Gold Dust
Title: Gold Dust
Recipient: Purkledragon
Author: clueless_psycho
Rating: R
Summary: Schuldig/Yohji, angst, Gluhen setting, cause and effect of insanity--is it nature, nurture, or a red haired bastard?
Warnings: Spoilers through the end of Gluhen.
"Ryou Itou."
He wanted to laugh at the name, he wanted to say that Ryou Itou wasn’t a good substitution for Kudou Yohji, but he held back. He said, "Nice to meet you, Ryou Itou." They were sitting side by side at the bar counter.
Ryou - no, Yohji, he would always remember him as Yohji - laughed heartily. It was surreal to hear Yohji laugh like that.
"You speak Japanese very well. Where did you come from?"
It was also surreal to see Yohji in shirt and pants and tie like a salary man, although he was a salary man now.
"Germany."
"Ah."
"Have you been there?"
Yohji didn't seem to listen to the question, he was busy sipping his sake. A moment later he put his cup down saying, "I've never been to this bar before." Yohji clearly had forgotten about the earlier question.
"Me neither." It was a small, nice bar at the corner of the street, not far from his hotel. It was convenient. He especially liked the sound of shamisen playing from the sound system at the background.
“Why are you in Japan? Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both.”
That somehow amused Yohji that he rolled his eyes in a funny way. He knew now why in the past, women fell to Yohji’s his feet like flies.
"I usually go straight home after work,” Yohji said. “My wife's waiting for me."
"Isn't it Japanese people's habit to have a drink in a bar after work?"
Yohji laughed again. "Yeah, yeah, but not me. My wife - her name is Asuka -, takes good care of me. She's a nurse. Alcoholic drinks are bad for the health she’d often say."
"Lucky man."
Yohji smiled fondly. "I am."
"But you smoke. It's bad for your health too."
Yohji frowned. "I don't."
He pointed at Yohji's nicotine stained fingers. "That must come from the old days,” he said.
Yohji smiled shyly like a love-struck highschooler bumping into his heartthrob. “Frankly, I don’t know where it came from.”
He raised an eyebrow. "How come?"
Yohji didn't answer. Instead he took time sipping his sake. "I… I woke up in a hospital one day and I didn't remember anything. Asuka is a nurse there and she told me that I was in an accident. Maybe something hit my head and I forgot things."
"And she took you in?"
"I didn't know where to go. I didn’t think I had anywhere to go to. She was nice enough to take me in, given that for months I couldn't do much. The injuries were pretty bad and I had to go under the knife several times."
"And you married her out of the need to pay back her kindness?"
Yohji's face turned a pretty shade of pink. "That's all I could do."
"How convenient. But you don't actually love her."
"Oh, I love her very much. It's just that sometimes I think I should do better. If I can remember things before the hospital, I'm sure I can do better."
"Maybe."
Yohji laughed nervously. "Sometimes I feel like I will give anything to be able to remember, if not all, maybe a little."
"Be careful what you wish for."
"I know." Yohji shrugged. He finished his sake and put some money on the table. "Well, I have to go."
"Have a good night."
Yohji's cell phone suddenly went off and he fished it out of his pants pocket. He spoke for a while and his face turned dark. He finished the short conversation and slipped the cell phone back into his pocket. "Asuka got called into the hospital, she has to cover her friend's shift."
"Too bad."
Yohji sat back on the stool.
"Do you want another round of sake? I'll pay."
"Maybe not. I haven't drunk so much sake for a while, I don't think it's wise to have another one."
"Okay."
Yohji stayed silent because he had his eyes on the TV in the bar. There was some sports program running and Yohji looked like he couldn't be bothered with anything else.
"Will you really give anything to be able to remember?"
When Yohji answered, his voice trailed off, "Yes."
* * *
As he had expected, Yohji's body was a pleasure to have. Yohji was reluctant a first, but he wiped away all doubts.
Still he didn’t try to poke into Yohji’s mind like he usually did to people. He wished he did, but he already knew what was inside and it wasn’t delicious.
It was more delicious in the past, but in the past, Yohji wouldn’t even look at him without trying to strangle him with his harigane. He couldn’t even barge into his mind without risking his own life.
The brain had been delicious then, a buffet of rage, anger, misery, sadness, all concealed under the thick cover of constant, forced thoughts of women, booze and physical pleasure. He swiped past once, the only time he did it, and nearly had an orgasm.
He wished he was braver then, and just sat inside Yohji’s mind for days, licking and sucking and feasting. He thought now that if he died trying then, he’d die a really happy man.
There was not much left inside the brain now, but in return, he could have the body so he focused on that, while trying not to think that the muscles would have been harder then and the desire could have been greater.
And when they had finished, panting on each other's chests, as Yohji lay on top of him with a happy expression as if this was the best thing that ever happened to him, he put his hand on Yohji's head, cradling it gently.
"Close your eyes," he said.
Yohji did, smiling as he did so, like a little boy about to get his reward after spending all afternoon raking the garden.
And he stared at Yohji's face as his mind began rotating like an old time film, choosing from millions of scenes stored inside his brain: the battles, the fights, the killings, the blood, the manipulations, the fall, the explosion…
He stopped at one scene, was reluctant for a while, and, after a few seconds, relayed it into Yohji’s mind. Yohji’s smile widened, then he broke into a soft laughter and asked, “Can I open my eyes now?”
He felt a tight knot in his stomach. “Yes.”
Yohji fluttered his eyes open, still grinning. “I worked in a flower shop?”
“Yes, you did.”
“With three other men?”
He nodded.
Yohji laughed again. “Well, I guess I didn’t miss anything.”
He didn’t say anything. He just pulled Yohji’s face down for another kiss. Yohji’s lips were soft and sweet like cotton candy and he felt that he could live with that forever.
When he broke the kiss, Yohji said, “I have to go.”
And he let him go.
He stayed in the bed when Yohji took a shower; he watched Yohji dress and he watched Yohji walk towards the door. Yohji already had his hand on the door knob when he turned around and asked, “Can I keep the memory? Of the flower shop?”
“Yes, you can.”
“And I believe you haven’t told me your name.”
“Schuldig.”
Yohji tilted his head, looking at him in the eyes. “Doesn’t that mean ‘guilty’ in German?”
“Yes, it does.”
Then Yohji turned around again and exited the hotel room, at the same time he erased the memory of the meeting from Yohji’s brain.
Recipient: Purkledragon
Author: clueless_psycho
Rating: R
Summary: Schuldig/Yohji, angst, Gluhen setting, cause and effect of insanity--is it nature, nurture, or a red haired bastard?
Warnings: Spoilers through the end of Gluhen.
"Ryou Itou."
He wanted to laugh at the name, he wanted to say that Ryou Itou wasn’t a good substitution for Kudou Yohji, but he held back. He said, "Nice to meet you, Ryou Itou." They were sitting side by side at the bar counter.
Ryou - no, Yohji, he would always remember him as Yohji - laughed heartily. It was surreal to hear Yohji laugh like that.
"You speak Japanese very well. Where did you come from?"
It was also surreal to see Yohji in shirt and pants and tie like a salary man, although he was a salary man now.
"Germany."
"Ah."
"Have you been there?"
Yohji didn't seem to listen to the question, he was busy sipping his sake. A moment later he put his cup down saying, "I've never been to this bar before." Yohji clearly had forgotten about the earlier question.
"Me neither." It was a small, nice bar at the corner of the street, not far from his hotel. It was convenient. He especially liked the sound of shamisen playing from the sound system at the background.
“Why are you in Japan? Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both.”
That somehow amused Yohji that he rolled his eyes in a funny way. He knew now why in the past, women fell to Yohji’s his feet like flies.
"I usually go straight home after work,” Yohji said. “My wife's waiting for me."
"Isn't it Japanese people's habit to have a drink in a bar after work?"
Yohji laughed again. "Yeah, yeah, but not me. My wife - her name is Asuka -, takes good care of me. She's a nurse. Alcoholic drinks are bad for the health she’d often say."
"Lucky man."
Yohji smiled fondly. "I am."
"But you smoke. It's bad for your health too."
Yohji frowned. "I don't."
He pointed at Yohji's nicotine stained fingers. "That must come from the old days,” he said.
Yohji smiled shyly like a love-struck highschooler bumping into his heartthrob. “Frankly, I don’t know where it came from.”
He raised an eyebrow. "How come?"
Yohji didn't answer. Instead he took time sipping his sake. "I… I woke up in a hospital one day and I didn't remember anything. Asuka is a nurse there and she told me that I was in an accident. Maybe something hit my head and I forgot things."
"And she took you in?"
"I didn't know where to go. I didn’t think I had anywhere to go to. She was nice enough to take me in, given that for months I couldn't do much. The injuries were pretty bad and I had to go under the knife several times."
"And you married her out of the need to pay back her kindness?"
Yohji's face turned a pretty shade of pink. "That's all I could do."
"How convenient. But you don't actually love her."
"Oh, I love her very much. It's just that sometimes I think I should do better. If I can remember things before the hospital, I'm sure I can do better."
"Maybe."
Yohji laughed nervously. "Sometimes I feel like I will give anything to be able to remember, if not all, maybe a little."
"Be careful what you wish for."
"I know." Yohji shrugged. He finished his sake and put some money on the table. "Well, I have to go."
"Have a good night."
Yohji's cell phone suddenly went off and he fished it out of his pants pocket. He spoke for a while and his face turned dark. He finished the short conversation and slipped the cell phone back into his pocket. "Asuka got called into the hospital, she has to cover her friend's shift."
"Too bad."
Yohji sat back on the stool.
"Do you want another round of sake? I'll pay."
"Maybe not. I haven't drunk so much sake for a while, I don't think it's wise to have another one."
"Okay."
Yohji stayed silent because he had his eyes on the TV in the bar. There was some sports program running and Yohji looked like he couldn't be bothered with anything else.
"Will you really give anything to be able to remember?"
When Yohji answered, his voice trailed off, "Yes."
* * *
As he had expected, Yohji's body was a pleasure to have. Yohji was reluctant a first, but he wiped away all doubts.
Still he didn’t try to poke into Yohji’s mind like he usually did to people. He wished he did, but he already knew what was inside and it wasn’t delicious.
It was more delicious in the past, but in the past, Yohji wouldn’t even look at him without trying to strangle him with his harigane. He couldn’t even barge into his mind without risking his own life.
The brain had been delicious then, a buffet of rage, anger, misery, sadness, all concealed under the thick cover of constant, forced thoughts of women, booze and physical pleasure. He swiped past once, the only time he did it, and nearly had an orgasm.
He wished he was braver then, and just sat inside Yohji’s mind for days, licking and sucking and feasting. He thought now that if he died trying then, he’d die a really happy man.
There was not much left inside the brain now, but in return, he could have the body so he focused on that, while trying not to think that the muscles would have been harder then and the desire could have been greater.
And when they had finished, panting on each other's chests, as Yohji lay on top of him with a happy expression as if this was the best thing that ever happened to him, he put his hand on Yohji's head, cradling it gently.
"Close your eyes," he said.
Yohji did, smiling as he did so, like a little boy about to get his reward after spending all afternoon raking the garden.
And he stared at Yohji's face as his mind began rotating like an old time film, choosing from millions of scenes stored inside his brain: the battles, the fights, the killings, the blood, the manipulations, the fall, the explosion…
He stopped at one scene, was reluctant for a while, and, after a few seconds, relayed it into Yohji’s mind. Yohji’s smile widened, then he broke into a soft laughter and asked, “Can I open my eyes now?”
He felt a tight knot in his stomach. “Yes.”
Yohji fluttered his eyes open, still grinning. “I worked in a flower shop?”
“Yes, you did.”
“With three other men?”
He nodded.
Yohji laughed again. “Well, I guess I didn’t miss anything.”
He didn’t say anything. He just pulled Yohji’s face down for another kiss. Yohji’s lips were soft and sweet like cotton candy and he felt that he could live with that forever.
When he broke the kiss, Yohji said, “I have to go.”
And he let him go.
He stayed in the bed when Yohji took a shower; he watched Yohji dress and he watched Yohji walk towards the door. Yohji already had his hand on the door knob when he turned around and asked, “Can I keep the memory? Of the flower shop?”
“Yes, you can.”
“And I believe you haven’t told me your name.”
“Schuldig.”
Yohji tilted his head, looking at him in the eyes. “Doesn’t that mean ‘guilty’ in German?”
“Yes, it does.”
Then Yohji turned around again and exited the hotel room, at the same time he erased the memory of the meeting from Yohji’s brain.