Title: Sometimes
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and all its characters are property of their respected owners. I'm just a lonely writer who has no money whatsoever, so please don't sue me, because it won't be worth it.
Author's Notes: It's 8:30 am and I just woke up to find myself with the thirst of writing. So I've satisfied that need by writing this story. Please, please review and tell me what you think.
Sometimes I forget how much a child he still is... Somewhere between the death threats and the bloody massacres, I forget, only to be reminded by a soft tapping on the door. With keen ears I can hear him push the door open slightly with shaking hands, as the bundle of blankets and flesh enter unannounced. He pads his way on all fours, fearful of my disapproval, until he reaches the head of my bed.
My back is turned towards him and in a spilt-second he must determine my state: am I asleep or merely mocking him? But every time his decision is the same - and he slips under the comforter, his shaking form greeting my back as he snuggles into my side.
He started this years ago... After he was released from Rosenkreuz. Before his dreams he ran from were not as horrid as the ones he now invites. They were filled with the childish apparitions of monsters and villains, images that are not so hard to overcome. But now... reality fills his nightmares - something no amount of soothing or empty promises can erase. And sometimes I forget that.
He's fifteen, but most days he acts five. In his bundle of blankets and sheets, two indigo eyes blink at my back. His voice has been deemed mute by his brain and I find that the only sounds I hear are the incoherent mumbles that cunningly escape his small lips. Soft arms slowly, steadily, engulf my torso as a light head gently leans on my back.
Sometimes I forget how much he really thinks of me. I'm always cold, but he still finds warmth in me. I'm always cruel, yet he still slinks in here some nights, desperate to find a concerned hand. It's been a few years since our first meeting and we have grown from our former states. Yet it still feels like we haven't grown - that maybe we're shrinking... That he's still five and I'm only eight.
I should consider myself lucky - I'm a leader to him, not a daddy. If it were another way, I would surely give in to madness. I've never dealt with him bringing home a lost puppy, or breaking an expensive window with a new baseball, or even teaching him how to ride a two-wheeler bicycle. Ha... I don't even think he knows how to ride a bicycle. But it's never been my responsibility to teach him. I don't have to take him fishing or hiking or rent scary movies and watch them with him. All I have to do is lead him. I'm his leader. And he never forgets that....
"...mmmnnn..."
...except on nights like this one. He forgets that I command him. And I? I forget who I aspire to be.
"...Crawford... thanks..."
And some nights, it's okay to forget that.
The End
A/N's: Reviews are much appreciated!! Please with a cherry on top! Arigato!