow him.
This was probably a pretty stupid idea.
A woman walked up to Farfarello near the Koneko. Good looking. Seemed like he knew her pretty well. I remember thinking that she had balls to take him by the elbow like that. He seems like the type who would find a woman even more beautiful with her throat slit.
Of course, they were heading toward the hospital. Big surprise, after all, Omi told me that Schuldig was laid up. When you're laid up by Ken you usually do require some member of the medical depression. Or a morgue attendant. Now I knew where at least part of Schwarz, and probably Omi, was.
I was so busy feeling smug for a moment that I didn't notice that the woman had stopped and I'd walked right up to her. She acted like a frightened deer from the moment she saw me. That hurt. She could walk down the street practically holding hands with Berserker, and I was scary?
I asked her about Schuldig. She lied. I asked her about Omi. She lied. The conversation was going great until I decided to freak out and go sentimental on her. The thing was…I had a strange feeling that she'd seen Omi recently, and she looked like the kind of woman that he would trust. I asked her to take care of him.
I'm not even sure what I was talking about.
I'm his enemy now.
Schuldig chose about that time to drop me a line. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was flattered. If he was talking to me, maybe he wasn't talking to Aya for once.
Even in your mind, his voice is sexy.
I stood against the façade of a building and had the strangest little conversation with him. I was smiling, laughing to myself, feeling sympathetic. With Schuldig.
It's strange how sometimes you know what you're doing is truly and absolutely wrong, but you don't stop, because it feels good.
So I guess I deserved having Farfarello approach me and catch me completely off guard. Not that he attacked me outright. Oh no. I had to provoke the hell out of him first. I'd like to think that Schuldig had done something to alter my perception. Why else would I pick a fight with someone like Farfarello without even being geared up?
But I believed Schuldig when he told me that he had no idea his teammate was approaching. Farfarello didn't even want a fight. I didn't even need to be set up.
I looked at his face, smirking and confident, and all I could think of was that this was what Omi had left us for. This was another of Omi's new teammates. Farfarello had done nothing to deserve Omi's respect; he had no history with the boy. He'd never held him while he cried washing a target's blood out of his clothes. He'd never watched him sleep, or laughed with him, or risked his life for him.
At the same time, I think I was still thinking about Schuldig, enraged at myself for speaking to him like that, flirting, letting his voice flood my mind like a drug—an arousing, sultry drug.
Schuldig, the man Omi was willing to die for now. The man, who in one week, had made Omi happier than I ever had. Schuldig, the man who soothed Aya through his nightmares. And, I figured, the only one Aya wanted.
I didn't even think I could beat Farfarello.
And I didn't care.
It's impossible for me to deny my nature. In a way, I was fighting myself, part of me wanting Farfarello to beat me until I couldn't feel anymore, and part of me defending myself the way I'd learned. But I'm sure that if his heart had been in it my self-destructive side would have been satisfied by my bloody, painful death. You don't fight someone like Farfarello half- heartedly. He kept asking me if I'd had enough. I probably made his day.
When I hit the wall after that last kick, it was over, and we both knew it. As did Schuldig, who perked up just in time to advise me to give up. I guess I must have hit the wall hard, because it made Schuldig's voice sound weary and pained.
Farfarello stood over me and laughed, making little ambulance noises.
He's awfully fast.
I managed to stand up as he left. The thought struck me, perhaps a little too late, that I was not just representing Kudou Yohji-in a particularly unprofessional mood-but Weiss. Damned if he was going to walk away thinking Weiss was completely down. I was already going to be in enough trouble from Aya and Ken.
As soon as he rounded the corner I had to sit down again. And here I am, not ten feet from a busy street somewhere between the Koneko and the hospital that Omi and company have mostly likely vacated by now.
I'm almost certain Farfarello's done no permanent damage. I cut the shit out of my hands. My face is swollen on one side and my lip is split. My ribs aren't broken but they'll be reminding me of this little excursion in the morning. I just feel tired, and sorta dazed. It must be the adrenaline wearing off. I'll just rest here for a while, and drag myself home. Probably to another beating.
I smile to myself, consoled slightly by the thought that at least Aya looks damn sexy when he's pissed off at me. I reach in my pocket for my cigarettes and frown as my fingers fumble with the lighter. Eventually I give up, setting them beside me and shutting my eyes. My head is killing me.