Black Tangled Heart

Jane Fa Ker

"Ah! What the fuck - !"

Nagi scowled as his patient attempted to bat away his hand just as he was applying some sort of cold cream on the bruised cheek. Ignoring the whining complaints, he splattered more cream on his fingers and kneaded it on Schuldich's face. The bruises, barely half a day old, were already turning black and blue.

"Who the fuck asked you to touch my face anyway?" the German whined, wincing as Nagi pressed his fingers on a large bluish bruise none too gently.

Cerulean eyes regarded him patiently. Nagi raised his hand from Schuldich's face momentarily to sweep long dark bangs from his eyes. "Stay still, damn it! Crawford's going to be fucked if your bruises aren't healed or at least concealed by tonight."

Schuldich made a face. "Fuck Crawford. What's his obsession with aestheticism now anyway?" He winced again, grinding his teeth with a growl when Nagi's fingers pressed on a particularly sensitive bruise. "Ah fuck! Can't you be a little damn gentle? I thought Crawford got you to 'patch me up' 'cause I'll just mess myself worse, and you've got the girly hands, bishounen."

"Shut up."

Schuldich smiled lazily at Nagi's silence. Once again, he'd managed to annoy the hell out of everyone, which wasn't necessarily a good thing - Nagi and Farfarello were inclined to ignore him, both too absorbed in their own reality (or in Farfarello's case, mania), but Crawford had made it abundantly clear to him that he was pissed. Just the fact that the American had totally ignored him on the drive back from Takatori's office to the penthouse condo they stayed in was already sign enough. Hell, Crawford refused to even look at him.

Schuldich supposed that wasn't entirely bad. Who needed Crawford and his uptight ass? If there was any use the American had for Schuldich, it was just for fucking. And Crawford wasn't even prime specimen. He just fucked harder than the other two. And man wasn't that delicious. Too bad Crawford would be too pissed to fuck tonight. Schuldich shrugged. Maybe he'd go keep Farfarello company, and give his own ass a rest. Damn, in between all that sex romps at night with Crawford and the beating he took from Takatori, his body was sore as hell.

"Ahh!" he shrieked, jerking out of Nagi's touch when the boy attempted to peel off his shirt to examine his ribs. "Jesus, that's it. Get your girly hands away from me."

" ... " Nagi rolled his eyes, obligingly getting up and sauntering away from the German towards his laptop. "Fine. Jerk."

The redhead made a face and attempted to sit up from his reclining position on the couch. He failed miserably. His body was so sore. Takatori had used a goddamn golf club to beat him with. Reaching with bruised hands, he started to unbutton his shirt. It felt as if he'd cracked his ribs, and knowing what he'd gone through, that could very well be the truth.

"Shit, Nagi!" He tried to push the tailored shirt off his shoulders and failed there miserably too. His whole upper body felt like Crawford had been using it as a punching bag for his martial arts training sessions.

The slender boy turned a sardonic smile on his lips. "I don't want to say I told you so, but ... "

"Yeah, yeah. Cut the crap. What the fuck's wrong with my body? I can't even move!"

Crossing the room, Nagi bent over him to examine his chest and torso. The white skin was covered with the same black and blue patches as his face. Nagi gingerly brushed a finger against one purplish patch on the German's side.

"I think you broke a rib."

Schuldich snorted. "Wonderful!" The last thing he needed was a broken rib. Their last showdown with Weiss was coming and he could miss it because that fucking ass Takatori had to go beat his sorry ass with a golf club. And to top it off, Crawford was probably going to give him a well-deserved kick in the groin for acting on his own whims. As if he wasn't in enough pain already.

Nagi was already starting to bandage his chest. "Arch your back a little so I can get the bandage under," he instructed. Schuldich followed like a dupe. Not like he could do anything about it. His body was too battered to even take advantage of the situation, turn it into something more ... ah, physically satisfying. He could hear Nagi's thoughts buzz in his mind, wondering at the German's abnormal complacence.

"Why did you shoot the girl anyway?"


Nagi's delicate face was marred with a frown. "That girl, Takatori's bastard daughter." He tightened the binding a little, causing the German to grimace in pain. "Why did you kill her?"

Schuldich shrugged, the action only inducing more searing sharp pain tearing through his body. "I don't know. I just felt like shooting her."

"You're an idiot," said Nagi, having no compunctions of insulting the redhead. Schuldich couldn't retaliate if he tried. He hurt too much.

"Thanks for the encouragement."

Nagi shook his head. "You should've known what Takatori was going to do to you if you did that."

"Hey, I'm not Crawford. And why should I care about the little slut anyway? She's just another tool to use against Weiss." He eyed Nagi. "Don't tell me you didn't think of using other people to get rid of those pansy-assed do-gooders."

"True, but that doesn't change your being an idiot."

Schuldich frowned in genuine puzzlement. Kids killed him. They had real weird logic.

"Aargh! I give up. Explain. Why am I an idiot?" Schuldich started to button his shirt, but Nagi swatted his hand away and did it himself.

"Because you should've listened to Crawford."

Green eyes glinted threateningly at the slender bishounen. "And why the hell should I do that?"

Nagi shrugged. "Don't think I don't know that he hits you too." He tugged at the waistband of Schuldich's pants, just enough to reveal another bruise on the hip, one that was already healing and turning an ugly greenish color. He pointed at various other greenish-yellow patches of skin on the redhead's upper body.

"Heh. Just like Farfarello bites your neck, eh, bishounen?"

"Stop calling me that."

Schuldich sniffed. "Right."

He looked up at Nagi. The boy had a strangely reflective look on his pale face. Schuldich had never seen Nagi, or anyone with him in Schwarz for that matter, ever look that philosophical. It actually made the kid look half-intelligent ... Nah. Maybe he was imagining things with this pain in his chest.

"What ya thinking?"

Nagi smirked and got up. "You're a telepath. You tell me."

A lazy smile was his answer. "I would, except that would take all the fun out of annoying you. I'm not the only martyred saint in this place, you know."

"You're a masochist, not a saint," Nagi said, ignoring the remark.

"And you're not?"

"You raped me. That's different."

Schuldich's smile was bitter. "And you didn't enjoy it?"

"Not as much as you enjoy Crawford fucking your ass till kingdom come," the boy retorted acidly, turning to his computer and decidedly ignoring the redhead. Schuldich grinned at him.


After he realized that Nagi was no longer inclined to talk, Schuldich forced himself to get up. He shuffled into his green overcoat, not bothering to button it up and wind up choking himself or something equally unsavory. He was up and halfway out of the room when Nagi's soft voice called to him again.



"Why you put up with such shit? Crawford's going to hit you again tonight when he sees your bruises, and you're just going to let him have his way and then let him screw you to hell."

The wide smile did not reach the redhead's empty eyes. "I like the taste of semen." He laughed shamelessly.

"I can't imagine why."

Schuldich paused at the doorframe of the room and turned to regard Nagi with uncharacteristic seriousness. For a fleeting moment, the green eyes lost their glassy indifference and reflected true agony. And then, just like a ripple, it was gone.

"No, I doubt you can."

Shaking his head, Nagi returned his attention to the computer as Schuldich limped out of the room. Yes, they were two of an abused kind.

Maybe he'll fall in love with you, Schuldich ... But who'd want to love a whore?

Nagi smiled sadly and began to type.