Persistance of Memory:
Schuldich rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, looking up at the ceiling of his hospital room as he had every morning. But this morning seemed different. For the past eight months, he hadn’t really had any motivation to get up out of this damn bed except to walk normally again, and even then, he found it all tedious and mundane. But now, there was actually hope… Sort of. Farfarello didn’t really suit what would be a personification of hope, but Schuldich was quite content. Well, as content as he could be considering he was still stuck in this fucking hospital. There was even a good view on that horizon. The doctor said that he could leave soon.
Life is good…. Schuldich murmured to himself. If he could only strangle the life out of the fucking idiot who had been driving the other car, he would be really happy. There was something else that he wanted, but that could now be easily remedied.
God, I’m getting pretty tired of wearing pajamas all the time. I’ll never wear them again. He smirked, realizing that this was the first time he had actually worn pajamas for a long stretch of time. He was more of a nudity sort of man. He got up, brushing his teeth quickly. Schuldich was surprised that he was actually trying to make himself presentable for Farfarello. It’s not like the Cyclops actually cared. Thinking about Farfarello, Schuldich frowned. He didn’t know what to think of the new Farfarello. It was probably a good thing that he could think a bit more lucidly now, but he seemed distant and unresponsive. The drugs that he was on were probably pretty strong. It also made Schuldich sort of angry that the Irishman didn’t take him seriously when Schuldich had told him he missed him. The German had missed him.
Sure, their relationship wasn’t what he would call ‘typical’, but what was typical in their lives? Not much, the redhead muttered internally. When they had first met, Schuldich liked the challenge of trying to fuck someone who would probably bite his dick off without thinking twice, and a challenge it had been. Schuldich had a small scar on his body from each sexual encounter with the Irishman. The bloodletting had thrilled the German, for he was an assassin after all, and other sexual partners weren’t as open to the edge of sadomasochism that he and Farfarello had walked. Sure, Farfie hadn’t been his only partner, just another in the endless string of fucking, but as time had worn on, Schuldich had found that he was searching less and less for faceless fucking, and more and more for Farfarello’s warm body. The psychopath, well, former psychopath was surprisingly warm, and his lips were surprisingly soft. Even now, Schuldich felt a surge of desire pass over his body. He had been neglecting his sex drive far too long, and at that moment, he didn’t care if Farfarello didn’t trust his sincerity.
The German walked to where Farfarello’s room was. The silver-haired man had recently been taken out of the psycho ward, so his room was now accessible at least. Schuldich stopped in the doorway, observing Farfarello. He looked bored, staring up at the television, but not really digesting it. He was sitting Indian-style on his bed, a hooded gray sweatshirt drawing attention to his silvery hair, and making his skin look as white as the sheets.
You are so boring.
Farfarello didn’t even turn. Well, then find someone amusing to watch.
You’re also a brat.
"Is that a seductive tone I hear?" Farfarello asked, a small smirk playing on his full, pale lips.
It could be.
Well, you are dressed for it. Where’s your vibrating bed and mirrored ceiling?
Schuldich slowly walked into the room.Don’t make fun of me, Farfie.
"Or what?" Farfarello’s tone was bored. He continued to look up at the television.
Hmm, we aren’t in high school. I don’t feel like playing games.
The Irishman turned his head so he was looking at Schuldich. He raised an eyebrow over his black eyepatch. "Funny, you used to enjoy games…. Especially mind games."
Schuldich frowned, sitting on the bed next to Farfarello. What’s with you? That medication is actually making you quite dull.
If I don’t take it, the doctors won’t let me leave.
You can act.
Farfarello snorted. "Yeah, I’ll exact my self-control. Give me a break, Schuldich."
Schuldich reached over, gently running his open palm over Farfarello’s knee and lower thigh. Hmmm, well, maybe I can rile you up again.
You are so obvious. You’re practically throwing yourself at me.
What’s wrong with that? Schuldich asked, moving his hand higher.
I just didn’t think you’d act so desperate.
Desperate? Schuldich questioned, quickly reaching up to pinch one of Farfarello’s nipples through the thick sweatshirt. The German smirked as Farfarello inhaled noisily, a look of pleasure passing through his amber eye. You can’t honestly tell me that you enjoy your right hand more than this….
I can control myself better than some people.
Schuldich cocked his head, studying the Irishman’s face. His skin was very smooth and pale, only marred by the dark ribbon scars that ran across his face. The one running from his lower lip, down his chin actually turned Schuldich on. It made Farfarello’s lips look fuller. When Schuldich’s emerald gaze met the bored stare of Farfarello, the German reached up, stroking the scarred, pale cheek.
"What are you looking at?"
"You," Schuldich whispered.
"What, did the nurses get boring to you?"
Why is it so hard for you to believe that I care about you?
Your track record stands on its own, Schu…
Farfarello…. Schuldich mentally interrupted. Okay, I’m a slut. Is that what you’re trying to say?
No, you said it yourself.
What do you want from me? Farfie, I know that you were just a fuck buddy for a while, but things change… Feelings change….
Why are you acting like such a woman?
Farfarello chuckled. "Am I? Schuldich, tell me what you want. Exactly what you want."
"I want you," He whispered, bringing his body closer to Farfarello’s. "You’re all I have left. I can’t talk, I’m trapped in a hospital, Crawford’s dead, and the person I care about most is totally unresponsive…." Schuldich trailed off, a dry sounding cough escaping his lips. It didn’t sound like a usual cough because of the loss of his vocal cords, more like a hacking shunting of air.
Farfarello poured him some water, lazily handing it to him.
The German frowned, drinking quickly. Why do you have to be so difficult?
I don’t mean to be. I just can’t process what you’re saying to me. It seems odd that you feel this way. I’m not used to it.
Process? Why can’t you just listen to your emotions? You’re not a computer, Farfie.
"I’m not used to actually having anything in my heart or whatever except hatred, not used to having any emotion other than anger directed at me. I’m too used to being used, so I expect it. Used by God, by SZ, by Takatori, by Crawford, by you…."
Schuldich sighed angrily, quickly pressing his lips to Farfarello’s to stop the stream of words. Shut up, Farfarello.
To Schuldich, the kiss was sweeter than any he had shared with Farfarello, or anyone else, for that matter. It had been far too long since he had had any actual human contact, other than the cold, impersonal hands of the doctors. Schuldich had always been somewhat of a sex addict, and eight months had been a lifetime to him. All that time alone had also made him realize how much he missed Farfarello. He would never physically use the word ‘lonely’, but he had been lonely, lonely for Farfarello. It seemed appropriate that he had longed to be with the psychopath. He was probably the only sort of person who could actually feel comfortable in Farfarello’s arms, yearn for the Irishman’s touch. Schuldich could never share that sort of intimacy with anyone other than Farfarello. They both knew the lifestyle, how attachments were hard to make, how nobody other than them would understand.
As Schuldich kissed Farfarello, he parted the full, pale lips with his own, shivering as Farfarello’s warm breath washed over their lips. He gently sighed as the Irishman pushed his tongue gently past Schuldich’s parted lips. Everything was slow and exploratory as they discovered each other after such a long absence of mutual contact. To Schuldich, Farfarello tasted like a heavenly mixture of honey and the undertones of blood. Neither man was bleeding, but it was a residual taste engrained in Farfarello. His kisses were also surprisingly gentle, and always had been. It was an interesting paradox, one that Schuldich always liked to contemplate. For now, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind, wanting to experience the feeling of this contact. Farfarello gently nipped at Schuldich’s tongue as the German pulled it back into his own mouth.
That’s more like it…. Schuldich mentally hummed, pulling his mouth off the Irishman’s as he began to nip a wet trail along Farfarello’s jaw. I know you missed me, too. You can’t lie to me.
Farfarello groaned quietly as Schuldich bit into his neck roughly. He felt the usual zing of pleasure that accompanied what was supposed to be pain. Farfarello rested his head against Schuldich’s shoulder as the redhead continued to nibble and lick at the tender flesh of his throat. Yes, he had missed Schuldich. Their relationship had been unusual, but everything about Farfarello had been unusual. He had never really admitted, not even to himself, that he cared for Schuldich. The German was the only person who hadn’t treated Farfarello like a monster. Despite all his psychosis, he was still human, and Schuldich was the only person who seemed to see that.
You see, Farfarello heard Schuldich say in his mind. You DID miss me.
Farfarello sighed, looking over Schuldich’s shoulder at the television. "Schuldich, you made me miss it!"
Schuldich lazily turned his body, looking at the television. Farfarello had been watching a nature special on lions, and the screen showed one of the large animals walking away from the carcass of a gazelle.
The German snorted. You have got to be the WORST lover I’ve ever had! He smiled teasingly. "But I don’t mind…."
Farfarello grinned, biting at Schuldich’s chin. When he missed, he lifted his hands, which had been stationary until now, out of his lap. He wound his skeletal fingers around Schuldich’s throat, squeezing gently. He pulled the redhead towards him, roughly kissing him again, using his teeth to bite at Schuldich’s kiss-bruised lips. Schuldich laughed into Farfarello’s mind, snaking the fingers of one hand into Farfarello’s short silver hair, gripping. When Farfarello drew blood, Schuldich yanked on the handful of hair he had, causing Farfarello to gasp in pleasure. The German pushed Farfarello down against the mattress, covering Farfarello’s rangy body with his own. Farfarello sucked in his breath as Schuldich’s thigh brushed against his groin.
What do you think the doctor will do if he walks in on us? Farfarello asked wickedly.
As if on cue, they heard a high pitched gasp. "Oh, excuse me!" It was the voice of one of the nurses that occasionally checked on Farfarello. They heard footsteps as she scurried away.
"Speak of the devil…." Farfarello smirked, running his hands down Schuldich’s back.
Crawford pass his power onto you or something?
Farfarello just shrugged. The mood had sort of been killed, and he frowned up at the ceiling.
Schuldich cackled softly, his laughter sounding eerie without a voice behind it. "The nurse thought that I was a woman…."
"Did she?" Farfarello looked over at Schuldich as the German climbed off his body, curling up against his side.
Fuck, I can’t wait to leave this shithole.
We’ll be able to leave soon. Farfarello teasingly cooed, like he was speaking to a child.
"After we leave, we should probably look for Nagi. At least find out what happened to him…." Farfarello trailed off as a lion began to chase down a buffalo on the television screen.
Schuldich nodded in response, pressing his cheek to Farfarello’s chest, listening to the former psychopath’s heartbeat. It felt better than he had imagined to be laying next to an actual live body, to be next to Farfarello. As Farfarello grinned at nature’s carnage, Schuldich listening to Farfarello’s heartbeat and imagined punishment for the nurse who had interrupted them.