Won't you close our eyes?


A/N: So, I'm finally here. At the end of the story, sort of. Maybe like in "carnival 2000"? "tabi no owari"? Perhaps. It feels as if I've put a lot more into this than my usual fics. This is my baby! ^_^; This part is a bit shorter than the others, but, but...
First let me point out that if you don't want me to spoil this for you, don't read anything after this note (meaning don't read the warning). You've been warned! ^_^
Other than that, I want to say thank you to everyone who's stayed with me this far! You can look forward to the Acknowledments a bit further down. ^_^
Then, of course, I want to point out that this story is dedicated to my wonderful sister, Lenn. How could I ever live without you? Don't answer that, I don't think I want to know. ^_^ I love you, honey.
I was thinking back and forth about which song to use for this part (I've been writing on this part since Christmas 2001, and that's a long time, or well not really. I mean, this is me ^_^ There are things where I've been writing on the next part for years), but I finally decided on X Japan's "Forever Love", which is the ending song to "X - the movie". I love that song, it gives me goose-bumps. I think it was the lines "Kono mama soba ni ite, yoru ke ni areru kokoro o dakishimete, oh stay with me" that did it. I mean, really. Other songs that you can listen to, if you like, (these are the ones I was considering) are:
"Toki ni Ai wa", from "Utena movie"
"something i can never have", by nine inch nails
"Spiritualized", Schu's song (come on, ppl!), you can listen to this, anyway, the lyrics fit -_-;
"my will", by DREAM (ending theme to "Inuyasha", you know, "shinjite la la la la la la", too cute)
"May it Be", from LotR OST
"Fatal Sisters Opened Umbrella", (which is instrumental, but anyway) by Xinlisupreme, a superb band when it somes to Japanese underground-synth
"For You", HIM (but don't worry, I'm thinking of writing a son-fic to this one ^_^;;)
"Nobody has a thing to say", which is the duel-song from ep. 13 of Utena (I mean, come on, "watashi hoshi" in the end, who don't love that?)
"True Romance", with Maki Ichihara (for Earthian)
The story theme from Vandal Hearts for Playstation
The CD "Chang You" by Faye Wong, and especially the first track, "Emotional Life", or "Love Life" as the Japanese release says.
"Peeping Tom", by Placebo
and about a hundred others. :) The lyrics in the actual fic (and in the title of this chapter) are from "Forever Love". They are my own translations (I'd like to think that they are somewhat more poetical than the ones I found on the 'Net...) The translation at the end is the one I found at www.animelyrics.com which means I don't own it. I don't think I want to, either, because I don't really agree with some lines, but anyway.
I hope you'll enjoy this! I worked so hard!


Warnings: You know the drill about now, don't you? OOC, angst and stuff... I just want to add (AND THIS IS THE SPOILER, SO DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW! JUST HOP DOWN A BIT AND DON'T READ THIS!) that yes, there is character-death in this part, so there. You're spoiled. ^_-

italics means thoughts
'...' means diary-entry, or part from a diary-entry
/ "..." \ means something remembered



Disclaimer: I've never owned these people! I never will! Not any of the songs mentioned, either! So there. Here, all I have is a used straw. And are you sure you want it? I've got a cold.



Acknowledgements: Of course, my wonderful Lenn-neechan, for being who she is.
Omi-kun for finally gaining some weight. Or something like that. :) I love you, man. And Nagi-kun for taking such good care of him! You're a sweetheart. And I don't believe people have to grow up on the street to be this nice, I just think that most people are bastards to persons who are weak. So keep going!
Of course, the people who reviewed! I can't say thank you enough. But mostly to those of you who stuck this out with me on the ML. I've been ages. I know I have been. And also to Bright Shadow who sent me the mail that got me going. Hugs and smoochies to you if you want them!
I'd also like to add that during the writing of this story (almost one year) the following happened in my life:
Two friends tried to kill themselves, but luckily both failed
Of those two, one tried three times
Li'l bro' went through surgery and made it out in one piece, literally
One friend was raped four times
One "Cambridge Proficiency in English" test wasn't correctly studied to (since I was writing on this instead... But don't worry, I managed to get B, anyway! The only one in my class, too!)
Innumerable liters of coffee, packs of cigarettes and cookies were sacrificed to my lost inspiration

So with that, I'll let you get on with reading the fic, and I hope that I haven't disappointed you!



Chapter V: I cannot walk alone; the winds of time are all too powerful


Schuldig slept long after that. Nineteen hours, and he was still asleep. Crawford had carefully crawled into the bed to join the redhead beneath the navy covers, hoping to bring some comfort by just being there. After having exhausted all his sources, both those available and those not, he still hadn't found anything that could help him in any way. It bothered the clairvoyant. Bradley Crawford always found what he was looking for. But as it seemed, there was no solution, no way of curing the state that the mind reader was in. The only thing he could think of was to find a way to slow down the process. But the inevitable was drawing near, slow or not, and Crawford knew it, even though he didn't want to admit it. Frowning to himself, he tugged the slumbering redhead closer and buried his nose in the soft hair, forcing himself to think. Schuldig's Japanese had been heavily accented, which meant that something was missing where the knowledge had formerly been. It didn't only bother the American; it also worried him. What if Schuldig lost all knowledge of Japanese? How would anyone be able to get any information through to him? Well, Crawford had to admit that from translating the diaries he had learned some German, but he was positive that he would mispronounce every single word if he tried to say something. Perhaps the redhead would still remember his English lessons…? Brad shook the thought away. From the diaries he had learned that Schuldig had never been very fond of school, nor his teachers. With that in mind, Brad prayed he would never have to think of a way to communicate with the redhead. If there was anything called luck, then perhaps everything would just go back to normal, the telepath's condition blamed on an infection or something else, something curable.
Stroking the telepath's back absentmindedly, he tried to ignore how both ribs and spine seemed to protrude as if trying to break free from the restraint of skin. It bothered him to know that even though he had forced the telepath to have three meals a day, although less food than the others, the redhead still hadn't gained much weight.
He began to work his fingers through the red mane, carefully undoing the tangled mess little by little. The movements became automatic, the entire thing meditative. He had to think of something, anything, that could help the redhead. Even Estet's documents had stated that even though they were familiar with the syndrome, they had yet to find a way to halt or reverse its course. The few attempts that had been made had failed miserably, ending with the sufferer either becoming a vegetable or killing themselves. And although Crawford had to admit that there had been times when he would have loved nothing more but for the telepath to be hit by something large and heavy, it seemed that nothing would be the way it should be should the telepath not be a part of Schwarz anymore. He didn't want to think too much about it.
Shifting a little, he continued to weave his way through the red mass. Feelings had often bothered him, which was why he had tried not to have any. But he had found that trying to ignore them only made things worse in the end; maybe not for others but for himself. So he decided he would never quell any feelings ever again if Schuldig would only make it through okay. He suddenly realized that he had begun to hum a random melody. Almost embarrassed, he cleared his throat slightly, much like a cat ignoring that it had missed its tail, and went back to working out the tangles.
Then there was the matter of how the other two coped. Farfarello didn't seem to mind very much, while the Japanese teen was getting visibly jumpy and clumsier for reasons Brad didn't really understand. He had never really understood the ways Nagi reacted to certain situations, and this was something new to add to the long list.
Despite himself he took up humming again, this time a melody that sounded strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Then he remembered. It was the same as the song that Schuldig had played for him all those months ago, when the headaches had just begun. But there was something else, too. He knew that he had heard it, or at least part of it, some time before that, he just wasn't sure when.
Then it hit him. He had had a vision some time ago, that he hadn't thought too much about. But it explained the sense of déjà vu that he had had during that night in the kitchen; he had had a vision of that night happening. But in his vision, he hadn't found the diary. Uneasy, he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't flipped through the diary that night. Shaking his head, he continued to work his fingers through the thick hair, humming. It wasn't long before he was asleep.

Schuldig moved just a fraction closer, loving the warmth of the other man. He wasn't sure if Crawford noticed it or not, but it didn't matter. At least the American was humming softly now, still weaving his fingers through the redhead's hair. Schuldig loved the touch and savored it much like a cat would.

When he let his mind wander, his thoughts ended up on the Japanese teen, without his knowing why. The teen's thoughts had, however, bled into his a lot lately, especially when Nagi was tired and stressed. Mostly the thoughts were ones of concern for the rest of the team's welfare, sometimes of a to Schuldig nameless and faceless person. Whoever that person was, he or she had quite a large and safe spot in the boy's tiny but loving heart. Even though Nagi would never readily admit to such a thing, his heart was much larger than it seemed. There was room enough for his teammates, no matter how strange they were, as well as a few friends, and yet there was lots of space left for anyone who deserved it. At least that was how Schuldig liked to think of it.
Schuldig also liked to think that he was something of an older brother to the teen. At least that way he could pretend that he was important to someone. He had never considered himself to be important, just necessary. Perhaps he was wrong and needed to improve his self-image, or perhaps he was right and needed to shoot himself. The thought was appealing; he had to admit that at least. He had considered shooting himself, those times when it just became too much for him to handle on his own. But every one of those times, Brad had always come to see how he was doing, and it made his conscience heavy. He felt as if he was betraying the person who cared for him and perhaps the only one at that, which was something he absolutely didn't want. Sure, he could remember people calling him heartless, but something like this was something not even he could do. No matter how heartless people called him.
Sighing softly, he rested his forehead in the crook of the American's neck, breathing in the soft cinnamon scent that was entirely Crawford's. He liked it this way, just being close to somebody, sharing heat for a little while. And it was even nicer now, since most of the sounds had drowned out, leaving him with a quiet buzz in the back of his head. He wasn't sure of how long this new silence would last, but he decided to make the most of it. Perhaps, if he was careful, the noise wouldn't come back. Perhaps he wouldn't have to betray that one person. He would like to think that Crawford would understand. At least the American had been forgiving and supportive thus far, but one never knew how far his patience would stretch, and Schuldig knew that he had been stretching it for months now.
He felt as if he would start crying, thinking of how annoyed the other must be with him. Sitting up carefully, he wiped at his dry eyes and looked down at Crawford where he slept. He looked pretty like this, Schuldig thought. He wanted to say so, but whenever he tried to find the words they escaped him.
As if sensing the redhead's thoughts, Crawford blinked his eyes open, looking up to find the other looking down at him. "Well, hello," he said, smiling gently at the telepath. Schuldig gave a tentative smile in return, opening his mouth to say something, but found that he couldn't find any words.
"What?" Crawford asked, his forehead creasing just so.
Schuldig shook his head and lay back down, snuggling close and was fast asleep.

For days afterwards he didn't say a thing. It worried Brad beyond words that the redhead had stopped talking. When he finally did say something, it was a broken whisper. In German. Brad had been confused at first, then angry, and finally scared. What he had feared had come true; the redhead had forgotten how to speak in any other language than his native, and it seemed that as the days passed, his knowledge of that decreased as well.

At times, Brad felt like crying, but never allowed himself to. He decided that he would cry when everything was over and Schuldig was okay again. He had turned it into a pact with himself, that he wouldn't share a single tear until the ordeal was over.
Right then, he felt as if he would break the pact. Damn the teen, playing X Japan at that volume! It wasn't so much that he didn't like the band; it was more that the lyrics to every song had a way of speaking straight to his heart. The words tugged at him when he heard them through the wall; Nagi's room was the one closest to the living room, where the American was currently sitting. He had the television on in the background while he sat with his laptop on his lap; the redheaded German curled up beside him, watching the TV with child-like fascination. Crawford tried not to be disturbed by the fact that simple, ordinary things fascinated the redhead beyond belief, but he couldn't deny that it would get to him, in time. Everything in time. He suppressed a sigh and continued to go through the same files over and over, looking to see if maybe he had missed something, anything, that could help. The diaries didn't help anything at this point, and he had forced himself to put them away. Intriguing as they were, they reminded him too much of what Estet had done to their lives, and that was something he preferred not to think about. At least not if he could help it.
He stopped in his typing when familiar lyrics drifted into the room. He didn't catch more than a few words, which he translated easily in his own head: "If there is such a thing as unchanging love, will you hold my heart, catch my tears?"
Without realizing it, Brad was blinking several times over and over to stop the sudden burning behind his eyelids. Chiding himself mentally for being so weak that a song moved him to tears, he shot a glance at Schuldig to find that he had fallen asleep again. With a slight nod, he went back to sorting through the files, tired eyes watching the screen. This won't work, he thought to himself, his mental voice having a desperate ring to it. . Whenever I actually put some personal effort into things, they never work out. He closed the laptop and sighed to himself, suddenly feeling very tired and very weary. He wondered in his thoughts how long it had been since he had had a good night's rest, not worrying about the redhead. Ever since Schuldig had mentioned Russian roulette, he had constantly been on edge, always checking to make sure that the redhead didn't have access to a gun or anything else to hurt himself with. Brad knew that banging limbs against a wall was always an easy option for people who were out to hurt themselves, so he always kept quiet around him so that he would be able to detect any such sounds as well. He didn't want to admit it, but he had become a true mother hen.
Beside him, Schuldig mumbled something in his sleep, nuzzling Crawford's upper arm as he did so. With a fond smile, Brad reached to push hair out of the German's pale face, not frowning any more at the sight of the almost color-less lips and slightly bluish eyelids. He was already used to how Schuldig looked more and more like a dead body than a living one.
He put the laptop away and extended an arm to fold it securely around the sleeping form, rubbing Schuldig's upper arm to offer some comfort. When the sleeve of the redhead's shirt was pulled up slightly, Brad stopped, staring at the thin wrist. He had been scratching himself again. It looked as if the damage had been done only hours earlier, which angered the pre-cog. Why hadn't he noticed? Schuldig always looked more relieved after he had scratched himself to bleeding. I should have noticed. Why didn't I? I should have!
Now angry with himself, Brad carefully shook the thin German awake.
"Was?" Schuldig mumbled, still halfway asleep. Brad harshly held up the redhead's wrist.
"This!" he said, angry enough to not realize that he was speaking Japanese. "What the hell is this supposed to mean?" When all he got was a confused look from the other, he gave up, releasing the painfully thin wrist. Instead, he took the German's head in both of his hand and looked at him for several long minutes before shaking his head and placing a careful kiss on the redhead's forehead. Letting him go, he stood up and stretched. "Food?" he asked, doing a gesture to illustrate what he meant. Schuldig tilted his head slightly, almost like a confused puppy regarding him with dull emerald eyes, but then nodded and stood, to more or less attach himself to the tall American. Together, the two of them walked to the kitchen, Schuldig holding on to Crawford's sleeve like a child afraid to be left behind. Crawford refrained from sighing once more. Life was an emotional hell.

After yet another week of fruitless attempts to find a cure, Brad found himself sitting by his desk, staring into nothingness. He, Bradley "Oracle" Crawford, had run out of ideas. All the stress caused his precognitive abilities to go on a fritz, which in short meant he was nothing more than a stressed and miserable man. Stressed, because whatever this disease was, it was disabling the redhead more and more, which was painfully obvious by just watching the German. Miserable, because he didn't know what to do about it, no matter how much he tried to think of something he always came up blank. He hated to admit it, but it hurt and kept him up at night, knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do about anything considering the redhead, more than to just try and make the best of Schuldig's life as it was. There were times when he wondered if perhaps the redhead was doing something intelligent when he was scratching at his arms until they bled. Maybe that was the one smart thing left to do; to find closure.

The promise he had made for what seemed like so long ago came back to him.
/ " Spare me the pain. If there's nothing to be done, at least do that." \
And he had promised to do that, if it ever came to that.
"Well," he said to himself where he sat, "it seems you have run out of ideas and that it is time for you to keep that promise." Another part of himself said that if he just looked a bit more, he might just find it, and if he did, he would be angry with himself for ever thinking the things he thought right then. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Brad rose and went to make himself some coffee.
Standing by the brewer in the kitchen, he tried to hear any unusual sounds over the brewer, still worried that the redhead might be up to something. There were hundreds of ways to kill oneself, and Brad didn't doubt that if one really wanted to, one would find a way and succeed. Shaking his head to himself, Crawford poured himself a cup of the fresh coffee and headed upstairs to check on the redhead and see if he needed anything. Walking up the stairs he realized how very quiet everything was. He knew that Nagi was doing his homework; to make sure, he popped his head in the teen's room and saw him sitting by his desk with his headphones on, music leaking out of them.
Closing the door carefully behind him, he continued treading the floor of the hallway. Then, something caught his attention.
Whirr whirr.
Silence.
Click.
Silence.
Sigh.
Whirr whirr.
Silence.
Click.
Silence.
Sigh.
The sound-sequence repeated itself over and over. Listening carefully, he strained to hear where it was coming from. The bathroom. A cold hand clutched his gut as he neared the door slowly, doing his best to go unnoticed. The closer he came, the better he could hear the empty clicks coming from inside the room at the end of the corridor. Once he was by the door, he paused. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go in. He wasn't sure if he dared.
He heard yet another sigh from the bathroom and now there was no denying it. It was definitely Schuldig in there, and the clicks betrayed some sort of revolver. He wasn't sure how or where the redhead had found it, but as Schuldig had told him so long ago, if one wants to hurt oneself badly enough, one will always find a way. Brad sighed, fighting with himself whether or not he should go in and interrupt the redhead. He wasn't even sure if the gun was loaded or not.
After yet another repeat of the sound-sequence, the American pushed the wooden door open. There was Schuldig, sitting on the cold tiles, wearing one of Brad's white dress-shirts. Crawford vaguely remembered that from somewhere, but he couldn't remember where. In the redhead's hands was a revolver with his fingerprints visible on the metallic surface. Brad swallowed uncomfortably when he realized what the redhead was doing.
Russian roulette.
"Nein," Brad said softly, taking a seat beside the former telepath. Schuldig held up his left index finger, as if saying 'just one more time', then the whirr filled the room again, bouncing off the walls. When he put the gun to his temple, Brad caught it and put it out of the German's reach.
"Nein," he repeated, a bit more forcefully this time. Schuldig turned his dull aqua-green eyes on the American and Brad began to talk in his native English, not caring if the other man understood what he was saying or not. "I remember that I promised that I'd spare you the pain," he began slowly. "But I guess I'm too selfish for that. I mean, nothing would be the same without you around. I guess… I guess you've just grown on me." He sighed softly and smiled down on his hands where they rested in his lap. "Ironic, isn't it? All this time I've never wanted a commitment or a relationship, but now that I do… Now that I want to tell you that I want to try it at least, you can't understand a word I'm saying. I guess all you can do is laugh, don't you?"
A thin hand found its way into one of his and he looked up, meeting tired emerald.
"Liebe," Schuldig said in a faint whisper, too tired to smile.
Brad nodded in reply. "I know." He smiled softly at the other, brushing red strands of hair out of the other's eyes. "I know. Which is why I'll keep that promise, even though I'd rather not."
Slowly, almost reluctantly, he reached for his trusty semi-automatic where it was in his shoulder holster. Withdrawing it, he clicked off the safety and looked up at the redhead. Schuldig had his gaze turned towards the pre-cog, but his eyes were out of focus.
Entwining his fingers with the German's, Crawford put the gun to Schuldig's temple.
"Bitte," he whispered, and Schuldig's gaze focused on his face for a moment, "vergib mir."
During the split second that passed before he pulled the trigger, he thought he could see a flash of recognition shoot through those empty emerald orbs. Memories, perhaps, of stumbling into the house early in the morning to receive a speech from his teammate; of giving snide remarks to people whose thoughts had amused him; of sitting alone, scared in a tiny room at a large impersonal facility; of never being able to trust anyone; of the girl he had shot when he was fourteen; of running around the house, chasing a little blonde girl, both of them giggling; of sneaking in through his window late at night; of hearing his parents fight; of teasing his teammates; of being afraid; of not being alone; and a hundred other fragments that were all insignificant on their own, but important as a whole.
Then it was gone as the red head was knocked back by the force of impact.
Long minutes passed before Brad dared to move again, his face warmed by the blood that would never wash away. His eyes burned, as did his cheeks, although he didn't know why. Collecting the thin body into his arms, cradling it against his chest, he allowed himself those tears that had been lying just beneath the surface for months. He had lost, and he knew it. Sitting there, he thought back on the last few months, his breath hitched into uncomfortable gasps, and for the umpteenth time he recounted in his head all the signs he had missed, but that was clear as day now that he thought back.
Bradley Crawford had failed. It was official. He had failed to help someone he cared about, just as he had failed to save his mother, and his brothers, and his friends, and now his teammate. He had failed. And it hurt.
Glancing over at the revolver, he could hear the redhead's question.
/ "Do you think Russian Roulette has something to do with fate?" \
He picked it up carefully, and made another pact with himself. "If I pull the trigger and nothing happens, then I'll go on with my life," he promised himself out loud. If it did have anything to do with fate, and the gun didn't go off, then perhaps he and Schuldig was never meant for each other anyway.
Pressing a kiss to cold, bluish lips, he felt the cold of the revolver against his own forehead as he pointed it to himself.
Not seconds later, the report of a gunshot echoed throughout the house, closely followed by a hollow thump.
Nagi looked up, removing his headphones for a moment before shrugging and returning to his homework. Math sucked.

'Tuesday, 24th of September, 19XX

There were people here today. Old men that said they were just checking to see what "was available". I'm not sure I know what they meant, because I couldn't read any of them. All of them were ugly old men, anyway, so I didn't really care. Then someone came pushing this black-haired guy towards one of the men, and the poor guy looked as if he would faint right then and there. I could tell he was running a high fever and his legs were shaking so bad that he could hardly stand up. And he still just squared his jaw and glared at the man as if he owned the world.
I want to be like him. I wish I was. I wish I could be. But maybe, I can just be the one behind him? There's something about him that is different from the rest of us here at Rosenkreuz. I haven't seen him before, but I guess it's because he's ill. He doesn't look as if he'll make it through all right. I hope he does. No, maybe I'm wrong. That look he had, that absolute look of confidence he wore, he will be all right. I know he will. He has to be. Because I have to see him again. When he walked out of the room he looked back over his shoulder to glare at the man again, and our gazes locked for just a moment. I swear he smiled at me.
I have to see him again.

Your Schuldig, still trying to get out of this nuthouse

…but maybe it's worth staying now'






Forever Love
"
Mou hitori de arukenai
toki no kaze ga tsuyo sugite
Ah kizutsuku koto nante
nareta hazu dakedo ima wa...

Ah kono mama dakishimete
nureta mama no kokoro o
kawari tsuzukeru kono toki ni
kawaranai ai ga arunara
Will you hold my heart
namida uketomete
mou koware souna All my heart

Forever Love Forever Dream
areru omoi dake ga
tanishiku setsunaku jikan o umezukusu
Oh Tell me why
All I see is blue in my heart
Will you stay with me
kaze ga sugi suru made
mata raretsu All my tears
Forever Love Forever Dream
Kono mama soba ni ite
yoru ke ni areru kokoro o dakishimete
Oh Stay with me

Ah subete ga owareba ii
owari no nai kono yori ni
Ah o umo no nante
nani mo nai anata dake
Forever Love Forever Dream
kono mama soba ni ite
yori ke ni onurieru kokoro o dakishimete
Ah Will you stay with me
kaze ga sugi saru made
mou dare yori mo soba ni

Forever Love Forever Dream
kore ijo arukenai
Oh Tell my why Oh Tell me true
oshiete ikeru imi o
Forever Love Forever Dream
areru namida no naka
kagayaku kizetsu ga eien ni kawaru made
Forever Love"

[Alone I cannot walk
Time's winds are too strong
Ah, it's wounded
I should have gotten used to it, but right now

Ah, leave me the way I am
My heart, even though damp
At this moment is being changed
If unchanging love exists
Will you hold my heart
Catch my tears
All of my heart is ready to shatter

Forever Love Forever Dream
Only overflowing thoughts of love
Please bury all of the terrible, sorrowful time
Oh tell me why
All I see is blue in my heart
Will you stay with me
Until the winds pass
All my tears overflow again
Forever Love Forever Dream
Be with me this way
Please hold my trembling heart until dawn
Oh stay with me

Ah, I want this to end
Nothing is ended though in this night
Ah, I am lost
There is nothing...only you exist
Forever Love Forever Dream
Be with me this way
Hold my trembling heart until dawn
Oh will you stay with me
Until the wind passes
At this moment, more than anyone I want you with me

Forever Love Forever Dream
I can't go on
Oh tell me why, Oh tell me true
Tell me the meaning of life
These tears overflowing from our relation
Until the seasons change into forever
Forever Love…]



~finis~
Aug-01 to Apr-02


And there it is. *sniff* I always cry when I see this movie (-- referring to song). I'm thinking of writing an epilog, from Nagi's POV. How many says OK? And I love shinjuu [lovers' suicides] (I know, I'm sick), so that's what I turned this into. And I didn't plan on ending it with a diary-entry, but I think it fit well. Also, for those of you who have seen the X movie, when Brad sits cradling Schu, think how Kamui held Fuuma's head, minus the screams, and that's about how it looks in my head. I know, I'm mentally challanged.
Why I stopped writing from Schu's POV is because I felt that that's where he kind of slipped away. Remember the first part? Right. I didn't think that there was any point in trying to write his POV any more, since he's not really there any more.
And let's face it, I had to kill them. After much thinking, I decided that it would be best that way. Besides, like this it's kind of a happy ending, don't you think? Um, I've seen too many Japanese movies. I need to re-learn what a Western happy ending is, I think. *eheh* I hope I didn't disappoint anyone, and I hope you don't regret staying with me this long. Once again, thank you for all the reviews, they are what keep me going! Now, what should my next project be...? Anyone got any requests? Maybe, if you ask nicely enough, I'll try it out! Yes, Lenn, I know I've got a pile of my ai shounen original fics lying around. Don't worry. I'm saving them for our hp.


Runs away into the sunset
Baibai minna-sama! Ja mata ne!