Windows
Thanks to suninun for pointing out something I'd missed when editing the fic!
Nagi stared at the flickering screen. The clock in the corner pointed out he'd been on for almost twenty-four hours, but he wasn't tired. He was waiting for Crawford to come back from his date. He'd been gone sixteen of those twenty-four hours. Nagi had a vague urge to find some champagne to greet him with. He settled for a mug of hot cocoa now, and everything laid out to make Brad some coffee later.
He ran his fingers over the keys, trying to dispel the thoughts that usually followed when he contemplated Brad's newfound happiness. Well, feelings, really. Jealousy. Resentment. Bitter loneliness. He was the only one left who hadn't moved on now, the only one without any kind of relationship in his life.
He glanced at a photo propped up on his sideboard. A blue haired girl grinned cheekily at him. He hadn't even known Tot had survived the collapse of the mansion until he'd got a letter from her that morning, detailing how she'd met Hidaka Ken in the insane asylum and how well they were getting on and how she'd never understood until now what love really was and…
The photo slammed face down into the desk, the glass shattering. Nagi stared at it. Of all the people in his life, he'd thought he could depend on her. If not to be one hundred percent faithful than to at least be dead. He turned his head back to the screen. A classified FBI page greeted him, but even playing with secret government files wasn't going to get him out of this mood. Without touching the keys he left the site and found a chatroom. Maybe some complete stranger with an utterly ridiculous name offering him cybersex would cheer him up? Unlikely, but he could get a few cheap laughs out of taunting the room's other occupants.
Nagi browsed, avoiding the themed chatrooms and teen chatrooms and eventually ending up in an inconspicuous 'hotel'. It was plain and simple, with a few obvious regulars and a handful of teenagers there for the same reason as himself. He flirted dully, chatting up middle-aged men and prepubescent girls alike.
A name caught his eye. Probably someone in India, or possibly just in an Indian Restaurant. Still, it brought back memories. He considered suggesting a private chat, but was distracted by a girl claiming to be 46 24 36, which left Nagi questioning whether she could actually stand up without tipping forwards.
Suddenly, a small window popped up. He'd been invited to a private chat. Bored already of his conversation with someone who was probably an eleven-year-old boy, he clicked it open and started at the name that presented itself.
Bombay Nights: Hey
Nagi stared. Surely it was too much coincidence? Of course it was. And both names were quite asexual, so there was no need to assume it was a guy, but it could be, and what if it was and it was who Nagi thought it was?
'Hi' he typed suspiciously.
Bombay Nights: where are you?
Prodigy: NYC. You?
Bombay Nights: Just outside of Tokyo.
Nagi sat back. Okay, too much coincidence. Still…
Prodigy: m/f?
Bombay Nights: m. You?
Prodigy: same
Definitely freaky. A guy, with the word Bombay in his name, near Tokyo, randomly picking himself, who'd used his code name, after no prior conversation to chat? Maybe he was just being paranoid, but his mind struggled to think of some way to check.
Bombay Nights: Sorry, g2g.
Bombay Nights: ttfn
Prodigy: Goodbye.
~ Your message cannot be delivered, as the room is empty of other occupants. ~
Nagi felt oddly relieved. He didn't have to find out who this mystery person was. What would he have done if he were right, anyway? The Pacific separated them. They couldn't hurt each other. Well, sure, they were both hackers, but both kept their IP addresses well hidden under layers of coding and encryption. Still, it would have been a link, wouldn't it? To that old life. Perhaps they wouldn't exactly reminisce together, but it could have been interesting.
The door behind him opened very quietly. Nagi hit close quickly, but Crawford was already peering over his shoulder.
"I thought you'd be asleep," Brad rested a hand on his shoulder. "You haven't been on chatrooms all night, have you?"
"No! I was just bored." Nagi glanced up and back to see Brad, unshaved, in last night's clothes, minus the tie he'd left with and two buttons, smiling like an idiot down at him. "You got laid," Nagi grinned back.
"I, uh… yes," Brad gave in. "Sorry, I should have called to let you know I wasn't going to be back."
"And spoilt the moment? If you'd called, you might have ended up coming back," Nagi pointed out. "I kinda figured you weren't going to be here. Michael winked at me as he dragged you out."
"He certainly planned it," Brad smiled, thinking back to the previous night. "Candles and music and everything," he grinned. "It's nice to be wooed, I think."
"I'll bet," Nagi studied him. "I can honestly say I don't think I've ever seen you this happy, even wi-" He mentally kicked himself. That was one person Brad didn't need to be reminded of just now.
"Even with Schuldig?" Brad finished for him, one eyebrow raised. "You may well be right." And with that enigmatic statement, he left Nagi's room.
Nagi was stunned. He stumbled over to the futon, curling up in a foetal position, hugging his knees to his chest. He realised he was fighting tears.
It was over. The line had been drawn. Farfarello had let go. Schuldig had let go. And now Brad had let go. It was just Nagi left, clinging to a past that had probably been better for him than all the others put together. They'd all moved on and left him behind, floundering alone in nostalgia and self-pity. He'd always cherished some hope that they'd all end up back together again. Brad would dump Michael, who he'd been seeing for several months now, and they'd rush to Germany to seduce Schuldig back and then they'd go to Ireland and make Farf divorce Sally (or just kill her, which ever was easier) and it would all be like before. But it would never happen now. Brad didn't want Schuldig any more, he wanted Michael. He wanted the new life. For him, the pros now outweighed the cons for sticking to this new home.
Nagi hated it. He hated him. Brad. Stupid Brad, stupid Michael, most stupid Schuldig for going off in the first place. Stupid Estet for trying to make them raise that stupid demon. And stupid Nagi for killing one of the Ancients, putting them on Estet's hit list and forcing them to flee and split up and get these new lives.
* * *
Crawford reached into the shower and plucked the razor blade from Nagi's damp grip. Nagi didn't protest.
"Are you going to tell me or leave me to guess?" Crawford said coolly.
"What's there to tell?" Nagi clumped against the porcelain tiles, staring at Crawford around the shower curtain. "I hate the world, I hate me… To quote Oscar Wilde: 'this wallpaper will be the death of me; one of us has to go.'"
"You don't mean that," Crawford said assuredly.
"I want to, does that count?" Nagi accepted the towel and pulled himself out of the cold water. He sat on the edge of the bath and Crawford sat on the toilet seat. An over fluffy white bath mat lay between them, and Nagi dug his toes into it for comfort.
"'Wallpaper' can be changed, Nagi," Crawford said softly. "Life can be changed. Whatever's bothering you so suddenly can be put to rights."
"How do you know it's sudden?" Nagi said sulkily.
"It's got something to do with Michael and I, doesn't it?" Crawford looked pained. "It isn't a jealousy issue, is it?"
"No, it's not that. Look, if I wanted to leave, would you come with me?" Nagi gripped the edge of the bath.
"Of course. Is it something about New York? Michael's been talking about wanting to leave this city-"
"No! That's the wrong answer." Nagi looked distraught. "Without him. If I wanted to go to Berlin, to go and live with Schu…"
"I see." Crawford leant on his knees. "Nagi, do you miss them? Schuldig and Farfarello?"
"Yes," Nagi said in a strained whisper. "I miss Schwarz. I miss the way things were. We could still make them go back to how they were, I've got it all planned out…" he trailed off at the look on Crawford's face. "But now you're in love with Michael," Nagi sighed, "and there's no going back."
"You wouldn't try to hurt him, would you?" Crawford sounded unsure. He didn't think Nagi would, but he hadn't thought Nagi would try to hurt himself either. He hadn't realised how bad it was.
"No, he's a good guy," Nagi grimaced. "I even like him. But he's not Schuldig."
"That's a good thing, Nagi," Crawford told him. "I knew taking you out of school was a mistake. I'm sure if you'd made some friends you'd be happier here."
Nagi shook his head. "You don't get it. I don't want to be happy here. If I'd made an effort, I probably could have made some friends. But I don't want any friends. I want Schwarz."
"There's no easy way to fix this, Nagi. You just have to let go."
Nagi gave a bitter laugh. "It wasn't all that long ago I was giving similar advice to you." He stood up. "I'm going to get dressed," he announced, sweeping out of the small room.
Crawford leant against the cistern. He'd ask Michael's advice, that's what he'd do. Damn. He was late for his date, but he didn't want to leave Nagi alone in the apartment. If the boy took it into his head to try to off himself again, Crawford might not be able to get back again.
He tried Michael's apartment. No reply, Michael had already left. Still, he tried another three times, just in case. Michael didn't have a mobile (cell) phone, so Crawford tried the restaurant they'd planned to go to. Michael hadn't arrived there, so presumably he was waiting outside the park, where they'd planned to meet. As Crawford stood over the phone trying to decide on the best course of action, a crash from Nagi's room pushed all thoughts of Michael from his head.
* * *
Nagi sat down in front of the computer perhaps a little more violently than necessary. The chair shuddered. He randomly selected a webpage from his favourite list, and found himself back at the hotel chatroom. Logging in under the same name as before he was contacted almost immediately Bombay Nights
Apprehensive, but determined to find out who it was for certain this time, he started the conversation himself.
Prodigy: I used to live in Tokyo. I'm Japanese.
Bombay Nights: Really?
Bombay Nights: Where about?
Prodigy: All over, we moved a lot.
Bombay Nights: We?
Prodigy: The guys I lived with. There were four of us, I was the only one from Japan.
If it really were Omi, he'd be feeling like Nagi had a few nights ago. Nagi was determined to drop a few more hints. Bombay Nights' reaction would tell him what he needed to know, from the questions he asked to the time taken to reply.
Prodigy: I moved to America with one of them, who is American. How old are you?
Bombay Nights: 17. You?
Prodigy: Sixteen. Do you have a job?
Nagi waited. Almost five minutes went by. Eventually:
Bombay Nights: Sorry, my connection's on the fritz.
Liar, thought Nagi.
Bombay Nights: I sell flowers. From a van, hence the poor connection. But I used to live in a flower shop.
Prodigy: Kitty in the House?
He'd pushed it too far. Oh, there was no doubt that it was Omi now, but he'd been too overt.
~ Bombay Nights has logged off. ~
Nagi swore at the screen. His anger pulsed in waves of kinetic energy, and the computer slammed into the wall. Crawford flung open the door. Nagi stared at the shattered screen and smashed drives.
"Shit, Nagi!" Crawford stared at him. "What now?"
Nagi glowered at him, silent.
"If you want another computer you're buying it out of your own money. I know you're going through a hard time, but you should know how to control your anger by now!" Crawford snapped.
Magi folded his arms over his chest and still said nothing, eyes fixed at a point just over Crawford's heart.
"Fine, sulk if you want. Throw tantrums. Do what you like. None of it's going to change things, you know that? No matter what you say or do, things can't go back to how they were."
Nagi stood up abruptly and stalked out of the room. Crawford found himself jogging to catch up. "Where are you going?" he snarled. Nagi ignored him and reached for the door. Crawford put on a burst of speed and set himself in Nagi's way. Without a word, without a warning, Nagi shoved him away with one telekinetic blast and fled down the stairs into the night.
* * *
It was cold. Oh, spring had come to New York, but it was still late at night and Nagi regretted a lack of coat. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared into shop windows. It hadn't occurred to him to bring any money, either. He was cold, and hungry, and bored, and he desperately needed to use the bathroom.
But he couldn't go back. He couldn't put his finger on why, but he knew that now wasn't the time. Crawford would still be angry. The letter from Farfarello would still be on his desk. The computer would still be in pieces.
"Nagi?" A deep voice broke him out of his reverie and he spun around to see Michael. It took all of his willpower not to fling the young man away from him, despite his words to Crawford that he liked Michael and wouldn't hurt him. "Are you okay?"
Nagi shrugged. "What are you doing here?" he asked before Michael had the chance to ask him the same question.
"Brad and I had a date, but he never turned up. I live just up there. What about you?" Michael looked crushed. Nagi felt guilty, he'd been the reason the nice man had been stood up.
After great consideration, Nagi answered Michael's question with "Can I use your bathroom?"
* * *
Michael's flat was comfortably cluttered. The overstuffed sofa was piled with magazines and books, and the area around the television was a minefield of videos and DVDs. Nagi curled up in an armchair and drank the cocoa Michael had offered him. He could see out of the window, New York a city of lights and neon, all slowly disappearing as the night wore on until just before dawn it would be almost entirely dark.
"So, what's going on? Did you and Brad fall out?" Michael made a halfhearted attempt to clear the sofa and settled on the floor instead.
"Something like that," Nagi admitted. "It just all got blown out of proportion."
"Are you planning to go back?"
"Of course! I'm not going to run away or anything! I'm just mad at him." Nagi sighed. "Okay, I'm mad at me, and no amount of running away fixes that. I learnt that the hard way."
Michael didn't push that point, to Nagi's relief. He didn't want to have to go into detail about running away from his father, or Rosenkreuz, or Schwarz, or anything really. The present was hard enough to deal with, without contemplating the past either.
"I know it's trite, but is there anything I can do to help?"
"Unless you can be Schuldig, no." Nagi saw the quickly concealed hurt on Michael's face, and flinched. "It's not you. I like you. Crawford-san loves you. It's just, I miss how it was before. And there was always this possibility of going back to that, but now there isn't. As long as Crawford still had feelings for Schuldig, there was a chance we might go to Germany and pick him up again, then go and find Farfarello in Japan, and just, well, be as we were."
"Were you happy as you were? I know I shouldn't pry, but from Crawford's description I don't understand how you could be."
Nagi gave a dry mirthless laugh. "Nobody does. Just me. I was happy, no matter what the others might say. We all were. It's just, the others are happier now, and had been happier before."
"You were never happy until the four of you got together?" Michael asked incredulously. "I thought you'd only been together for a handful of years."
"Do not delve into my past. You won't like what you find," Nagi said ominously. "On the surface, everything here is better. I ought to be happy. I didn't always get on with Schuldig, and Farfarello frightened me. I hated school. I hated our boss. I hated most of what we did. And now I' m here, feeling quite congenial to our circumstances, all told, work, people, everything. But I'd still rather have it how it was." Nagi stared at the bottom of the mug, lumps of congealed cocoa clinging to the edges.
"Do you feel guilty for feeling like this?" Michael asked, perceptively.
Nagi squirmed. "Sometimes. Brad is so happy, and he'd like me to be happy as well, and I'm not living up to that. I feel bad for bringing him down, and bad for not being able to live up to his standards, and bad for pretty much everything."
"Bradley does have very high standards," Michael mused.
"Oh, I can meet them," Nagi assured him. "That's why we get on well most of the time. We're quite similar like that. If I'd wanted to slob around and never push myself, I'd have stayed with Schuldig." Nagi paused. "That's not fair on Schu," he admitted. "It's not that he lacked motivation, and he does work he just puts his effort into different areas than Brad or myself."
"Brad described him as a born anarchist," Michael said warmly. Nagi looked at him, surprised.
"You two talk about him?" he asked.
"Sure. We've talked a lot about the four of you and your time in Japan, and naturally Schuldig is going to come up. I don't have a problem with that."
"He would," Nagi murmured. "Schuldig could get so jealous and vindictive."
"Do you want to stay over, or shall I call you a cab?" Michael asked gently. Nagi blinked at him, and glanced at a clock on the mantelpiece. One AM already? "You can sleep in the spare room, if you like."
"I should go back," Nagi admitted reluctantly. "I mean, Brad's probably not worried, per se, but he wouldn't like me imposing on you. I'm sorry to have kept you up this late."
"Don't worry about it. If I had met up with Brad we'd have been up much later," Michael waved Nagi's apologies away, then flushed as he heard himself speak. "I, I mean…" he stuttered, the blush showing through his milky cocoa coloured skin. Nagi thought it was quite fetching, and understood what Brad found so attractive in the flustered African-American, all sweet mannerisms and unconscious gestures.
Nagi stood up and hugged Michael, face pressed against the man's chest. "I can walk myself home," Nagi told him, releasing him from the abrupt embrace. "You've been a real help tonight. Don't be upset that Brad didn't turn up, I was being quite a handful tonight. I'm sure he'll be very 'contrite'," Nagi grinned, and Michael went another shade darker as Nagi's implication sunk home. He leant forwards and gave Nagi a friendly hug, squeezing his shoulders.
"Are you sure? You're welcome to stay, really." Nagi nodded. "Well, at least let me call you a cab. It's too late to be wandering about on your own."
"No, I'll be fine. I'm a bodyguard, remember? I can hold my own in pretty much any situation, believe it or not." Nagi didn't give Michael a chance to object. He pulled away and, with a small wave, made his way through the front door and down onto the street.
It was dark, and cold, and quite lonely, but it was really quite a short walk back to the apartment. As he approached the building, Nagi craned his neck and saw that the lights in the top apartment were still on, to his dismay.
He wasn't ready to face Crawford yet. To explain his tantrum (he was calm enough to look at it objectively and admit that, yes, it had been a temper tantrum) and to apologise. He found a bench and sat down glumly.
Okay, life here was better. He had kept on the right side of the law, mostly, and no one was trying to kill him. He had fallen into regular eating and sleeping habits, a sure sign that he was more relaxed here than he'd ever been in Japan. He didn't have to attend school. He made an extremely comfortable amount of money, working only two days a week. He got on well with everyone he was required to get on with, primarily Brad, Michael and their new boss.
So what was bothering him? Was it really the splitting up of Schwarz? He chewed his lip. If he let go, if he embraced this new life, he'd be happier than he'd ever been in Schwarz.
Nagi stared at the ground. That was it, really. It was that simple. He wasn't happy because he didn't want to be happy. He'd had it drilled into him so many times that betrayal of the team meant death. And it felt like a betrayal, liking something better than Schwarz. Schwarz had been a huge part of his life, Schwarz, and Rosenkruez, and Estet.
"It's like when someone dies," a voice said beside him. "You don't want to move on because it feels like you're betraying their memory. You're scared of forgetting them. You're in mourning, Nagi, for something that never lived and hasn't died."
Nagi turned his head. Crawford sat down on the bench beside him, one arm resting along the back. Nagi sighed and leant into Brad's side, and the arm curled comfortably around him.
"You're right," Nagi admitted. "It's like when Tot died, but I accepted that much more easily. People die all the time, but part of me thought Schwarz would be forever."
"If Weiss hadn't interfered, it could well have been," Crawford reminded him.
"Exactly. So, how do you cope with this?" Nagi blinked, his throat suddenly tight. Schwarz was dead. It had seemed like such a living thing, sometimes, when Weiss would address one of them as 'Schwarz' or when Schuldig would bind them together. He blinked again, and a tear rolled down his cheek.
"You mourn," Brad said softly, "and you learn to go on."
"I know I know, life goes on," Nagi snapped, voice breaking on each word as he choked back more tears. "Life goes on, it gets better, et cetera et cetera."
Brad squeezed his shoulders slightly, and Nagi was suddenly reminded of Michael's earlier gesture. Why did I hug him? Nagi wondered vaguely. That's very unlike me. He buried his face in Brad's side, and started to cry in earnest. Schwarz was dead. The Nagi that had been a member of Schwarz was dead. There was a new Nagi now, living a new life. And this new Nagi wept, mourning the loss of everything he'd once known.
* * *
Nagi sat by the French window's of one of their boss's houses, in the suburbs, watching over a garden party with his laptop balanced on his knees. Crawford was wondering around, meeting and greeting, while Nagi sipped sangria (pretending every time Brad walked by that it was some non-alcoholic drink and failing miserably, judging by the look that was part amusement and part exasperation Brad wore each time he glanced over) and studied the performance of his surveillance cameras. And mucked about on the Internet, since not much was happening.
About a week had passed, and he was feeling much better. Each day got easier and easier as he struggled with the fact that Schwarz was really gone, and nothing would bring it back. He had begun to accept it, and spring days like these made it all the easier to convince himself that he really could be happier here.
He'd barely entered the chatroom when an all too familiar window popped up.
Bombay: Hi, Nagi.
Prodigy: Hello, Omi.