Broken Hearts & Broken Bones
Part One of the "Contradiction" Story Arc
By Ryuuen
Warnings: Shounen-ai, language, dark themes, attempted suicide, angst, self-inflicted pain, slightslightslight citrus flavor.
The Premise: A Weiss is rejected by the one they love, and retreats, only to find themselves saved from almost certain death by the most unlikely person imaginable...
A/N: This is something I came up with.. sometime during History class the other day. ^_^ I'm so bad! But actually, I've been wanting to do something like this for quite some time. This is part one of a series of fics I'm going to be writing called "Contradiction". At this point, I know pretty much where I'm going up until part three of that series.. ^^;;; Anyways, please read, review, and keep your eye out for part two, "Trust", okay? Great! Let's go!
NOTE: The poem that begins this story is by me. It's called "Destiny".. I originally wrote it for Yohji, but it fits this story as well. ^_^ Especially later on! Also, "~~~~" means a scene change.
Broken Hearts & Broken Bones
Part One of CONTRADICTION
~Existing in the past
is pain.
Existing in the present
is me.
Looking into the future
I draw back, afraid.
Finding comfort in days gone by
I swear I don't believe in fate.
Feeling the pull of the "to be"
I stubbornly cling to what I know,
taking comfort in that.
Putting my life on the line every day
I don't want to think of consequences.
I refuse to live in the sadness of tomorrow
so I'll smile, and not think of it.
If I worry about what may happen
I'll lose sight of what I'm doing now.
Banishing the excitement caused by thoughts of the future
I stray from the path of Destiny
only letting the "now" remain.
If I let myself think of what will be
I'll become sad, so...
The wind blows, time passes
I become uneasy with this.
In the shadows
I'm smiling
Not thinking of any consequence.
Running from the future
I swore I didn't believe in fate.~
Blue eyes filled with tears, lower lip trembled just slightly. Fighting to control his emotions, he tried not to let the tears fall, but somehow the tiny moonstones fell anyway, streaking his pale face with their salty tracks. He watched the one who stood before him, to whom he had told his every secret, his ever desire and wish and feeling. Watched him turn away from him, away from the spectacle of the sobbing boy. Saw people around them stare, not knowing what the situation was. Wondering who this child was, why was he crying?, who was that man?. So many questions, but his attention was focused fully on the man in front of him.
"Ken-kun.." His voice begged softly, praying for a sign, a word, even an insult. "Ken-kun... onegai shimasu..."
The young man turned just slightly, and he could swear there were tears in those blue-green depths, but he said nothing, walking away from him, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts. Alone with his tears.
"Ken-kun..." The miserable, hoarse whisper pleaded as he crumbled to the hard sidewalk in tears. "Ken-kun... modotte kuru... onegai.."
~~~~
It was the first time in a very long time that Yohji had seen Omi wearing long sleeves. Yet, now he seemed to be wearing them every day, ever since that day...
The blonde shook his head to clear his thoughts, but his mind inevitably came back to that day...
i"Omittchi? Omittchi, what happened?" His inquiries seemed not to mean anything to the crying teen, who walked, slump-shouldered, into the shop. He had been scheduled to show up almost two hours ago, and Yohji had been working the shift alone. Aya was visiting his sister, and Ken had run off, without explaination, shortly after his return. He had been angry at Omi's lateness until this moment.
Stepping forward, he moved to catch the sobbing boy before he could fall over, but Omi refused to be touched, drawing away sharply from him, a flash of frustration, maybe even outright anger, flickering in the depths of those ocean-blue eyes.
"Omi..?"
The boy crumpled to the floor, his sobs becoming louder and more frequent at the kind, understanding tone of Yohji's voice.
"It doesn't matter..." Omi muttered between sobs, his voice hoarse from crying. "It doesn't matter... nothing matters..."/i
That day, Yohji had tried to comfort him, but he wouldn't let him. Ever since then, Omi had become distant to them, reacting with a harsh, uncharacteristic anger at any touch. Even his flower arrangements seemed hastily slammed together, as though the one who made them was very, very angry. And he always wore long sleeves, though he wouldn't say why. He just said, because I feel like it. And that was the end of the discussion. Omi had everyone pretty uptight, and even Aya was walking on eggshells around him. Ken seemed to avoid him whenever possible, which made Yohji wonder if he had something to do with this. He didn't dare to ask, though.
Worse, to Yohji, than even the anger, were the sobs he heard through the wall that was between his and Omi's rooms. Harsh, muffled sobs that made his heart ache for their intensity. Those cries, he thought, were what the boy tried to hide during the day, with his pretend smile and fake, fragile enthusiasm. He almost seemed to want to distance himself from them, yelling at them not to touch him, not to go anywhere near him, even as the grief he held inside threatened to swallow him whole.
Even knowing more about what had happened to Omi than anyone else, still Yohji didn't see it coming, the night that Omi dissappeared from their lives.
~~~~
The club was packed when Omi got there. He had come to escape, maybe forever, in this place, or the dirty buildings surrounding it. Instead he had found himself being "claimed" by some prick in a dirty green tanktop, carted off to a private room off the main dance floor. Hands pawed at his ass, his chest, and other, more private places, making Omi squeak and try to escape, finding that he couldn't: the man was much stronger than he was. As much as he struggled, it only seemed to excite his captor more, and soon the hands that reached out to touch him grew rough, nails scratching hard enough to draw blood, rough slaps that bruised pale skin.
"Let me go!!" Omi shouted, even though he knew, somehow, that no one would hear him. He struggled as best he could though, which perhaps kept the rapist from doing any more than touching him through clothes. Since his experiances with Weiss, Omi had become a formidable opponent, even to those who were bigger and older than he was. This man, however physically fit, still found trouble in penetrating Omi's defense.
iHow long am I gonna keep this up!?/i Part of Omi's mind screeched. iHow long before he gets me? Is he gonna... gonna.../i
Panic overtook Omi when his captor drew a knife. The long, silvery blade hung above his head, threatening in it's beauty. The man slammed the hand that wasn't holding the knife into Omi's arm, and there was a crack! noise. Omi screamed as a sharp pain filled him, emanating mostly from his injured arm. The man lowered the knife, then, beginning a long, searingly painful path from the top of his chest, down towards his stomach...
...but he never got that far. Suddenly, the man seized up, falling away from the boy with an expression of shock, the knife falling with a ringing metal-on-metal cuh-cling on the floor. Now, a new shadow loomed over Omi, though he only caught a glimpse of a white pantleg before exhaustion and his injuries overtook him, and he passed out.
The last sound he heard was his savior's curse as he lost consciousness, a harsh word in a language he didn't know.
~~~~
The tall, slim form picked up the much smaller boy in his arms, gesturing to his smaller companion that it was time to leave. They would have to be far away from here before someone found the dead man on the ground, so that they wouldn't be though of as suspects. Not that they would be anyway, but it was a nice precaution to take. Just in case.
He looked with disdain upon the limp form he had picked up, feeling blood soaking into his white suit.
"You sure made a mess of yourself this time, Weiss." He said softly. "You can't fix it yourself though. Looks like you're coming home with us tonight, kitten."
"Can we keep 'im?" His companion said sarcastically, earning himself a kick in the shin from the older Shwartz.
"Shut up." He said, wishing he could rub his temples as he felt an oncoming headache. Finally he began the treck up the stairs, hoping no one would notice his burden, or at least not the blood that was just about all over the boy (and thus getting all over him).
With a little smile as they approached the dance floor once more, he wondered what the Weiss assassain's reaction would be, once he woke up.
~~~~
White.
Everything was white.
Blue eyes widened, trying to get a better look at his surroundings, but found that he couldn't focus. He supposed he might have hit his head when he fell. Or, he would have thought that, if he hadn't had such a headache, and if his thoughts were being processed correctly.
"Doko...?" He managed to whisper as his eyes cleared enough for him to make out a chair, desk, and, of course, the bed he was on. And, indeed, everything but the desk, the chair, and the bedframe was white. There weren't any windows.
"My home." A voice replied. It took Omi a moment to make out the figure standing in the door, and when he did, he let out a little gasp. In the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other by his side, dressed in a tee shirt and jeans, was one of his worst enemies. The Shwartz member called Shuldich.
"N.. nani yo?" Omi gasped. "What am I doing here?"
Omi had to stop speaking then, when his chest started stinging, apparently from the knife wound he had recieved at the club. Vaguely he remembered that, but his mind wouldn't let him remember the details.
"I brought you here." The red-haired Shwartz said calmly, his icy green eyes trained on Omi's blue ones. "You were almost killed. You're lucky you weren't, kitten. You're also very, very lucky that Nagi and I were in the area. If I hadn't felt your distress, you would probably be dead now."
It took Omi a moment to process this, and almost as soon as he had, the events of the last night came flooding back to him. He choked back a sob as he remembered what the man had almost done to him, feeling hot tears sliding down his cheeks. Abruptly, he felt a cool hand wipe away the tears, and looked up to find Shuldich kneeling next to the bed, his hand still poised near his cheek.
"Why?" The blonde Weiss managed to choke out. "Why did you save me? What happened.. to that man?"
"The man who tried to hurt you is dead." Shuldich said simply, removing his hand and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "As for why.. I suppose because you amuse me. If you were dead, I wouldn't have that, would I?"
For some reason, this did not reassure Omi at all.
Shuldich stood then, looking down at the youngest Weiss with something like pity in his green eyes. "Get some rest. That jackass broke your arm. You'll need to rest so it'll heal. Oyasumi."
And with that, the Shwartz assassain was gone, leaving Omi alone.
~~~~
"Where the hell is Omi?" Yohji demanded, more concerned than angry. Aya shrugged, but there was worry in his eyes as well.
"Check his room. Maybe he was asleep when you knocked, and didn't hear you." The redhead suggested, looking up briefly from the flower arrangement he was completing. Ken said nothing, but then again, he hadn't said anything even remotely relating to Omi in almost a week. The new silence bothered Yohji, but he didn't say anything about it. Not yet, anyway.
So Yohji walked up the stairs that led to the apartments in the back of the shop, where they lived. This time, instead of knocking, he simply walked in, surprised, although he figured he shouldn't be (this being Omi and all), to find that the door was unlocked.
He saw that the bed hadn't been slept in that night, still made from yesterday morning. None of the boy's belongings were gone except for the clothes he was apparently wearing when he left. However, there was something that Yohji didn't remember the boy having, something that scared him and at that same time told him why Omi had been wearing long sleeves.
With the horror that came with a revelation like this, Yohji stared in abject terror at the packet of exacto-knives. Some of them had dried blood on the edges, and Yohji knew that it was Omi's blood.
iBut why?/i He thought. iWhy would Omi do something like this..? And.. where did he go?iThere's no choice./i Omi told himself. iI won't let them use me to get information about Weiss! I can't. So.. So.../i
The youngest member of Weiss held the slim blade above his wrist, trying not to jar his broken arm, glad that he had brought it with him. Quickly, to minimize the pain, he slid it across one wrist, then, with slightly more difficulty as he was trying not to move that arm (since he barely could anyway), the other, feeling a perverse pleasure in the act.
iAfter all, I've been cutting myself elsewhere for a long time.. but this almost feels better than that. I'll finally be free..../i
He watched his own red blood fall to the bluish carpet, staining it purple, and felt a pang of regret that they would never get that out, it would stain horribly. He felt his mind beginning to wander, and knew that soon, very soon, it would all be over.
He would be free. Free.
~~~~
iI've been cutting myself elsewhere for a long time.. but this almost feels better than that. I'll finally be free..../i
Shuldich froze in his tracks, and Nagi, who had been walking just behind him, knocked into his back.
"What's wrong?" Nagi asked, curious, but worried, about what the telepath could have "heard".
"The kid." Shuldich whispered, his voice sounding hoarse. "The damn kid's trying to kill himself."
Nagi was stricken silent as Shuldich nearly ran towards the Weiss's room, and Nagi followed, equally swift, hoping that his telekinetic powers might have some use here.
When they reached the room, Shuldich threw the door open, and ran to the Weiss, Bombay's, side, kneeling beside him and trying to get him to wake up. There wasn't any response. Nagi quickly used his powers to bring in towels and bandages from the cabinet in the bathroom, not caring that in his haste he probably put holes in the bathroom door.
"K'so." Shuldich cursed, cleaning and wrapping each wrist, praying that it would be enough. "I shouldn't have left him alone like that.."
Nagi said nothing, concentrating on using his powers to keep any more blood from escaping Bombay's body. They were lucky Bombay hadn't lost too much blood. Not enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, anyway. It would be hard to explain to the Esstet hospital staff why they had brought a Weiss assassain in to be treated.
The Shwartz telekinetic didn't let up until he was sure that the blood was clotting, and that the bleeding had stopped. The Weiss would be sore in the wrists for a week or two, and he would have scars, but he would be alive. That was what mattered, at least to Nagi and Shuldich, both of whom had taken a liking to the innocent, battered Weiss.
It was a long time before Nagi left, as he had stayed until he was sure that Bombay would be alright. Stealing a last glance back at Shuldich, he noticed something in his comrade's eyes that he had never seen before. Shaking his head slightly, he left, his step a little unsteady after using his powers for so long.
Shuldich stayed by Omi's side all night.
b~To Be Continued...~/b
i~In "Contradiction" part Two, "Truth"!~/i
Part One of the "Contradiction" Story Arc
By Ryuuen
Warnings: Shounen-ai, language, dark themes, attempted suicide, angst, self-inflicted pain, slightslightslight citrus flavor.
The Premise: A Weiss is rejected by the one they love, and retreats, only to find themselves saved from almost certain death by the most unlikely person imaginable...
A/N: This is something I came up with.. sometime during History class the other day. ^_^ I'm so bad! But actually, I've been wanting to do something like this for quite some time. This is part one of a series of fics I'm going to be writing called "Contradiction". At this point, I know pretty much where I'm going up until part three of that series.. ^^;;; Anyways, please read, review, and keep your eye out for part two, "Trust", okay? Great! Let's go!
NOTE: The poem that begins this story is by me. It's called "Destiny".. I originally wrote it for Yohji, but it fits this story as well. ^_^ Especially later on! Also, "~~~~" means a scene change.
Broken Hearts & Broken Bones
Part One of CONTRADICTION
~Existing in the past
is pain.
Existing in the present
is me.
Looking into the future
I draw back, afraid.
Finding comfort in days gone by
I swear I don't believe in fate.
Feeling the pull of the "to be"
I stubbornly cling to what I know,
taking comfort in that.
Putting my life on the line every day
I don't want to think of consequences.
I refuse to live in the sadness of tomorrow
so I'll smile, and not think of it.
If I worry about what may happen
I'll lose sight of what I'm doing now.
Banishing the excitement caused by thoughts of the future
I stray from the path of Destiny
only letting the "now" remain.
If I let myself think of what will be
I'll become sad, so...
The wind blows, time passes
I become uneasy with this.
In the shadows
I'm smiling
Not thinking of any consequence.
Running from the future
I swore I didn't believe in fate.~
Blue eyes filled with tears, lower lip trembled just slightly. Fighting to control his emotions, he tried not to let the tears fall, but somehow the tiny moonstones fell anyway, streaking his pale face with their salty tracks. He watched the one who stood before him, to whom he had told his every secret, his ever desire and wish and feeling. Watched him turn away from him, away from the spectacle of the sobbing boy. Saw people around them stare, not knowing what the situation was. Wondering who this child was, why was he crying?, who was that man?. So many questions, but his attention was focused fully on the man in front of him.
"Ken-kun.." His voice begged softly, praying for a sign, a word, even an insult. "Ken-kun... onegai shimasu..."
The young man turned just slightly, and he could swear there were tears in those blue-green depths, but he said nothing, walking away from him, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts. Alone with his tears.
"Ken-kun..." The miserable, hoarse whisper pleaded as he crumbled to the hard sidewalk in tears. "Ken-kun... modotte kuru... onegai.."
~~~~
It was the first time in a very long time that Yohji had seen Omi wearing long sleeves. Yet, now he seemed to be wearing them every day, ever since that day...
The blonde shook his head to clear his thoughts, but his mind inevitably came back to that day...
i"Omittchi? Omittchi, what happened?" His inquiries seemed not to mean anything to the crying teen, who walked, slump-shouldered, into the shop. He had been scheduled to show up almost two hours ago, and Yohji had been working the shift alone. Aya was visiting his sister, and Ken had run off, without explaination, shortly after his return. He had been angry at Omi's lateness until this moment.
Stepping forward, he moved to catch the sobbing boy before he could fall over, but Omi refused to be touched, drawing away sharply from him, a flash of frustration, maybe even outright anger, flickering in the depths of those ocean-blue eyes.
"Omi..?"
The boy crumpled to the floor, his sobs becoming louder and more frequent at the kind, understanding tone of Yohji's voice.
"It doesn't matter..." Omi muttered between sobs, his voice hoarse from crying. "It doesn't matter... nothing matters..."/i
That day, Yohji had tried to comfort him, but he wouldn't let him. Ever since then, Omi had become distant to them, reacting with a harsh, uncharacteristic anger at any touch. Even his flower arrangements seemed hastily slammed together, as though the one who made them was very, very angry. And he always wore long sleeves, though he wouldn't say why. He just said, because I feel like it. And that was the end of the discussion. Omi had everyone pretty uptight, and even Aya was walking on eggshells around him. Ken seemed to avoid him whenever possible, which made Yohji wonder if he had something to do with this. He didn't dare to ask, though.
Worse, to Yohji, than even the anger, were the sobs he heard through the wall that was between his and Omi's rooms. Harsh, muffled sobs that made his heart ache for their intensity. Those cries, he thought, were what the boy tried to hide during the day, with his pretend smile and fake, fragile enthusiasm. He almost seemed to want to distance himself from them, yelling at them not to touch him, not to go anywhere near him, even as the grief he held inside threatened to swallow him whole.
Even knowing more about what had happened to Omi than anyone else, still Yohji didn't see it coming, the night that Omi dissappeared from their lives.
~~~~
The club was packed when Omi got there. He had come to escape, maybe forever, in this place, or the dirty buildings surrounding it. Instead he had found himself being "claimed" by some prick in a dirty green tanktop, carted off to a private room off the main dance floor. Hands pawed at his ass, his chest, and other, more private places, making Omi squeak and try to escape, finding that he couldn't: the man was much stronger than he was. As much as he struggled, it only seemed to excite his captor more, and soon the hands that reached out to touch him grew rough, nails scratching hard enough to draw blood, rough slaps that bruised pale skin.
"Let me go!!" Omi shouted, even though he knew, somehow, that no one would hear him. He struggled as best he could though, which perhaps kept the rapist from doing any more than touching him through clothes. Since his experiances with Weiss, Omi had become a formidable opponent, even to those who were bigger and older than he was. This man, however physically fit, still found trouble in penetrating Omi's defense.
iHow long am I gonna keep this up!?/i Part of Omi's mind screeched. iHow long before he gets me? Is he gonna... gonna.../i
Panic overtook Omi when his captor drew a knife. The long, silvery blade hung above his head, threatening in it's beauty. The man slammed the hand that wasn't holding the knife into Omi's arm, and there was a crack! noise. Omi screamed as a sharp pain filled him, emanating mostly from his injured arm. The man lowered the knife, then, beginning a long, searingly painful path from the top of his chest, down towards his stomach...
...but he never got that far. Suddenly, the man seized up, falling away from the boy with an expression of shock, the knife falling with a ringing metal-on-metal cuh-cling on the floor. Now, a new shadow loomed over Omi, though he only caught a glimpse of a white pantleg before exhaustion and his injuries overtook him, and he passed out.
The last sound he heard was his savior's curse as he lost consciousness, a harsh word in a language he didn't know.
~~~~
The tall, slim form picked up the much smaller boy in his arms, gesturing to his smaller companion that it was time to leave. They would have to be far away from here before someone found the dead man on the ground, so that they wouldn't be though of as suspects. Not that they would be anyway, but it was a nice precaution to take. Just in case.
He looked with disdain upon the limp form he had picked up, feeling blood soaking into his white suit.
"You sure made a mess of yourself this time, Weiss." He said softly. "You can't fix it yourself though. Looks like you're coming home with us tonight, kitten."
"Can we keep 'im?" His companion said sarcastically, earning himself a kick in the shin from the older Shwartz.
"Shut up." He said, wishing he could rub his temples as he felt an oncoming headache. Finally he began the treck up the stairs, hoping no one would notice his burden, or at least not the blood that was just about all over the boy (and thus getting all over him).
With a little smile as they approached the dance floor once more, he wondered what the Weiss assassain's reaction would be, once he woke up.
~~~~
White.
Everything was white.
Blue eyes widened, trying to get a better look at his surroundings, but found that he couldn't focus. He supposed he might have hit his head when he fell. Or, he would have thought that, if he hadn't had such a headache, and if his thoughts were being processed correctly.
"Doko...?" He managed to whisper as his eyes cleared enough for him to make out a chair, desk, and, of course, the bed he was on. And, indeed, everything but the desk, the chair, and the bedframe was white. There weren't any windows.
"My home." A voice replied. It took Omi a moment to make out the figure standing in the door, and when he did, he let out a little gasp. In the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other by his side, dressed in a tee shirt and jeans, was one of his worst enemies. The Shwartz member called Shuldich.
"N.. nani yo?" Omi gasped. "What am I doing here?"
Omi had to stop speaking then, when his chest started stinging, apparently from the knife wound he had recieved at the club. Vaguely he remembered that, but his mind wouldn't let him remember the details.
"I brought you here." The red-haired Shwartz said calmly, his icy green eyes trained on Omi's blue ones. "You were almost killed. You're lucky you weren't, kitten. You're also very, very lucky that Nagi and I were in the area. If I hadn't felt your distress, you would probably be dead now."
It took Omi a moment to process this, and almost as soon as he had, the events of the last night came flooding back to him. He choked back a sob as he remembered what the man had almost done to him, feeling hot tears sliding down his cheeks. Abruptly, he felt a cool hand wipe away the tears, and looked up to find Shuldich kneeling next to the bed, his hand still poised near his cheek.
"Why?" The blonde Weiss managed to choke out. "Why did you save me? What happened.. to that man?"
"The man who tried to hurt you is dead." Shuldich said simply, removing his hand and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "As for why.. I suppose because you amuse me. If you were dead, I wouldn't have that, would I?"
For some reason, this did not reassure Omi at all.
Shuldich stood then, looking down at the youngest Weiss with something like pity in his green eyes. "Get some rest. That jackass broke your arm. You'll need to rest so it'll heal. Oyasumi."
And with that, the Shwartz assassain was gone, leaving Omi alone.
~~~~
"Where the hell is Omi?" Yohji demanded, more concerned than angry. Aya shrugged, but there was worry in his eyes as well.
"Check his room. Maybe he was asleep when you knocked, and didn't hear you." The redhead suggested, looking up briefly from the flower arrangement he was completing. Ken said nothing, but then again, he hadn't said anything even remotely relating to Omi in almost a week. The new silence bothered Yohji, but he didn't say anything about it. Not yet, anyway.
So Yohji walked up the stairs that led to the apartments in the back of the shop, where they lived. This time, instead of knocking, he simply walked in, surprised, although he figured he shouldn't be (this being Omi and all), to find that the door was unlocked.
He saw that the bed hadn't been slept in that night, still made from yesterday morning. None of the boy's belongings were gone except for the clothes he was apparently wearing when he left. However, there was something that Yohji didn't remember the boy having, something that scared him and at that same time told him why Omi had been wearing long sleeves.
With the horror that came with a revelation like this, Yohji stared in abject terror at the packet of exacto-knives. Some of them had dried blood on the edges, and Yohji knew that it was Omi's blood.
iBut why?/i He thought. iWhy would Omi do something like this..? And.. where did he go?iThere's no choice./i Omi told himself. iI won't let them use me to get information about Weiss! I can't. So.. So.../i
The youngest member of Weiss held the slim blade above his wrist, trying not to jar his broken arm, glad that he had brought it with him. Quickly, to minimize the pain, he slid it across one wrist, then, with slightly more difficulty as he was trying not to move that arm (since he barely could anyway), the other, feeling a perverse pleasure in the act.
iAfter all, I've been cutting myself elsewhere for a long time.. but this almost feels better than that. I'll finally be free..../i
He watched his own red blood fall to the bluish carpet, staining it purple, and felt a pang of regret that they would never get that out, it would stain horribly. He felt his mind beginning to wander, and knew that soon, very soon, it would all be over.
He would be free. Free.
~~~~
iI've been cutting myself elsewhere for a long time.. but this almost feels better than that. I'll finally be free..../i
Shuldich froze in his tracks, and Nagi, who had been walking just behind him, knocked into his back.
"What's wrong?" Nagi asked, curious, but worried, about what the telepath could have "heard".
"The kid." Shuldich whispered, his voice sounding hoarse. "The damn kid's trying to kill himself."
Nagi was stricken silent as Shuldich nearly ran towards the Weiss's room, and Nagi followed, equally swift, hoping that his telekinetic powers might have some use here.
When they reached the room, Shuldich threw the door open, and ran to the Weiss, Bombay's, side, kneeling beside him and trying to get him to wake up. There wasn't any response. Nagi quickly used his powers to bring in towels and bandages from the cabinet in the bathroom, not caring that in his haste he probably put holes in the bathroom door.
"K'so." Shuldich cursed, cleaning and wrapping each wrist, praying that it would be enough. "I shouldn't have left him alone like that.."
Nagi said nothing, concentrating on using his powers to keep any more blood from escaping Bombay's body. They were lucky Bombay hadn't lost too much blood. Not enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, anyway. It would be hard to explain to the Esstet hospital staff why they had brought a Weiss assassain in to be treated.
The Shwartz telekinetic didn't let up until he was sure that the blood was clotting, and that the bleeding had stopped. The Weiss would be sore in the wrists for a week or two, and he would have scars, but he would be alive. That was what mattered, at least to Nagi and Shuldich, both of whom had taken a liking to the innocent, battered Weiss.
It was a long time before Nagi left, as he had stayed until he was sure that Bombay would be alright. Stealing a last glance back at Shuldich, he noticed something in his comrade's eyes that he had never seen before. Shaking his head slightly, he left, his step a little unsteady after using his powers for so long.
Shuldich stayed by Omi's side all night.
b~To Be Continued...~/b
i~In "Contradiction" part Two, "Truth"!~/i