Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ New York ❯ Prologue

New York

* A/N Not an awe-inspiring title, is it? I was stuck. Disclaimers: not mine, don't sue, send a line, I'll get back to you. There, poetry to make up for lousy title.

Schwarz have split up, basically. Little Nagi and Brad piece. Take as shounen ai if you wish, but I thought of it more as a big brother/little brother relationship here. Sap, fluff, not much really. Very tame. I guess a bit of yaoi, as mentioned to Brad/Schu, but practically nothing. *

Brad knelt by the futon and contemplated waking the tossing boy. Twisted amongst sweat-soaked sheets, Nagi was in the midst of a particularly violent nightmare. Brad knew that he was somewhere in the past.

"Daddy? Daddy, no. No, daddy, no, please, daddy, no, no…" Nagi murmured, his voice rising to a crescendo before breaking into choked sobs.

Brad made his decision; he reached down and laid a hand on Nagi's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. Indigo eyes sprang open.

The next few moments were utter chaos. Brad's mind insisted on sorting simultaneous events into a consecutive order, despite his awareness that everything really did happen at once. He was pinned to a wall, Nagi was rolled in a ball under his computer desk, the window smashed, the door flew off it's hinges and all hat could be heard was the clock, ticking stoically.

Brad collapsed from the wall, and crawled unthreateningly over to where Nagi was curled in a tight ball, shaking and trembling.

"Nagi?" Brad whispered. "Prodigy?"

At the sound of his codename, Nagi's frightened eyes peeped over the top of his arm. Slowly he uncurled, blushing furiously.

"Brad, I'm so sorry," Nagi's voice shock almost as hard as he did.

"I should have known better than to wake you during a nightmare," Brad admitted.

"What are you still doing up?" Nagi wriggled out from under the desk and stood up. Brad noticed with a tender pang that the boy's silk pyjamas were at least four inches too short at the ankle. "Did I wake you?"

"Oh, I wasn't really tired. I was just thinking about heading to bed," Brad lied. He'd had no such intention.

"You haven't had a proper night's sleep since we moved here," Nagi accused. The still ticking clock read five past three.

"Do you want some cocoa? It might help you get back to sleep," Brad offered.

"Only if you have some as well," Nagi told the older man.

"I can live with that."

-

Nagi sat on the plush couch while Brad made the hot chocolate. The couch faced the window that filled an entire wall, overlooking New York City. It was a penthouse apartment, hugely, ridiculously, expensive. The furniture was a sombre brown on a light wood floor, the walls a soft beige and the lights hidden in the walls and ceiling to give off a gentle glow. The lights were off tonight, but Nagi preferred it that way. The only light in the room came from the city and a fish tank built into one of the other walls.

The fish had been a gift from Brad. Now they no longer lived with Farferello they could have a pet. Brad had suggested a dog, but Nagi turned him down. Smaller animals followed: guinea pigs and rabbits and gerbils and hamsters and rats and mice, but Nagi turned them all down. Then the exotic suggestions: snakes and lizards and parrots, but Nagi turned them down too. No one mentioned cats.

Eventually, Nagi had given in, but on his own terms. Fish. Easy to care for and demanded to special attention. They didn't need to be petted and loved, they didn't need emotions Nagi didn't think he could provide. They'd compromised though, the fish were tropical. A bit more work, but still undemanding. The blue light from the tank gave the room a similarly exotic tinge.

Nagi was startled from his reverie by Brad. He sat next to the small boy, placing two large mugs of cocoa on the black wooden coffee table in front of them. He leant back and rested his feet on the same table. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes.

"Brad," Nagi eventually broke the calm, apprehension building as he spoke, "do you think you might be having trouble sleeping because you're not used to sleeping alone?"

"I've spent most of my life sleeping alone," Brad replied shortly.

"I meant, do you miss Schuldig?" Nagi felt uncharacteristically blunt asking that, but it had to be said.

There was silence. Brad took several sips from his coca, ignoring the way it burnt his tongue and roof of his mouth. "Yes." He put the cup down. "I miss Farferello too. I miss Schwarz."

"I know what you mean," Nagi leant against Brad's torso, feeling the older man shift to accommodate him. "We got a postcard form him yesterday, did you see it? I left it on the hall table."

"No, I didn't." Brad got up, causing Nagi to slide into a prone position, curled up on the couch. He fetched the small square of card from a desk beside the front door before returning to sit in an armchair. "We don't even rate a letter any more," he said sadly.

"Oh, I don't think it's that. He's just busy, and he's not the sort to write a lot anyway." Nagi tried to defend his friend, but his words sounded hollow even to himself. How had Schuldig managed to move on, while the two of them were still mourning the separation? It wasn't fair!

"He's making quite a name for himself in Germany," Brad observed with a derisive frown. "Porn."

"He enjoys it." Nagi blushed. That had come out right, but it sounded like it should have come out wrong.

"Quite." Brad pinned the postcard to a corkboard, where it looked oddly forlorn amongst aging letters and doctor's reports. "It wasn't the same after we lost Farferello," he sighed, "but without SS how were we supposed to keep him from the authorities?" He glanced over at Nagi, who was now upright but curled up in a ball again. "There's nothing I can do," he said forcefully. "He's criminally insane, and no matter what is said about needing a loving environment or being with people he recognises, we're not going to get him back. They think it's too risky."

"I can't believe we let him get committed," Nagi stared at the floor. He had come so close to saying `you' there. He didn't notice Brad move across the room until he felt the older man sit beside him, gently resting an arm around Nagi's shoulders.

"There's nothing we could do. SS had the resources and the expertise to keep him out, but we don't. I'm sure he actually does read the letters you send him, or has them read to him." Nagi's eyes burned as he stared at Brad. Was he really so…? Did he actually believe…? No, of course not, he was just trying to be comforting. Of course, he probably thought Nagi really believed it too, especially as Nagi still wrote at least once a week.

"How's school?" Brad asked softly, gently changing the subject from the past to the present.

"It's good," Nagi said dully. "At least I don't have to wear a stupid uniform."

"True."

"How's work?"

"Also good. Making lots of money."

"True."

They stared at each other. Nagi gave a tentative smile and Brad's mouth turned up at the edges. He tightened his arm around Nagi's shoulders, drawing him into a hesitant hug. He rested his chin on the younger boy's head, smelling the coconutty scent of his hair.

"Let's face it, they're over us," Nagi said. "We have to move on."

"I know, but it's hard." Brad grimaced. He couldn't believe he was saying this sort of thing. "I miss Schuldig. And he doesn't miss me." There. He'd said it. And it still hurt.

"I think he might, you know, but this is his way of getting over the pain. By submerging himself in his work." They exchanged a look. "Okay, maybe not," Nagi admitted with a grin, "but it can't hurt to believe it." Brad grinned and hugged him tighter.

"It's time for you to get back to bed. No more nightmares, okay?"

"It's not like I choose to have these dreams," Nagi pouted. "I hate it!"

"It's okay," Brad smoothed down Nagi's tousled hair. Nagi yawned, leaning into Brad's hand. "I'm going to have to carry you, aren't I?" Nagi nodded. Brad sighed and lifted the slender form in his arms. Nagi nestled against his chest, yawning again. Brad couldn't understand how the id did it. One minute wide-awake, the next out like a light. He envied Nagi.

Tucking the teenager into bed, Brad said his goodnights. He returned to the main room to clear up the coca mugs. He stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall and staring out the window. The city never slept. And, it seemed, neither did he. Nagi didn't know the extent of his insomnia.

The lights were hypnotic. Cars streamed down lonely roads and streets, like rivulets of water down a window, stopping and starting and grouping together and breaking apart. He realised with a faint smile that it actually was raining. No, snowing. It was snowing outside.

Brad shook himself and walked into the small kitchen, putting the mugs into a dishwasher. Nagi would be overjoyed tomorrow, when he saw the city. Perhaps he'd wake the boy up early and show it to him before the pedestrians and drivers got they're grubby feet and wheels all over it. He started thinking about what Nagi had said. Yes, he did miss Schuldig, and the presence of another warm body in the bed to press up against on cold winter nights like this one.

Brad started to return to his room, to perform the nightly ritual. He'd undress, put on his pyjamas (Nagi had bought them for him for Christmas), lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Sometimes he'd shut his eyes, but it made no difference.

He was about to get into bed when he heard a whimper from the other room. Nagi was on the verge of another nightmare, it seemed. Brad sighed and pushed open the door. Nagi was curled tightly in a thin sheet, looking lost and tiny against the white expanse.

Brad wasn't a person to do things when the mood took him, to follow a moment's compulsion, but it was nice to do it once in a while. Nagi smiled as he felt the warm pressure against his back and the heavy arm gently curled over his slender chest, and he smiled even harder when Brad started to snore.