Trio Maxwell-Chang (trio) wrote in fictionaltrio, @ 2007-08-08 11:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | brad crawford, naoe nagi, weiß kreuz |
[Weiß Kreuz] Golden Prison
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Title: Golden Prison
Author/Artist: trio
Theme: 16. Imprisoned
Pairing/Characters: Naoe Nagi/Brad Crawford
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz is owned by Takehito Koyasu, Marine Entertainment, Project Weiß, and associated parties.
Notes/Summary: Nagi's prison is made of gold.
My prison is made of gold, a metal that would seem so incredibly easy to bend and mold. But I've learned the truth behind it - I've learned just how unbreakable it can really be, when it's chilled to the point of freezing. I've learned how it glitters and gleams cruelly, enclosing me within no matter how I try to break free. Something will break before I can escape from this prison I'm in, and I'm afraid, terribly, terribly afraid, that it will be me.
Nagi sat at the window, his eyes staring blankly down at the pedestrians below. Little mice, scurrying along on their pathetic paths toward whatever future awaited them. They never knew what their future would be, hadn't the faintest concept even of whether the day would be good or bad. They could spout talk of omens and zodiac messages until they were blue in the face, and he'd simply scoff at them. He knew his future before it happened. Crawford made certain of that, albeit in a cryptic, need-to-know attitude. And really, wasn't that the problem?
He looked up as Crawford stepped into the room, eyes immediately cataloguing the crisp suit and tie before landing on Crawford's eyes. Behind the glasses, they shone with purpose, and even before the American spoke, Nagi was getting up from his seat and heading toward his room. "School uniform?" he asked, and was corrected. They'd be in suits today, both of them. So it was nothing messy then. Nagi liked that. He'd always hated the messy jobs, after all, despite being so very good at them. "Schuldig? Farfarello?" This time, only silence, and a stare that demanded Nagi hurry to get ready. Without another word said, the telekinetic ducked into his room to change.
He took long enough to make himself more than presentable, hair combed and skin and teeth gleaming before he stepped back out to be confronted by a critical look. Crawford stepped forward, tapping his tie until he straightened it, then nodded and turned to leave. Nagi was left to pad behind him, the two silent. How often was it like this, with Crawford leading the way and Nagi left trailing behind as though he were a servant or a slave? How often had he wanted to step forward, to walk beside the man, as an equal? Even as the thought occurred, he pushed it aside, shaking his head.
The ride in the car was equally uneventful, though Nagi couldn't quite resist the burst of pride that accompanied sliding into the passenger front seat, rather than being relegated to the back. He loved these jobs alone with Crawford for just that reason, loved the way they were finally able to sit side by side, neither ahead of the other. At times, to himself alone, he could pretend it would always be this way, instead of always being locked in Crawford's cage. They reached the restaurant without speech, sitting mute while lost in their own thoughts. Only once the car had shut off and Crawford turned to get out did Nagi notice and hurry to join him, a faint flush on his cheeks. No one was waiting outside, which meant their target or charge must be inside. With only the two of them, in suits, Nagi was betting 'charge'. A short bodyguard job, perhaps, to tide them over until their next big hit. Pleased, he fell into step behind Crawford as always.
They didn't have a wait at all. Their table was already reserved and the moment Crawford walked in, he was approached and escorted to it, leaving Nagi to trail in his wake, slightly intimidated by the sheer efficiency. Still, it made sense for Crawford's life, and mattered. Menus were provided, and they quietly chose their respective dishes, handing the menus back to the waitress when she came and ordering in hushed tones. When she was gone, Nagi looked to Crawford, waiting for some clue about who their charge really was. He couldn't protect who he didn't know about, after all!
"You came of age yesterday," Crawford finally began, his voice low and dark. Nagi froze, staring at Crawford in shock. He'd... been brought to talk? There was no job, no charge? Crawford wanted to discuss him? It was on the tip of Nagi's tongue to thank Crawford for the dinner, but one look at Crawford's eyes kept him still. That was not a happy look...
"When I accepted you into Schwarz, there were certain agreements made and expectations formed. You have, thus far, surpassed all expectations, and because of this, I am honoring the agreements. Tonight is your final night with Schwarz." Crawford's back was ramrod straight, and he glanced up very briefly when the food came, nodding to the server before turning his attention back to Nagi.
Tonight is your final night with Schwarz. The words rang in Nagi's ears, his face slowly blanching of color until it was as white as the tablecloth before him. It had to be some joke, some elaborate attempt on Schuldig and Crawford's part to play a horrible prank on him. But... the words were serious, the man looking at him with this cold sort of apology in his eyes. Nagi dropped his face into his hands, ignoring the food as he fought to maintain his composure. Crawford had brought him here so that he wouldn't make a scene, wouldn't yell or scream or demand... or anything. Crawford wanted him gone. And Schuldig and Farfarello were gone. Did they want him gone just as...
...Wait. Nagi's eyes shot up to Crawford's, staring at him in shock. There was apology in those eyes, where no apology had ever been. Crawford ruled Schwarz with an iron grip. That he might care enough to apologize for anything... "No."
And now the apology was gone, replaced by narrowed, calculating eyes. "What was that?"
"No," Nagi said again, his voice sounding shockingly calm in his own ears. "I intend to continue with Schwarz." Steady, slender hands moved to pick up the first bite of food. Perhaps... just perhaps... they were a bit more equal than Nagi had ever expected.
"You are aware, of course, that as I am no longer your guardian, there is no need to stay remotely close to me?" Crawford pressed. Oh yes, that was it. There was the chink in his armor, the tiny weak spot that made Crawford so very vulnerable to him.
"It's my decision," Nagi informed him quietly, smirking faintly. The smirk grew when Crawford only nodded, turning to eat his food in pensive silence. He, Nagi, had won.
My prison is made of gold... but it is decorated in lavish black silk that wraps around me and warms me to the core. Perhaps, someday, I can break my prison and remake him into a man I can love.
Originally posted on livejournal, for a livejournal challenge