Smile

~ Smile ~

Warning: Angsty, depressing M/M stuff (sadly no lemon – it didn't fit with the image of this fic I had in my mind).  Omi-torture… and non-consensual action…

/blah/ = Shuldich mindtalk. /blah/ = other people mindtalk.  Italics = thoughts.

________________

Blood.   Pain.  Death.  God.

Farfarello let out a scream as he attacked, seeming unaware of anything but the enemy.

Release blood.  Inflict pain.  Cause death.  Hurt God.

His frenzied attacks butchered his opponents as he bled from several minor wounds, yet he still managed to look graceful.  Are you hurting now, God?  Hurting like your lies hurt me?  They thought he was insane, but they couldn't feel his pain, they couldn't see the truth.  

"Farfarello."  The quiet command carried the force of authority, but why should he obey?  His enemies – God's Children? – were dead, their bright, hot blood staining the ground in shades of Autumn.  Would their blood be sweet, as their lives were not?

The deep, dark blood was spreading, pooling, wasting… its strength would make him strong; it belonged to God.  He knelt, a mockery of prayer, and traced the edge of a wound with first a finger, then his tongue.  This is the blood of His son, shed that I might not perish, but have eternal life.  Lies!

It was thick, and heavy on his tongue.  It would die soon, whither like the soul of its source.  The dark crimson would dry to blackish brown, the thick flow would stem and stop.  He drank again, staining his face with the liquid.

"Do we have to watch this?" Shuldich whined, looking in disgust at the pale figure crouching over his slaughtered victims.

/He's practically orgasmic/

Nagi frowned at the intrusion in his mind, but ignored the German.  He was used to it.

"Farfarello." Crawford tried again, nodding to Nagi when the Irishman continued to ignore him.

"Playtime is over," he said as he fixed a leash to the collar at his team-mate's neck.

He nodded again to Nagi, indicating he could release his mental hold, and then tugged on the leash.

/Had fun?/ Shuldich mocked, more for a reaction than out of malice.

/It's not about fun… but yes, I did/ 

Farfarello often surprised him with his lucidity, especially after witnessing his rabid attacks.

/Do you get off on it?/  He couldn't help asking.  The idea fascinated him. 

The sudden laughter obviously startled Crawford, he half-jumped but schooled himself to contain the reaction.  He thought he'd done well.

/Didn't see that one coming, did you?/

"Shut up." Crawford growled, speaking to both the voice in his head and the man on his leash.  He further enforced his point with a vicious tug on the leash, which effectively choked any noises.

/Beyond anything you know…/

He couldn't help but shudder at the maniacal lilt in his head, but the shudder masked a sudden flash of desire for the scarred madman.  He'd never associated sex with him before, but now he was curious.  Curiosity killed the cat… 

~ = ~

Omi frowned in concentration as he tapped out the commands.  Three more minutes.

"Bombay!  Backup now! We've got Schwarz."  Youji's frantic voice crackled over the clicking of keys and spurred him on.  He had to finish this first, or Ken would be trapped.  He keyed in the final command and unlocked the lifts.

"Bombay done," he transmitted, wasting no words, or time.  He tapped in another command and brought up a map of the building.

Youji and Aya were on the ground floor, near where the lift would take Ken.  According to the sensors, only two members of Schwarz were involved.  Two for two.  But there was someone in the room next to them, watching? And another outside, waiting?

~ = ~

Reinforcements would be there in a couple of seconds.  Crawford stepped out of the entrance.

"We have better things to do than fight you," he said shortly, addressing the red-haired leader.

/I was having fun,/ Shuldich protested.

"Goodbye, Weiss… it was fun," he said aloud, even as they melted back into the darkness that was their namesake. 

Farfarello had been enjoying the fight too.  He could feel his blood singing for freedom, his lips hungered for the blood-tears of God.  The fight was over too soon, though, and not all of Weiss had participated.  Not the one whose blood he wanted the most, the sweet one, the faux-innocent one, the liar…

 He had managed to hit his opponents only once; a thin gash along the sword arm that wept enticingly.  He licked his lips in remembered desire – combining the image of the youngest Weiss with the dripping blood.  Does it hurt you when they bleed? Their precious blood dripping from their bodies and onto your earth.  Are you weeping?

Shuldich smirked as he listened to the thoughts.  He could feel the desire – to hurt Weiss, hurt God… to fulfil his lust and bloodlust.  He's not so complicated really, but he would be fun to play with…

~ = ~

The child was in his head again.  The bright smiling killer, avenging Angel.  Killer by night, yet strangely innocent by day.

/Wouldn't it be fun to break his wings?/

He turned towards the smirking redhead.

"What are you doing?"  It didn't surprise him that Shuldich had taken the image from his mind, but for what purpose?

Shuldich moved closer towards him.  /I'm bored./

He was playing with the straps of his strait jacket now.  Caressing his mind with tendrils of thought, stroking tendrils of hair with his hand.

"Why?" It was as much an accusation as a question.

"Why am I bored?"  He laughed.

"No.  Why are you touching me?"

/You are beautiful, in spite and because of your flaws… it fascinates me/ That was half-true, and half the truth.

All Weiss were in his head now.  Their smiles, their kills, their lies.  Could I be like him, in his innocence and deception? He had eyes only for the Angel.  It would hurt Him to hurt him.

/Are you the opposite or the same?/

He ignored Shuldich, fascinated with the child, consumed with the child.  His smiling face hid the truth.

/I need to taste him… to taste God…/

Then the image was gone, with only the memory of its substance to fuel him.

/Do you want to pay with the kitten, Farfie?/

His strait jacket was gone, but he wasn't free.

"I want to taste him…"

Shuldich laughed again, amused with the ease he'd accomplished his wish.  "You're so easy to please," he said, leading the madman from his cell.

/I will enjoy watching you…/

Farfarello smiled too, he could feel himself being manipulated, but he was getting what he wanted.  He could touch the Angel, the one who hurt God without ever realising it.  He could taste the illusion of his innocence, and shatter it.

/You can't kill him…/

/I don't want to.  I can taste him?/

"I'm looking forward to it."

They both smiled, twisted beyond the idea of happiness, reflecting their inner demons, and soul-quenching desires.

~ = ~

"Youji-kun!" 

The exclamation caused him to jerk his head up guiltily as he crushed his cigarette into the counter.

"I asked you to water the roses, and not to smoke in the shop!"  Omi yelled, glaring at the playboy.

Youji couldn't help but smile.  Omi didn't do 'angry' well.  He just looked cute.

"Sorr-" he began, but was saved from placating the Omi-beast as Ken burst into the shop, nearly knocking over one of the displays.

"Sorry I'm late," he panted, pulling an apron on with one hand as he straightened the display with the other.  "Soccer went into overtime."

Omi nodded, good humour returning with it usual speed.  "There's no rush," he said, smiling brightly at his teammate.

Youji took this to be a good time for him to make an exit.

"Hi, Ken-ken," he said, ruffling the boy's hair on his way past.  "Bye, all."

He swept from the shop in style, dropping his cigarette butt in a flowerpot on his way out.

"Youji-kun!" Omi protested, too late, he was gone.

Ken laughed and patted the younger boy on the shoulder.  "That exit was a bit wasted on us," he said.

Omi smiled.  "I'll take orders, you do deliveries," he ordered, but he squeezed Ken's hand as he moved away, and the smile didn't leave his face.  School was nearly out.  The rush would soon begin.

~ = ~

Omi blushed as he overheard what one of the girls was saying about him.  He didn't like working alone with so many people there.  Hurry up and get back, Ken-kun.

He smiled politely as a girl flirted with him.  "Would you like to buy anything?" he asked finally, growing steadily more flustered with her brazenness.  She pouted then selected the cheapest bunch available.

"Thankyou," he said, sincerely thankful that she was gone.  It wasn't that he didn't like her, but he didn't know how to deal with her – that was Youji's area of expertise.

He dealt with the remaining customers swiftly, smiling sweetly whilst inwardly cursing his teammates for abandoning him.

/Is the little kitten mad?/  The bell jingled simultaneously with the voice speaking in his mind.

"Schwarz!?" he yelped, glancing wildly around the shop for something to protect himself with.

"Don't be scared, we just want some flowers," The redhead, Shuldich, said, laughing in Omi's mind as Farfarello followed him into the shop.

He wasn't smiling now, Farfarello noticed.  They'd been watching him.  Watching him smile and laugh and talk, as if he were whole.

/Wouldn't it be fun to drink him?/

He glanced at the German, who was studying the displays and Omi with the same studious, smirking, indifference.

"Get out!" Omi shouted, panicking, knowing it was useless.

"I would like some flowers," Shuldich said innocently. "And Farfie can't decide whether he wants to kill you or keep you."

Omi's gaze shifted to the Irishman in wide-eyed, possum-like, fear.  But he wasn't where he had been a second ago.  The pale madman was closer now, slipping like oil, or blood, quickly gracefully, impossibly closer.  He was laughing.

"I won't hurt you, little kitten," he purred.  "You're like me… we hurt God…"

Omi backed away, walking into the counter, terror clutching at his throat.  "N-no," he stuttered, hearing the madness, seeing the lust.

Farfarello moved faster than he thought possible, seizing his wrist and bringing it to his mouth.

/You've occupied his thoughts for days…/

Farfarello's tongue was tracing the path of his veins, tasting the saltiness, feeling the throb of blood – so close.

"P-please…" he couldn't move, his limbs wouldn't listen, wouldn't obey his frantic inner screams to run.  He was trapped within his own unresponsive body.

/The smiling child who dies by night but lives by day/

Shuldich's silent, mocking, inner-commentary distracted him from what Farfarello was doing, until with sudden, gaping, clarity he was falling.

The impact with the floor knocked the air out of him, and then Farfarello was kneeling over him.

/My thoughts can be his own…/

"Are you a killing Angel or a smiling Demon?"

"I'm… not… either…" Ken will be back soon… He clung to the hope of that thought for the second Shuldich allowed.

/Your teammate won't be back anytime soon/ The mocking voice was laughing at him, at his hope.

"Share your taste with me," Farfarello commanded, bending to plunder his lips.

Omi could feel the scarred mouth pressing against his own, then a tongue forced its way through his lips and caressed his teeth.  He opened them slightly, then bit down on the invader.  Blood filled his mouth.  Why me?

/Why you?  They always say 'why me'.  I was hoping for something more original/

Farfarello tasted his own blood, and it was sweet.  He wanted more, wanted to share, wanted to hurt.

"You're so pretty, little kitten," he said, not unkindly.  "I want to taste more of you."

He cut a shallow line along the boy's stomach, then sucked the crimson life-force from it.  The blood mingled with his and tasted sweet with pain.  He kissed the cut again, and felt the flesh tremble beneath his lips.

/He chose you./

He opened his eyes and saw a tarnished, burnished, gold eye gazing at him.  He tried to focus only on the eye, to ignore everything happening to him.  With stunning detachment he realised he was somehow behind the counter.  But the eye held his attention – more so than even the scars around it.

"Your tears make Him weep."

Farfarello licked the trail of each salty tear and left a bloody smudge in its wake.

/Because your smiles lie… and you hurt God…/

"P-please… don't hurt… me…" The broken, bleeding boy knew – must know – how useless his prayers were, but he pleaded anyway.

/Our Father in heaven/

Farfarello was humming now, a hymn, as his blades gently caressed Omi's flesh.

/Hallowed be thy name/

"I need to taste you again."

The soft, pale flesh of his mouth was kissing him, pressing a kiss to his eyelid – fluttering like the wings of a moth, to his throat – throbbing with fear, to the soft, marred flesh of his stomach… then down…

/Thy kingdom come/

Oh God.  It wasn't real.  It couldn't be.  The sensations playing upon him, the presence of Shuldich in his mind, and Farfarello upon him… the entire scenario could be looked at with a certain disconnected surrealness.  Not this.

Farfarello's mouth, still filled with their blood, engulfed him in a twisted parody of a lover.  Ken…  He burrowed deep within himself and hid.

/Thy will be done/

He was dimly aware of Shuldich reciting the Lord's Prayer, of Farfarello's warmth.  But that was only a part of him, the rest of him was staring with wide-eyed fixation at a display.  Ken had made it up only that morning.  He'd already had some inquiries into similar arrangements.  The fine wispy ferns went very well with the tiny blue Gardenia.  A pity they were out of season, it may be hard to fulfil the demand.  Ken…

/On earth as it is in heaven/

His strength flowed slowly from him as Farfarello's impossibly talented mouth made him soar to dizzying heights.  Ken…

/Give us this day our daily bread/

His body reacted now, again without him.  The pleasure was overwhelming, intense and new.  He fell quickly through stars and lay shuddering on the ground.

"You taste sweet," Farfarello told him, licking at the white fluid.  The image of his tongue, slashed with the wounds Omi had inflicted on him, wiping the creamy release from his pink, petal-soft lips jarred him.  He smiled.

/Forgive us our sins/

"Now go close shop like a good boy," Shuldich ordered, pulling Farfarello off him, while they were both still stunned.

"Aren't y-you going t-to…?" Omi stammered, unable to believe it was over, that he was alive.

"It was as much for you as for us," Shuldich said, ignoring Farfarello pulling on his newly-clipped leash.

"W-what…"

"I put the closed sign up, and have been reinforcing its message mentally, but you'd better start on the cleaning before Ken-kun gets here."

The bell jingled in response to Shuldich's statement.  Omi was unsurprised to see a customer – people frequently came in despite the sign if they saw one of them in there.  He hastily rearranged his clothes, and fussed busily with a display.  He ignored the Schwarz members and his own injuries, but smiled blindingly at the customer.

"Can I help?  We're actually closed, but I can take one last order…"

/As we forgive those who sin against us/

When he looked up again, they were both gone.  Slipping as subtly out as they had in.  Invading, marauding and disappearing.

Ken bustled in a second later, apologising clumsily for his extended absence.   The grass-stains on his knees, however, spoke much more eloquently than his guilty words.

"That's okay, Ken-kun," Omi assured him, smiling sweetly with his mouth – if not his eyes.

Ken sighed, feeling guilty and relived.  "What happened to your face?" he asked, noticing Omi's puffy eyes, but not the distracted expression within them.

Omi shook himself and blinked, the smile slipping slightly.

"Leaf-spray," he answered, turning from his searching gaze.  He couldn't tell him.  He smiled wider, hiding the tears deep inside, where he already wept for his childhood, his innocence, his pain…

He felt a slight sting in his hand, and was surprised to notice deep gauges where his nails had dug into his palm.  Beneath his clenched fists a thin red line had soaked through, staining his apron, and under that, wetness stained his pants.

/Do not put us to the test/

Shuldich seemed almost sympathetic, perhaps he too knew what it felt like to lose even hope.  Maybe he'd looked into the eye of a killer and seen himself reflected back and absorbed within, and known he was the same.

Blood trickled down his wrist, leaving his hand painted red.  He laughed.  At least now they're stained more than metaphorically.

~ = ~

Farfarello's mind still fascinated him, with its twisted convoluted thought passages all ending in locked rooms.

Sometimes Shuldich truly believed he was insane, but he certainly wasn't stupid.

"Did you hurt God?"  Sometimes the right questions opened doors.

Farfarello didn't answer, he was savouring the sharpness of the blade and the sour-sweet taste still clinging to the blade, but an image came to his mind – the smiling Weiss angel crying crimson tears as he wrung his blood-stained hands.

Shuldich shivered, both attracted and repulsed by the psychotic fervour.

/Deliver us from evil/

It had been fun to break the Weiss brat, and his curiosity had been somewhat sated without killing the kitten.  He'd been a lot gentler than the people that had broken him.

He looked back at his impervious companion, and debated leaving.  He felt… empty, and needed something, someone, to fill the silence, the space, the… ache.

~ = ~

Crouched. shivering in the corner of a locked room, Jei sobbed silently and longed for human touch, for God's love.

Farfarello shivered with remembered bliss and an imaginary image of tears.  For thine is the kingdom?

Shuldich sifted through the turbulent thoughts.  /The power and the glory?/ he added musingly, and laughed when Farfarello lunged for him, pulled up short by a chain linking him to the wall.

"Down, dog," he taunted.  "Just play with the kitty in your head."  He laughed again and the emptiness receded.

They were together, yet each alone.  Broken bleeding hearts in cold, heartless bodies.  They were empty, and they needed life to be filled.

Farfarello smiled around his blade.  He had hurt God.  But God hurt him so much more.  Jei cried.

Shuldich continued to sort through the thoughts around him, deriving some sort of life from their existence.  They cried.  He smiled.

~ = ~

The knock on the door awoke him.   It wasn't late.  He was tired.

"Omi?"

Ken's voice.

He opened the door, and smiled at his friend.  Hoping to banish any darkness that leaked from his soul.

"What's the matter, Ken-kun?" he asked.  It wasn't usual for Ken to visit him without notice at, he glanced at his watch, ten at night.

Ken looked at him for a long moment.  "Why are you smiling, Omi?" he asked, reaching up to cup the younger boy's face.

Omi flinched.  "I'm fine, Ken-kun," he said.

Ken stepped in.  "Don't smile," he said.  "Not when it doesn't reach your eyes."

Omi continued to smile, but a tear leaked from the corner of his eye and ran down his pale, smiling face.

"Ken…"

Ken didn't smile.  He stepped closer, and ignored it when Omi backed away a step.  He wrapped his arms tightly around his friend.

"Don't smile…"

With his face pressed against Ken's chest, where no eyes could see him, he let the smile fall.  And the child within, that he'd thought was dead, smiled.

~ AMEN ~

Thanks to Wannon for fixing up my appalling grammar and spelling _ (She does a lot of fixing for me, ne?)

~ Dedicated to the colour teal and the number 3 ~