Corners
Although Frau didn't look the part, he was an organized person at heart. Yes, he had intentionally rhymed that particular segment. After all, what was an inner monologue without a bit of poetry? However, the organization didn't stop at just material means, he mused to himself. It applied to his own mind. His state of mind was like a clean linoleum floor when stable. It was swept, but never mopped. Stains still remained, dirt still faintly clung to the floor at a microscopic level only known to him. Other times, people would stop to litter without picking up their trash, they dumped their problems on him without an ounce of tact.
A certain individual in fact, was a bit of a regular at this. He constantly left his mess without warning, and if the bishop didn't know any better, he would have deduced it to a lack of responsibility. Even during the long hours of reflection he had, he compared it to being led through a labyrinth. Every time you thought you had finally found the exit, another twist was all that you were greeted with. Frau didn't have that kind of patience. All he had was a twisted sense of duty that he barely acted on. All Frau had was a poorly kept together room where his head used to be, trying desperately to get things clean. To keep in order, restore some sense of normal in his whirlwind of a life.
Frau was so accustomed to the mess that he stopped trying to look for a permanent solution. Instead of eliminating the growing problems that accumulated upon his once clean floor, he swept everything into corners. As dependant as he was on other people, he never asked the litterbug to stop what he was doing. If he said the word, they wouldn't come back. It's what be believed. His problems never ceased, despite knowing what the solution was. Someone would easily trip over the dirt pile in the corner, the contents of his past just as easily tossed back onto the floor at any given moment. Groups of people would bring their own garbage cans and dump it across the already filthy floor, laughing and taunting him to his face. Telling him he should clean up, telling him to end it all.
Before he had met Teito, he may not have had the cleanest floor, but it wasn't the dirtiest.
He stared at the teen, entranced. his face was mere inches from Teito's, and he couldn't tear his eyes away away, the phantom kiss still on his lips.
In his mind he could picture it so clearly he wondered if what he was doing right now was simply a figment of his sat in the middle of the linoleum floor, dirt encrusted, trash infested, dust bunnies scattered in rings around marched up to him donning a brilliant smile unlike any he had ever seen before. At his side was a waste bin, filled to the brim with crumpled balls for paper. He stood over the bishop, showering Frau with rash, laughing at his expense, telling him he foolish he was for entertaining these thoughts. Listing reason after reason why it was impossible, why there was no future with him and Teito.
"I don't deserve Frau." the boy said inaudibly.
He leaned back, feeling a hundred years older than Zehel himself. "Sorry, kid. It's the other way around." Frau let his gaze linger on the back of the the brunette's head and sighed to himself. He dug into his pockets and hung his head in shame, retreating from the room with a heavy heart. The teen paid attention to the receding steps and sat up, his gaze mournfully fixed on the direction in which the bishop had left,
"Come back." he whispered hoarsely, feeling helpless as one by one, the hallway lights shut off, blanketing him in darkness.
A/N: Inspired by a metaphor, I have REALLY wanted to use. More to come!