WK is not mine.
Warnings: strong language, drug references, references to underage drinking and child prostitution, underage tobacco use (which is now, apparently, cause to up a movie's rating, according to the AFA's rating of 'Coffee and Cigarettes,' those anti-smoking S.O.B.'s), implied homosexuality, sexual references, etc. Just in this chapter.
A sharp-featured, orange-haired young man sat in a white-and-beige living room, watching TV with his friend and partner in crime, a white-haired and scarred boy in his late teens. Well, he was watching. The nut-job beside him on the couch was too busy cutting the stitching on the upholstery with meticulous, surgical movements, his favorite knife flashing briefly every time it caught the light filtering from the window.
It was starting to really piss off the other man.
Finally, he snapped when the glint of light hit his eyes for the billionth time. Moving with unnatural speed, he reached out and caught his friend's wrist.
"Would you stop that, Farf?" he snarled.
His friend gave him a look that would've been convincingly innocent had he not known the madman. "Stop what?" he asked.
The redhead made an abrupt, annoyed hand motion. "That. With the knife. The sun keeps shining in my eyes!"
The boy grinned, revealing filed white canines the same color as his pale skin and bleached-white hair. It was more predatory than anything else, to tell the truth. "D'you have something else that I could cut, perhaps?" he asked, licking lightly at his lips and staring at his friend's exposed arms.
With a shiver, he released the psychotic son-of-a-bitch, wishing he hadn't spoken. But it was so fucking annoying; what was he supposed to do? He growled softly, his lower lip protruding faintly as Farf resumed his activities.
A short, skinny Japanese teenager walked past, headed towards the door, in baggy black cargoes and a 'Linkin Park' tee shirt. The redheaded man leapt to his feet and hurried over to the kid's side.
"Take me with you, Nagi!" he begged, grabbing the younger boy's arm desperately.
Nagi looked up at him with dark, hooded eyes. "Let go of my arm, Schuldig" he said flatly, "And I will."
Abruptly, Schuldig dropped his skinny arm. "I'll drive you," he offered, sliding his feet into a pair of bright red leather heeled boots. He couldn't help it; he loved gaudy boots. Farf mocked him constantly for being 'worse than a woman' about footwear.
Nagi shook his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. "I wanna walk."
The redhead shrugged. "Whatever." As long as he was away from psycho-bitch on the couch.
"I heard that!" said Farf, grinning contentedly.
Oops. He'd projected without meaning to again. Schuldig frowned; normally he had much better control over his telepathy.
"I think everyone in Tokyo heard that, Farf," muttered Nagi.
Now the redhead chewed on his lip. What the hell was wrong with him lately?
Yes, Schuldig was a telepath; apparently he was one of the most powerful in the world. But the file on the other person was, for some reason, impossible for even Nagi to access. Nagi, the telekinetic hacker so very wrapped up in his miserable 'Nobody understands me' emo bullshit that Schu generally tried to avoid spending much time with him.
Nagi gave him an angry glare that knocked him across the coffee table, scattering magazines and a bowl of chips around.
"If you don't like to be around me, then don't come with me, asshole," snarled the boy, turning and leaving, the door slamming with supernatural force behind him.
From the couch, Farf cackled. "Emo little Nagi," he echoed, spinning his knife around delightedly. Schuldig spared him a scorching, furious scowl as he picked himself gingerly off the ground before stalking out of the apartment, attempting a door slam to rival Nagi's.
Nagi stormed through the streets, seething. Why was the telepath such a fucking douchebag? Couldn't he ever lay off? Didn't he realize that people had emotions, and that, despite his youth, he did, too? He was sixteen, and had been through fucking hell. Of all people, Schu ought to be the most sympathetic, and not just because he was a telepath. They'd been through such similar things.
Both were abandoned by their parents and later found by Rosenkreuz, wandering the streets, Nagi being treated like a freak of nature and a demon because of his abilities, and Schuldig convinced that he was insane. Both had been through the brutal life of making money the best way that pretty little boys could make it—prostitution. They both knew what it was to be beaten and raped and treated like the scum of the earth. Schuldig was a victim, too, and he dealt with his past by getting drunk, and high, and laid by a new person each night.
And lately, keeping his shields (which he'd been experimenting around with, and had added a bit of a telekinetic touch to) very tight, Nagi had been following the redhead's example.
It wasn't hard to find people who were delighted at the prospect of fucking someone with his skills and looks. It was even easier to find drugs. When you're that age, drugs are easier to come by than alcohol. Anyway, Nagi hated the hangover.
He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and feeling the delicious nicotine calm his anger, not noticing where his feet drew him, not realizing until he felt a jolt of psychic energy nearby, and looked over through the window of the restaurant he was passing to see two people topple over, a moment before a stab of pain lanced through his head and all of the glass on the whole block exploded outwards from the windows. He attempted to shield himself from the shards with his telekinesis, but the pain in his head made that impossible, and he dropped to the ground, ducking.
Somewhere, he heard a child crying, speaking in English, and he wondered dimly why there was an American baby in a shitty sushi joint far from anything a tourist would want to see.
Sitting at the bar of a crappy sushi restaurant that he'd never heard of, Schuldig ordered a bottle of sake without a second thought. He didn't realize that he'd come to a part of town he wasn't overly familiar with, nor that he was in a shit-hole place that he would never ordinarily have come to. What he was busy with, aside from his too-sour sake, was staring at a woman who sat at one of the tables, holding a very young child in her arms.
Her head was bent as she stroked the little—he peered over, craning his neck to see around her arm—boy's face, tendrils of blonde hair spilling out from beneath the hood of a baggy sweatshirt. For some reason, he felt drawn towards her, like he had a bond with her that he couldn't see. Not in a sexual way—no, he'd never sleep with anyone who had a kid, unless it was a one-night thing. The thought of such a thing never even crossed his mind, oddly enough. He was twenty-three, a horny slut of a young man who would fuck just about anyone. Hell, he'd do Nagi if the boy weren't such a whiny little emo bitch.
He had no idea how long he was staring at the woman. Because, suddenly, she looked up at him and their eyes—perfectly matched jade blue—clashed in a sudden, wild fury, and he felt like his mind was blasting open, crushing against hers so that they were, all of a sudden aware, in the strangest way, of who they were, who they were to each other how they were connected because they were connected they were twins she was the telepath he'd been so curious about over the years the other telepath who was as powerful as he was no he was the telepath she'd been so curious about over the years the other telepath who was as powerful as she was they were equals in power they couldn't stop it couldn't control it—
And images poured into his mind as they poured into hers, and they knew, Jesus Christ they fucking knew why. They knew why. Twins, twins taken in by Rosenkreuz and separated there, their memories wiped so that they didn't remember one another, and kept forever separate so that this wouldn't happen. Because together, they realized now, together they were unstoppable. Together, they could tear apart the fucking world.
In that instant, which was, to any onlooker, only a second after they'd looked at each other, both of them passed out.
I apologize to anyone who was offended by me mocking 'Linkin Park.' I can't help it.
Also, I am having some trouble deciding on a pairing, and wanted some reader input. Right now it's leaning towards Schu/Nagi, although I might go for Schu/Yohji Yohji/Schu. Review to tell me which you'd prefer.