Title: shoot me lightning
Rating: Teen for angst, cussing, and sexual implications.
Pairing: Badou/Haine
Genre: Romance/Drama
Summary: Reincarnation is nice but it's not for me. Badou persuades and Haine tries to not let the dogs in.
Notes: It's not like I can call the city where Dogs takes place Tokyo. So bear with me people.
shoot me lightning
It's something they don't mention in the books.
You certainly can't find it and trying to even begin to fathom the reason they would do such a thing is certainly beyond Badou, and try as he might, the reason without looks just as suspicious as the reason with.
So he must be going insane. Which is entirely justifiable, since, well, all the frequent quips from his classmates regarding his lack of sanity and all the trips to the counselor for it shouldn't have been such an eyesore or such a spot of bother as it felt to him. When his heart realizes he's Heine Rammsteiner's lover and goddammit Heine Rammsteiner has been deceased for 153 years now.
And, you know, Badou is still alive in the flesh and all.
It first occurred to him, some amount of weeks ago, sitting with petulant boredom as the teacher over viewed in his mind numbing ways the numerous wars that shuddered and rumbled through The City as often as one of Badou's classmates would take to jacking off in class. (Heh heh, but still.) He was glancing with mild disinterest at photographs taken from one of these events or rather and it absolutely jolted through him there was much more to his life than meets the eye. That or he simply got off from fantasizing himself screwing a guy long thought to be dead for well nigh a century and more.
He wouldn't have described Heine as cute or hot or whatever, still wouldn't have except that he had impeccable taste in guns and body jewelry and was enough to be considered attraction in Badou's book. Of course, he would still have though little of it, if only said guy hadn't decided to transfer and plant his little ass in front of the class for a short "Hello, if you touch me prepare to part with your spine", which was well and all, if only Heine wasn't staring bullets in him as he said it.
Badou would have liked to say they got along famously well. It's a nice theory and would have backed up Badou's belief considerably but it just wasn't meant to be even when the evidence was so tangible, looming behind him that you could have shot it with a Luger P08 pistol.
Badou would rather confront looming evidences, preferably that day.
"Okay, shitface," manners wasn't something Badou was brought up with, but that's hopefully alright, "don't act like you don't know. About...me, you.
"Just," Heine's barely there eyebrows disappear even further if possible and his fist clenches to something positively downright evil and there is no recognition in his eyes, "what do you think you're talking about? And get your goddamn hands off me."
Maybe Badou should shit in his pants now. He would have liked to think so himself but Heine doesn't frighten Badou enough if that's what Heine thinks.
"So, us...well." Heine spits on the ground and it catches itself on the parabola of Badou's shoes.
"Hey, drop it," Heine growls and grumbles and there is a click in Badou's brain, so personal that he can't resist to bring it up.
"You have dreams don't you? Like, they're about dogs and they repeat again each night. You question them too, you wonder why me and how come it's like this every night and what it would take to stop it." Badou smiles victoriously and his grip loosens on the wrinkled collar of Heine's shirt but Heine doesn't pull away and this is of course why.
Heine punches Badou with disturbing accuracy into his right socket and the pain is something so terrible it could have been from a firearm but the heady feeling like broth in his chest is worse and it's itchy and uncomfortable so Badou knows he has to let go. He doesn't have any particular desire to, of course, but he lets Heine off anyway.
"Look, I'm sorry about that. It's –" Badou peels his tangerine hair back against his scalp and he breathes deeply but it'll take a whole gallon full if he wants to get rid of the sensation and Heine stands there as if there is nothing more irrelevant concerning him and concerning the guy in front of him. It maddens him, really it does.
Badou looks over at Heine in the corner of his eyes and Heine goddamn stares back so he looks somewhere else where his eyes won't find his, "I thought we were...lovers or something, you know? I didn't know why I thought so but I knew, I felt it. I know things about you that you have never bothered to share with anyone else. Like those dreams, you know."
Heine's smile glimmers and it's not welcoming or warming at all. "Do you want to die?"
So that's how Badou beings to die.
X
They don't talk the weeks after, in fact, they're the type of people who are so separable in differences that they wouldn't even begin to consider the idea (let alone act upon it) only Badou does, and it feels like he is the only one. Really, it didn't have to be this way but it is and Badou can only think about how much of a screw up he can be. Maybe he would drop it altogether someday. Perhaps when Naoto and Heine decide to go out or something, his innermost, worse fear and Badou can just lie down to rest and pretend this ordeal hadn't happened.
If Heine's dreams didn't come to him every night.
There's a lot of violence and bloodshed and something so unabashedly cruel that Badou wakes up in the morning to find marks left by the burrowing of his nails, and Badou feels more inhuman this way. So this is what Heine must feel like. He doesn't blame him, even, for getting mad enough to sock him in the eye and leave him like this. Especially because it's Badou Heine is dreaming about. Badou and Bishop and Naoto and Lily and Mihai and Granny Liza too. Just a whole bunch of people in different slots like a never ending movie taken by someone with awfully shaky hands. Bands wants to fix it, straighten – but it's almost good enough as it is, probably to Heine who doesn't want to revisit any lingering reminders of Giovanni or her. So it's not.
And he'll tear down Heine's membranes until his brain becomes soluble and he'll tell him to shut the fuck up and listen and Heine would, he would listen.
X
Badou gives some excuse to the no-brain assholes he hangs out with and trails the school corridors until he finds Heine by himself, because there was probably not another kid in school who could have fit the definition of a high school delinquent more concisely or precisely as Heine could.
Badou pops his head through the roof door and Heine is too real, too there in the fluttering breeze of the noon so he gulps and scrambles through the rest of the way to stand behind Heine.
"So, hey, um, you're still dreaming about it." Badou doesn't know a better way for an introduction. It's enough judging by the widening of Heine's eyes and the tear and the rip of his canine teeth grinding down upon the muscles of his lips and the skin of his chin.
"What of it? It doesn't concern you." Badou laughs, rich and throaty, a familiar wrench on Heine's heart that hooks onto his body and succumbs it to turn partially and his vision fills itself with this that's just too familiar creeping along the ridge of his vision.
It's then that Heine notices Badou's eyes.
"What happened to your eyes?" And Heine knows Badou isn't fucking him up because it's that missing eye he's talking about, genuine emotion unnameable settling in his gut. He hates it but it's too addictive of a drug to let go. He thinks he told Badou this once upon a time.
"Huh, oh, this," Badou points to his right, a relief of liquid emerald boring back in him, "well, it's – hey, hey, don't do that. Hey."
Heine starts sobbing, shakes ransacking the entire length of his body and he doesn't know why but Badou does and that's good enough for the both of them.
"Ssh, shh, hey." Badou smiles guidingly and Heine looks up red-eyed and takes the right side of Badou's face under the cradle of spider-like appendages of his own fingers. He takes it to whispers his digits against, smiling, and this rarity blesses him (the both of them, they're like that) with a homey sort of feeling. He can't put a name to it, but I think you could guess it.
"Hey, don't cry, I'll take out a gun and whip your ass with it if you don't stop. Look, I'm here and you're here and that's all that matters, am I right? Am...I...fucking...right?" There's some soft cooing words in Heine's ear and Badou squats and holds him close to him chest and it's like this every time (strange enough already). That feeling in his dreams, never present in his waking life exists so omnipotent right at this moment he finds when he breathes in the stench of skateboards and concrete (Badou doesn't smoke now) of Badou's hair and the tingle of skin on skin contact.
"You're whole, you know. I – I didn't think. Sorry."
"Yeah, well," Badou glances at the dusty thunder gray of the clouds drawing around the corner," I am too."
And that's the end of that.
X