Riddles

It was something that puzzled Schuldig. Because Crawford was notoriously discreet with his body, always hiding it behind ugly shirts and expensive suits, even in their slow time inside the flat in the summer, when even Nagi would wear shorts and Schuldig wouldn't bother with a shirt. However, every morning, Crawford would go into the bathroom in his dark pajamas and come out of it in nothing but a towel. Not even the vapor of the hot water would cling to him. And Schuldig, being Schuldig and hating mornings, would wake up at the break of dawn to be the silent witness to a nearly naked Crawford who would haunt the corridor for barely three seconds. For being so reluctant to show off, Crawford didn't care about Schuldig being there, either. It wasn't as if he were shy. Crawford wasn't. And Schuldig knew. Knew but didn't understand. It was something that really puzzled Schuldig.

"I don't get you," Schuldig said one morning.

Crawford paused when reaching for the knob of his bedroom. He looked like a totally different person. Muscled. Without glasses. Wet bangs everywhere.

"Your answer is your own question," Crawford replied cryptically, enjoying his role as the Oracle a bit too much for Schuldig's taste. But seeing that foreign body smirk so familiarly was nearly worth the annoyance, Schuldig thought.

Then Crawford completed the movement and entered his room without looking back.

Schuldig was back to bed and asleep by the time Crawford was putting on his slacks. It didn't even occur to him to wonder how come Crawford hadn't acquired a flat with a private bathroom in his bedroom. That would have puzzled him even more.