Chapter one: Inhalation
I'm finding my way back to sanity again
Though I don't really know what
He could hear voices. Faces floated around in the air. Some of them were angry with him, some were sad and some were scared. They were talking to him; whispering, chatting, yelling, screaming, begging, crying, laughing. Some cried for him, some cried because of him, some begged for mercy, some were rebuking him. He saw vision of himself, no, more like a memory of him being beaten, kicked, clobbered and abused then spat on. He saw his mother, his father, his sisters, his neighbors, Takatori, the Weiss, the Schrient, Este, Rosenkreuz, SZ and everyone he knew. They were all talking at once, yelling at him, laughing at him, calling him names and blaming him. The world burnt into a pile of frenzy flaming rubbles and collapse around him, over him. And he could see himself lying there, eyes open yet lifeless, his body was limp and blood covered his entire body. He felt his heartbeat dissipated and eventually, it stopped beating permanently as the scorching fires of Hell swallowed him whole.
I'm gonna do when I get there
And take a breath and hold on tight
Schuldich startled awake. Gasping short breath of air as if he was drowned and deprived of air. Slowly, his body calmed down and he began to breathe properly. Inhaling slow and deep gulps of rich fresh air. His head felt as if it was about to blow. He felt glad to have been able to escape his nightmares. It's been haunting him lately. He felt hot and damp, stuffy as well not to mention his throbbing head. Slowly, he sat up and ran his delicate fingers through his disheveled flaming hair. It was matted to his head by his sweat. He placed his fingers on the temples of his skull and gingerly messaged it.
He sighed and looked around. It was then did he realize that he was lying on the leather sofa in the living room of their shared quarters that they called 'home'. The house was dark, lightened merely by the shining silvery moon above the window. The clock on the wall showed that it was about half past nine.
He remembered that he had to assassinate their target right there from the sofa he was lying on. Their target was too well guarded and the only possible way for them to complete that mission was for Schuldich to overload his brains and 'toast' it all the way from this haven of theirs. It took so much effort that he blacked out completely.
"I slept for so long…" he mumbled to himself as he stood himself up and staggered to the kitchen in the dark.
Soft humming of techno music could be heard from the second floor. Must be Nagi…He headed into the darkened kitchen and switched on the lights. The table was cleaned and cleared minus the plate of sandwich wrapped in cling wrap. He smiled gratefully at the sandwich. The little brat can be really considerate at times.
Silently, he sat down at the table, ate the sandwich and drank his juice as he contemplated that nightmare he's been suffering daily. He was silent, but never was his world. Voices rang in his head, Farfarello's, Nagi's, strangers'…they were all talking at once, in their heads.
Spin around one more time
And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace
Weird but Brad, Nagi and Farfie weren't in my dreams. What could that have meant, I wonder? Probably doesn't mean anything at all. Everything in my life is meaningless. Nothing matters. Nothing…He pondered silently as he placed the plate and cup in the dishwasher. He swallowed down several assorted pills. Silently, he brewed a cup of thick fragrant Columbian Coffee and poured a glass of cool chocolate milk, and took a bottle of mineral water for himself. He wondered why he even bothered to make the coffee but decided to just let it slip.
With the coffee and chocolate milk in hand and bottled mineral water in his pocket, he threaded up the stairs. First, he came to a blue door with a 'No Entry' sign on it. The music that he heard previously augmented from more than the mere hum to an audible buzzing. Without warning he opened the door and stepped in.
"Gaki! You're going to go deaf if you keep that up," he said in a brotherly tone as he pulled the headphone off of the teenager's head then turned off the stereo behind him. "How could you listen to one song on the headphone and play another on the stereo?" he asked bemusedly.
Nagi merely shrugged. "For me? Thanks!" he said plainly referring to the glass of chilled milk in Schuldich's grasps. He took the milk from Schuldich's hand before he could deny it, "…and, don't worry, I've locked him up for you. You looked so tired I thought I'd do you a favor."
"Thanks…but the madman ain't asleep yet," he said a smirk painted on his face. "You know, one of these days people will notice that a real human being lies beneath all this," he said rapping his knuckles lightly against the teen's head, grinning as the younger boy grimaced.
"You're one to say. Now why don't you go and bother Crawford? I have homework to finish. Besides, his coffee is growing cold," he said waving his hand behind his head, not bothering to usher his housemate out.
He walked down the hallway past his own room until he reached a rather impressive mahogany door. Even before he reached the door soft tapping could be heard from behind the thick door. Slowly, he pushed the door open and waltzed in without even bothering to knock and closed the door behind him.
"What do you want, Schuldich?" said the figure behind the laptop, without even lifting his head.
"Nothing much, I just needed to piss you off," said the German nonchalantly. He sauntered to the table and sat opposite of the American leader. "Besides I brought you coffee. Here…" he continued placing the cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of him, beside the previously emptied cup.
Cause I am hanging on every word you say
And even if you don't want to speak tonight
Only a snort was heard amongst the pitter-patter of the keyboard as Bradley Crawford's long elegant fingers glided across the keyboard. Schuldich was mesmerized by the grace of the fingers as they danced on the buttons with practiced ease and the strength of those long lean hands and arms that connected to them. After a few moments, Crawford noticed the peculiar silence from his 'unwanted' companion. Curious, he paused and looked up from his work then examined the fiery-headed young man in front of him.
"What now?" he asked Shuldich, feeling rather annoyed.
"Really, Brad. Nothing. I just wanted to bring you some coffee. I had a feeling you've finished your last cup and wanted a refill, so I saved you the trouble."
"Right," he said half-heartedly, not noticing what the redhead had called him earlier.
"What?! No thanks? hug or kiss?" Schuldich teased, a half-grin graced his face.
"Get out of my office, Schuldich!!!" he commanded.
"Please, Crawford, just let me stay here, for a while. You don't eve have to speak. Just pretend I'm not here," he said earnestly.
Crawford didn't answer the redhead. He ignored the young man and went back to his work. Schuldich took that as a 'yes'.
Crawford knew that Schuldich spends time with him to get away from all the voices in his head. He knew that, to Schuldich, he was his last resort to find sanity. Maybe it was the counter attributes of their psychic discharges that allowed him to find control.
Cause I want nothing more than to sit
Outside Heaven's door and listen to you breathing
Mutely, he stood up then slowly pushed his chair to a corner and hummed in his heart. He sat himself and curled his feet under him and closed his eyes. He felt calm. All the voices reduced to meager whispers. He spun the chair around in slow semi-circles and closed his eyes, a ghost smile on his delicate lips. The same lips that harsh words spilled out, the same mouth that contemptuous remarks and deadly threats rolled out, the same lips that flaunted those cynical smirks. The same lips that Crawford dreamed about in his dreams. The same blood red cherry lips that he longed to kiss but his pride forbade.
He was unusually quiet and that unnerved Crawford. He looked up from his work once again and eyed Schuldich warily, fully expecting the 'half-witted' (or so he calls him) German would read his mind at any second, but what he got instead was a motionless figure in the still swinging chair and a sort of static buzz in his head. The German was notorious for his unpredictable actions, that even the Oracle couldn't figure his moves and action. He was known to act out of the blue. After a while he continued his work, but cautiously.
Eventually, he overlooked the German sitting in the corner and continued about his work with a furious pace. He was nearly done when the laptop hung over. Furious, he slammed his palms on his worktable, causing his resting cohort to jump in shock and stand in a defensive stance out of reflex.
"Where's the danger?!" he asked and inquired, not too gently, "What's the hell is wrong?" when he noticed that they were still in Crawford's office.
"None of your bloody business!" he spat out, fuming with anger. He pounded his finger on the keyboard trying to repair it and slammed the computer shut in frustration in the end.
"No, but you're my business. Really, I'm curious," he said calmly as he addressed his leader.
"Aren't you going to probe my mind to find out? That's what you usually do, anyway!" he said harshly.
"Not tonight. I'm too tired to strain my brain anymore. Do you want anything?" he said leaving his stance and walked towards Crawford's table. Before the American managed to say anything, he already picked up the emptied coffee mug and left the room.
Is where I want to be yeah
Where I want to be
He left the room wordlessly and strolled out the door. His brain felt like it was about to burst apart. Ignoring the feel, he went to the kitchen and dumped the mug in the washer along with his plate. He took some chocolate mints that Crawford loved so much.
"At least there's something in this world that he loves, other than that gun of his…" he mumbled softly to himself.
Once he reached the doors separating him and Crawford, he placed his hand on the knob but then, he hesitated. He understood. He could feel, he sensed that the door was already locked. He knew he could open the door with little insistence, but he decided against it. Instead he merely leant against the doors and slumped to the ground. He was losing his mind again. The voices were returning to irk him.
He pressed his body closer to the door in hopes of the hard ridges of the door would take his mind off the pain. He held onto the door as if his dear life depended on it. He felt pathetic but he couldn't stop the pain. He grasped the glass case of the chocolates so hard that it burst into pieces, embedding themselves deep within the flesh of his hands. Blood trickled onto the dark carpeting.
He remained still as the pain dissolved into numbness. He could hear Crawford's steady breathing on the other side of the door. Schuldich's world began swirling in a myriad of faces and voices. People from his past, people that he saved, people that he killed all came back to taunt him. But they weren't screaming, just barely murmuring. They were trying to talk to him. Trying to get past the wall he made to shield himself from the world.
I'm looking past the shadows
In my mind into the truth
The whispering voices beckoned to him. There were so many of them that he was overwhelmed by it. He knew remotely in his mind that he had injured himself, but the inundation of thoughts doused his brain, disabling his pain receptors. No pain, just throbbing numbness. He felt limp and immobile as if he was rooted to the ground. Panic started to rise in his throat. He wanted to call out for help but his larynx weren't functional. The visions of faces liquefied and disappeared into the dark shadows of his mind.
His wall crumbled piece by piece, eroding the mental concrete built around himself that he took years to perfect. With his mental shield penetrated, Schuldich became paralyzed with trepidation. Each piece that fell symbolized each piece of his life. The things that made him and the things that broke him, pieces that he labored to hide from the world.
He wanted to collapse, he wanted to give in to the urge to let go and drown in the welcoming darkness. He wanted it to end so badly. The tears of anguish and pain that he held back all this while threatened to spill. He wanted to submit to his urge. But he needed to be strong, to survive, to protect the people that he loved. People he loved? Who are these people in his head?
And I'm trying to identify
The voices in my head
God, which one's you
There were so many voices that he couldn't recognize. Flashes of visage would appear when he managed to connect the voices to the faces. He connected the faces to his life past and present. He allowed the visions to take him and the shadows to envelope him in their convivial dark arms.
Schuldich heard his father, as he was burned alive in front of his family. He saw his mother as she was stripped and raped then killed by several men subsequently they forced her to watch them rape her children. He saw his sisters being ravaged one by one. He saw himself through a puddle crying in pain and begging for mercy. He was balled up on the dirt road in a mess of blood and various other foreign secretions. He knew he was suffering, but he couldn't remember the pain or the mortification or the anger. Suddenly everything went blank.
Voices amplified by the resounding darkness and he was drifting in the endless void of his mind. His consciousness was getting farther away from him as the light dimmed. He tried to reach for it, but the harder he tried, the more he swayed away. He couldn't find an anchor to stay afloat. At that moment, he heard it: the soft fervent chanting of a madman. Never was that sound more welcoming. Subsequently the chanting was followed by a voice of a complaining Japanese teenager. He readily welcomed the belligerent teen. The voices were familiar, but he couldn't distinguish them in his current state of mind. They were comforting but weren't what he needed. He was still floating away.
"Schuldich!"
His body tensed at that familiar demanding baritone voice. He recognized the voice right away. He has found his anchor!
Let me feel one more time
What it feels like to feel
And break these calluses off of me
One more time
Please, Brad! Help me! I'm numb! He felt his body spasm out of control. He could feel the thin layer of cold sweat covering his body. In his mind, he ran. He ran as fast as he could to that source. He was so close, so close. Then he was slammed into a thick metal barrier that he couldn't penetrate. His fists and claws rained on the walls until his hands bled. He needed to get in before he lost all his sanity.
Bradley Crawford looked at his teammate helplessly as he spasm. Usually being close was enough to douse away his pain. He held the German close but he couldn't fight off the feel that he might lose Schuldich this time. Schuldich was strong if not persistent but his mind must've been weakened after his mission. Shit! Why didn't I see this!
Suddenly, Schuldich grasped Crawford's shirt lapel and pulled him close. Crawford didn't notice the blood the German had smothered all over his pristine white shirt. All he saw was the pain etched on Schuldich's face. He stood and carried Schuldich to his room. He felt that he would be more prepared to handle the redhead in a more familiar territory. Without much consideration, he let his walls down as he lowered Schuldich onto his bed.
Thoughts and emotions and pain rushed into him. He flinched in pain and shut his eyes close as if it would help reduce the pain. He partially saw himself in Schuldich's mind. He saw the fallen German, his hands and ears bleeding. Pulling the redhead close, he carried him yet again – only this time, it was in Schuldich's mind- into his haven. He opened his eyes to see Schuldich stirring from his restless unconsciousness. He went near and sat himself next to Schuldich.
"Braa…d?" he said then promptly fainted. Bradley Crawford finally allowed himself to exhale the breath he didn't realized he was holding. He was glad that he had managed to drag Schuldich out of his mind trap before he lost consciousness or Crawford might have lost him for good. Forever. Telepaths are heard of actually losing themselves in their mind, having an outwardly look of a comatose person.
Cause I am hanging on every word you say
And even if you don't want to speak tonight
Crawford took extra care in removing the shards of thick glass from Schuldich's pale long fingers. Slowly, he washed the wound with lukewarm water and tried his best to apply some anti-bacterial ointment without rousing the sleeping German. After his experience with Schuldich in his mind, he was left with Schuldich's telepathic abilities for the next 15 minutes and he had a newfound admiration for the teammate he often undervalued. No, he had never undervalued Schuldich; he only failed to show the German that he does indeed value him.
When he was done bandaging Schuldich's hands he stood and sat in the couch near the bed. And he too, fell right to sleep with bloodied shirt and all. And Schuldich woke up an hour later disorientated. His adventure in his own mind had left his sense of direction distorted. The walls surrounding the room weren't like the red ones his room. No, in fact it was light blue with dark midnight lines placed strategically to accentuate the wideness of the room. His bed sheets weren't the black and red ones that he was used to. Instead it was dark blue and black and smelt like mint and cinnamon and something distinctly Crawford. Then he realized that he was really in Crawford's room. He lifted himself off the bed to see the immaculate leader of Schwarz sleeping on the couch. My, how kind of you, Bradley. But I reckon the bed is big enough for both of us. He padded across the carpeted floor towards Crawford.
Schuldich smiled as he pushed the thick bangs of ebony from Crawford's face. The hand that touched Crawford's face was wrapped with bandaged and although he was shocked at the state of it, he was even more shocked that Crawford had taken time to bandage it for him. He was assaulted with a sudden flash of vision. His heart stopped for a full second before resuming its beat. Visions passed by so fast, he felt unsettled and as if he was about to fall. He felt nauseous that instant. But before he could manage to delve into the vision, it disappeared leaving him with a powerful and painful headache. Putting two and two together, he figured out that he must've absorbed some of Crawford's precognitive gifts. Now more or less he knew -even thought that experience barely skimmed the surface- how Crawford felt during a vision.
That's alright, alright with me
Cause I want nothing more than to sit
Outside your door and listen to you breathing
Is where I want to be yeah
Seeing that the couch was a two-seater, Schuldich stood and dragged the comforter form the bed then plopped himself on the other end of the sofa. He leaned against Crawford's shoulder then pulled the thick coverlet over the both of them. He snuggled closer to the sleeping man then fell silent. He listened to Crawford's steady breathing then absorbed the silence emanating from his sleeping figure. He was glad that he wasn't a precog but he wished the he wasn't a telepath either. He wished for many things and among all those wishes, he wished to be in Crawford's presence most of all.
I don't want a thing from you
Bet you're tired of me waiting
For the scraps to fall
Off of your table to the ground
Cause I just want to be here now
He made a silent vow that he would tell Crawford one day. And he also promised himself that no one else would suffice. It was either Crawford or no one at all. He was done whoring himself and if Crawford didn't want him then well, it's definitely his loss. Slowly, he allowed the sound of the clock ticking and Crawford's breathing lull him into an inevitable slumber. He drifted then, into a dreamless sleep.
End of Chapter one: Inhalation.
