Experienced Weiss Kreuz fans and authors:
Forgive me, I beg of you. I am among the unfortunate, uninitiated people, who have never really seen or read the series, but I've formulated an idea of what happens, from the marvelous fanfictions out there that I've read.
As requested, this is the sequel to "Lavender," featuring the young and innocent Naoe Nagi, and his counterpart, the irrepressible Tsukiyono Omi.
Enjoy!
---
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the pictures in my head
Warning: Sap, angst, language, and shonein-ai situations. We almost reach lime, but I chickened out. Omi+Nagi, plus a few other pairs mentioned along the way...
Author: Kasey
Archive: Not unless I send it to you.
Status: Complete, self-edited.
Key: /italics/ and *emphasis*
---
"Honey"
-Talk to Me, Bombay-
---
Crawford told me that the minute that Weiss had discovered Bombay was missing, they actually went and tracked down Schwarz, intent on finding out 'what we had done with him.' Stupid. It should have been obvious that Crawford was just as surprised by the attack as they were.
"Do you know that when Abyssinian gets mad enough, his face turns as red as his hair?" Schu asked as he told me about my rescue.
"Stick to the story, Schu," I said, lying back against the couch and nursing my wounded shoulder.
"Hn." Schu cracked his knuckles. "Well, we didn't team up, exactly, but we all did a bunch of searching... then Mr Taketori mentioned that Masafumi had gone missing again. That's when Brad put one and one together..."
---
Masafumi threw me bodily back into the cell. I could only numbly feel the impact as I hit the floor, and then the cell door shut.
"Naoe!" Bombay rolled me over onto my back, and pulled me over to where we stored the fresh water provided to us. I don't think we ever drank any of it. "You're a mess... what did they do this time?"
I shivered as the cold, wet washcloth was pressed against the cut on my forehead. "E-ever... everything."
"Even *you* don't deserve *this*," Bombay growled, dabbing at the bruise on my jaw. "What did they do? Pump you full of drugs and see how well you fought back?"
"...Ezac'ly." It hurt to talk, and I was trying to keep my eyes focused on Bombay.
"Where else are you... injured?"
I paused before answering him. What was he doing? What was *I* doing? I was letting Bombay, Weiss, my *enemy* wash my wounds. I jerked away. "Leggo of me," I coughed out.
Bombay let go, but he glared at me. "I'm trying to help!"
"Don't need help." I crawled into my corner of the cell, and pushed my back up against the wall, wincing.
"Bullshit."
I looked up at him. That was the first time I'd heard him use any sort of profanity. "Huh?"
Omi crawled over next to me, with the washcloth still in his hand. "I said, 'bullshit.'" He pulled me away from the wall, and pulled the collar of my shirt back. He reached in with the washcloth.
"Aa-aahh!! Leggo of me, y'asshole!!" I howled when the cloth touched my back. "Let. GO!!"
Omi reached down with his other hand, and lifted the hem of my shirt. Before I could do anything, he had pulled it up to my armpits and higher, and I was trapped in my own shirt.
"What did he *do*?!" Bombay exclaimed when he saw my back. I struggled, trying to get my shirt back down. Then the cloth was on my back again, stinging me.
"Ow-oww!!"
"Stop fighting!"
I cussed Bombay out for five full minutes as he washed my back with cold water. He paid special attention to something on my shoulder that slowly stopped stinging--it started throbbing, instead. I figured that the bone was probably bruised. Finally, my back only stung a little when he touched it, and he let me go. I pulled away, and pushed my shirt back down.
"Don't expect a 'thank you,' Bombay" I snarled.
Bombay raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't going to." He moved back to his side of the cell, and rinsed the cloth out again. As he turned his back on me, I realized where the washcloth had come from. A section of his shirt had been torn out--I hadn't noticed before. "And my name's Omi. Call me Omi."
"Tsukiyono teacher's pet," I said sarcastically.
"Mr Yokayama would like you better if you didn't make fun of his class," Bombay threw back at me. "You're the top student." He sounded almost disgruntled.
"We *both* are," I reminded him.
He shook his head. "I saw the grade book, today... yesterday... whatever. I've got 97 percent in the class... you've got a 98.6."
My eyes widened. "No kidding?"
Bombay shrugged. "That's what I saw. You must be pretty smart for a... how old are you, anyhow?"
My shoulder hurt, and I rubbed it with the palm of my hand. "Fifteen."
"I'm seventeen." There were a few minutes of silence. "How long d'you think we've been here?" he asked.
I would have shrugged, but my muscles were sore, and now that I was relaxing and the drug had stopped messing with my head, I was starting to fall asleep. "Don't know. He took my watch. Over a day, maybe two."
Bombay's hand twitched. I could tell he wanted to do something, but had no means of getting out. As stoked as I was with the drugs Masafumi had given me, I was useless.
"Know what?" Bombay asked. I glanced up at him. He tilted his head, and smiled wryly at me. "If you weren't Schwarz, we could have been best friends."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"I don't *have* friends," I replied hotly. "In case you haven't noticed, people don't *like* me." He blinked as I continued. "I'm a freak," I whispered. "I'm a freak of nature, and people don't like that."
Bombay frowned. "I couldn't tell that when I met you," he said softly. "I thought you were just another cu..." He stopped and shook his head, and I wondered what he had been going to say. "You looked pretty normal to me. Nobody in our class thinks you're different."
I stared at the floor. Why didn't he get it? I wasn't normal, and I never would be. "Everyone in our class thinks that *you* are the greatest thing since color TV," I said. "*And* every one of those same people knows that *you* *detest* *me*. Do you get it, now?"
Bombay shook his head.
"Boy, are you dense," I mumbled. He didn't hear me. "Look... I don't like people, and people don't like me. I don't have friends, and I don't want friends." I glared at him, but he was looking at me with this... expression, or emotion, in his eyes. "Don't pity me!" I yelled.
"Why not?" Bombay asked. "You're certainly acting like you want to be pitied. People want to be your friends, and you tell them to go away. Even Ay--even Abyssinian is better around people than you are!"
Well, that was saying something. I'd *seen* Abyssinian, and he wasn't even pleasant as a flower-boy.
It was quiet for a short time. I found myself staring at Bombay, tapping my foot. I was used to having someone to talk to... usually Schuldich. I needed the banter to keep from going crazy, but I didn't want to initiate the conversation.
Time stretches when you're in a prison with no windows and no clocks. It felt like an hour, but it was probably only five minutes before the silence got to me.
"Bombay?"
Bombay looked up at me, surprised. Then his eyes narrowed. "My name is Omi."
I tapped my foot, and stopped, and tapped again. "Omi?"
This time, the surprise was astounding. He really couldn't believe I'd called him by his given name. "...What?"
It took me a moment to realize that I didn't even have a topic, or a question. I just wanted to talk. "...If you're seventeen, and I'm fifteen... why are we in the same math class?"
Bom--Omi raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. "You're just smarter than I was when I was fifteen, I guess," he replied.
"Oh." A few moments later, I had another question. "Why does Masafumi keep torturing me, and leaving you in here? I've been shot up with every drug in the book, and you only got snapped at once. Why?"
Omi shook his head. "I don't know. The guy's crazy. Why are you asking me?"
"There's no one else to talk to."
"Can we talk about something else?"
"Like what?"
Omi shrugged. "I dunno... What do you like to do?"
"Surf the internet."
Omi actually smiled, then. "Me too. I look for the latest electronics equipment."
I nodded, and I felt myself smile. "That's what I do. I listen to music..."
"...By rewiring the computer sound system through an auxiliary amplifier, right?"
I stared at him. "Yeah! You do the same thing?"
Omi gave me a withering glance. "Anyone who can stand to listen to computer speakers must be masochistic."
"Farf..."
"Who?"
"Farfarello. He doesn't like computer speakers."
"He's not a normal masochist, either."
"Point taken."
---
---
Forgive me, I beg of you. I am among the unfortunate, uninitiated people, who have never really seen or read the series, but I've formulated an idea of what happens, from the marvelous fanfictions out there that I've read.
As requested, this is the sequel to "Lavender," featuring the young and innocent Naoe Nagi, and his counterpart, the irrepressible Tsukiyono Omi.
Enjoy!
---
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the pictures in my head
Warning: Sap, angst, language, and shonein-ai situations. We almost reach lime, but I chickened out. Omi+Nagi, plus a few other pairs mentioned along the way...
Author: Kasey
Archive: Not unless I send it to you.
Status: Complete, self-edited.
Key: /italics/ and *emphasis*
---
"Honey"
-Talk to Me, Bombay-
---
Crawford told me that the minute that Weiss had discovered Bombay was missing, they actually went and tracked down Schwarz, intent on finding out 'what we had done with him.' Stupid. It should have been obvious that Crawford was just as surprised by the attack as they were.
"Do you know that when Abyssinian gets mad enough, his face turns as red as his hair?" Schu asked as he told me about my rescue.
"Stick to the story, Schu," I said, lying back against the couch and nursing my wounded shoulder.
"Hn." Schu cracked his knuckles. "Well, we didn't team up, exactly, but we all did a bunch of searching... then Mr Taketori mentioned that Masafumi had gone missing again. That's when Brad put one and one together..."
---
Masafumi threw me bodily back into the cell. I could only numbly feel the impact as I hit the floor, and then the cell door shut.
"Naoe!" Bombay rolled me over onto my back, and pulled me over to where we stored the fresh water provided to us. I don't think we ever drank any of it. "You're a mess... what did they do this time?"
I shivered as the cold, wet washcloth was pressed against the cut on my forehead. "E-ever... everything."
"Even *you* don't deserve *this*," Bombay growled, dabbing at the bruise on my jaw. "What did they do? Pump you full of drugs and see how well you fought back?"
"...Ezac'ly." It hurt to talk, and I was trying to keep my eyes focused on Bombay.
"Where else are you... injured?"
I paused before answering him. What was he doing? What was *I* doing? I was letting Bombay, Weiss, my *enemy* wash my wounds. I jerked away. "Leggo of me," I coughed out.
Bombay let go, but he glared at me. "I'm trying to help!"
"Don't need help." I crawled into my corner of the cell, and pushed my back up against the wall, wincing.
"Bullshit."
I looked up at him. That was the first time I'd heard him use any sort of profanity. "Huh?"
Omi crawled over next to me, with the washcloth still in his hand. "I said, 'bullshit.'" He pulled me away from the wall, and pulled the collar of my shirt back. He reached in with the washcloth.
"Aa-aahh!! Leggo of me, y'asshole!!" I howled when the cloth touched my back. "Let. GO!!"
Omi reached down with his other hand, and lifted the hem of my shirt. Before I could do anything, he had pulled it up to my armpits and higher, and I was trapped in my own shirt.
"What did he *do*?!" Bombay exclaimed when he saw my back. I struggled, trying to get my shirt back down. Then the cloth was on my back again, stinging me.
"Ow-oww!!"
"Stop fighting!"
I cussed Bombay out for five full minutes as he washed my back with cold water. He paid special attention to something on my shoulder that slowly stopped stinging--it started throbbing, instead. I figured that the bone was probably bruised. Finally, my back only stung a little when he touched it, and he let me go. I pulled away, and pushed my shirt back down.
"Don't expect a 'thank you,' Bombay" I snarled.
Bombay raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't going to." He moved back to his side of the cell, and rinsed the cloth out again. As he turned his back on me, I realized where the washcloth had come from. A section of his shirt had been torn out--I hadn't noticed before. "And my name's Omi. Call me Omi."
"Tsukiyono teacher's pet," I said sarcastically.
"Mr Yokayama would like you better if you didn't make fun of his class," Bombay threw back at me. "You're the top student." He sounded almost disgruntled.
"We *both* are," I reminded him.
He shook his head. "I saw the grade book, today... yesterday... whatever. I've got 97 percent in the class... you've got a 98.6."
My eyes widened. "No kidding?"
Bombay shrugged. "That's what I saw. You must be pretty smart for a... how old are you, anyhow?"
My shoulder hurt, and I rubbed it with the palm of my hand. "Fifteen."
"I'm seventeen." There were a few minutes of silence. "How long d'you think we've been here?" he asked.
I would have shrugged, but my muscles were sore, and now that I was relaxing and the drug had stopped messing with my head, I was starting to fall asleep. "Don't know. He took my watch. Over a day, maybe two."
Bombay's hand twitched. I could tell he wanted to do something, but had no means of getting out. As stoked as I was with the drugs Masafumi had given me, I was useless.
"Know what?" Bombay asked. I glanced up at him. He tilted his head, and smiled wryly at me. "If you weren't Schwarz, we could have been best friends."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"I don't *have* friends," I replied hotly. "In case you haven't noticed, people don't *like* me." He blinked as I continued. "I'm a freak," I whispered. "I'm a freak of nature, and people don't like that."
Bombay frowned. "I couldn't tell that when I met you," he said softly. "I thought you were just another cu..." He stopped and shook his head, and I wondered what he had been going to say. "You looked pretty normal to me. Nobody in our class thinks you're different."
I stared at the floor. Why didn't he get it? I wasn't normal, and I never would be. "Everyone in our class thinks that *you* are the greatest thing since color TV," I said. "*And* every one of those same people knows that *you* *detest* *me*. Do you get it, now?"
Bombay shook his head.
"Boy, are you dense," I mumbled. He didn't hear me. "Look... I don't like people, and people don't like me. I don't have friends, and I don't want friends." I glared at him, but he was looking at me with this... expression, or emotion, in his eyes. "Don't pity me!" I yelled.
"Why not?" Bombay asked. "You're certainly acting like you want to be pitied. People want to be your friends, and you tell them to go away. Even Ay--even Abyssinian is better around people than you are!"
Well, that was saying something. I'd *seen* Abyssinian, and he wasn't even pleasant as a flower-boy.
It was quiet for a short time. I found myself staring at Bombay, tapping my foot. I was used to having someone to talk to... usually Schuldich. I needed the banter to keep from going crazy, but I didn't want to initiate the conversation.
Time stretches when you're in a prison with no windows and no clocks. It felt like an hour, but it was probably only five minutes before the silence got to me.
"Bombay?"
Bombay looked up at me, surprised. Then his eyes narrowed. "My name is Omi."
I tapped my foot, and stopped, and tapped again. "Omi?"
This time, the surprise was astounding. He really couldn't believe I'd called him by his given name. "...What?"
It took me a moment to realize that I didn't even have a topic, or a question. I just wanted to talk. "...If you're seventeen, and I'm fifteen... why are we in the same math class?"
Bom--Omi raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. "You're just smarter than I was when I was fifteen, I guess," he replied.
"Oh." A few moments later, I had another question. "Why does Masafumi keep torturing me, and leaving you in here? I've been shot up with every drug in the book, and you only got snapped at once. Why?"
Omi shook his head. "I don't know. The guy's crazy. Why are you asking me?"
"There's no one else to talk to."
"Can we talk about something else?"
"Like what?"
Omi shrugged. "I dunno... What do you like to do?"
"Surf the internet."
Omi actually smiled, then. "Me too. I look for the latest electronics equipment."
I nodded, and I felt myself smile. "That's what I do. I listen to music..."
"...By rewiring the computer sound system through an auxiliary amplifier, right?"
I stared at him. "Yeah! You do the same thing?"
Omi gave me a withering glance. "Anyone who can stand to listen to computer speakers must be masochistic."
"Farf..."
"Who?"
"Farfarello. He doesn't like computer speakers."
"He's not a normal masochist, either."
"Point taken."
---
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