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Yohji didn't return to the flat that night. Schuldig lay alone on the bed, trying to enjoy the freedom of movement. It was cold, despite the balmy night, without someone curled beside him. The thoughts that permeated his surroundings didn't threaten to overwhelm him, but they hadn't for weeks now, not since he started living with Yohji.
"You've proved your independence," a voice bit through the darkness. "So, are you going to find him and apologise?"
Schuldig sat up. "Who-" he began when the door swung open. A familiar silhouette stood there, light flashing off of over polished glasses.
"Long time no see, Schuldig," Brad walked into the room. He stopped after half a step, aware that he couldn't get any further into the room. "I know what you've been up to."
"And?" Schuldig half sat, shoulders tense. He wished he hadn't pawned his gun for food. Suddenly being armed seemed more important than being empty.
"You've managed what you set out to do. You're free. You're independent. He's sleeping under a tree." Brad tried to flick on the light, but nothing happened. "Jesus, Schuldig, how could you let yourself sink to this level?" he asked incredulously.
"Don't know. It just sort of happened to me." Schuldig stood up on the futon, which made him the same height as Crawford.
"These things always do," Crawford observed wryly. "I thought you might need this," he held a gun out to Schuldig, handle first, "if you're intending to shoot that son of a bitch in the head."
Schuldig accepted it with an unusual amount of grace. "You're not dead," he said, feeling an idiot. He always felt like an idiot around Crawford. "I couldn't find you. I tried."
"I know, Schuldig. It's taken me months to track you down as well. I was going to leave you my number…" Crawford smirked as the German, but Schuldig would not be stared down.
"Things have been a bit rough, but they're looking up." Schuldig tucked the gun into his waistband. "Balinese has been useful."
"Balinese has been invaluable," Crawford corrected, "and he still is. Go and find him, Schuldig. You need him."
"No, I don't!" Schuldig snapped. "I need no one, nothing! I can do what I like!"
"No you fucking can't! Shut the fuck up!" A distant voice called. Hiroko kept swearing until they both fell quiet.
'Nice neighbours,' Crawford commented wryly. 'Are they all as soft spoken as her?'
'Some are even quieter,' Schuldig laid on the sarcasm. It was alarmingly reminiscent of his early conversations with Yohji.
'They'll come looking for the money,' Crawford warned. 'Keep it secret, keep it safe.'
'You must take the ring, Gandalf!' Crawford snickered softly in the semi-darkness. Schuldig was reminded of what had attracted him to this man in the first place. The cutting sense of humour (though the previous conversation hadn't exactly been the most stellar example of his wit) and the completely unattainable attitude of the American used to tug at him like a lure. Schuldig frowned. 'Used to tug'. Not any more.
"Go and look for him," Crawford sighed. "Things have changed, Schuldig. You've changed."
Schuldig shook his head, not to contradict Crawford but to shake off the suspicion that the older man was right. "And what if I have?" Schuldig asked the darkened room. "What if I have?"
"I can't answer that." Crawford took a half step back, and was out of the door again. "Kritiker are looking for old employees and new ones. I may be in touch." And with that, he was gone.
Schuldig ran a hand through his hair, which he'd made a point of washing ready for his first day at work tomo- no, today. He was going to work, today. But first he was going to find Yohji.
It didn't take a genius to figure out under which tree Yohji was sleeping. Schuldig walked into the clearing displaying more confidence than he had. It hadn't been a long walk, but he'd had time to think. Sure, he was fine without Yohji. Sure, his shields were back up and he had control in his own head again. But Crawford was right. He needed Yohji. He was damn lonely without him.
"Leave me alone," a voice flowed across the copse. "Stay out of my head. Stay over there."
Schuldig stared at the shadowed hollow from whence the voice came. It had never occurred to him that that was why Yohji had fled. He'd thought… he'd thought it was just the power, the cruelty, the memories it must have reawakened. Schuldig leant against a tree, arms folded across his chest.
"I've been half in your mind, half out of mine for over a month, Yohji," Schuldig called across the dark clearing. "Why does it bother you now?"
"It's different. Before it was, well, passive. You were going to hurt me yesterday." Slitted jade eyes glowed in the in the darkness like a cat's.
"I was not!" Schuldig shouted, outraged. He pushed off from the tree and started towards Yohji. Those shimmering green eyes faded as Yohji pulled deeper into the shadows.
"Yes, you were. I felt you. Crawling into my head, like you used to!" Schuldig stopped.
"Like I used to?" Schuldig peered into he shadows. He could taste Yohji's fear like a sweet wine, like honey and yoghurt, sweet and sharp. "I didn't realise… I just didn't understand what you were trying to say. That was all."
"I was trying to say no."
Schuldig sank down in the leaves and dug his fingers into the composting mulch, trying to rouse the living smell he had last week, when they had sat there with ice cream and ideas. It smelt of death now. Dark and damp and decomposing.
"Mindfuck," Schuldig said to himself.
"Mindrape."
"-" Schuldig curled up, surrounded by the smell of death and decay. "I told you," he murmured. "I warned you."
"Yes, I suppose you did," Yohji said, the bitterness making Schuldig wince.
"You tried to tell me that I lied to you, that I made myself the bastard because I didn't want to acknowledge that. Why would I lie to you? I'm a bastard. I tried to kill you. Why didn't you believe me when I told you that?" Schuldig started to crawl towards him. "I'm confused."
"Same," Yohji smirked. "Go away. Stop getting closer," the fear remerged.
"Not going to hurt you. Don't want to hurt you." Schuldig had stopped about two metres from Yohji. "I… I, I…"
"You what, Schuldig?" Suspicious leant Yohji a confidence he'd lacked previously and he emerged from the shadows. "What? You… you, you…" he mocked.
"I… need you," Schuldig admitted.
"I know," Yohji said tiredly. "We've been through that. Without me you go mad. I keep you sane."
"No! I'm free. I'm independent." Schuldig started crawling forwards again. "I'm in control of my own head again, Yohji. When I stopped, when I started making people do stuff, I was taking control back. I was reminding myself that even though I was scared of water I could still swim." Yohji looked blank. "Metaphor," Schuldig explained. "I don't need you to make me sane. I was fine, lying there in bed, without you."
"So why are you here?" Yohji asked sullenly, torn between a desire to hurt Schuldig and genuine curiosity.
"Because I need you." Now he'd said it once, it was easier to say. So what if he needed Yohji? Yohji needed him. It was so obvious now. "I miss you. I'm lonely without you. I need you."
"…Miss me?" Yohji stared at him. They were bare feet from each other now. Green eyes met blue without flinching, and the sun crept over the horizon as they stared at each other. Yohji hadn't realised that it went both ways until now. He'd known Schuldig was dependent on him, but now that dependence was no longer necessary they were still unwilling to give each other up. The string had been cut that had tied them so close, but they didn't move. Needed each other, wanted each other, liked each other… Where was it going?
There was a strange noise. It took both men several seconds to register and recognise it. Morning. Bells, cars, people. Morning. Like a switch had been flicked, the city was coming to life.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, light filtering through the leaves. The clearing grew increasingly brighter and they could see each other better.
"I have work," Schuldig said awkwardly. "Want to come?"
Yohji chuckled. "You know, I almost do. But I have other stuff to do. Plans and blueprints stuff."
"Of course. I'd almost forgotten why I was earning an honest buck," Schuldig stood up and offered Yohji a hand. Yohji ignored it and scrambled to his feet unaided. The two men wandered out of the park, not touching, but thinking of it. It had been uncomfortable in the small flat since the kiss, sexual tension saturating every thing they did.
The acknowledgement that they wanted each other had been testing Schuldig's control to the extreme, and Yohji had been tense and agitated as he tried to accept this new side of himself. Things were only going to get worse, it seemed, until they got some real distance between them. Schuldig rubbed his face, aware that he'd stained the trousers of his suit with mud. Yohji looked broken. Ever since they'd found each other emotions had run high, and both men were exhausted, worn through with work and pain and mood swings.
Schuldig didn't dread the separation now, rather the reunion later that day. Being with Yohji was a sure sign some emotion or other would take over, he'd be high on anger or frustration or lo- need, and like any drug he'd come crashing down again. He was used to this, with drugs, but the only chemicals in his system were manufactured by it.
Yohji's hand brushed his, and Schuldig realised he was thinking much along the same lines.
"We need to bring it forwards," Schuldig whispered. "A week's too long."
Yohji considered for a second. "If I find what I want, we can do it tomorrow. It will be much riskier, though."
"It's me we were worried about before, wasn't it? I'm up to it now. Hell, I need a challenge. We need somewhere to stash the cash, but we're potentially home free." Schuldig smirked at the early morning joggers and dog walkers. "What are you going to do with your money?"
"Pay off my debts. I'll say, I don't know, I pawned something. I'll keep 'pawning' stuff 'til it's paid off, then buy somewhere nice. What about you?"
"I'm okay for debts, overall." Schuldig shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll convince them I've paid them off, then get a car. I've missed my car. Oh, and somewhere to live. Bachelor pad."
Yohji watched him. "Life is weird," he said with a grin.
They parted at the gate and Schuldig found himself in a tiny cubicle in the bank. During the course of the day he managed to promote himself several times until he was in a position to enter the vault at whim. The customers bored him, he couldn't read and write well enough to do the paperwork, his fellow employees were nothing but sheep and the secretary didn't want to sleep with him. At the end of the day he pocketed someone else's key to the vault and hoped no one would think to check the records that night, when he wasn't there to keep them from noticing the blatantly obvious.
Yohji spent the day in a public library, flirting and teasing the female staff, no matter how unattractive, until he gained access to local building plans and site maps. It took cunnilingus, the most Yohji could trust himself with when sex still made his hands convulse, with the matronly head-librarian, who in Yohji's opinion would have looked a lot better with less makeup and nicer clothes, to get hold of the bank's blueprints. Not even the most public of libraries would hand out a bank's blueprints. He lied very creatively, something Schuldig wouldn't have done, convincing her that he was doing a university PHD on whether banks got more lenient planning permission, due to the security measures that had to be taken, compared with, say, florists. His poor clothes and lank hair convinced her he definitely was a university student. And as she was old enough to be his grandmother, she appreciated the attention he gave her.
Schuldig and Yohji met on their way back to the flat. Yohji had memorised the floor plans, Schuldig had learnt the vault codes. They needed a method of removing the cash, a getaway vehicle. They needed to pick a time.
Schuldig produced an answer. He could sneak Yohji in just before the bank closed. Once closed, the armoured van would come by the back to deal with the loose cash accumulated over the day. They would knock out the guards and disguise themselves to steal the van. It solved most of the problems. They would then need another van so that they could pull over and switch the money from one to the other. Schuldig would then drive on and take the armoured van to wherever it was supposed to go and confabulate his way through, convincing the staff that he'd actually brought the money. Yohji would take the cash in the other van and hide it in the apartment. The only hitch: security measures. If they needed magnetic cards or keys they could be in a bit of trouble. Still, hopefully the real guards would have them, so Schuldig and Yohji could steal them.
Yohji had asked what confabulate meant. Schuldig told him it was what people did in exams. Make stuff up that sounded about right.
It was early evening, but both elected to get as much sleep as possible. Schuldig collapsed onto the narrow bed, oblivious to the potential problem of oversleeping. His mind was lost in the previous night, wondering if Brad would put in a repeat performance. He wasn't sure what he'd do if the seer did.
Yohji sat down next to him, hand curled in hair. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.
"Hnh?" Schuldig sat up a little to give Yohji room to lie down. The Japanese man lay on his back, keeping the maximum amount of space between the two of them. Schuldig sighed and settled an arm around Yohji, warm and heavy.
"Haven't had to ask that before," Yohji mused. "So, penny for your thoughts?"
"Last night," Schuldig said without thinking. Yohji immediately got the wrong impression, and Schuldig's despondent attitude left Yohji confused and disheartened.
"Which bit?" Yohji asked apprehensively. He kicked himself for it, but it did matter to him. He hadn't let someone get to him like this since Asuka. Oh, it wasn't the same. He wasn't willing to die for Schuldig, not by a long shot. They wanted and needed each other, and their complimenting personalities had turned this desire to be together into something bordering on genuine friendship. It would have been a real friendship if it weren't for the mutual attraction they felt for each other. It made life so awkward. Feeling Schuldig's erection pressed against his hip, Yohji sighed. They couldn't be friends when one party wanted to be lovers. Well, honestly, when both parties wanted it. But they couldn't be lovers either, though Yohji wasn't keen to advertise precisely why.
"The bit when I decided to go out and find you," Schuldig replied. "And the bit just before."
"Do you regre-" Yohji shut himself up. Enough self-defeating questions for one evening. Schuldig clearly wasn't feeling communicative, and there was no point tearing himself up about what he might or might not mean with each word. They both needed to be clear headed for the heist.
"No regrets," Schuldig grinned. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at his friend. "I had a visitor. You know the bank manager? You think it would be okay if I killed him?"
Yohji stared up at him. it took him a second to catch up with this lightening change of topic. "Has he done anything in particular?" he asked cautiously. "A murder charge would make us a hell of a lot hotter than a mere robbery."
"Rape, murder, adultery, being an absolute bastard… Sort of guy who is too small to gain Kritiker's notice but too big to fall under the law." Schuldig let himself back down again, sliding a hand under Yohji's shirt to caress the hot skin. "I wouldn't ask if I thought you wouldn't agree."
"No, you'd just go ahead and do it," Yohji observed wryly, and correctly. "Easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission, eh?"
Schuldig chuckled. His hand teased a little hair, fingers brushing a nipple. Yohji tensed, but said nothing. Schuldig took this as an invitation and reaching his other arm behind Yohji, manoeuvring so that Yohji's head was resting on it. He nuzzled the join between neck and shoulder where Yohji's pulse throbbed hard and fast.
"I thought we were doing this so we could get out of here, away from this," Yohji said tersely.
"You want it, Yotan. You need it. It's been so long…" Schuldig purred.
"Get off of me," Yohji said carefully. Something in his tone made Schuldig pause. Yohji was afraid. Well, that was to be expected. He'd never really done anything with a guy. Schuldig had every intention of being gentle but… Yohji wasn't afraid for himself. He was afraid for Schuldig.
That distinction made Schuldig pull back. Yohji was clinging onto the futon for dear life. For Schuldig's dear life.
"Scheisse," Schuldig whispered. "Gott, Yohji, I didn't realise. I mean, I knew, but I thought…"
"You thought the asylum cured all," Yohji said bitterly. "You knew I was still tempted when I was around women. You meant well, I don't doubt." Yohji sat up, drawing his knees into his chest, looping his arms gently around them. "Sure, Schuldig, I'm scared of us. But I'm not an idiot. I don't fight the future. It's going to happen, if we stay together any longer. But one of us won't survive it."
Schuldig frowned. "If you had your hands full…" he suggested vaguely. He hadn't realised Yohji wanted sex. He'd thought… he'd thought Yohji was just nervous, 'like a virgin', and a bit homophobic. He hadn't thought Yohji was a serial killer. That had blithely passed over his head.
"Schuldig, I'd strangle you. You think I haven't lain here night after night, trying to work out a way we could be together? If you tied me up, if I kept my hands behind my back, if I couldn't see… I can't, Schuldig. Go and find yourself some good lay in a seedy club. Quit wasting your time waiting for me."
"Woah, back up there," Schuldig smirked. "You lie here lusting after me? How the fuck did I miss that?"
Yohji chuckled. "You thought it was you, I'll bet. Come on, we need to sleep if we're going to pull this off."
Schuldig gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah, because we're both going to be getting a lot of sleep after that little revelation," he growled. " Come on, pair of handcuffs…"
"No!" Yohji looked pained. He stood up and sat on the toilet, broken lid down. The glass between the shower and the room still hadn't been replaced, but it gave such a dismal trickle of water anyway it was obvious the glass had only been there for modesty's sake.
"Now what?" Schuldig asked, justifiably annoyed. He couldn't understand why, if they were both so hot for each other, Yohji would let anything stand in the way. They'd find some way around this problem.
Yohji shook his head, elbows on his knees. "I can't do bondage. Not after… everything." Schuldig frowned and bent towards him, sheet pooling at his waist to tent slightly over his groin. Yohji gave a half smile at Schuldig's naked torso, finally able to accept that this was what he wanted, what he lusted after. Schuldig gave him a questioning look and Yohji let him enter his mind.
"I… see," Schuldig gave him a sympathetic look. "I hadn't thought of that. I guess… we've both been through a lot. It never occurred to me it would affect you... us."
"It never does, Schuldig," Yohji said with a tolerant sigh. Schuldig crawled over and rested his head against Yohji's thigh. Yohji ran his fingers through the coarse hair. "I hate it! Everything! We work and we toil and we try, and how are we rewarded? With a dump like this, with this tension and frustration, with pain and bitterness. What is all this blood, sweat and tears for?"
"Mud, debt and fear," Schuldig sighed. "Life's like that. It's like the bank; it pays you when you're rich and charges you for being broke."
"I hate it," Yohji said sullenly. "It's driving me insane."
"You and me both, pet." Schuldig nuzzled against Yohji's leg, kissing and nibbling the soft skin. Yohji groaned as Schuldig's hands nipped and teased his skin, tracing patterns across his upper thighs and abdomen, circling his groin, spiralling towards it.
"Schuldig, stop," Yohji begged. "We can't. Schuldig…" The rest of his words were lost in a guttural moan as Schuldig's hands reached their final destination. Yohji gripped the toilet tightly, willing his hands to stay clutched to the white (well, creamy brown with brown-black cracks) porcelain. He whimpered as Schuldig's skilled hands were replaced by an even more skilled mouth. Yohji gasped as the hot, wet tongue traced down his shaft. Slowly, almost tenderly, Schuldig brought a gasping and trembling Yohji to climax. Yohji let go of the seat reflexively as his head arched back and his hands shot out of their own accord.
Both Schuldig and Yohji's eyes were glazed and their breathing shallow, but Schuldig was also started to turn blue and make tiny choked sounds. Yohji's fingers gripped tighter, digging into Schuldig's windpipe.
'Stop!' Schuldig reached out to Yohji with his mind. 'Gott, stop! Yohji, let go!'
Yohji didn't stop. He lowered his head so he could watch the life slipping between his fingers, watch Schuldig clawing at those slender digits so firmly clasped around his neck, and watch the darkening face contrast with the orange hair spilling over his tanned hands.
Suddenly, Yohji's eyes glazed. He removed his hands and sat on them. Schuldig scrambled backwards, pressing himself against the far wall, one hand to his throat. It hurt to breathe and he realised he was on the verge of blacking out. That last shred of concentration had gone into usurping Yohji's mind and body to make him let go. As Yohji came back to himself Schuldig lost his last grip on consciousness and slid gratefully into the darkness.
Yohji stared at the unconscious form slumped against the wall; an already blackening circle of bruises ringing his neck like a choker. 'Choker…' Yohji's stomach lurched and he jerked from his seat so he could vomit into the dirty bowl of the toilet. 'I did it again. I did it to Schuldig. I did it again…' echoed in his head, the refrain repeating ad infinitum.
Yohji stood up slowly, head spinning. Turning around, he saw Schuldig again, still sagging against the off white plaster and chipboard. It was too much. With a strangled cry ('…strangled…') Yohji fled, heedless of the tears that streamed down his face or the sobs that escaped his throat.
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