Chapter Eight: A Parting
[KEN]
The pen feels strange in my hand, the smooth paper white and pure, awaiting my words. Ran gave me this journal last spring; he loved to read, and, disappointed that I didn't share his passion, urged me to try writing instead. I laughed and promised him I would, but never had, until now.
There wasn't a need before, really; Ran was always around to talk to whenever I needed an ear. I suppose now this will have to do.
Dear Ran:
It's a miserable day. Not just in the fact that today generally sucks, but the weather is bad, too; my soccer practice was cancelled, so I decided to stay home and write to you. Funny, isn't it? I have nowhere to send this, but I need to do it, anyway.
It's been exactly fifteen days since I woke up and found it. The Note. It appeared innocent enough sitting on the kitchen counter, written in blue ink on blank stationary in your beautiful script.
The characters told a simple story:
this cross is no longer mine to bear
Pretty cold, ne? Just like that, "goodbye."
Yohji flew into a panic, convinced that it was a suicide note, until Omi calmly pointed out that people intent on ending their own lives don't normally bring along the majority of their clothes, and certainly not their collection of awful sweaters. Honestly, who would want those things in heaven?
So, as hard as it's been to accept, you've simply left us, God only knows for where. I should have expected it, really. We all should have. You were acting, to be perfectly honest, pretty damn nuts. You were shutting us out until your silence eventually exploded with violence.
I think inside we've all got different ideas as to exactly why you've gone, and we're all doing different things to keep together.
Omi's been glued to his computer hitting the intelligence circuit, but, like the investigation into your kidnapping and the sons of bitches behind it, he's still drawing blanks. Odd, isn't it? We find it so hard to believe that Kritiker hasn't been on top of you, considering that we're all marked for membership for life, so it seems, and considering that they probably know our every move. At any rate, Manx hasn't come by, and we're getting nothing from above. All I know is, if those bastards are keeping us in the dark about what's going on with you, I'll tear out their throats.
Yohji blames himself, I know. He fessed up that he had stormed into the shop and hollered at you, and feels that he pushed you over the edge. Stupid, really, that Yohji would think that he ever had that much influence over you. I know that you wouldn't let that get to you; if anything, you would normally laugh at Yohji trying to be all chivalrous and keep on going. You know -- if the situation were different and you hadn't attacked me the night before.
I really can't blame the guys for how their acting, but I know that if anyone drove you away it was me, and my stupid belief that you'd could come around on your own. I mean, sure, I had gone to you several times, and yeah, I had tried to get you to talk, but really, in the end it wasn't enough, was it? You needed me to keep you grounded, and I wasn't up to the task. I guess the only thing I can do is say that I'm sorry - even if it is too little, too damn late.
I think that the real low point of these past two weeks was the call last a few days ago from your sister. A hysterical teenaged girl demanding to know what was wrong with you wasn't exactly what I wanted to deal with, not mention that my hope that you had at least kept in contact with her were destroyed. I basically had to tell that girl that her brother had, in effect, disappeared.
I cursed you, after that. She's only a girl, you know? I didn't think that to her you would have been so cold. But the thing is, she's strong, she'll survive. You, on the other hand? Who knows, especially after how you looked that last time I saw you...
I stop writing and stared down at the page, now full of my sloppy handwriting of wobbly characters, the ink slightly running from the tears which had slipped down onto the page. I can't bring myself to write about that last night.
When he last came to me, he cried; tears trailing down porcelain cheeks and reflecting the moonlight. It was the first time I'd seen him crack since he was attacked, his fragility was exposed in such a heartbreaking way. Yet, instead of letting me hold him, he ran away, gone before I could take a hold of the situation.
In that state, I don't know what will happen to him; all I can do is hope. Hope's a funny thing, you know. Despite all the shit that's happened, despite the pain, I feel so much of it now, that I've even started praying again despite those crazy nightmares. And if that isn't ironic, I don't know what is.
I pick myself up from the sofa and wander into his room, curling up on his bed and breathing in his scent from his pillow. It's rich and warm, enveloping my senses and momentarily fooling me into thinking that Ran will place his arms around me at any instant.
It's been exactly fifteen days and this is the first time I've cried.
I think that I've really lost him, this time.
[RAN]
I'm becoming a monster.
When Aya-chan and I were little, she'd sneak into my room at night, her eyes wide and lower lip trembling. I would let her lie in bed next to me, and listen to her high, frightened voice tell me about the creatures that lived in her closest and under her bed. She was always convinced that while with me, she was immune to their powers, that I would protect her.
What I can't let her know is that I've now become the very type of creature that I'd protected her against.
*You're not a monster. No more than anyone else, anyway.*
The familiar voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back from the edge of sleep. Great, just what I needed. Sitting up sharply in bed, I groan slightly and check my watch. 12:33 am. Bastard.
*You weren't sleeping, anyway.*
Point.
It's not that I mind him bothering me at night, anyway, only that it's been so damn peaceful these last few days. Other than Schuldig calling me out of my small shoebox of a flat and meeting me at various seedy establishments nightly, there really hasn't been anything else that I've had to think about. It's been two weeks of utter and complete silence. No Koneko, no fangirls, no team, no missions. No Aya-chan. No Ken. No Abysinnian, no Ran.
They're all better off without me, anyway.
I've pretty much sat in the same room for this time, more than half expecting to find a Kritiker team swarming upon me any minute. At least if I stay in one place, I know that I am allowed to be alive, and not merely being chased.
Only now it seems that I am being chased, but by a cocky German redhead who seemed to delight in invading my mind and making fun of my confusion.
Schuldig. Guilty
He was teasing me, last time we were together, about the way I said his name: "Juuderchi." I can't remember for what purpose, other than sheer boredom, that I asked him what the damn thing meant. How ironic, as guilty is most of what I feel when I'm around him. And yet I can't seem to break free. He has become my drug of choice, addictive and sharp; seductive and consuming.
I can't explain why, but when I am with him my thoughts are focussed, my mind is clear. Our "conversations" have been growing steadily more complex, as I'm no longer shocked to find someone else in my mind. In fact, I've grown quite a liking for mental sarcasm, and have discovered that mind games can flow both ways.
*I went by the Koneko and the flat to check up on the kitties. You haven't been back since your dramatic exit, have you?*
*Congratulations for your stunning powers of observation. I certainly hope you don't expect a reward for 'finding' me.*
*Of course I do.*
*What would that be?*
*You.*
*Why the fuck do you care?*
*I'm horny*
I smirk. This sounds familiar. *You'll have to come up with a better reason than that if I'm going to come out to you and haul my ass to one of those filthy hotels.*
*I didn't hear you complaining about what you did to me in the last one of those "filthy hotels," did I? Look, why don't you just let me in?*
He knows the answer to that one. *Not in my home, Schuldig.*
For some reason he seems to drop some of the playfulness from his 'tone.' *Look...the powers that be are up to something. I don't know what, but it involves you. Can we meet?*
*Why the hell are you asking? I didn't expect you to continue respecting my privacy....I'm assuming you've already figured out where I am?*
*Actually, I'm right outside.*
Figures.
*Look, may I come in? There's an old bag out here starting to look at me strangely, and I'm more than a bit disturbed at what she's thinking...*
*What's that?*
*It involves me and the dilapidated sofa in that back alley...oh, eww...*
I couldn't help it, I laughed, and crossed the room to unbolt the door. This is the first time I've broken my own rule, and let him into my "home."
The door swings open and in he steps, confident and seductive as ever.
"Two days, red. You win, you made me come to you. Now it's your turn to beg."
As he turns to shut the door, I reach out and pull him into my chest, his back locked against my taller frame. He is still against me for a moment, listening as I breathe in his ear.
"Never, Schuldig. The day I beg from you is the day I die."
I turn him around roughly, and pull him into a harsh kiss, his taste flooding my senses and making me forget all else except this.
~~~~`~,~@