My second time writing for this fandom. Another short drabble for naiyad. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz does not belong to me.
Aftermath
Crawford wakes up knowing that something's going to break.
He stays in bed, staring straight ahead of him until he hears the violent crash of glass and a string of angry curses. Gripping the edge of the bed with one hand, he eases himself into a standing position and walks towards the kitchen. Once there, Schuldig doesn't acknowledge him, still hurling curses at what Crawford assumes was once a plate, followed by the sound of stomping and the tinkling of glass as it is broken into smaller pieces.
"You're going to hurt yourself," he says.
"Yeah?" More stomping. "Which foot?"
He doesn't answer that; 'your right,' he thinks, but he doesn't say it. Instead, he waits for what is sure to come and soon enough, the German exclaims in pain, accompanied by a fresh round of curses.
Metal scrapes against tiled floor. Schuldig sits down. There is a pause before Crawford asks, "Which foot?"
"Left," the redhead snaps angrily. "Damn plate."
There is another pause as Crawford acknowledges this – hears it and digests it as yet another fact he has gotten wrong. Finally, in a voice so quiet that he almost misses it himself, he accepts it, "I see."
"No, you don't!" and suddenly the redhead's voice is much closer than before; right in front of him, in fact, because he can feel the words burn as they are hauled into his face. "No, you don't! You can't see anything! Your sight isn't worth crap anymore and my mind is so fucked up all the time that it's driving me insane having to listen to all these dead people going on and on about how they're not actually dead and what are you doing?" Here, Crawford can feel the accusing heat of a finger being pointed at him. "You're walking into walls. Proud Oracle, leader of Rosenkreuz's finest team. Is walking into walls."
There is silence then, a heavy fog of frustration surrounding the both of them and Crawford knows exactly what is running through Schuldig's mind right now; 'The door is right there,' he's thinking. 'All I have to do is walk away.'
And like many of the silences before, Crawford is the one to break it. "The last time that happened was months ago."
Schuldig snorts, unimpressed. Nevertheless, the atmosphere lightens immediately.
The German doesn't apologise but then again, Crawford never expects him to because he knows that, despite everything – despite a bleeding foot, a blind roommate and hundreds of imaginary conversations with non-existent people in his head – despite everything, this is all they have left.
Schuldig isn't going anywhere. And neither is he.
"Get that foot bandaged," Crawford says, turning in the direction of his room. "We're eating out."