Falling Down
A Weiss Kreuz One-Shot
By Chibi Selphie Kudou
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz or Schuldig. I also do not own Hamlet or William Shakespeare, so the quote in Italics belongs to him, not me. I own nothing. You know all that jazz though already. I was feeling kind of "blah" in homeroom today and this fic sort of popped out. It's short and quick, so just read it if you want a bunch of ramblings. Ja! Warnings: Kind of upsetting and sad.
Ai,
C.S.K.
If there was one thing Schuldig did not like about the world, it was the rain. He despised it to the core of his being. The sky was a dark black, the rain pouring down and pelting onto his skin. It burned him and sting at his flesh as if to punish him for all of his sins. There was nothing anymore.
His long orange hair was matted and dripping against his cheekbones all the way down to his shoulders. His skin was pale and glowing in the darkness. Seated on the concrete, he had his back pressed against a brick wall to stay alone by himself as he could do nothing but recall the tragedies that had befallen him in his life.
That night the heavens were opening up and crying. The heavens were crying for him, the things he had done, and his sins. He didn't deserve to be wept for. He moved his glimmering jaded eyes downwards to stare at the torn bottoms of his jeans. All the blood he had spilt, his terrible past, he didn't deserve sympathy. No longer could Schuldig be saved. He wasn't worth it. What had happened to him? What happened to the little carrot-topped boy all the way back in Germany? He shut his eyes and placed a palm on his forehead shamefully. Oh God, how many people had he slaughtered with that palm since he was a boy? He did not deserve to be forgiven or saved for his sins. Where had he gone wrong? You can't change the past; you can never change the past. All his dreams he ever grasped onto as a child were shattered. They were left broken on the floor of his house back in Germany. Those dreams were left to die at such a young age. For a long time now, Schuldig was already dead. Heartless. Soulless. He was a corrupt being with a soulless body. There was no use for him anymore. He waited for sweet death to come and take him away. Schuldig pressed his scraped back up against the bricks even harder as the darkness came and the rain pummeled onto his skin harder. They were coming. The shadows. They were the inescapable shadows of his past. They came silently every night, chasing after him until he had fallen and let the agony he feared so much face his trembling self. Why must he always run? What is left for him to run for? He always gave in to the shadows...there was nothing else he could do. Schuldig jammed his eyes shut in pain and put his hands over his ears, scrunching himself into a tiny ball. Broken, dripping wet, a tragic angel who had fallen from the heavens at so young an age. This was who he was and there was no escape. He raised his eyes towards the rain, watching it sting onto his face and mix with the tears that were streaming from his own eyes. His face twisted in that of a scream as he let out a spine-tingling shrill sound through the midnight air. It was a scream of agony, of tragedy, a scream that was telling his story. Schuldig's story.
Tell my story...
Schuldig's scream ripped through the night and the ears of the dreamers and lovers who like himself were lost and knew there was nothing left for them to find. He was useless now. What in the world could possibly be left for a man with such sins as he?
But at some time, we all come tumbling down. We all fall. Fall. Fall. We fall until we can fall no longer, but just continue tumbling down.
Ehhh....that was so sad! -- Ah, I was in too good a mood when I wrote it. It wasn't that good either, just something to write, you know? If you like, read and review. I don't know what to make of it, so how about you all tell me? C.S.K
A Weiss Kreuz One-Shot
By Chibi Selphie Kudou
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz or Schuldig. I also do not own Hamlet or William Shakespeare, so the quote in Italics belongs to him, not me. I own nothing. You know all that jazz though already. I was feeling kind of "blah" in homeroom today and this fic sort of popped out. It's short and quick, so just read it if you want a bunch of ramblings. Ja! Warnings: Kind of upsetting and sad.
Ai,
C.S.K.
If there was one thing Schuldig did not like about the world, it was the rain. He despised it to the core of his being. The sky was a dark black, the rain pouring down and pelting onto his skin. It burned him and sting at his flesh as if to punish him for all of his sins. There was nothing anymore.
His long orange hair was matted and dripping against his cheekbones all the way down to his shoulders. His skin was pale and glowing in the darkness. Seated on the concrete, he had his back pressed against a brick wall to stay alone by himself as he could do nothing but recall the tragedies that had befallen him in his life.
That night the heavens were opening up and crying. The heavens were crying for him, the things he had done, and his sins. He didn't deserve to be wept for. He moved his glimmering jaded eyes downwards to stare at the torn bottoms of his jeans. All the blood he had spilt, his terrible past, he didn't deserve sympathy. No longer could Schuldig be saved. He wasn't worth it. What had happened to him? What happened to the little carrot-topped boy all the way back in Germany? He shut his eyes and placed a palm on his forehead shamefully. Oh God, how many people had he slaughtered with that palm since he was a boy? He did not deserve to be forgiven or saved for his sins. Where had he gone wrong? You can't change the past; you can never change the past. All his dreams he ever grasped onto as a child were shattered. They were left broken on the floor of his house back in Germany. Those dreams were left to die at such a young age. For a long time now, Schuldig was already dead. Heartless. Soulless. He was a corrupt being with a soulless body. There was no use for him anymore. He waited for sweet death to come and take him away. Schuldig pressed his scraped back up against the bricks even harder as the darkness came and the rain pummeled onto his skin harder. They were coming. The shadows. They were the inescapable shadows of his past. They came silently every night, chasing after him until he had fallen and let the agony he feared so much face his trembling self. Why must he always run? What is left for him to run for? He always gave in to the shadows...there was nothing else he could do. Schuldig jammed his eyes shut in pain and put his hands over his ears, scrunching himself into a tiny ball. Broken, dripping wet, a tragic angel who had fallen from the heavens at so young an age. This was who he was and there was no escape. He raised his eyes towards the rain, watching it sting onto his face and mix with the tears that were streaming from his own eyes. His face twisted in that of a scream as he let out a spine-tingling shrill sound through the midnight air. It was a scream of agony, of tragedy, a scream that was telling his story. Schuldig's story.
Tell my story...
Schuldig's scream ripped through the night and the ears of the dreamers and lovers who like himself were lost and knew there was nothing left for them to find. He was useless now. What in the world could possibly be left for a man with such sins as he?
But at some time, we all come tumbling down. We all fall. Fall. Fall. We fall until we can fall no longer, but just continue tumbling down.
Ehhh....that was so sad! -- Ah, I was in too good a mood when I wrote it. It wasn't that good either, just something to write, you know? If you like, read and review. I don't know what to make of it, so how about you all tell me? C.S.K