[The name of my OC is Lydia Romanoff and is made up by me.]

Schrödinger licked his lips.

"Can I ask you a question?"

A wave of possibly questions passed through my mind, but none of them made any sense to me so I had to be prepared for absolutely anything.

But he simply asked:

"Is it true?"

"What?"

He asked again:

"Is it true? The things the pretty girl said about you and Jack?"

I couldn't tell what upset me more; the fact that he brought up the subject about Jack or that he'd just called Penelope pretty or maybe just the question in general. He stood up from his seat and walked around his desk to lean on the side of it, arms crossed and sharp elbows bugging me to no end.

He smiled at me, awaiting my answer.

"Yes and no." I said quietly, trying to push every upcoming thought about pretty Penelope to the side. This was more important anyway, because I could tell him the truth, at last.

"I did see him yesterday. I was hungry, and I happened to bump into him. He gave me something to eat and I stayed in his room, but-" Schrödinger suddenly pushed himself off the desk, startling me. His eyes gleamed.

"Go on." he said and smiled, but it was something odd with that smile.

"Well we didn't really, like Penelope said, I…"

It got harder and harder for me to talk. Schrödinger was standing in front of my seat, the lonely paper I doodled on was trapped between his two gloved hands that had been placed soundlessly on the desk. Tilting his head slightly, he glanced at the paper before staring tenderly at me. I swallowed something in my throat.

"Schrödinger, you know I wouldn't…" I began. I really didn't want him to think anything like that about me because where he stood, he stood completely magnificently.

"I would never..." my whole mouth felt dry and it was actually difficult for me to manage a single word.

He leaned forward, his eyes. His eyes. His eyes. His eyes. I'm getting out of ideas to explain them. His smile widened; as if he could read my mind.

"Go on." he said.

"I can't when you're looking at me like that!" I blurted out and covered my warm face with my hands, the pressure from his stare overwhelming me. I was so embarrassed. I can't believe I actually fell before him. He let out a small chuckle as he removed my hands from my eyes.

"I'm not asking for much Lydia." he whispered, still holding onto my wrists. My eyes slowly bounced up and down his lips.

He succeeded to sit down on the table surface - on my masterpiece doodle - with his legs crossed and bent over the edge on the side. He sat turned to me with his upper body, not letting go of my wrists. It was strange. I wondered what kind of capacity that existed underneath the fabric that concealed his hands. He leaned in towards me and the skin on my neck was tense in expectancy for what would happen next.

"Did you sleep with him?" he asked then, and I immediately tried to pull away, turned off by his unnecessary question. But he wouldn't let me go anywhere since his grip was hard as stone.

"No." I said grimly and shrank in the chair, realizing that it was useless to keep struggling.

"But if that ever happens, then you're the one to blame." I muttered as I tried my hardest to avoid his eyes.

I found myself pouting like a little child, but I had every reason too. Of course I never slept with Jack.

Schrödinger's grip suddenly softened as he slowly released me. I carefully put my hands in safety on my lap while I looked up and examined him. He was frozen like a statue and his eyes were wide as he stared at me. My heart dropped to my stomach when I discovered that he looked extremely shocked. So shocked that I sort of regretted what I said previously. It was scaring me.

"How so?" he asked and blinked a few times, yet, the shock didn't leave him.

"You were the one who made me want to be soothed by someone else, and he happened to be the only one available." I explained carefully, but I was ashamed at how desperate I sounded.

He slowly turned away from me, sitting upright without paying me any attention as the whole side of his being was facing me and his sculpted profile was visible. I was face to face with the Swastika on his upper arm.

What in the world had I done?

"Why don't we just move on? Let's forget about all this, shall we? If it makes you feel better, I won't talk to him anymore." I let out an uncertain chuckle, not sure if I managed to break the ice. I wanted us to leave all this behind so badly, but Schrödinger's gaze was way beyond my optimistic words. "Schrödinger, please-"

"So it's my fault, huh?" he smiled lazily, his absent eyes gloomy. He jumped off the table in one swift motion, the doodled paper almost flying away with him when he proceeded to stand in front of me and the desk again.

"Then I don't have to punish you..." he said softly, almost sounding relieved. He slammed his hand on top of the paper and I jumped at the sudden impact. But the loud noise did nothing to me in comparison to what happened next.

"Schrödinger? What are you- Oh my God!" I screamed.

Schrödinger had nailed his hand to the table with a knife. The back of his hand was cut through with a blade that pinned his hand down to the desk, the white fabric of his glove united with the thin paper. I was so horrified that I shot up from my seat and knocked over the chair. Paralyzed, tears began to form in my eyes when I slowly realized what he'd done. His expression was blank. He was looking at me with glossy eyes, and his smirk wasn't there. It was gone.

He did nothing. He said nothing. But deep down in his soul, a fire of desire burned within him. Black blood. A sea of tender passion was flooding through his veins. Because when he looked at me, with those glossy eyes, eyebrows nonchalantly formed in bows above his gaze and lips drawn in a straight line, I knew that he wanted me for something, and he would tear down everything in his path to accomplish that something. Including himself.

I did not dare to look at the desk underneath our tense eye contact. The thickness of the air could be cut through with a blade. I had tried to open up my mouth many times in order to speak, but failed every time. My tongue and lips were incapable to collaborate with me and I wanted to cry and vomit at the same time. I was a human frozen in stone.

I didn't want to look at him, but my eyes couldn't move to anything else. I hopelessly faced the ruby orbs with shaky hands and a damaged mind. This moment has struck roots within me, and the unwanted memory has already carved itself into my brain and will remain with me, forever. Schrödinger didn't move an inch; he looked the same. I don't even think he has blinked a single time after he stabbed himself.

All he did was looking at me. Expectantly. Eagerly. Boldly. Greedily. Enviously. Pleasurably. Inquisitively. Curiously. I'm not sure which. Maybe none of the listed. Maybe all of them at once. I'm not sure what was hidden beyond his shiny gaze. I couldn't tell. I could never tell. I took a deep breath and shakily exhaled.

"Why?" my voice trembled, as did my lips, and pupils.

"Answer me." my voice cracked. "Please..." I whispered hoarsely. It took painfully long for him to answer. It was like he lingered his answer intentionally, emotionally abusing me.

"You look so vulnerable." he finally said. "But aren't I'm the one in the vulnerable position here?" he chuckled, his laughter biting and tearing my soul to smithereens. His free hand scratched the back of his neck and he was looking at his flat-collapsed hand with amused eyes. The knife was standing up all by itself, stuck to his body and the wood underneath.

I finally was able to entangle me from myself as I realized how dangerously naive the boy was. I shot towards the desk, terrified and disgusted, but I was there and I had to do something.

Schrödinger gently gazed at me the whole time, interested in what I was about to do. I placed my hand firmly on his nailed one and grabbed the handle of the knife with the other, pulling it as hard as I could. The unpleasant feeling of pulling the sharp blade out of his flesh and bones ate at me, and the sound gave me nausea, but I managed to free his hand, shutting my eyes the entire time. Schrödinger didn't even flinch. Instead, he almost looked excited, like a little child watching cake making.

During this moment, he was euphoric, and I was on the verge of collapsing. I tossed the stained knife across the room. The blade clattered to the floor and bounced gently, leaving traces of his blood on the ground. I was almost breathless where I stood, and it felt like I just had saved him from a violent fire, but I still couldn't find inner peace. I could never be certain that it was safe in his presence.

"Oh my, you're really full of surprises, aren't you?!" he chimed, looking at knife far away. He rubbed the palm of his injured hand with his thumb as he did so, immune to the pain. The white fabric of his glove had already hardened along with the coagulation with the blood, which had received a shade of brown. He was grinning at me. My breathing was still unsteady and my heart was in my throat.

The paper that I sat and doodled on minutes ago was now stained in blood, and a deep gash had pierced through it. Whatever I had put on there was no longer visible. The cheap pencil I borrowed from Kevin had rolled down on the floor to join the fallen chair, far away from the bloody knife that could no longer harm any of us. I was looking at him now, carefully for the first time after I freed him from the knife. He was waiting for my answer, as usual.

I can not tell him how scared to death he'd made me at the sight of his fresh blood. Therefore, I remain silent, step around the desk and instead embrace him, careful not to touch his wounded hand. I told myself that all this was my fault. I wanted to normalize him. I couldn't care less about the chains that sometimes mystically disappeared from my wrists any longer or the voices in my head or the missing fruit bowl. I didn't feel the urge to tell Penelope about this, and most importantly, I did no longer long for Jack.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered, his arms hanging limply at his sides. I took this opportunity to take in his scent. It was a funny, peculiar smell that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Of course it wasn't a bad scent; he didn't smell ill, it was just something with him that put me in trance.

Schrödinger rarely hesitated, so he embraced me fully; the bare skin of his elbows and lower arms enveloping me, actually bringing warmth with them. He pressed his whole torso against mine, the many buttons, including his belt and tie made themselves known, but I didn't mind. It felt both right and wrong at the same time, a remarkable feeling, indeed. He managed to put his chin on top of my head, making me rest my head in-between his collarbones.

I could feel his heart throb against his ribcage. His heartbeats were so quiet and slow in comparison with my own, which I didn't hear but could imagine. I knew how hard it was beating, considering his closeness and the feeling of the burning blush on my face, and of course Schrödinger could capture my excited heartbeats too. I could barely feel his featherweight hands slowly making their way down my back; completely forgetting about his wounded hand.

He put his hands on my lumbar region, pulling me closer by my lower back as he closed the gap between the two of us. My heart made itself known even more. It felt like it would break at the knowledge that our bodies almost were one. His hands continued down, until it reached my bottom, making his embrace almost taboo when he touched the private area of mine. I didn't know how to respond to this kind of touch but I forced myself to suffer through it. What is the worst thing that could happen?

The answer to my question might have been answered when he moved down even more, grabbing firmly onto the upper part of my thighs. I allowed him to pick me up, my hands finding his shoulders, and place me on top of one of the desks in the classroom. My arms snaked around his thin neck as he stood as close as he possibly could between my parted knees.

We finally looked at each other again. He carefully placed his palms on the table on either side of me. He leaned in towards me, the smoothness of his gloves helping his fingers to slide on the polished wood, past my sitting form and behind me with ease, well constructed arms getting noticed underneath my lifted arms. His chest was telling me to move in sync with him as he let his body cover my own. When my head made contact with the flat surface, Schrödinger towered over me, his hands grasping onto the edges of the desk above my head. He wasn't as heavy as I imagined and he never betrayed my eyes when he placed his head on my still surviving heart. My hands left his neck as he did so. I placed them at my sides, observing him.

"You know..." he said, reminding me that he had a voice.

"You shouldn't have those kinds of dreams about me." he said quietly.

When he looked back into my eyes, I could see that life had returned to his, or anything that could ever be human with him.

"Let me see it." I said, when sitting down next to Schrödinger on the bed in my room.

Shortly after our little incident in the classroom, our moment got brashly interrupted by Zorin Blitz.

We both got sent back here so Schrödinger could keep an extra eye on me because I had threatened him and the only way to keep me in place was to pin me to the nearest desk and keep me there until another soldier or guard arrived in order to control my temper.

Who knew Schrödinger was able to come up with all that in the loop of a few seconds?

"I've already told you there's nothing for you to worry about!" he scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly.

"Nonsense!" I protested. I wanted to see his hurt hand but he refused.

With a little bit of force, I managed to grab his injured hand. Schrödinger huffed in defeat as I held his gloved hand in my bare ones. The back of his hand was facing upwards but the white fabric covering his knuckles and the rest of it looked awfully clean. I frowned at this.

Strange… Did he change his glove?

My eyes bounced between Schrödinger's, and the mystery on his hand. Did I take the wrong one? No, I'm sure this was it. He's right handed so it must be the left. I gently placed his hand in the palm of mine and ever so slowly began pulling on the thin fabric at the end of his middle finger with the other. The thin glove almost felt like an airless balloon when I'd removed it from his now naked hand and tossed it aside like the wrapper on a popsicle.

His bare hand felt both warm and cold at the same time, but it was soft and his fingers were long and slender. His fingertips curled in towards his palm as he hugged back my hand and returned my touch with his, a touch that almost would be considered tender. I felt satisfied. It felt like I've gotten even closer to him. I was so lost in this moment that it took me a few good seconds to realize the impossible. That his hand was, in fact, uninjured.

I twisted and turned it in different directions in order to find the gash piercing his hand, but it had disappeared into the open air.

Let me see it…

Ruined tissue, skin, veins and bones; the naked wound.

Show it to me.

I could hear a short, almost girly, laugh leaving Schrödinger. Was this his idea of fun?

"I told you there's nothing to worry about!" his thumb caressed the bridge of my knuckles as my fingers rested on his. It was almost like he was going to lean down to kiss my hand, but he didn't.

"But-"

"Now, now…" he interrupted me, but I was quick too.

"I knew it was there an hour ago, I saw it!" I argued.

The stroking of his thumb stopped and he looked at me sternly, but gently.

"Not anymore." be said.

"It can't just disappear!" I had to know what was going on with him.

He let out a dry chuckle and begun caressing my knuckles again.

"Stop it." He said and shook his head slightly, closing his eyes with a small grin on his face.

"No! You have to tell me about this Schrödinger. This is not normal. It's not human, it's-"

"Stop Lydia. Let it go now."

His eyes lit up in pink as they opened, but they somehow darkened in their own way and his grin had become so small I wasn't sure it was a grin anymore.

"Please let it go." he spoke clearly even though he whispered and leaned in towards me, looking down at my lips.

"But-"

"I said STOP!" Schrödinger's sudden outburst wasn't enough. He did not only raise his voice at me for the first time, but he also squeezed my hand so hard that my fingers felt like they would break from the revealed strength his bare hand possessed.

"Schrödinger stop! It hurts!" I screamed. I wanted to pull my hand away but it was stuck.

"Stop!" I cried.

"Stop?" He said in a nonchalant tone and chuckled sarcastically. He pressed harder, and a terrifying cracking sound was heard. Afraid one of my fingers might be broken, I started to crying.

"P-please stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm not going to- I swear- I-"

He roughly let go of my inferior hand after examining my terrified face and teary eyes. He put his bare elbows on either side of his parted knees, staring daggers into the wardrobe in front of my bed as he refused to face me. My fingers were safe in the grasp of my hand. But even so, I didn't stop talking my way out of his dangerous games. I looked at Schrödinger, whose head hung, dirty blonde hair covering the windows to his soul.

"What are you?"

With the small sound of my three words, his head lifted. His eyes were still looking at the closet, but this time, they didn't stare daggers.

Naked wound. Show it to me.

"Who am I?"

"No - What are you?" I corrected – perhaps a little too kindly - but Schrödinger still didn't look at me.

"What I am - Who I am…" he said. He pushed himself off the mattress and picked up his removed glove which had ended up on the floor. He turned to me with a smirk on his face. "Where I am…"

He dressed his naked hand with the white fabric; the glove looked amazingly fitting on his palm and fingers and interplayed with his uniform which was now complete once again.

"Are you in pain?" he asked suddenly, maybe even wanting to change the subject. I knew what he meant when I saw him looking down at my fingers, which I still clutch onto tightly.

"You never answered my question, but I think I am." I said with meager energy. I didn't really feel like arguing with him anymore. It became quiet again and it took a while before Schrödinger replied.

"Sorry for hurting your hand."

That must've been the most ironic thing Schrödinger must've ever said, considering that he had impaled his own hand. I sighed softly and a silence embraced us in familiar fashion. I didn't answer and I'm not sure if I accepted his apology or not, but I stood up from the bed and I had no interest in staying here any longer, especially not after what he did to me.

"It was never my intention." he added in a pitch higher while looking down at my moving legs, making me forget how to walk.

"Then what was?" I turned away from the door only to look at him. To my surprise, he laughed.

"You're not actually serious about leaving, are you Lydia?" he asked. I hesitantly took a step back.

"Well of course I am. There must be something better to do then stay in here with you." I don't know where my nerves came from, but my heart was beating hard. I didn't mean to sound so rude to him. I never did. But I couldn't help it. He snickered darkly.

"That's demented." he said. "You're mind is completely void. It's funny because it's undeniable." he said. My back was facing the door now. I wanted to flee and stay at the same time. Something in my head also told me that the door was locked.

"You're false. You're a liar." he smirked, and begun walking towards me.

"Give me a reason to not leave." I dared to whisper when he was close enough to hear. He moved his face to my side. His lips brushed against the lobe of my ear.

"Oh, but that's not what I'm talking about." he chuckled and backed away from me - pulling me with him – away from the exit.

"The door is locked. You can't go, even if you tried" he chimed. "and I don't want you to..." I collided with his firm form when he'd stopped.

He had pulled one of my arms around his torso in the process. The hand on my other arm rested on his chest like a claw.

"I wonder what Jack would say." he said teasingly, sounding sarcastically disappointed.

"I don't understand why Jack has anything to do with this." I answered, teeth clenched. Once again, I didn't mean to sound so bad-mannered, but his sudden closeness bothered me for some reason and my bitter tone even surprised myself.

Schrödinger always did whatever he felt like doing. Maybe that's why I got annoyed by his out-forwardness sometimes. I was nervous after my mean-sounding words had left me. I could never tell how he would react towards my disrespectful person, but Schrödinger looked like he'd just received the greatest compliment in the world. He leaned in towards me and both of my cheeks and lastly my lips.

His both hands were placed on my shoulders when he made the last act. His lips felt like two pieces of smooth grapes, pressing themselves lightly to my mouth and it felt like a lifetime in comparison with the other nippy kisses. Yet, I liked this kiss way more than the sloppy peck mixed with apple and alcohol from our history. When he pulled away, he stared with half-lidded eyes at me and I'm sure I was looking like that too, only with a grimace from shock and an extreme blush tinting my hot cheeks.

"Stop spitting venom on me Lydia." he mumbled with a lazy grin. He said it just like someone would tell their partner to "stop being so cute".

"You'll find out soon enough." he said, letting go of my shoulders.

It was like he just pulled away a rug underneath my feet. I normally would've been confused with his mysterious words but his kisses had left so much pressure in my heart and soul that his late words didn't even have any effect on me at all. I didn't want it to stop here. He was still glancing at me with weird quietness and his hands that had felt like godsends on my shoulders had left the area underneath my ears cold and lonely.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Schrödinger asked as he grinned cheekily; his hand reached up to scratch the back of his head. My eyes were glued to the bare skin on his raised arm that processed sufficient muscles that highlighted pale, almost invisible veins that decorated elbow to glove. His smile was so great that he'd closed his eyes. He seemed so real to me then. He wasn't just a strange creature or a freak in the absurdness of Millennium Organization. He was a person with a body and with limbs and skin and bones; a body that could be warm and that could bleed.

He was beautiful. Without thinking; I stepped towards him, cupped his face with my bare hands, and I kissed him.

I don't know what came over me. It was just something with him today that didn't make me want to turn my back on him like I've done so many times. His messy hair looked more messy than usual, and his illuminating pink eyes shone like rubies underneath thick bangs of hair with that dark shade of blonde, reminding me of sand. The two small pieces of black fur were permanently placed in perfect sync on top of his odd haircut that would look ridiculous on somebody else, but fit him perfectly.

His sharp elbows will forever play tricks on my mind and his mysterious capableness will remain unknown underneath his dressed hands. Don't even mention the Swastika, of course, that wanted to be burned and forgotten. He was such an odd boy with imperfections and features and peculiarities, but he would always – in one way or another – have something adult and masculine thrown over him, and today, his cheekbones were seen once again.

He was no longer a child; the burning emotions in his eyes were serious and genuine.

He was a member of the Millennium Organization, a fine man - A fine man dressed in a Hitler Youth uniform.