Author: Malebranche
Date: 04/25/04
Contact: xxxdre4merxxx@hotmail.com
Genre: Slash/Yaoi, AU, romance, angst, supernatural, series.
Comments: PG-13. If you can't handle slash, go away. BxS. Lime. Mangled personalities. This story has not been beta-ed, barely even proofread. I'm deeply sorry for any mistakes.
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz and all its characters are properties of their respective authors.
Autumn to Ashes: The Concrete Sky
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/*Far beyond a visible sign of your awakening.
Failing miserably to rescue Sleeping Beauty.
Truly thought I could make it right.
If I kissed you one more time to
Help you face the nightmare.
But you're far too poison for me.
Poisoned and hopeless,
Sleeping beauty.*/
"Schuldich!" Brad's fingers hovered at the edge of Schuldich's face. It was as if the fingers themselves were afraid to touch the redheaded man - afraid to find, to their dismay, that the man was cold, rigid, and lifeless.
As lifeless as the eyes knew he was.
Finally, the gentle vultures landed onto Schuldich's pale countenance. The skin was still slightly warm to the touch, but too cool. The flesh was still soft, but too still.
"Schuldich..."
The eyes. Schuldich's eyes mysteriously still had the spark of life; but they hadn't blinked for over a minute now, ever since Brad had regained consciousness and scrambled to his lover's side. And during those minutes, Brad cool feel his heart breaking - no, shattering, for it was with that much more violence - as he sat there and traced trembling fingers over Schuldich's cheek; now his nose; now his forehead.
So pale. He was so pale. It was inhuman how pale he was. Brad could make out the blue veins beneath that near-translucent skin.
A few drops of some unknown liquid manifested itself upon Schuldich's face. Brad quickly wiped them away, afraid that it would stain the horrible, gut-wrenching perfection that lay on the floor before him. He wondered where they came from. They were inside his living room, so it couldn't have been rain, could it? He felt the question slide from his mind. No! He must think of something; he must keep his mind occupied, or else he would think of Schuldich, and how he laid there...like...a...corpse...
The moments stretched into hours, the mistress Misery begging them to stay, to make themselves comfortable. At length, he couldn't bear it anymore; he slid his treacherous fingers over Schuldich's green emeralds and carefully lowered his lover's eyelids.
There. It was done. Schuldich was truly dead.
"This shouldn't hurt this much" he whispered hoarsely, fingers clawing at the carpet. "It can't be over already." he continued, his eyes glazed and wide. The days he spent with Schuldich now seemed like a dream that was quickly slipping away from him from in between his fingers. "Schuldich...I'm sorry. I couldn't stop them." Tears slipped down his cheeks. He ignored them, focusing on the still body before him. "I'm still here for you. Always. Always here."
Beyond the walls and roof of Brad's house, the sky was dark but clear. Overcast skies the next morning, the television proudly proclaimed in the living room of the house next door. The station broadcasting their new, improved technology. The owners of said TV were soundly sleeping, their children tucked in safely in the next room. A perfect, calm existence, with no vampires or heartbreaks hanging over their shoulders.
The entire neighborhood was quiet; no one had heard a thing. The crickets went on chirping, the radios playing, the moon beaming. Again, the vampires had mysteriously disappeared, the only difference was that this time, they had left a victim.
The next morning, under the predicted gray, overcast skies, Bradley Crawford was arrested for murder.
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January 2001, Los Angeles
The picture did him no justice. He was unshaven and dirty. He had red, puffy eyes and dry lips that came from crying for hours, until the tears grew tired and slept when their owner could not.
There was no blood. This puzzled the investigators. True, there was a gun found with Brad's fingerprints all over it, and two bullets were missing, but there were no bullet wounds to be found on Schuldich. No bruising, except for those that were around his wrist, but nothing that could possibly kill him. No other injuries were found on Schuldich's person.
Nothing except for two small, discreet holes on the side of his neck that the investigators passed off as the site of some sort of acupuncture - acupuncture! It was ridiculous, Brad thought, that such evidence was discarded.
"Where's Aya-chan?" Brad demanded of the police officer that had read his rights.
"Thumb here," the officer said, pointing to a rectangle on a manila-colored card. "Aya-chan...that's your maid, correct?"
Brad inked his finger on the pad and pressed it to the card. "Yes."
"She's in the hospital for shock," he said, "but nothing more serious than that." he added, seeing Brad's stricken expression.
"Oh. Where's...S-Schuldich...?" said Brad, swallowing several times before saying his lover's name.
"...He's in the morgue. They're trying to find out how he died." the officer said, studying Brad's face carefully as the amber-eyed man flinched towards the end of his sentence.
The officer led Brad to a cell that was relatively clean-looking. "Sit here. I'll bring you some water. Is there anyone you want to call?"
Brad thought of his father. The very notion of him sent anger flaring throughout his body. He could just imagine what his father would say when he heard that his only son had been arrested for murder. A politician, indeed.
"I'll call Nagi Naoe. He's a friend."
The officer acquiesced and left Brad to the privacy of his cell.
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Brad was released on bail by Nagi, but it made little difference. Brad did nothing but wander about all day. Aya-chan found him sitting at the dining table one evening, Schuldich's yellow tie in hand. His gaze was fixed on the scrap of bright fabric, and he hadn't even noticed her standing in the room.
He had moved out of the bedroom that he and Schuldich had shared. He now occupied the room next to it, wandering into their shared room at random period throughout the day, spending no more than an hour in there each time. It was as if the room had turned into a holy temple at which Brad prayed.
Friends wondered when he would recover; closer friends wondered if he ever would.
Inside the room he shared with Schuldich, the curtains were drawn and a sheet was thrown over the mirror. The bed was ruffled and messy, not from recent use but rather it was preserved as a relic would be.
It was left exactly the same as it was the morning of that fateful day. Brad had woken up before Schuldich. He observed the other man, who was still peacefully slumbering. The lines on Schuldich's face were softer than they were when he was awake. He wrapped him arm around the redhead and nibbled on his ear until he woke up. They lounged on the bed for a few minutes, before they got up from bed and went downstairs.
Now, the exact same creases showed where Schuldich had slept; where he had turned and kissed Brad lovingly on the lips; where he had gotten up and headed downstairs, hands linked with his lover.
But the actual presence was gone. The bed looked desolate and cold. The scent of Schuldich had lingered for days before fading into a dull, almost nonexistent trace of what it once was.
Whenever Brad sat in this room, he would slip into his own mind. Why was he still so shaken over Schuldich's death? They'd just been seeing each other for a little over a month...nothing serious, right?
/I love you, Brad./ Schuldich's voice, a memory.
He walked over to the windows and drew back a curtain. The sky was still gray; a sick, sludge-like color that smelled like uncertainty. It was like No Man's Land in the midst of a war between white and black.
It mirrored Brad's thoughts too much for his comfort, so he pulled the curtain back and left the window.
Love? No, no. No. Love does not happen in such a short time. No. Schuldich had fooled himself into thinking that way. He was not quite so naive, Brad told himself.
These thoughts gave Brad a headache after a while. He left the room to think less about Schuldich, but only ended up recalling Schuldich's face, his humor and his affection.
No love.
Outside, the sky darkened and it began to rain.
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February 2001, Los Angeles
Schuldich was not cremated. Brad couldn't bear to think of Schuldich as a little pile of ashes. At least, in a coffin, he was still whole, still recognizable -- not that Brad would be able to see him, anyways.
Brad took walks now. Long, slow walks that differed in route from time to time, but always had the same destination: Schuldich's grave. He was buried in a small but ancient cemetery, one that had all sorts of decorative, flowery tombstones. There were crosses engraved with angels and devils, and angels with devils' wings. There were angels singing, angels kissing, angels fucking. It was all very romantic, if a little blasphemous.
Under a huge tree with low-hanging branches was Schuldich's tombstone: a pale slab of rock, implanted on a bed of marble. On the slab was carved a two androgynous demons that resembled seraphs, each with a single wing. They clung to each other tightly, struggling to fly. How ironic, Brad thought, that he drew this design. He felt like he was falling. Had felt like he was falling ever since Schuldich died. The end of his fall was nowhere in sight.
The sun was too bright this afternoon. It made the rose Brad had brought change from red to orange. Like Schuldich's hair.
Brad stared directly at the sun. The burning tears - he held its gaze until he was blinded, until the pain completely absorbed him. Looking directly into the sun until the memory of Schuldich was burned away.
But it never went away for long. He caught sight of the tomb again. The words engraved onto the stone were: "SCHULDICH - THE LAST DREAM OF MY SOUL".
Brad smoothed his fingers over the words again. Did he dare deny it still? Deny the love that existed in him from the moment he first saw Schuldich...
He got up and left the cemetery, feet dragging and pace slow.
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Author commentary: The Sunlight Burns Me Eyes!!!
1. This is NOT the end. There are still more chapters coming. For those wondering if Schuldich is really dead...well, either read between the lines or take a guess ;). I'm not telling. C'mon! Tell me what you think ::whines::
2. Angst, angst, and more angst.
3. Next chapter: in ONE week (May 2nd). I want to finish this up :).
4. Woo! No errors last chapter! I've achieved a miracle. Let's hope it happens again.
5. MOTDOTW: hors d'oeuvres are those little sandwiches and snack bits on garnished platters...otherwise known as "finger food", only more fancy. Pronounced "or durves".