But they didn't know when and he had time to think, time to choose. He still didn't know what he wanted. No, he corrected himself. He knew what he wanted, had always known what he'd wanted. SS had cleaned him of all but one addiction those many years ago and that one addiction was standing in front of him with an annoyed look on his face. And he didn't care, couldn't care, which made it all the worse. But Schuldich knew that already. Eight years of trying. Eight years of losing. The walls were crumbling inside.
"What do you want, Schuldich?" Brad asked.
/Something that I can't explain, but what everyone else has. Something that makes me want to scream every time I look at you,/ he thought to himself as he shrugged and said, "Just came to see how you're doing. I was so hoping you'd be angry and full of self-doubt but I was asking for too much."
Lies. All of them.
"Pity," came the cool reply.
Schuldich shook his head, red hair spilling around his face. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a tight black, short sleeved shirt. He hated short sleeves but it was all he had. The lack of fabric bared his arms, bared his scars, bared his failures. They were crossed over his chest defensively, as if he was holding on to the last thing that mattered, when truthfully, nothing did anymore. Pale limbs curled close to hide the marks of abuse. Scars never went away.
"Nagi's at the mall and I've locked Farfarello in his room."
"Anything else?" Blue eyes strayed to the laptop on the desk.
Warmth. Acceptance. Want. Words. Truth.
"No."
He smiled, feeling things crack inside of him. Eight years of trying and nothing to show for his efforts. Everything to survive. Everything to live. Everything for him. Everything . . .
"If that's all, why don't you leave? I've got things to do."
Schuldich shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He hesitated only a moment before pulling something out of his large pocket and handing it over to Brad with a diffident gesture. "Here."
Blue eyes briefly glanced at the lines on white skin before he took the black CD player. "What's this for?"
"No reason," Schuldich said as he turned around. "I'll be in my room."
He left without a backwards glance, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it tiredly, wearily, eyes closed. With a shake of his head he pushed himself up and away, walking to his room which was two doors down. Pulling out his key he slipped it into the lock and turned the knob, opening the door. He let it fall shut behind him as he padded to the bed and sat down. Bending over he pulled a knife out of his left boot and stared down at the blade with empty green eyes. It was time for him to choose again. Silence or noise. Life or death. It turned out to be an easy choice after all.
After so many cuts in his life, what was one more?
The counter flashed track six. Out of curiosity, Brad pressed play.
/You let me violate you
You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate
you
You let me complicate you
Help me
I broke apart my insides
Help me
I've got no soul to sell
Help me
The only thing that works for me
Help me get away from
myself
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You
get me closer to God
You can have my isolation
You can have the hate that it brings
You
can have my absence of faith
You can have my everything
Help me
Tear down my reason
Help me
It's your sex I can smell
Help me
You make me perfect
Help me become somebody else
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You
get my closer to God
Through every forest, above the trees
Within my stomach, scrapped off my
knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
You are the reason I stay
alive/
And Brad finally understood.
He was being shaken out of darkness by rough hands. He blinked, a face swimming above him. A familiar one with blue eyes. Harsh words were grating against his ears and he flinched as something warm and wet landed on his cold face. The voice became words and the hands wouldn't let him go.
"Schuldich--why?"
The darkness was eating at his soul but Brad was holding him and he didn't know which he wanted more. He smiled without his masks, revealing the pain he had harbored for so long, the pain of a little boy lost so long ago amidst a thousand mistakes; so long ago that nothing could save him anymore. Not even himself.
"Sunde . . ." he whispered.
Because they didn't have a choice.
Because there was no other way.
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