Unreciprocated
Author's Note: A plain little ficlet that I wrote in about fifteen minutes. I'm sure that there are probably dozens like it out on the internet but I was bored and in the mood for a vignette as well as a little BN. . . Also I like to just prove to myself every now and then that I can write things that only have shounen-ai, and not full blown lemony YAOI. -''-
It's short and unoriginal, but I hope you like it anyway.
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They were laughing at him again. . . His childhood tormenters. Fingers pointed, others just stared. It wasn't the constant mockery that hurt so deeply, it was the fear. All the people around him, even those who persecuted were afraid. Such raw power shouldn't be in one so small and seemingly innocent. He was the devil they said, a demon with an angelic face. . .
He tried to scream, tried to explain, but he was frozen. He could not move his hands to wipe the tears that streamed down his face. Paralysis. . . Even his telekinetic powers refused to-
It was a violent shaking which awoke Nagi from his dreamful restlessness. It was the same nightmare he'd had a dozen times or more, once again ended prematurely by his leader, the leader of Schwarz, Brad Crawford.
"Crawford?. . ." He ventured, his breathing calming as he sat up in his bed. The room was fairly dark aside from the dim green glow from the number on his radio. 3 A.M. didn't the older man ever sleep?
The man removed his hands from their places upon the frightened boy's shoulders. "I saw that this time you'd end up tearing the apartment apart."
Dreams telling of dreams to come? It seemed a little unusual, but Nagi had become accustomed to abnormality a long, long time ago.
"Sorry," he muttered, looking downward- as if Crawford could see his eyes anyway.
"It can't be helped," the man stated matter-o-factly. In a lapse of his stoic façade, the precog gently stroked some of the boy's hair back, his hands carrying out the gesture instinctively in the dark. Giving into his own instincts Nagi leaned in to rest his forehead against the man's shoulder, then encircled the man's middle with his arms. The sign of affection was allowed but not returned.
"Do you ever have nightmares Crawford?. . ." Silently a tear or two rolled down the boy's cheeks but they were ignored by both.
". . . Everyone does. We do, Weiß, Schrient, and normal people alike. It's best not to concern yourself with them too much." With that he finally pulled out of the embrace and headed for the door.
"Goodnight Crawford," the boy sighed as he lay back down and closed his eyes, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before his day began. It was always early when he awoke, but rarely did he ever consider his days bright.
If the man replied as he exited the room Nagi did not notice.
Crawford was very much surprised to see Schuldig standing in the hallway, his face oddly expressionless. "You shouldn't do that you know, Brad."
The older member of Schwarz merely let out a little snort of distain. "And since when have you been anyone's conscience?"
"The kids in love with you," the German replied plaintively. When he received no response to the stated obvious he continued. "How can I put this like you'd say it?. . ." The man then grinned. "Having emotions in the way throws off the team dynamic."
The American paused for a moment, his countenance unreadable. ". . . That's why I don't reciprocate it." His words were low but clear as he pushed past Schuldig and continued down the hall, back to his own room.
It was all the German could do to keep the shock from his own face. The astonishment was soon replaced with that characteristic smirk and hint of sadism to his eyes. "I guess even the clairvoyant can't see everything Bradley. . ."