By. Bento Box
09/22/01
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The numbness broke free and he was crying again. It wasn't the hysterical, desperate sobbing of before, it was an emptying, relieving flood of tears that brought only a lightness with it instead of heaviness. But more memories began to stir with the torrent of tears.
He moaned into the soaked cloth of Farfarello's shirt, and found himself clinging desperately to the other man, as if for support.
"God cries, God cries."
The statement was a rasping whisper in his ears..
---
A hand lazily ran through the now clean locks. It could have been weeks, months, years, since the beginning of it all, but the little boy had no clue.
Although, calling him 'boy' was an irony within an irony. He was no longer a mere boy; far from it in actuality.
The man whose name he still had no idea was, or might have willingly forgotten, wrapped a lean arm around his bare waist. A low purr rumbled from the smooth chest and fingers ran along the delicate hip bone.
"You're such a good boy, ne? You're perfect, absolutely perfect. You're going to make me rich, aren't you? Men are going to kill to have you, to taste you. So sweet, my sweet boy." The man talked incessantly, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of something.
Irritation?
He didn't know, but he just wanted the man to shut up. His thoughts stirred from their burnt ashes, and an almost shocking anger spread through him. He imagined a fist, an invisible fist with claws wrapping around the man's throat and just digging into the flesh. Biting, burying, and painfully deep.
A choked sound and a gurgle snapped the young boy back to attention. The man's arms jerked from around the boy and he began to claw at his own throat, as if something was choking him and he was desperately trying to break free.
The boy, not in the least bit afraid, edged away a bit to watch. What was going on?
The man's eyes looked as if they'd burst forth any moment, and his mouth opened and closed. He seemed to be gasping for air.
The boy's seemingly innocent gaze was enraptured by the scene unfolding before him. Almost tentatively, the image of the clawed hands in his hands increased their pressure, and the man let out a silent choke. Blood began to drip down from his nose, and from the corners of his mouth.
The boy's eyes widened slightly, and realization slowly sank in.
The image in his mind went blank, and the man slumped back onto the pillows. He lay there unmoving, the blood running from him staining the white pillow sheets beneath his head.
He had...he had just killed him hadn't he? A queasy uneasiness filled him for a second, and then was replaced by a coldness uncharacteristic in someone so young as he.
He had suddenly found a power; a power that would help him most definitely.
---
One moment he was in front of a chapel, fallen onto his knees and in Farfarello's arms. Next, he was in a large, wide expanse of black space. His breathing was harsh and uneven, and as he came to, his thoughts were beyond befuddled and in a jumble.
The black space moved like liquid silk over him as his stirred gently, and with the slow return to reality did he realize he WAS in silk. A black, silk-covered bed to be exact.
"Ja, you're in my bed right now as a matter of fact," came the familiar, grating German voice. The somewhat blurry image of the fiery redhead was next.
"So wonderful of you to return to us kitten." Schuldig, from what Nagi could make out at least, gave him a small smirk.
Nagi closed his eyes, his mind still reeling. Why did he feel to lightheaded and hot? Argh, why was it so hot? He fitfully shoved aside the silk sheets, and even the welcoming cool air that met his skin wasn't enough.
The German made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat and dragged the silk sheets over Nagi again.
"You may feel hot, but your body is shaking right now, and you need to keep as much of your heat in you." The German's voice actually sounded chiding. Nagi couldn't muster up enough amusement to laugh at the thought--Schu, a mommy nurse?
The bed sheets were jerked up and under his chin almost painfully tight. Schuldig didn't take to kindly to the reference of "mommy nurse". This time, Nagi was able to crack a somewhat sadistic grin.
"If your stupid ass hadn't been out there in the blasted rain, you wouldn't have been in bed unconscious for two days straight, and Farfie wouldn't be destroying everything in sight right about now because of you. And I wouldn't be here."
Nagi dragged his heavy eyelids open and he gazed at Schuldig under exhaustion-induced sleepiness.
"Love you too shitface."
The jaded-colored eyes rolled, and Schuldig placed a mocking kiss on Nagi's burning forehead. "Ja, ja, rest well kitten."
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Author's Notes: I know, I know, short part, but if I added more, then that'd ruin the next part. XP
Italics indicates flashbacks or bizarre mental voices; normal text indicates present tense or memories.
