Here it is, the fifth funderful part of "ItCoS: a Day with Farfie". Expect dementia and insanity.
Also, it has recently come to my attention that Farfello's name is Farferello, but for continuity's sake, I'm leaving it as I started it. I owe a big thank you to Ai-chan, you very kindly answered all of my questions and then some, and also hooked me up to some great sites.
Last, but not least: I'm going to include a warning for spoilers. Admittedly, I haven't seen all of the WK episodes. There are things that I have missed. However, if someone reads this and says "Hey, that didn't happen" or "I didn't want to *know* that yet!" then I'm just saying, in my defense, that if you haven't seen the whole thing and you actually want it to be a surprise, then you shouldn't be reading fan fiction. *Takes a deep breath* (I feel better now. I just had to get that little thing off my chest.)
`_O *_*
Ken's room was located in the back part of the building, over the back entrance to the Koneko, with a lovely view of the gray bricks of the building across the way from his window. Being on the second floor without a fire escape, the only obvious entrance to his room was through the door, the same door he used every night that he went to bed in his room.
Being as obvious as it was, the door was not the way that Farfello chose to enter the room at five o-clock the following morning. Instead, he came in through the afore-mentioned window, putting one hand through the glass after he managed to get up to the window. How? You don't want to know.
He entered through the window, the grass crunching under his feet as he walked across the broken shards. Amazingly, despite his great skills as an assassin, Ken was not disturbed at all by the sound of his window breaking or of the man crossing his room. What did rouse him, however, was that same man crawling on top of him in the bed.
Shocked from slumber, his first natural reaction was to strike out viciously, his knee jerking up into the man's groin as he grabbed a hold of Farfello's shirt and head-butted him. The actions gave Ken a headache and an uncomfortable position as he identified his attacker too late. Now he was pressed even closer to the man by his own actions and acutely aware how awkward it would look if anyone else were to come in and see him gripping Farfello so closely
He tried to push the other man away, but to no avail. The blonde simply lied down on top of him, and stayed. He didn't grope, didn't start playing with his knives, or make any comment. Ken froze as his mind reeled in confusion. This really wasn't supposed to happen. The enemy was not supposed to crawl in bed with him and do nothing. He could get angry if Farfello tried something, but the man simply snuggled down, like a trusting child, and went to sleep.
It was disarming. He was trying his hardest to put as much distance between himself and Farfello, but the blonde seemed intent on destroying the last vestige of Ken's sanity by doing the last thing that Ken expected: kissing him the night before and then getting into bed with him this morning were two very good examples of this.
By the time Ken got his breathing and heart rate under control, Farfello was asleep on top of Ken, his arms wrapped around the dark-haired man in what seemed to Ken something very close to an embrace. He closed his eyes and forced his body to relax. It didn't happen immediately. Then Farfello's head nuzzled his neck and the Irishman cooed in his sleep. All the fight drained out of him, and his body wilted under the other man's, becoming pliant.
Under the circumstances, he told himself, the only thing he could do comfortably was go back to sleep.
*_*
When he woke up a few hours later, he was alone in bed. He would have thought that he'd been dreaming that morning, if his head didn't still hurt and his window wasn't broken. He got out of bed quickly and dressed, his movements jerky in his rush.
He was out his door two minutes later, socks in hand as he rushed down the hall. In the kitchen, he froze, his gaze drawn to the man standing at the stove. Omi and Youji were sitting at the table, staring in fascination as Farfello made breakfast. With a knife in one hand and a pan in the other, he seemed to be cutting up a potentially lethal egg into smaller piles of goo.
Ken sighed and leaned against the doorframe as his friends turned to him with equal looks of trepidation. There was no way that either of them would eat something that Irishman had made and after watching him for a minute, Ken didn't think he could stomach anything that came out of that pan, either.
"Put the pan and knife down and step away from the stove," Ken commanded. The blonde at the stove froze before following his direction and turning around. One golden eye looked Ken over for a moment. "I don't know what you're doing here, but you need to go. Now."
Farfello stared at him.
"Um, Ken? Do you know how he got in?" Youji asked curiously. Seeing that Ken had survived the previous day in one piece and now was ordering Farfello around, he didn't see much reason to be worried. Confused, surely; worried, no. Everything seemed under control, if not normal.
"Yeah," Ken answered without elaborating. Farfello was still looking at him steadily, making no move to leave. He was aware that Omi and Youji kept looking at him, as if expecting him to suddenly do a trick that would magically make Farfello disappear. Ken sighed and looked at Youji. "Where's Ran?"
"He hasn't come out of his room yet," Omi answered. He smiled slightly and ducked his head. Nagi had told him that Crawford hadn't come home last night, but he wasn't about to impart that tidbit on to his friends just yet.
"Great. Ran's sleeping late for a change and Ken's boyfriend is making breakfast. This day gets better and better," Youji said sarcastically.
"And better, love," Schuldig's voice said as the redhead stepped into view. Youji froze and Omi jumped to his feet and left, hoping to find Nagi nearby. "He's downstairs, Omi."
"Thanks, Schuldig!" Omi called back, already on the stairs.
With an outward calm that he was far from feeling, Youji got to his feet. Schuldig eyed him, his face as neutral as Youji's. "Hello, Balinese."
"Schuldig," he responded coolly. He walked slowly out of the room and towards the stairs and Schuldig fell into step beside him. Ken watched them leave with a frown, wondering just what the heck was going on there.
He turned back around to find Farfello staring at him, slowly licking the edge of his knife. Ken sighed. "I told you to put that down."
Instead of putting it away again, Farfello pressed the blade against his cheek and stalked toward Ken like a cat stalking a mouse. "Do you fear my knife?"
"Not really," Ken answered honestly, remembering the blonde's words from the day before. Hurting Ken would not hurt God; the opposite was true, whatever -that- meant.
"Do I frighten you?" he asked in the same low, calm tone.
"No, but you -do- weird me out. Big time, I might add." Ken held his ground by sheer force of will. Farfello kept moving until their bodies were aligned and touching. His elbow, bent to keep his hand and knife by his face, jutted out over Ken's shoulder as his other cheek pressed against Ken's. The dark-haired assassin stiffened, but still didn't move. Farfello's breath wafted across his skin with each breath, and his own chest hitched in reaction.
"Do I disgust you, kitty?" His voice lowered. The hand with the knife moved to Ken's shoulder, moving close enough to his neck so that the blade rested gently against the curve of his neck. "Do my scars seem ugly to you?"
Ken didn't know how to answer that. The blonde pressed close to him didn't seem the type to ask for flattery about his looks, so there had to be a deeper question hidden beneath the surface of the simple one. Instead of answering, Ken asked one of his own. "Did you give yourself those scars?"
"No. They are from God." Was the reply. Farfello rubbed his cheek against Ken's softly. "Each scar is a reminder of how I have suffered and a reason that I must hurt Him in return."
"Why must He suffer?" Ken risked asking. The Irishman tensed and jerked his head away slightly, so that he could look at Ken. There was pained fury in the golden depth of his eye, and Ken could feel it trigger something inside of him.
"Because He forces others to suffer. When He cries out in agony, my own suffering will cease and what has been stolen from me will be returned." His jaw clenched and he took a small step back from Ken, putting breathing room between them.
Ken almost protested the space before his mind caught up to him. The knife was still resting against his skin, making him aware that, though there was space between them, he wasn't free yet. His eyes scanned Farfello's face, taking in the smooth scar across his nose, the smaller one under his good eye, and the one on his chin. His arms were littered with many more, some long and jagged, some short and smooth. His body looked like the human version of a cutting board.
"What did He do to cause so much suffering for you?" Ken asked, his eyes moving back to meet Farfello's one. The Irishman stared at him for a moment, unblinking, and then his lips twisted in the cold facsimile of a smile.
"It matters not. I will have my revenge soon enough." He brought the knife to his mouth and licked the blade before turning around and returning to the stove. "I am making breakfast."
"So I noticed," Ken mumbled, taking a seat at the table. It seemed that show and tell was over for the day. He felt very tired suddenly, as if the previous minutes had taken a day's worth of energy. "And what is it that you're making?"
"Eggs, bacon, pork sausage, and potatoes." Ken grimaced. He wouldn't be able to move all day if he put that much grease into his body.
"Can I settle on wafers?" He asked. Farfello turned his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not putting that stuff into my mouth, even if you stare at me all day."
"Fine." Farfello turned the stove off, picked up the pan and walked it across the kitchen, and dropped dumped the whole thing into the trashcan, spatula and all. The only thing spared was his knife. "Then what would you like?"
"Um, nothing." Farfello shrugged and closed his eye as he slowly ran the tip of his tongue along the flat side of his knife. Ken felt his body tighten and stood quickly, shocked at his own reaction. He stumbled out of the room, conscious of Farfello following behind him, and made his way downstairs to the Koneko.
He found Youji standing behind the counter, concentrating on an arrangement while trying to ignore Schuldig's presence at his side. Nagi and Omi were nowhere is sight, so they must have left or gone into the back. Farfello stopped at the bottom of the stares and he was conscious of that golden eye trailing his movements as he grabbed a broom and began to sweep.
His head down, he started in the corner by the door and slowly worked his way towards the counter. He swept the floor, dusted the shelves, wiped some of the plants down with a dust cloth, all without looking at Farfello. He knew that the other man was there, he could feel his presence and his gaze, but he had the illogical hope that if he ignored him, he would go away.
Youji was trying the same tactic, but with similar results. Schuldig sat beside him while he worked, followed behind him when he went to retrieve something, and commented occasionally on how 'sexy' or 'beautiful' Youji looked while working. He envied Ken the distance between him and Farfello, though he didn't envy him the Irishman's attention.
Eventually, Omi and Nagi came out of hiding in the back, but only long enough for the other four to see their disheveled state. About that time, Aya-chan made her way downstairs, passing the boys on her way. There was a mumbled greeting between them, and then she took in the Koneko's other occupants at the moment.
Ken was bustling about the shop, moving potted plants and moving things from shelf to shelf. At the bottom of the steps, one step below where she stopped, stood the blonde man she had seen the day before. He looked at her briefly and nodded. Youji was moving back to the counter with his redheaded friend.
She frowned. They all seemed to be in such a dismal mood. Ken, who usually grinned happily, was frowning and working in a frenzy, and Youji, who flirted with her, kept glaring at the redhead. It was confusing, to say the least.
Farfello watched Ken walk past him to go into the back, and then watched as he passed by again with a large pot in his hands. Intent as he was on his tasks, ignoring Farfello and doing as much as possible to keep from standing still, he wasn't concentrating on his feet. Farfello shifted as he neared him, and Ken's feet stumbled into each other. He jerked forward, already putting his hands out to break his fall, when a strong arm wrapped around his stomach and kept him outright. Another arm snaked out to grab the pot before it could fall.
Ken swallowed hard, his head swiveling around to stare into Farfello's eyes. The blonde was holding him close in a tight grip with the plant pressed partially between them. Etiquette demanded that he thank his rescuer, but he couldn't force the words. For some reason, his heart chose that moment to clog in this throat and he stared mutely at the man holding him up.
He blinked, and in the instant that his eyes were closed, he felt Farfello press his lips against his own. Instead of fighting, he let his body sag. Surprised, Farfello lost his grip and both Ken and plant went tumbling to the floor. When he landed, he rolled away quickly and got to his feet, his eyes wide.
Farfello continued to stare at him, his face unreadable. Ken drew in a shuddery breath and took the only course of action he could: he ran out of the Koneko and as far from Farfello as he could.
He got as far as the soccer field.
0_~
Youji stared at Farfello as Ken disappeared out the door. The Irishman watched his friend leave with a frown, his fair eyebrows pulled low over his eye and patch. He blinked, twice and then looked down at the broken flowerpot.
"Hm." He made the noise in the back of his throat, a sound that indicated that he was considering something. Schuldig leaned closer to Youji's shoulder.
"He doesn't know what to do now," the redhead said quietly. "Of course, he hasn't known what to do since the beginning, but I don't think he expected Ken to get away from him today."
Youji turned to look at the man beside him. "What does he want from Ken, anyway?"
"That's between them," Schuldig answered cryptically, returning to his seat in time for Farfello to fly out the door in a belated attempt to follow Ken. "I will tell you this much: Ken has his work cut out for him."
"I'm sure," Youji agreed, standing to find a place for the arrangement he'd just finished. He wasn't the best at that sort of work, but the result was passable.
"It seems that I have mine cut out for me, also," he leered at Youji, but was ignored, as he had been for most of the day. "You're really no fun like this, Balinese."
"If you're looking for fun, you may want to go find your psychopath before he does something to my friend."
"Hm…yes, that may be a good idea," Schuldig said. Youji looked at him in surprise; he hadn't expected the redhead to capitulate that easily to his suggestion. "Don't worry, lovely. I'll return shortly."
"Don't rush on my account," Youji returned sarcastically. When he turned back to the counter, Schuldig was gone. A gentle hand touched his arm and he turned to look at Aya-chan in surprise.
"What is going on, Youji-kun?" He sighed and gritted his teeth.
*_* `_O
Ken was swarmed by kids only a few blocks from the shop and he stopped willingly when one of the smaller girls held up a soccer ball. Playing with the neighborhood kids would give him something to do besides think and it would give him a reason to be away from the shop.
He quickly divided the children into groups, trying to split them up into equal teams for an interesting game. They were just getting the game underway when he caught sight of Farfello slowly approaching from the direction of the shop. He was walking with a slow gait, his eye fixed on Ken; even from a distance, Ken could see that the Irishman's attention was fixed on him.
He looked fearfully at the kids that were still playing so innocently. He drew in a breath and moved to intercept the blonde, but before he could, the ball sailed through the air and landed at his feet. Farfello paused and looked down at the bi-colored ball with a small frown. One of the children ran up to him and picked up the ball, then looked up at the stranger standing over it.
"Who are you?" the little boy asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. Ken bit his lip and waited; ready to protect the child however he had to if Farfello tried something. A golden-eye blinked down at the child and it was a moment before the blonde answered.
"Farfello."
"What happened to your eye?" the child asked with a lack of tact and common sense that he should have learned by his age.
The pause this time was longer and Ken saw with trepidation that Farfello's hands were clenched at his side. "God took it."
"Why would God want it?"
"I don't know." Farfello's voice lowered. When Ken looked into his eye, he was shocked by the complete lack of emotion in it. The little boy looked at him a moment longer, but was apparently satisfied, because he ran off without asking any more questions. Farfello looked up at Ken. "I don't know why, and that's another thing he will suffer for."
With that, he turned and walked away. Ken raised an eyebrow and watched him walk away. When he was out of sight, Ken relaxed and sighed. His head was pounding and he didn't see how the day could get any more confusing.
@_@
Wow. That is, I do believe, by far the longest chapter. I'm proud of me today, and so should you all be.
What is Farfie's problem? Where is Schuldig if Farfello is leaving? What are Nagi and Omi up to? Why hasn't Ran come out of his room yet?
Coming soon to a site near you: 'ItCoS: The Day Continues'.
