Disclaimer: *twitches again* I wish I did own... but er... don't.
Time Frame: Uh... sometimes after the last chaper..?
Note: I honestly did not intend to continue this. One of the reasons in the orginal it said Owari at the end. But i guess I'm a hypacrite arn't I?
--Past things--
~Thought speak~
"Regular.."
Something Like Love...P2
___________________________
I sit and wonder if he is going to inform me on who is the person who has captured his heart. He hasn't said anything once so ever as to who he wishes to share his feelings with. I almost hurts sometimes now. Only sometimes though. But now. Right now. It doesn't hurt. Won't hurt. No because this is not the time to feel pain. When you are infront of people. People who know you. And can read you completly.
You have to hide how you feel. He's watching television again. It almost rots his brain out. He becomes vacent and unknown to everyone. Because he is absorbed into his own being. Being himself. Who ever his self is. Which ever. Not that it really matters.
I sit in the chair off to the side. Off with a book. A perfectly normal look. Trying to be a normal person. If there is such a thing as being in the normal world for someone like me. Someone like all of us. Here in this house. Everyone trys to be normal, well for the most part.
Farfarello is in his room. Locked up for the night. To sleep. How inhumain to have to have a person dangle from the ceiling so you might be able to wake up with your body unmutilated. Nagi, alone with his text books. Trying to catch up on the homework in which he desires to complet. Though, I know that tiredness will over take him. And he will crawl into his awaiting bed and close his eyes, only to be attacked by the nightmares in which only an assasin can have. Blood death and gore.
And the one who has just... just makes you quistion yourself completly. Can he be hearing my pitiful thoughts now? Is he even listening to anything?
I wonder day in and day out who the German was talking of when he asked that quistion that I never answered for him. I should have answered. But that would be saying that... I might know what he was takling about. But is that even possible that I would know? I mean truely?
-- "What if you've never spoken to them?" -- So waht if you've never spoken to them. Does that truely change the idea? I'm staring at him. I know. My thoughts are running wild within my small little shell I try to call as a identity.
He sits. Leg crossed over the thigh. Head cocked to the side with the show raceing on his eyes. Reflecting it back to the speakers. Hand out streached next to him. Slouched over slightly to the side. It looks rediculious the way he is sitting. Completly rediculious. And so him. He can't see. His eyes are closed. I can tell that much. He's thinking. Either what he is thinking or what others are thinking. Maybe what might be running threw my own mind...? Maybe... maybe not.
Hopeless thoughts race threw my mind. Little things. What am I suppose to do tomarrow? What will happen. When will I know what will happen? Who is Schuldig thinking of? Is it me? I almost wish it is. I almost wish it was me who he was talking about then. When he asked me how to inform someone that you are inlove with them and wish to share your world with them. No matter how awful and disgusting it is.
He turns to me now. I wonder if my small thoughts caught his attention... I avert my gaze again.
Towards this book. Something that I am not truely intrested in right now.
He speaks in soft German, feeling uncomfortable in other languages? He said once he hates speaking in other languages. They don't sound right coming from his mouth. He hates English the most. And he's told me several times that he dispises it when I use it around him. I almost don't catch what he says... its almost to soft for words to be spoken at. Almost inaudable. "Do you really want to know..?"
I press my glasses higher on my nose leaning back and glanceing at my book again. He sits up again and looks towards me. Strangely enough I remember this from a dream. I am used to the deja-vu series. They happen to me almost all the time. I don't remember recording this in my book though.(1)
His skin is pale and blue and yellow from the lights picking up its pale coloration. Hard cold eyes jutting towards me. Almost glaring. I give him this calm cold look like I normally will to anyone. I wonder if he would tell me. But I am not to sure if he will or not. His hair falls over his shoulders in a mismatched fasion. No bandanna. No glasses. Just red/orange hair falling limply over his shoulder.
"Do you..?"
"Would you tell me?"
~What do you think?~
I shrug slightly and look back at my book. Something hurts. Something sitting at the bottem of my heart. And I don't know what it may be. Nor do I wish to know. I hear the fhss sound coming from the couch as he stands. He pads towards the doorframe, leaving the television on to talk. To noise circleating around the room. Makeing it not quit so dead in this room. He stops though. Softly looking towards me. And I know what he's going to say. I can almost read his mind.
I wonder if he is doing that for me. Makeing me be able to almost know what he's about to say. He looks towards me. One soft expression claiming his face. So soft and scared. So unalone and alone all at once. Like no one knew what he wanted more than anything. He sighs and says it. In english. Just to complet the ideal that he ment what he says...
"You."
And then I open my eyes to stare at the ceiling. Vaguely making out anything but white. I reach over and grab my glasses, sitting up and looking about. A dream. A simple hopeful dream that might never come true.
____________________________- Owari...?
(1) He keeps a dream book.... *shrugs* just seems like something that Brad would do.
Er... yeah... didn't really intend on going on with this, but I got so many good reviews asking for it to be BradxSchu that well.. ^_^ I decided I was going to continue. Though Brad wasn't working with me, but it'll do.
Thank you to my beta-reader, Ryuke! *does a little dance*
Time Frame: Uh... sometimes after the last chaper..?
Note: I honestly did not intend to continue this. One of the reasons in the orginal it said Owari at the end. But i guess I'm a hypacrite arn't I?
--Past things--
~Thought speak~
"Regular.."
Something Like Love...P2
___________________________
I sit and wonder if he is going to inform me on who is the person who has captured his heart. He hasn't said anything once so ever as to who he wishes to share his feelings with. I almost hurts sometimes now. Only sometimes though. But now. Right now. It doesn't hurt. Won't hurt. No because this is not the time to feel pain. When you are infront of people. People who know you. And can read you completly.
You have to hide how you feel. He's watching television again. It almost rots his brain out. He becomes vacent and unknown to everyone. Because he is absorbed into his own being. Being himself. Who ever his self is. Which ever. Not that it really matters.
I sit in the chair off to the side. Off with a book. A perfectly normal look. Trying to be a normal person. If there is such a thing as being in the normal world for someone like me. Someone like all of us. Here in this house. Everyone trys to be normal, well for the most part.
Farfarello is in his room. Locked up for the night. To sleep. How inhumain to have to have a person dangle from the ceiling so you might be able to wake up with your body unmutilated. Nagi, alone with his text books. Trying to catch up on the homework in which he desires to complet. Though, I know that tiredness will over take him. And he will crawl into his awaiting bed and close his eyes, only to be attacked by the nightmares in which only an assasin can have. Blood death and gore.
And the one who has just... just makes you quistion yourself completly. Can he be hearing my pitiful thoughts now? Is he even listening to anything?
I wonder day in and day out who the German was talking of when he asked that quistion that I never answered for him. I should have answered. But that would be saying that... I might know what he was takling about. But is that even possible that I would know? I mean truely?
-- "What if you've never spoken to them?" -- So waht if you've never spoken to them. Does that truely change the idea? I'm staring at him. I know. My thoughts are running wild within my small little shell I try to call as a identity.
He sits. Leg crossed over the thigh. Head cocked to the side with the show raceing on his eyes. Reflecting it back to the speakers. Hand out streached next to him. Slouched over slightly to the side. It looks rediculious the way he is sitting. Completly rediculious. And so him. He can't see. His eyes are closed. I can tell that much. He's thinking. Either what he is thinking or what others are thinking. Maybe what might be running threw my own mind...? Maybe... maybe not.
Hopeless thoughts race threw my mind. Little things. What am I suppose to do tomarrow? What will happen. When will I know what will happen? Who is Schuldig thinking of? Is it me? I almost wish it is. I almost wish it was me who he was talking about then. When he asked me how to inform someone that you are inlove with them and wish to share your world with them. No matter how awful and disgusting it is.
He turns to me now. I wonder if my small thoughts caught his attention... I avert my gaze again.
Towards this book. Something that I am not truely intrested in right now.
He speaks in soft German, feeling uncomfortable in other languages? He said once he hates speaking in other languages. They don't sound right coming from his mouth. He hates English the most. And he's told me several times that he dispises it when I use it around him. I almost don't catch what he says... its almost to soft for words to be spoken at. Almost inaudable. "Do you really want to know..?"
I press my glasses higher on my nose leaning back and glanceing at my book again. He sits up again and looks towards me. Strangely enough I remember this from a dream. I am used to the deja-vu series. They happen to me almost all the time. I don't remember recording this in my book though.(1)
His skin is pale and blue and yellow from the lights picking up its pale coloration. Hard cold eyes jutting towards me. Almost glaring. I give him this calm cold look like I normally will to anyone. I wonder if he would tell me. But I am not to sure if he will or not. His hair falls over his shoulders in a mismatched fasion. No bandanna. No glasses. Just red/orange hair falling limply over his shoulder.
"Do you..?"
"Would you tell me?"
~What do you think?~
I shrug slightly and look back at my book. Something hurts. Something sitting at the bottem of my heart. And I don't know what it may be. Nor do I wish to know. I hear the fhss sound coming from the couch as he stands. He pads towards the doorframe, leaving the television on to talk. To noise circleating around the room. Makeing it not quit so dead in this room. He stops though. Softly looking towards me. And I know what he's going to say. I can almost read his mind.
I wonder if he is doing that for me. Makeing me be able to almost know what he's about to say. He looks towards me. One soft expression claiming his face. So soft and scared. So unalone and alone all at once. Like no one knew what he wanted more than anything. He sighs and says it. In english. Just to complet the ideal that he ment what he says...
"You."
And then I open my eyes to stare at the ceiling. Vaguely making out anything but white. I reach over and grab my glasses, sitting up and looking about. A dream. A simple hopeful dream that might never come true.
____________________________- Owari...?
(1) He keeps a dream book.... *shrugs* just seems like something that Brad would do.
Er... yeah... didn't really intend on going on with this, but I got so many good reviews asking for it to be BradxSchu that well.. ^_^ I decided I was going to continue. Though Brad wasn't working with me, but it'll do.
Thank you to my beta-reader, Ryuke! *does a little dance*
