Ichigo was only too eager to leave the cafeteria and its fresh memories behind when the softened chime of the intercome rang clear. What had begun as another ordinary meal, a rather agreeable one despite the lack of the proper utensils, quickly became somewhat unnerving. His conversation with...what was his name again?...took so many sharp turns,
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Shame. It was intense, and loathsome as it was it was another identifier of his own thoughts - he hadn't broken down since Rosenkreuz, never in front of an enemy, and the thought of being seen like this, of having it made so inescapably clear how precariously he balanced on the edge of the catastrophe curve, burned like a sun.
It was the first time he'd actually felt shame of any sort in a long while, and he dropped his eyes. He wasn't sure what was worse, losing his sense of self or being pitied - it would help if one didn't tend to lead to the other.
He was hardly stable yet - he was still swimming against the tide - but he'd managed to find a few threads to cling to. Provided none of them broke, he might still be able to claw his way back to balance if not dignity.
"Asuka," he tried, then swore colorfully. No. He kept a tighter grip on himself this time, refused to be thrown - given how damned much Yohji brooded over her there was no shame in saying her name when he meant another. "Crawford," he tried again, more emphatically.
For perhaps the hundredth time, Schuldig wondered where the hell the bastard was. He'd always been there before when the German needed him, if only because Crawford always knew when exactly he would be needed.
Then, as if to welcome him back, the headache hit, so powerful that Schuldig shuddered and retched before groaning and trying to curl up on himself. "No fair," he muttered. Then, with an effort, managed, "Get one of those vapid cunts to bring me aspirin."
Given the situation, he damned well thought crudity was appropriate. Then, with considerable relief, embraced the fact that he thought.
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"I'll get you an aspirin," Hughes said, nodding. It was the very least he could do. Since he sure as hell didn't know what else he could possibly do. It looked like Yohji could handle... whatever. It wouldn't take long to get a simple painkiller from a nurse. They liked him, for the most part.
"You just hang tight, okay?" And Hughes was standing, looking for a nurse that didn't look busy - there was some commotion - or angry. Their attention seemed focused on whatever was going on on the other side of the room. He found a young one and managed to procure the pill, some generic mild painkiller. Just one, but it was something. He headed back and sat down, holding out the pill.
"Here. This is what she gave me." Hopefully that would help.
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He smiled gratefully at Hughes when the other man returned with the painkiller. "Thanks." Why the hell was he helping Schuldig anyway? If anything, he should have enjoyed the sight of the man in pain after everything he'd done. But he just fell dull and empty and kind of... sad?
Yohji still hadn't let go of him. He started to pull away, almost reluctantly (although that was something he refused to acknowledge) when Hughes held out the pill.
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He snapped the pill in half and swallowed it dry before glancing over at Yohji. "You can't be that lonely," he remarked drily.
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