Serie: Weiss Kreuz (Schwarz)
Pairing: Schu x Crawford
Rating: M for slash and language, but no depressing things :)
Disclaimer: Hey y'all! It's been soooo long since I wrote anything! I'm so happy! This story certainly doesn't add anything meaningful to the fandom, but if that ship hasn't sunken by now, then it's my pleasure to bring a little something to my companions of old! Remember the good WK days in early 2000...? ahhh!
Anyway. If you spot any mistakes don't hesitate to let me know; I've read the story over and over and had it checked by someone else but we're not native english-speakers so we might have overseen some details... R&R would be lovely!
Bye guys, enjoy !
Note: "italic" is telepatic communication, regular italic without brackets is normal stressing of the word.
saturation
Silence, at last.
The smoke he exhaled in a dull sigh whirled up to the ceiling.
A relative silence, really, but the city going about its countless lives merely amounted to a discreet, subdued purr like the regular hum of an air-conditioner, ever so present, but easily forgettable; lulling, even. An environment entirely devoid of thoughts would drive him stark mad in no time, just as an unshielded trip down the street would; he knew all too well about that. Schuldig put up with an adequate amount of hushed sounds because it was like a pulse in the womb, something to reassure him and keep him on the tightrope of sanity.
He reclined further in the bathtub, warm water up to his chin and more coming out the faucet in a slow trickle; just enough to keep the temperature from dropping, because he intended to stay in that bath at least until the tank ran out. He deserved it. Wafts of premium Indian tobacco and crisp shampoo mingled in the moist air. He hadn't bothered to turn the ventilation system on; that would have spoiled everything – that blessed silence, the only thing really fucking great about that apartment. The absence of neighbors and that large, spotless clean, white silent bathroom.
His shields were slowly building back up. He liked to picture them like the little battery signal on electric devices, filling up a bit more every two blinks when plugged in the charger. Take your time, baby, he coaxed himself. We got time… He took a lazy drag out of his cigarette and smiled to himself. He felt pretty much like a movie star just now, an expensive bitch wasting away resources at his leisure. Well, he had earned it and nobody would be foolish enough to tell him otherwise.
Nobody but Crawford.
- Dammit…!" the redhead hissed, his fingers suddenly burnt as his smoke had reached the filter and the man unhurriedly entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him to come sitting on the edge of the tub.
The timing was probably very deliberate.
- How did it go?" Crawford asked in his usual unconcerned, all-business tone.
- You know how." Schuldig sat up, inspecting his finger. "Remind me why it was deemed necessary that I take Takatori with me on that meeting? If I had been alone, it would have been half the mess. That fat pig thought himself motherfucking Tony Montana on coke and started shooting at everyone, as if I hadn't enough on my plate trying to save his ass – and mine! You know, Crawford," he barely paused to breath, "that's the kind of details I'd like you to share during briefings, how many of them were in the house. I was expecting a regular meeting. Even that would have been a marathon with that retard. They kept snapping out of it because he kept disrupting the illusion, I was that close to flat-out fry. Farf' had to jump out the window and run the car over a goon to get us out, in front of a freakin police car?!
Crawford listened impassively, then shrugged lightly. Schuldig wasn't half done with his complaining, but when Crawford decided to be that calm and open to conversation, it always deflated him somehow.
- But then he got you out, and you made sure no one saw you. Besides, where's the fun in knowing everything in advance?
Schuldig tsked and drowned back in the bath, looking away, pouting maybe, but well aware that "I'm all ears" Crawford had an abyssal stock of patience when he was being over-dramatic and childish. He much preferred to face "Stop fucking around" Crawford; so he could have a good yell and vent out.
- How's your head?
- … Fine.
- More specifically?
Schuldig slapped the water in annoyance.
- Specifically a fucking 4 out of 10, are you happy?! Jeez.
A familiar tinkling sound of glass and the sharp smell of Bourbon made Schuldig look back at Crawford, almost, almost reluctantly dropping his rant. The man presented him a generous double-shot and served himself one as well. Lightly pressing the glass against his lips, Schuldig inhaled. As annoying as was the idea that Crawford never did anything without a million purposes, he had to admit he had been craving for a drink.
- It better be my favorite Valium vintage…
- Well," Crawford relaxed against the wall opposite Schuldig, "it would have been if you were feeling worse. But a 4 is nothing we can't handle now, can we?"
- Shut up, what are you, my physician?" Schuldig retorted, though not making any effort to conceal his amused smile. He always enjoyed a bit of teasing, even at his own expense.
- It's part of my job. I need to know exactly how much you can take and how far I can push you –
- I know, I know." Schuldig rolled his eyes and sloshed water around reaching for the bottle at Crawford's feet. "Next time, let me know I'm going to kick a beehive before I'm in the actual fucking beehive; and I won't have a headache at all.
Crawford pushed his glasses up his nose to conceal a smirk then finished his drink. He was gazing steadily at Schuldig, and Schuldig stared back at the ceiling. Maybe the bathroom was a tad too bright for his liking.
- What story did you tell them?
Crawford's tone was low but crawled up the bathroom's tiles to send shivers down Schulding's spine.
- I'll send you my report later and you'll get all the answers to your rhetorical questions like it were a crystal ball.
Crawford chuckled.
- My bad. You know how much I love a mission well accomplished.
- Yeah, well, you're weird." answered Schuldig, absently inspecting a strand of hair; red upon white and nothing to disrupt his inner sanctum still, especially now that Crawford was near and his fortress of a mind acted like padded walls. Schuldig could have spent forever in that bath, yet after a minute or two of sitting still, he looked at Crawford again. The man hadn't budged and neither had his dark eyes, fixed on him as seeing through. Schuldig instinctively clutched at the side of the tub; the room had suddenly gotten too warm and steamy for his thoughts to be kept in check.
- You know what else is weird?
Crawford merely shook his head, very slowly.
- This." Schuldig's index loosely designated them and the space in-between.
He couldn't exactly remember when he ever had a talk with Crawford starring at him taking a fucking bath, and it was a little overwhelming, if not quite worrying.
- Why, we're having a celebratory drink." Crawford shrugged after a moment just too late, casually setting his glass away on the towel rack – but Schuldig couldn't be fooled.
- Crawford, I swear, if you keep looking at me like that –
- Like what?" Crawford slid closer, an arm across the tub as to trap Schuldig in. Schuldig unsuccessfully shrank backwards against the wall.
- Like you're fucking ogling me, ma –" Crawford closed in.
His mouth crashed on his, almost too fast, and he nudged his way in with a bit of teething. Schuldig's mind short-circuited for a second, mostly out of utter surprise – he wasn't one to get all beside himself by an unexpected, somewhat forceful kiss; but that never had included the Crawford factor before, and that made a hell of a difference.
"Is it Christmas…?" he asked, once Crawford slowly, painfully drew back and his thoughts, at last, kick-started. Crawford's gaze was now burning hot and his low breath told of unquenched thirst.
- Get out of here and come to the bedroom.
His tone had had a finality as if Schuldig had been whining and reluctant to get on a job; the redhead merely watched him leave, still completely taken aback by the sudden turn of events.
But as unexpected as they were, they were certainly not unwanted. If anything, Schuldig was known to be all instinct; good things never happened when he tried to analyze a situation – not that acting on the go prevented him to fuck up, but it gave him an excuse – so he scrambled out of the bathtub before doubt got the best of him. He would get Crawford any way Crawford would have him, then they would talk. Unless it was all a trick and nothing good awaited him in the bedroom… Schuldig hurriedly toweled most of the water off his hair and wrapped himself in a bathrobe, forgetful of any further tidying up. Surely Crawford wouldn't be that petty…? It was so out of character that Schuldig's pulse skipped beats at random once he was in front of the door and pushing it open gradually, from the tip of his fingers, as if afraid it would bark at him all of a sudden.
Crawford was standing in the room, his glasses safely put away on the nightstand, and his shirt unbuttoned at the neck.
- What the hell…" Schuldig's voice wavered and he couldn't bring himself to walk away from the door, unsettled enough that he subconsciously needed to keep an escape route. He wasn't ready to be made a fool just yet.
Crawford moved towards him, stopping few inches away, and Schuldig flinched involuntarily when he raised his hands to his face, only to press his open palms against the door behind him.
- What's gotten into you?" muttered Schuldig, unable to fake any casualness under that unrelenting stare.
- I want to fuck.
Schuldig barely breathed an incredulous "okay" before Crawford leaned in and brushed his lips against the shell of his ear, along his jaw line, until they were eye to eye. "I'm serious", his mind projected, and he gently pressed his body against Schuldig's, his mouth hovering above his, giving him one chance to refuse still. What the fuck, thought Schuldig, kissing first. It was goddamned Crawford. They'd been to hell and back together and the bastard was smoking hot too; a consensual quickie was just icing on the cake. Schuldig smiled to himself, his hands being slowly brought up above his head as Crawford deepened the kiss and pinned him against the door. An appreciative groan escaped him as Crawford's hips ground into his and Schuldig parted his legs just so they could lock in at the most maddening angle. Crawford's mouth on his throat made him purr while he buried his face in his hair, breathing in expensive lotion, delighted by the feel of his freshly clipped nape under his fingertips. The shape of his skull and that infuriating brain within that supposedly Saw it all, Schuldig wanted to sip it to the marrow through a straw like a fancy coconut cocktail, while Crawford's strong hands manhandled him to the bed and his thick cock made his mind go blank.
The silence in that apartment floating so far up above the city was nothing compared to the blessed calm of Crawford walled-up psyche. Schuldig never had dared enter it – he wasn't even sure he could overpower his shields; but leaning against them was like bathing in sunlight on a deserted land. Even now as he was standing near the window, gazing aimlessly at the night, Crawford's presence buzzed in a familiar manner around him, keeping interferences at bay. Schuldig had been aware quite early in their teaming-up that that addiction to Crawford's seemingly flawless composure would eventually be the end of him. He sourly resented that dependence, it made him wonder if he would ever be able to walk away one day; but no drugs had the power to keep him both sane and functional, and certainly no drugs had a profile like a Fifties' Golden Boy's when casually smoking cigarette naked on the bed, the ashtray balanced on smooth abs.
- Projecting, Schu…
Schuldig snorted, turning his back to the window. Their time at the Institute had stripped them of any sense of modesty or self-consciousness; yet seeing Crawford, their leader, in such a relaxed pose struck him funny. The man was but a man.
- Come back to bed.
Schuldig complied. The bed was still warm where he'd been drifting out of afterglow moments ago, and he lay on the same spot with a contented sigh, his eyes sleepily fixed at the reddening tip of Crawford's cigarette.
- How's your head?" asked Crawford, his voice muffled by a mouthful of smoke.
- Jeez, Crawford, the head is fine!" Schuldig rolled on his back in slight annoyance. "It's like Beobachtungsstation with good Doktor Andrzeg all over again with you checking-in on me every five minutes!
Crawford chuckled. The ashtray wonderfully stayed glued to his abdomen.
- Are you insinuating you'd like to be tied up next time?
Schuldig looked up at him in awe. Crawford slid him a sideway glance.
- Okay, this is so weird." Schuldig sat up again, throwing his hands up just to make extra sure Crawford took a hint that he was getting turned off. "You better tell me what the fuck is going on, because I can't handle you acting so randomly out of the fucking blue!
Crawford crushed his cigarette's butt in the ashtray, impassive, and slid it on the bedside table.
- I'm just teasing you.
- Yes, okay, but what is going on with you?
- Don't freak, Schuldig." Crawford changed his position to sit cross-legged on the bed. His face looked more serious. "It doesn't mean a thing beyond what it is. You did very well today, and I am rewarding you with something I know you need to stay grounded, rewarding me in the long run.
Schuldig's jaw almost dropped. He hadn't expected to be scalded so straightforwardly so soon.
- Well fuck you, Crawford," he finally managed to spit, jumping out of the bed. "If you think you can make me your free bitch just like that, you can stick your leader privilege up your motherfucker's ass!
- Schuldig, don't start yelling now." Crawford pleaded as he went about the room looking for his clothes. "You know they could be listening."
Crawford's voice floating in the air was like a magnet to his mind. He couldn't possibly ignore it unless he deliberately turned himself deaf – besides, there was no clothes for him to find on the bedroom floor. The faintest mention of Eszett never failed to bring him back into focus either.
"I need to talk to you" Crawford said, and when the redhead faced him again, his gaze followed his arm extended in invitation up to his stern face. Night painted him navy blue and sharpened the angle of every bone.
- I mean that you need to see the bigger picture, Schu." Schuldig sat down, closer to Crawford this time, coaxed by the odd use of his pet name. "The time for my plans to be set into motion is drawing near. It won't be long at all now."
- … What does that mean?" whispered Schuldig, torn between two means of communication. Crawford's arms circled his waist and drew him against his chest.
- I need to keep my team at its best. You know we're ranked highly in Eszett's chart."
Schuldig averted his eyes, not quite following.
"I need us to stay the bests. Even better than that. I will be asking so much more out of all of you, very soon; I will do anything to keep you happy if that's what's needed."
"Crawford, what the hell are you talking about? You're creeping me out."
Crawford kissed him before he could talk out loud and press the matter further.
"I have this recurrent vision… Had it as long as I can remember; I used to think it was a dream, until RosenKreuz took me in and taught me about my gift."
Schuldig tried to push away, puzzled, incapable of giving the words their right depth when Crawford kept sidetracking him in his mellow embrace.
- Come on. I want seconds." His hand loosely grabbed Schuldig's throat and pushed his head backwards. "They will get suspicious if we stay silent for too long."
Goosebumps ran along Schuldig's skin, mostly out of loathing.
"How can you be sure they're listening?"
"I'm not. But I wouldn't risk it."
Crawford pulled a few inches away, his thumb stroking the corner of Schuldig's mouth, a pensive look in his eyes, and Schuldig obediently waited.
- I had wanted it for a long time." Crawford murmured in a husky voice. "I wanted to tell you, but it was too soon. Now, there's but a handful possible course, and we have the upper hand."
"For fuck sake, Brad, tell me already!"
The game, upon which Eszett's dreadful spectre hovered, was starting to wear on Schuldig.
- Are you cold?" asked Crawford, holding his hand.
Schuldig abruptly broke the hold. Crawford didn't seem to bother; instead, he breathed in sharply and lay on his back, looking up at him.
"We're going to kill the Elders. And take down Eszett."
Schuldig froze. Turning his head to look at Crawford, he could see the man had stopped playing around. Even in mind his voice had the cold, precise inflection of one planning every move; the metallic sentence of the Oracle had befallen and it felt like a kick in the guts.
"It's… Brad, are you fucking out of your mind?!" he had no idea how he refrained to actually yell out loud. The mere thought… The mere thinking of thinking about it sounded like pure madness, and what if a more loyal telepath was tuned in right now?! Schuldig's shields instinctively flared up.
"Calm down, Schu, listen to me" Crawford's fingers reached for his thigh and ran along his skin with slow, even strokes meant to sooth. "I have this prediction since I was a boy. It keeps repeating, in varied forms, but it got more and more precise, and now there's little doubt left."
"I don't… Stop right there, I don't want to hear it."
- Lie back." Crawford tugged at him and Schuldig collapsed, unable to shake the dread that paralyzed his limbs as terrible memories swelled down his throat and menaced to overflow. "Do you know how many precogs are born each year?"
Schuldig closed his eyes and carefully exhaled. He would not let himself be taken down memory lane so swiftly. His life was a mess of dangerous situations; surely he could talk about Eszett as calmly as he did with a client pointing a gun at his head… although in the latter case he never was worried about being out-powered. The diffuse warmth of Crawford's naked body gently stirred him back to the bedroom.
"Statistically speaking, Empaths are the most common manifestation of psychic power – if you'd like to call it that…" Crawford's voice trailed. "They can be anything, from a little more emotional than average, to real sponges able to bloat you back, and god knows the insignificant ones are everywhere. I guess it gives the non-psychs some sense of worth. Same with Telepaths."
Schuldig frowned, not quite sure he should feel offended on top of everything else; but Crawford spoke up again as his teeth nudged the flesh of his neck, temporizing the argument.
"A lot of people claim to hear voices, Schu. And really gifted ones are either insane or dead, too often both. In theory, there's a lot of you, but the numbers are dire. All the Kinesic types, rarer still and as you know, as unstables and short-lived as your lot; I know of only a handful that have survived training and are able to control their powers. The gift of precognition now… I'm not talking about premonitions. Anyone with a good sense of observation can get those… No. Legitimate Precogs are so few, that if Eszett doesn't have a hand on a new one right now, it might be because none is born yet."
Seconds trickled in silence, so Schuldig opened his eyes at last and shifted his position to face Crawford. His slow-paced lecture had somewhat calmed him down. He still had no clues as to where this was headed, but at least the panic had receded.
"You know, everyone hated your Elite asses…" he said, forging a sassy grin.
Crawford smiled back at him, absently playing with a long strand of orange hair, undoubtedly wandering along dark corridors of his own. He let it slid through his fingers eventually and pulled the sheets over them. It had gotten colder all of sudden; Eszett's shadow further chilling the midnight air – Schuldig gratefully accepted the extra warmth, and cuddled further in Crawford's embrace, the rise and fall of his abdomen pressed against him a welcoming reassurance he found difficult to acknowledge the more they stirred memories. He hated feeling weak like this, feeling their hold on him no matter how much time had passed; he wanted to be untouched by all this, just do as he was told to and yield and be soft only under Crawford's thumb.
"It didn't took me long to realize I was probably one of the most powerful, among all Institutes." The measured soundless flow resounded again. "Certainly the most powerful in RosenKreuz. It's important, because it means I can't be wrong, Schuldig."
The redhead nibbled the inside of his cheek pensively. He didn't know about those things. Emitting doubt seemed scarier because the implications were so much bigger than them.
"We had those exercises… I realized I could see much further ahead than the other kids; or in more detailed aspects. More importantly, that dream; it used to terrorize me as a child, literally freezing me to the spot… that's how I ended up running into an Eszett psychiatrist. But then I understood it had been a vision all along – and that vision was about me, as an adult, and it was omnipresent, not falling back to the void like missed opportunities or discarded courses of action. It wavered, sometimes, like a warning; like a game of hot and cold as I grew up and had to choose. Imagine how it feels to meet someone and that face suddenly fits in the big picture…"
Schuldig barely breathed. Sadly, he wasn't as excited as he wished to, being privy to Crawford's feelings; he was a little worried to witness that even he couldn't keep his composure at the mention of that place and a best forgotten past.
"I don't know why I decided it was best for me to pretend I had average abilities." Crawford added eventually. For a moment, Schuldig could hear his pulse echoing through his chest. "I was still being docile and compliant enough to secure a safer position. Even with them being extra-suspicious of anything, I'm pretty sure they have no idea of my intentions."
"But surely someone noticed you faked it?" Schuldig whispered. "What about Formault? She's part of the Board."
Crawford's caresses along his flank resumed, back to their delicious, aimless tease as the man's mood lightened.
"She certainly is powerful. But all of them, the trainers, the Board, the Elders… They are part of the system. They are formatted to think how Eszett wants us to think. No matter how carful, how terrorizing they are, they are bound to break. They are but a titan on clay feet. And we are going to shoot them the first arrow."
A breathless laugh escaped Schuldig's lips. It still seemed so unlikely. Like the deluded tales the new kids would tell themselves back then, during a brief moment of out of the trainers' radar, licking mutual wounds that would never close. He knew too many who'd got burnt believing.
But soon Crawford's mouth was on him, as ravenous as it had been hours earlier, as if they had been flirting all this time and the hunger had grown unbearable; forcing his certainty on him, throwing back at him all the times he had questioned his predictions only to be blatantly proved Crawford's planning left nothing to chance. He took a handful of his flaming hair, he sucked harder on bruised flesh, now pleading for blind faith this one time above all. Schuldig held Crawford's face firmly between his hands, bringing him impossibly closer – he was shit-scared to jump, but he wanted to hear Crawford's low, rumbling voice tells him they were going to break, again and again, as if repeating it brought back his younger self to life and filled him with a renewed anger; break, he thought, that word they used so often on them, they were going to give them a taste of it, and that got him painfully hard.
"The three of you, they think you're neglectable." His grip was tight, like claws, it held Schuldig somewhere unreachable; the redhead moaned and yielded under his hard, heavy body. "Farfarello, untamable; Nagi, broken; and you, a beautiful liability."
Schuldig let him sit back between his legs, his hands trailing down his thighs, his most sensual smile on, especially pleased by the unexpected compliment.
"They underestimate me because they think they indulged a whim. They are still waiting for the moment my choices will back-fire at me." Crawford's teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness.
- You did prove to be dangerous gamble…
The words suddenly spoken out made Schuldig's heart pound faster; they were hoarser than expected, and Schuldig realized how Crawford was even more turned on than him, gloating, reveling in his dangerous vision. The man stopped moving and just stared down at him for excruciatingly long seconds. Crawford was insane, Schuldig thought, delicious shivers running all over him. Far beyond any of them. It was like seeing him for the first time; he was the perfect Devil in disguise. And Schuldig had never wanted anyone that violently.
"I recognized you right away, that time you were being dragged past me to lockdown. I had Seen you so often, it knocked the wind out of me…"
He deliberately stood over Schuldig at arm's length, every moves very shallow. Schuldig's throat tightened unpleasantly. Different walls, different silence…
"I got hold of your files."
- Ah, Crawford, fuck…!" Schuldig jerked his head on the side, closing his fist on the sheet, as Crawford took him firmly in hand, right at the base of his swollen cock.
"That time they kept you hooked up on psychoactives over forty-eight hours, while they successively sent wave after wave of attacks…"
Writhing against the mattress as vague images drifted against his mind, Schuldig bucked his hips, grappling at Crawford to bring him back against him, to the now, a ghost taste of medication and human waste at the back of his tongue.
"They thought they'd finally pushed you too far… but then, Eliott turned around and you leashed at him. More like a pinch, really, but you were still game. That's how I knew you had to be mine."
As hard as he tried to focus on his body, the pleasure kept slipping away, infuriatingly out of reach as Crawford went on and on, oblivious it seemed of his growing unease. He couldn't help but hear him talk, yet he could hardly make sense of anything. Right now, it was like being intoxicated again, fighting against things he didn't know were real or not.
"I had a hard time keeping you a part of it, at first… You kept rebelling against them, you never learnt –"
"Fuck you," Schuldig interrupted abruptly, "if you think I wouldn't fight back… the harassing, the beating, the manipulating, the fucking rape of body and soul until I couldn't remember my own fucking name anymore…!"
His sharp teeth dug angrily into a firm shoulder, and it was Crawford's turn to swear out loud, harshly kicked out of their mental link. Schuldig's chest heaved; he tasted faintly of blood. No neighbors at hand to hurt with a surge of his pain – he struggled fiercely to keep his head straight and for a blurry moment he couldn't tell if it was Crawford fucking him or nightmares with very precise features.
They lay in silence. Not touching; a futile gap between them, but they could very well have been miles apart. The darkness burned Schuldig's fixed stare. He had seen fire. A great, mighty fire, and an earthquake, and a flood – and they had been in it. It had been messy, an Oracle's vision was for no one else to pry on; but he knew Crawford had showed him the end. It was no wonder the man was cast in iron, if the kid he had been had had to live with it for years before he could make any sense out of it. Schuldig felt cold from within, his mind too full to form the barest thought.
"Takatori's respite has been spread thin. It won't be long now before we're rid of him." Crawford's voice resounded very, very far away, after what felt like a lifetime of silence. Schuldig closed his eyes.
"All hell will break loose once we kill the Elders. Eszett's confusion will be our only, and narrow, opportunity to dive further in and start exterminate them."
"But you haven't See beyond the Elder's death." answered Schuldig calmly.
"Not yet." A muffled sigh. "But this future that never radically changed – it's the only thing that makes me believe there is, beyond the countless possibilities, one true, final destination in one's life."
"Destiny…?"
Schuldig would have laughed at him, if he weren't so weary of fighting his weaknesses.
"I will be talking to Nagi and Farfarello tomorrow."
The sheets rustled, and Schuldig rubbed his eyes at last, until he saw stars. A cigarette would piece his crumbling pride back together for good.
- Schuldig, I didn't mean to hurt you.
Merely a whisper, yet Crawford's voice carried much more than just those words, and that made Schuldig shift to look at him again.
His hand laid palm up on the bed, apologetic and inviting.
"I can't do this without you. But I am asking you."
Schuldig studied his face; it showed nothing else but the usual sternness. But something in his demeanor spoke of a slight shift in their dynamics. Maybe because he was naked before him and they just had intense, messy intercourses. Maybe because he had been naked, offering him a glimpse of his own demons, and hurt, as even he would be, to admit the past was still too close.
Shit, that power of holding the final decision was unexpectedly appealing! Even if it was but an illusion of power – Schuldig's expression melted into a wicked grin. He stretched his fingers just so they could brush Crawford's.
Even if death awaited, even if all this was but a vain effort to break free – it was far beyond all that he had dared to dream lately. Yes, they had made sure he was kept in a claustrophobic space even out of lockdown, and he was guilty of institutionalization.
Now Crawford held the key to his cell in his hands and was asking him to accept it.
- I'm sure we can work out something." was all he said, and Crawford's expression mirrored his own, smiling his cold, know-it-all maniac smile.
END!
The title stand for the word itself but also for the song by Gray Daze that I listened to when I got the idea.
R&R would be lovely :) cheers to all!
~shuya