Farfarello
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. Gosh darn it.
Warning: This fic concerns "cutting" (self-mutilation), and I would appreciate it if you would not read it if doing so would tempt you to cut (burn, slice, scratch, etc.). I don't know about you, but as a "cutter" who is trying to stop, Farfie fics tend to make me want to start again. I can't give you any good reasons why you shouldn't cut, except that it hurts God. Personally, that is not what I want to do. And I don't intend to depress anyone. It's just…a fanfic.
Farfarello woke up in the dark. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel rough fabric against the bare skin of his arms. Something was keeping his arms and legs from moving. And something else was disorienting…
He was upside-down. They had put him in his jacket again. He knew he couldn't get out, but he struggled anyway. The twists of his shoulders made him swing back and forth. It was so frustrating! There was nothing he could do!
He screamed. No one answered and he screamed again. He screamed until his throat was raw, and he kept screaming. He swung back and forth, because there was nothing else to do with his energy. Finally, he rested, and the swinging gradually stopped. Blood pounded in his brain. He wondered if it was possible for his head to explode, if he was left there long enough. He imagined the tension building, the force of a swollen brain against his skull.
He had been there a long time. Or it felt like a long time. He couldn't know for sure, and he didn't really care. Here or there, it made no difference. But this anxiety! This need! His precious knives, his friends, the only comfort this cruel world allowed him, they were so far away! In his room, in a drawer, couched on a red velvet cloth. He'd bought that himself, because the knives were special. More special than the chalices and gilded patens that were handled so reverently at the church. He had his own tabernacle, and the sacrifice was his own flesh! Even when there was no one else, he knew he wouldn't worry. He had his own skin. As long as he was careful, yes, sometimes he had to be very careful. Sometimes he got carried away. Like Schuldrich, when he was drunk. Intoxication.
He started twisting and struggling again. Why didn't they come get him? Didn't they know he had things to do?
He bit into his lip. It wasn't something he did very often, and he wasn't used to it, so it was difficult. He laughed at himself. His breathe quickened. Without thinking, he bit down and became aware of the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. His teeth had cut pretty deep into his lip, and the blood wasn't stopping. He held very still, and let the blood bead and drip from his lip onto his nose. More blood followed the trail, and it ran around his nose into the corner of his eye, where it paused until it spilled over the ridge of his eyebrow and ran into his hair.
There was something…a song…He couldn't remember the words, but the tune was easy. He closed his eye and hummed.
The door opened noisily, but the most jarring effect was the light. Farfarello flinched as it invaded his world. There was a figure silhouetted in the brightness of the doorway. Schuldrich. Farfarello looked away.
"Time's up, Farfie." The German flipped the light switch and Farfarello flinched again.
Schuldrich dragged a stepladder over to Farfarello and climbed up on it. He put one arm under Farfarello's shoulders and help him up so that he was almost bent double. With his other hand Schuldrich reached up to unhook the foot of the straight jacket from the rope that attached it to the ceiling. Farfarello's feet dropped to the floor, and Schuldrich was left holding Farfarello's shoulders.
"Mein Got, Farfarello! How do you do this to yourself?" said Schuldrich, noticing the blood. He carefully stepped down from the ladder and laid the psycho on the ground. He began unbuckling the restraints. "Are you okay?"
"You have no idea what's wrong with me." Farfarello wiggled out of the jacket and stood up "You're such a freak! C'mon." Schuldrich led him out of the room.
Part II
Crawford looked up from his newspaper as Schuldrich and Farfarello entered the living room. The light glinted off his glasses, as if not being able to see his eyes was a physical symbol of Schuldrich's inability to read his mind.
For the most part.
"Crawford, Crawford." Schuldrich shook his head. "You know Hell's way out of your league."
Crawford blushed faintly and cleared his throat, while Schuldrich laughed. Farfarello dug his nails into his palms and stared at a wall. Soon, soon, they would let him go.
"We've received another mission—Farfarello, go clean yourself up! Please, we are professionals!" Crawford slapped his newspaper against the table to emphasize his disgust. Farfarello licked the blood at the top of his lip, partly because it was comforting to taste it there and partly because he knew how much it would gross out the others. Crawford only sighed and Schuldrich made a face. Then he laughed.
Kinky, Farfarello. Farfarello pretended to ignore the invasion of his thoughts, and he walked to the bathroom. Este had given them all of Schwartz one bathroom to share. Not very smart of them.
The bathroom door was closed and locked. Farfarello knocked loudly. "Nagi!" he yelled.
"Hang! On! Jeeze! You guys are always bugging me!" Nagi's voice was muffled by the door.
Schuldrich walked up and casually leaned against the wall. "Nagi's got a date tonight," he said.
Farfarello smiled.
"That's cute. Even with the dried blood up your nose."
"Why are you so mean to me?" Farfarello asked.
"It was a compliment! Hey, Nagi! Call Tot and tell her you can't go 'cause we've got a mission!"
"Do I have to?" whined Nagi.
"Nagi, get your butt out here now!" Crawford yelled from the living room.
"Schuldrich never has to cancel dates for missions!"
"Schuldrich's dates are important! Tot's not gonna cry if you don't show up," said Schuldrich. Suddenly, he was lifted two feet off the floor and his head smacked against the ceiling. Then Nagi's control dropped him to the floor.
"Oof!" Schuldrich rubbed his head. "Fine. Stay in there. Little brat."
Farfarello stepped over him and went to his own room. He closed the door behind him and immediately felt relieved. People, even the other members of Schwartz, were so incomprehensible. There was only one thing…
He didn't bother to turn the lights on. There were no distractions in this room. He opened the top drawer of his dresser. Blood pounded through his veins (and arteries and capillaries, but hey…). He felt hysteria creep over him, and he didn't fight it. It was almost like floating.
He laughed out loud as he picked up a long, thin knife. Now, the fun part. Where? He drew the knife across his bare arm, but not with enough pressure to cut. He licked the knife as he contemplated. Where would a scar look nice?
Time was locked around him. This moment and this place belonged to him alone. The knife was comfortable in his hands. He pressed it against the skin of the underside of his arm, hard enough to cut. It stung. He smiled as he thought of how everyone talked about how he was unaffected by pain. They were so stupid. He felt physical pain, but he had realized how insignificant it was compared to emotional pain. There was something horrible about deliberately making oneself bleed, something that went against God's natural order. And for Farfarello, that made it the perfect revenge.
Blood appeared under the knife, and he slid it down the length of his arm. It took intense concentration.
There was blood, but not enough. There was never enough….
Part III
Crawford stepped into the hallway and glared at Schuldrich, who was still sitting on the floor and rubbing his head.
"Is Nagi still in there? Where's Farfarello?"
"He went to his room," Schuldrich mumbled.
"Schuldrich! You idiot! Don't leave him alone! We've got a mission tonight, and we need to be in top condition."
"Who said it was my job to make sure he doesn't bleed to death? Make Nagi watch him."
"Schuldrich!"
Fine, whatever. I'm going, Mastermind.
Crawford glared at him as he left. "That goes for you, too. The mission is important."
The light glinted off his glasses (again).
Section II of Part III
A young couple walked out of a movie theater in downtown Tokyo. The boy had his arm around the girl, and as they walked she leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Thanks for taking me to see that," she said.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't that bad, for Inuyasha."
She giggled and squeezed him. "C'mon, you like it!"
"Right." He rolled his eyes.
They walked in silence for a while, watching the bright lights and busy people of the city.
"What time do you need to be home?" he asked.
She sighed. "I dunno. Doesn't matter, I guess. I don't want to go home."
They stopped walking. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "You're really unhappy, aren't you?"
"Not when I'm with you."
"I love you, Sakuya. I wish I could take your pain and feel it for you. All I know…We will be happy. Soon, okay?"
"Let's just go somewhere," said Sakuya.
They started walking again and ended up on a little street away from the busy theater area.
"Where are we going?" asked the boy.
"I don't know. Let's turn around, this place is kind of creepy."
"Yeah." The boy lifted his head and surveyed the street nervously. He wasn't used to this part of town, and he didn't want anything to happen to Sakuya.
Schwartz watched from the shadows. Farfarello ran his fingers along the handle of one of his knives.
Calm down, Farfie. You'll be fine in just a minute. Wait for the signal. And remember, don't hurt the girl.
He was grateful for the voice in his head. It was something solid to hang on to, like a rock in a hurricane. Blood was rushing past him, it was all he could see, it was all that he wanted. Blood and the feeling that always came with it—
—three people were lying on the ground, not moving. Red, sticky blood covered everything. Especially his hands…He knew these people. They were important to him. His family! Mother, Father, sister, they were dead! They were gone, and he was left with the pain that covered him like blood—
—"I'm a victim," he thought. "I must show God that He is wrong."
He giggled.
Shh, Farfie. Just a minute…
Crawford stepped in front of the young couple. "Please, let go of the girl and back away."
Crawford says he's not going to do it. Go, Nagi.
"What…?!" An invisible force pulled the boy away, but he held on to the girl's arm. She screamed.
"Sakuya!" he yelled.
Farfarello stepped up behind him and held the knife to his throat. Nagi let go and Sakuya fell to the ground.
"No!" she yelled as she saw the knife against her boyfriend's neck.
"Run, Sakuya!"
Frightened, she stood up and noticed Schwartz standing around her. She was crying but she had enough sense left to run.
"Just watch," Farfarello whispered to his captive. "Watch and know that you are helpless, and feel pain." He could sense the panic. It was a powerful emotion, but it was nothing compared to what would come next.
"Go ahead, Farfarello," Schuldrich said out loud. By now he had caught the girl. She sobbed and struggled, but his grip was tight. "Hold still, girl. Look at your boyfriend."
Snot was running out of her nose as she turned her fear-filled eyes toward the scarred man with the eye patch who was holding her boyfriend.
Farfarello laughed and made a little cut on the boy's neck. He was shaking.
"No!"
"Sakuya…"
"Why don't you scream?" Farfarello asked. He stabbed the knife into the boy's chest.
"Uaaaaahh!" Blood spurted from his mouth.
Sakuya screamed and screamed.
Farfarello pulled the knife out and slid it under the skin of his shoulder. The boy choked as he tried to scream.
"Farfarello!" commanded Crawford.
"What's your problem?" Farfarello kept his eye on Crawford as he stabbed the boy again. He wasn't moving anymore.
"Stop."
The knife went out and in again.
Farfarello, we're serious. Stop it.
Nagi was throwing up on the side of a building.
"He's still alive," said Farfarello calmly.
"We're leaving now. Weiss might come soon."
"Good. I want to hurt them."
Kill him, already!
After one last slash across the boy's throat, Farfarello dropped him and hopped into the jeep with the rest of Scwartz and the girl, who was unconscious now. Crawford slapped Farfarello, who didn't react. Even Schuldrich blocked out Farfarello's thoughts. He was alone in the maelstrom of his memories.
El fin
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. Gosh darn it.
Warning: This fic concerns "cutting" (self-mutilation), and I would appreciate it if you would not read it if doing so would tempt you to cut (burn, slice, scratch, etc.). I don't know about you, but as a "cutter" who is trying to stop, Farfie fics tend to make me want to start again. I can't give you any good reasons why you shouldn't cut, except that it hurts God. Personally, that is not what I want to do. And I don't intend to depress anyone. It's just…a fanfic.
Farfarello woke up in the dark. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel rough fabric against the bare skin of his arms. Something was keeping his arms and legs from moving. And something else was disorienting…
He was upside-down. They had put him in his jacket again. He knew he couldn't get out, but he struggled anyway. The twists of his shoulders made him swing back and forth. It was so frustrating! There was nothing he could do!
He screamed. No one answered and he screamed again. He screamed until his throat was raw, and he kept screaming. He swung back and forth, because there was nothing else to do with his energy. Finally, he rested, and the swinging gradually stopped. Blood pounded in his brain. He wondered if it was possible for his head to explode, if he was left there long enough. He imagined the tension building, the force of a swollen brain against his skull.
He had been there a long time. Or it felt like a long time. He couldn't know for sure, and he didn't really care. Here or there, it made no difference. But this anxiety! This need! His precious knives, his friends, the only comfort this cruel world allowed him, they were so far away! In his room, in a drawer, couched on a red velvet cloth. He'd bought that himself, because the knives were special. More special than the chalices and gilded patens that were handled so reverently at the church. He had his own tabernacle, and the sacrifice was his own flesh! Even when there was no one else, he knew he wouldn't worry. He had his own skin. As long as he was careful, yes, sometimes he had to be very careful. Sometimes he got carried away. Like Schuldrich, when he was drunk. Intoxication.
He started twisting and struggling again. Why didn't they come get him? Didn't they know he had things to do?
He bit into his lip. It wasn't something he did very often, and he wasn't used to it, so it was difficult. He laughed at himself. His breathe quickened. Without thinking, he bit down and became aware of the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. His teeth had cut pretty deep into his lip, and the blood wasn't stopping. He held very still, and let the blood bead and drip from his lip onto his nose. More blood followed the trail, and it ran around his nose into the corner of his eye, where it paused until it spilled over the ridge of his eyebrow and ran into his hair.
There was something…a song…He couldn't remember the words, but the tune was easy. He closed his eye and hummed.
The door opened noisily, but the most jarring effect was the light. Farfarello flinched as it invaded his world. There was a figure silhouetted in the brightness of the doorway. Schuldrich. Farfarello looked away.
"Time's up, Farfie." The German flipped the light switch and Farfarello flinched again.
Schuldrich dragged a stepladder over to Farfarello and climbed up on it. He put one arm under Farfarello's shoulders and help him up so that he was almost bent double. With his other hand Schuldrich reached up to unhook the foot of the straight jacket from the rope that attached it to the ceiling. Farfarello's feet dropped to the floor, and Schuldrich was left holding Farfarello's shoulders.
"Mein Got, Farfarello! How do you do this to yourself?" said Schuldrich, noticing the blood. He carefully stepped down from the ladder and laid the psycho on the ground. He began unbuckling the restraints. "Are you okay?"
"You have no idea what's wrong with me." Farfarello wiggled out of the jacket and stood up "You're such a freak! C'mon." Schuldrich led him out of the room.
Part II
Crawford looked up from his newspaper as Schuldrich and Farfarello entered the living room. The light glinted off his glasses, as if not being able to see his eyes was a physical symbol of Schuldrich's inability to read his mind.
For the most part.
"Crawford, Crawford." Schuldrich shook his head. "You know Hell's way out of your league."
Crawford blushed faintly and cleared his throat, while Schuldrich laughed. Farfarello dug his nails into his palms and stared at a wall. Soon, soon, they would let him go.
"We've received another mission—Farfarello, go clean yourself up! Please, we are professionals!" Crawford slapped his newspaper against the table to emphasize his disgust. Farfarello licked the blood at the top of his lip, partly because it was comforting to taste it there and partly because he knew how much it would gross out the others. Crawford only sighed and Schuldrich made a face. Then he laughed.
Kinky, Farfarello. Farfarello pretended to ignore the invasion of his thoughts, and he walked to the bathroom. Este had given them all of Schwartz one bathroom to share. Not very smart of them.
The bathroom door was closed and locked. Farfarello knocked loudly. "Nagi!" he yelled.
"Hang! On! Jeeze! You guys are always bugging me!" Nagi's voice was muffled by the door.
Schuldrich walked up and casually leaned against the wall. "Nagi's got a date tonight," he said.
Farfarello smiled.
"That's cute. Even with the dried blood up your nose."
"Why are you so mean to me?" Farfarello asked.
"It was a compliment! Hey, Nagi! Call Tot and tell her you can't go 'cause we've got a mission!"
"Do I have to?" whined Nagi.
"Nagi, get your butt out here now!" Crawford yelled from the living room.
"Schuldrich never has to cancel dates for missions!"
"Schuldrich's dates are important! Tot's not gonna cry if you don't show up," said Schuldrich. Suddenly, he was lifted two feet off the floor and his head smacked against the ceiling. Then Nagi's control dropped him to the floor.
"Oof!" Schuldrich rubbed his head. "Fine. Stay in there. Little brat."
Farfarello stepped over him and went to his own room. He closed the door behind him and immediately felt relieved. People, even the other members of Schwartz, were so incomprehensible. There was only one thing…
He didn't bother to turn the lights on. There were no distractions in this room. He opened the top drawer of his dresser. Blood pounded through his veins (and arteries and capillaries, but hey…). He felt hysteria creep over him, and he didn't fight it. It was almost like floating.
He laughed out loud as he picked up a long, thin knife. Now, the fun part. Where? He drew the knife across his bare arm, but not with enough pressure to cut. He licked the knife as he contemplated. Where would a scar look nice?
Time was locked around him. This moment and this place belonged to him alone. The knife was comfortable in his hands. He pressed it against the skin of the underside of his arm, hard enough to cut. It stung. He smiled as he thought of how everyone talked about how he was unaffected by pain. They were so stupid. He felt physical pain, but he had realized how insignificant it was compared to emotional pain. There was something horrible about deliberately making oneself bleed, something that went against God's natural order. And for Farfarello, that made it the perfect revenge.
Blood appeared under the knife, and he slid it down the length of his arm. It took intense concentration.
There was blood, but not enough. There was never enough….
Part III
Crawford stepped into the hallway and glared at Schuldrich, who was still sitting on the floor and rubbing his head.
"Is Nagi still in there? Where's Farfarello?"
"He went to his room," Schuldrich mumbled.
"Schuldrich! You idiot! Don't leave him alone! We've got a mission tonight, and we need to be in top condition."
"Who said it was my job to make sure he doesn't bleed to death? Make Nagi watch him."
"Schuldrich!"
Fine, whatever. I'm going, Mastermind.
Crawford glared at him as he left. "That goes for you, too. The mission is important."
The light glinted off his glasses (again).
Section II of Part III
A young couple walked out of a movie theater in downtown Tokyo. The boy had his arm around the girl, and as they walked she leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Thanks for taking me to see that," she said.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't that bad, for Inuyasha."
She giggled and squeezed him. "C'mon, you like it!"
"Right." He rolled his eyes.
They walked in silence for a while, watching the bright lights and busy people of the city.
"What time do you need to be home?" he asked.
She sighed. "I dunno. Doesn't matter, I guess. I don't want to go home."
They stopped walking. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "You're really unhappy, aren't you?"
"Not when I'm with you."
"I love you, Sakuya. I wish I could take your pain and feel it for you. All I know…We will be happy. Soon, okay?"
"Let's just go somewhere," said Sakuya.
They started walking again and ended up on a little street away from the busy theater area.
"Where are we going?" asked the boy.
"I don't know. Let's turn around, this place is kind of creepy."
"Yeah." The boy lifted his head and surveyed the street nervously. He wasn't used to this part of town, and he didn't want anything to happen to Sakuya.
Schwartz watched from the shadows. Farfarello ran his fingers along the handle of one of his knives.
Calm down, Farfie. You'll be fine in just a minute. Wait for the signal. And remember, don't hurt the girl.
He was grateful for the voice in his head. It was something solid to hang on to, like a rock in a hurricane. Blood was rushing past him, it was all he could see, it was all that he wanted. Blood and the feeling that always came with it—
—three people were lying on the ground, not moving. Red, sticky blood covered everything. Especially his hands…He knew these people. They were important to him. His family! Mother, Father, sister, they were dead! They were gone, and he was left with the pain that covered him like blood—
—"I'm a victim," he thought. "I must show God that He is wrong."
He giggled.
Shh, Farfie. Just a minute…
Crawford stepped in front of the young couple. "Please, let go of the girl and back away."
Crawford says he's not going to do it. Go, Nagi.
"What…?!" An invisible force pulled the boy away, but he held on to the girl's arm. She screamed.
"Sakuya!" he yelled.
Farfarello stepped up behind him and held the knife to his throat. Nagi let go and Sakuya fell to the ground.
"No!" she yelled as she saw the knife against her boyfriend's neck.
"Run, Sakuya!"
Frightened, she stood up and noticed Schwartz standing around her. She was crying but she had enough sense left to run.
"Just watch," Farfarello whispered to his captive. "Watch and know that you are helpless, and feel pain." He could sense the panic. It was a powerful emotion, but it was nothing compared to what would come next.
"Go ahead, Farfarello," Schuldrich said out loud. By now he had caught the girl. She sobbed and struggled, but his grip was tight. "Hold still, girl. Look at your boyfriend."
Snot was running out of her nose as she turned her fear-filled eyes toward the scarred man with the eye patch who was holding her boyfriend.
Farfarello laughed and made a little cut on the boy's neck. He was shaking.
"No!"
"Sakuya…"
"Why don't you scream?" Farfarello asked. He stabbed the knife into the boy's chest.
"Uaaaaahh!" Blood spurted from his mouth.
Sakuya screamed and screamed.
Farfarello pulled the knife out and slid it under the skin of his shoulder. The boy choked as he tried to scream.
"Farfarello!" commanded Crawford.
"What's your problem?" Farfarello kept his eye on Crawford as he stabbed the boy again. He wasn't moving anymore.
"Stop."
The knife went out and in again.
Farfarello, we're serious. Stop it.
Nagi was throwing up on the side of a building.
"He's still alive," said Farfarello calmly.
"We're leaving now. Weiss might come soon."
"Good. I want to hurt them."
Kill him, already!
After one last slash across the boy's throat, Farfarello dropped him and hopped into the jeep with the rest of Scwartz and the girl, who was unconscious now. Crawford slapped Farfarello, who didn't react. Even Schuldrich blocked out Farfarello's thoughts. He was alone in the maelstrom of his memories.
El fin