Weiss Kreuz - slash_me_twice - 076. Anonymous
076. Anonymous
*
Ran gets the first letter while Yohji is away on a business trip. It is in a manila envelope with no return address. Inside is a photo. “He’s cheating on you,” the back reads. It is dated: two days ago. Ran turns the photo around, frowning to hide his fear even though no one is there to see him falter. On the front are Yohji and his investigative partner, Asuka. Yohji’s pale fingers are stark, tangled in her fine black hair. Her hands grasp the lapels of his suit jacket. She sits on his desk, and he kisses her as if she is the only person in the world.
What hurts most is they are in full view of the detective agency window. The camera zooms past the blurry letters to catch their faces.
Anyone could have seen what Ran sees now.
Ran sits down on the floor and puts his forehead in a shaking hand.
But he doesn’t cry.
The next letter comes when Yohji has returned, three days later. “What’s this?” Yohji asks, seeing no return address on the envelope as he hands it to Ran.
Ran goes white, but takes it and leaves the room.
“Ne, Ran? Did something happen?” Yohji calls after him, the picture of a caring lover.
Ran calls back a negative and locks himself in the bathroom. He sits on the toilet seat and stares at his own name before shaking himself and tearing open the envelope.
Once again, he sees the message first. “I’m sorry,” it reads in strong, angular letters. Ran turns it around and sees the diamond ring on Asuka’s finger. Yohji stands with her, cupping her face as she grips his hand. They are leaning in for a kiss.
Ran stares down at the picture in shock. The other photo was only a kiss. It could be excused as simple infidelity. Common…expected, with someone like Yohji…but-but-
The knock on the bathroom door startles Ran into blinking, looking up. Something hot splashes on his cheek and he frowns. Is he crying?
“Ne, Ran. You almost done?”
Ran slides the photo back into the envelope as in a dream and flushes the toilet he hasn’t used. “Aah,” he replies.
He washes his face, dries his face and hands, and slips past Yohji into the hallway. Yohji calls as the door is closing, “I’ll be on a stakeout tonight-don’t wait up.”
Ran stops and the door shuts. His fist clenches. But he makes himself relax and start cooking dinner for them both. He doesn’t know what else to do.
Ran realizes a week later that they haven’t had sex since Yohji came back, and he hadn’t noticed. That in itself is strange, for Yohji. When they first started living together-dating, really-Yohji was all over him. But lately-Ran supposes he should have noticed when the sex drive tapered off that things weren’t quite the same in bed; that Yohji’s kisses had became perfunctory; that the times they slept together became fewer and fewer; that Yohji’s stakeouts were becoming too common to be trusted.
Ran had chalked it up to the way relationships were; he had assumed Yohji was cheating, but without proof, had been happy enough.
Now the proof is in his hands once again: a wrinkled receipt for a luxury hotel in Yohji’s name, and a photo of him and Asuka holding hands on the balcony. There is a second photo though-of them on stakeout across from Kikuchi’s Landing. They are tangled up in the backseat, windows beginning to steam.
When Yohji gets home late that night, whistling and peering into the cabinets for an easy dinner, Ran feels sick. He lies in bed and pretends to be asleep when Yohji comes in from the shower. He is glad he warrants at least that courtesy.
Ran gets the photo of the wedding invitation before it’s gone to press and packs up his things. He brings them to Crawford’s flat because Crawford doesn’t ask questions, and never liked Yohji to begin with. When Yohji gets back that night, Ran has the photos in one envelope, the last one bearing the message “He’ll tell you tonight” burning into his thigh through the hard paper.
Yohji sits him down on the couch, folding a hand over Ran’s, and says, “I have to tell you something.” Ran lets him. And when Ran displays no surprise, Yohji says, stunned, “You knew.”
Ran waves the envelope and says, “You should be more careful. People see things.” He stands up and drops his key, already off the ring, on the table. “I’ve already moved my belongings. If you find anything I’ve missed, please call my phone. Otherwise, I’d prefer if we didn’t speak again.”
Yohji sits back on the couch, swallowing. Ran leaves. He closes the door on Yohji’s “Wait” and strides quickly into the elevator. When the elevator doors close, the apartment door is still shut. It has been almost fifteen seconds.
Ran sighs and lets go of the “door open” button. He doesn’t know what he had been expecting.
He just knows he wishes he were wrong.
Crawford gives him a week to brood before telling him he needs to get over the jerk and go outside. Not many people know he was dating Yohji-a mistake and a warning sign, but better now than if people had known-and he should be doing things he enjoys instead of moping after a good-for-nothing cheater.
Ran catches the muttered words that Crawford says about Yohji when he thinks Ran’s not listening. Ran is just glad Crawford is trying to spare him from the worst of his loathing.
He goes out though, after eight days of mindlessly working and then coming back to Crawford’s and moping, because he agrees with Crawford: he’s acting pathetic. So he goes to a bookstore and reads for three hours, and then leaves with the second book in hand and his wallet slightly lighter than before. He gets a cup of tea from a corner teahouse and absorbs the ambiance over poetry. When he gets back, he feels less like death warmed over than he has since he first got a picture in the mail.
And speaking of that…
“Crawford?” he asks, finding the man doing work at the kitchen table.
Crawford looks up, but says nothing.
Ran takes the envelope he of photos and puts it on the table. “Do you know who sent these?”
Crawford raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Ran slumps down into a chair. “Crawford.”
The American puts down his pen carefully and slides up his glasses. He is stalling for time, and Ran doesn’t care; he wants the world to crumble more than he wants to have this conversation. “I saw Yohji and Asuka together while on a conference a month or so ago,” he admits. “They were acting…the way he used to act with you. And I knew Yohji would talk his way out of any accusations I made. And so I called a friend.”
“And had him investigated?”
Crawford sighs. “Followed. I had him followed.”
“Who wrote the notes?”
And now Crawford seems confused. “Notes?”
“On the back of the pictures. Who wrote them?”
Crawford frowns. “I just told him to send you irrefutable proof of your lover’s…indiscretions. I didn’t tell him how to go about it.”
Ran pulls the envelope back and stands. “Who did you ask?” he asks, almost as an afterthought leaving the kitchen.
“Schuldig. He’s German-you wouldn’t know him.”
Ran nods and goes to his bedroom. His, because he’s worked out rent with Crawford. He picks up the book of poetry and then puts it back down. He feels tired, but knows that’s just sadness. So he makes himself do work at the desk-he and Crawford met in the same office, though Crawford has now been transferred to a different section. In time, he forgets what the pain in his chest is for.
He meets Schuldig four months later. It is at a party Crawford hosts at his apartment. Well, party is perhaps too suggestive a word. It is a gathering of friends. Ran invites Ken and Omi, friends from his high school days. Omi brings a date, a girl named Ouka. Ken’s date arrives late. Her name is Yuriko, and she’s just returned from Australia.
Jei Farfarello comes, and Naoe Nagi, with a girl called Tot who looks slightly older than him, but acts younger.
And then the door opens as Ran is getting a tray of drinks, and Ran forgets to pick up the tray because the man who walks in the door has hair like fire and a smirk that makes Ran shiver down to his toes. He doesn’t see Ran as he comes in and greets the living room, but his accent is German and Ran suddenly wants to kill Crawford. This man can only be Schuldig.
Crawford comes into the kitchen and frowns at him. “Is something wrong?”
“That’s him,” Ran hisses.
Crawford raises an eyebrow and takes the tray. “Of course,” he says. “He’s a friend of mine. Why wouldn’t he be invited?”
Ran walks into the room and sits at Ken’s feet. Schuldig takes a glass and sits on the couch across from Ran and smiles, then stands and holds out a hand. “I’m Schuldig,” he says.
Ran takes his hand and feels a familiar warmth in his gut. “I know,” he says solemnly. Schuldig’s grin falters a moment, and then he sits down and holds up his glass. “What is this?” he asks Crawford, swishing the golden liquid around.
“Yours is urine. The rest of us are drinking champagne.”
“Crawford!” Nagi scowls. “That’s disgusting.”
Schuldig just laughs at Crawford’s chagrined expression. When he takes a sip though, his eyes go wide and he motions for something to spit into. “Is something wrong?” Ken asks. Crawford seems shocked and nearly drops the tray. “What? What’s the matter?”
Schuldig is suddenly fine, even amused. He swallows and says, “Just surprised me: this tastes more like jizz than piss.”
Nagi’s mouth drops and Crawford goes red. Schuldig smirks at him, and Ran snickers. He decides he likes this man who can rile Crawford without missing a beat.
This man who says “I’m sorry” when he doesn’t have to; when he’s got nothing invested in Ran even when he’s breaking his heart.
Schuldig comes over more often after the party. That is to say, once every few weeks or so. Ran leaves him alone with Crawford for the most part. But sometimes they speak cordially, as if Ran doesn’t know who Schuldig is, and as if Schuldig doesn’t know he helped Ran face the jagged truth.
One day, when Crawford calls to say he’ll be late after Schuldig has been there five minutes, sitting at the table while Ran makes him coffee, Schuldig blurts, “I’m sorry.”
Ran tenses, and then picks up the full coffee mug and the sugar bowl and places it in front of Schuldig with careful motions. “So you said,” he says, turning to get the creamer.
Schuldig runs a hand through his hair, out today instead of in the ponytail it is for work, and sighs. “I really am though. You didn’t deserve that.”
Ran sits carefully, wishing for a drink after he’s in the seat but not wanting to appear more anxious by rising to get one. He sits very still, fingers curled against one another on the table, and then looks at Schuldig’s face. His blue eyes seem sincere. His customary smirk is not there.
Schuldig looks down into his coffee and sighs, then starts pouring in sugar.
“I don’t understand how you can drink that,” Ran says abruptly.
Schuldig stops with the coffee halfway to his mouth and then takes a hesitant sip. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. Ran watches it, pretending not to.
“Wanna try it?” Schuldig asks after putting his mug down.
Ran reaches for the mug and Schuldig slides it forward. The mug is hot but not scalding against Ran’s fingers. He turns the mug and puts his lips right over the shiny spot against the enamel where Schuldig’s lips were moments ago, and raises the mug.
The taste is bitter, but he feels all the same as if he has just been kissed. The aftertaste is sweet. Ran slides the mug back to Schuldig and licks his lips, slow, considering. Schuldig watches him, though Ran can tell he is trying not to. He is familiar with that look.
He is ready to see it again.
They go out for the first time on a Saturday. Ran asks Schuldig, and Schuldig seems surprised but pleased.
They kiss for the first time on a Tuesday. Schuldig’s lips taste like soba noodles from the corner stand, and Ran sucks Schuldig’s tongue into his mouth so that when Schuldig withdraws, all he will taste is Ran.
They make love for the first time on a Friday. Schuldig undresses him like Ran is a god, and Ran clings to Schuldig like he is the only solid thing in a world of water. Ran breathes into Schuldig’s pillow afterward, and feels himself shaking. He thinks fleetingly of Yohji, and then shoves the thought away. Schuldig is not like that. He is safe in this place. And as if hearing the thought, Schuldig wraps an arm around Ran in his sleep and tugs him close. Ran’s heart slows. He falls asleep.
Ran gets the photo two years later. It is in an anonymous manila envelope, and he nearly cries when he sees it. But he opens it, and his heart stops.
It is Schuldig, with an open velvet box in his hand. The diamond ring faces the camera, and Schuldig looks so hopeful Ran chokes on his breath. He flips the card over desperately, and when he sees the note on the back, he laughs. “Yes,” he breathes, barely able to get the sound out, “Yes,” louder, “Yes, you fuck, never scare me like that again!”
Schuldig slips out of the front room and looks chagrined, but gleeful. “Really?” he says.
Ran drops the photo and jumps off the chair and onto Schuldig, wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist and his arms around Schuldig’s neck. “Say it,” he says.
“Marry me.”
Ran kisses him, hard, and drops his feet to shove Schuldig against the wall. “Yes,” he says huskily, pressing against him. “Now give me the damn ring and let’s go celebrate.”
*
Ran gets the first letter while Yohji is away on a business trip. It is in a manila envelope with no return address. Inside is a photo. “He’s cheating on you,” the back reads. It is dated: two days ago. Ran turns the photo around, frowning to hide his fear even though no one is there to see him falter. On the front are Yohji and his investigative partner, Asuka. Yohji’s pale fingers are stark, tangled in her fine black hair. Her hands grasp the lapels of his suit jacket. She sits on his desk, and he kisses her as if she is the only person in the world.
What hurts most is they are in full view of the detective agency window. The camera zooms past the blurry letters to catch their faces.
Anyone could have seen what Ran sees now.
Ran sits down on the floor and puts his forehead in a shaking hand.
But he doesn’t cry.
The next letter comes when Yohji has returned, three days later. “What’s this?” Yohji asks, seeing no return address on the envelope as he hands it to Ran.
Ran goes white, but takes it and leaves the room.
“Ne, Ran? Did something happen?” Yohji calls after him, the picture of a caring lover.
Ran calls back a negative and locks himself in the bathroom. He sits on the toilet seat and stares at his own name before shaking himself and tearing open the envelope.
Once again, he sees the message first. “I’m sorry,” it reads in strong, angular letters. Ran turns it around and sees the diamond ring on Asuka’s finger. Yohji stands with her, cupping her face as she grips his hand. They are leaning in for a kiss.
Ran stares down at the picture in shock. The other photo was only a kiss. It could be excused as simple infidelity. Common…expected, with someone like Yohji…but-but-
The knock on the bathroom door startles Ran into blinking, looking up. Something hot splashes on his cheek and he frowns. Is he crying?
“Ne, Ran. You almost done?”
Ran slides the photo back into the envelope as in a dream and flushes the toilet he hasn’t used. “Aah,” he replies.
He washes his face, dries his face and hands, and slips past Yohji into the hallway. Yohji calls as the door is closing, “I’ll be on a stakeout tonight-don’t wait up.”
Ran stops and the door shuts. His fist clenches. But he makes himself relax and start cooking dinner for them both. He doesn’t know what else to do.
Ran realizes a week later that they haven’t had sex since Yohji came back, and he hadn’t noticed. That in itself is strange, for Yohji. When they first started living together-dating, really-Yohji was all over him. But lately-Ran supposes he should have noticed when the sex drive tapered off that things weren’t quite the same in bed; that Yohji’s kisses had became perfunctory; that the times they slept together became fewer and fewer; that Yohji’s stakeouts were becoming too common to be trusted.
Ran had chalked it up to the way relationships were; he had assumed Yohji was cheating, but without proof, had been happy enough.
Now the proof is in his hands once again: a wrinkled receipt for a luxury hotel in Yohji’s name, and a photo of him and Asuka holding hands on the balcony. There is a second photo though-of them on stakeout across from Kikuchi’s Landing. They are tangled up in the backseat, windows beginning to steam.
When Yohji gets home late that night, whistling and peering into the cabinets for an easy dinner, Ran feels sick. He lies in bed and pretends to be asleep when Yohji comes in from the shower. He is glad he warrants at least that courtesy.
Ran gets the photo of the wedding invitation before it’s gone to press and packs up his things. He brings them to Crawford’s flat because Crawford doesn’t ask questions, and never liked Yohji to begin with. When Yohji gets back that night, Ran has the photos in one envelope, the last one bearing the message “He’ll tell you tonight” burning into his thigh through the hard paper.
Yohji sits him down on the couch, folding a hand over Ran’s, and says, “I have to tell you something.” Ran lets him. And when Ran displays no surprise, Yohji says, stunned, “You knew.”
Ran waves the envelope and says, “You should be more careful. People see things.” He stands up and drops his key, already off the ring, on the table. “I’ve already moved my belongings. If you find anything I’ve missed, please call my phone. Otherwise, I’d prefer if we didn’t speak again.”
Yohji sits back on the couch, swallowing. Ran leaves. He closes the door on Yohji’s “Wait” and strides quickly into the elevator. When the elevator doors close, the apartment door is still shut. It has been almost fifteen seconds.
Ran sighs and lets go of the “door open” button. He doesn’t know what he had been expecting.
He just knows he wishes he were wrong.
Crawford gives him a week to brood before telling him he needs to get over the jerk and go outside. Not many people know he was dating Yohji-a mistake and a warning sign, but better now than if people had known-and he should be doing things he enjoys instead of moping after a good-for-nothing cheater.
Ran catches the muttered words that Crawford says about Yohji when he thinks Ran’s not listening. Ran is just glad Crawford is trying to spare him from the worst of his loathing.
He goes out though, after eight days of mindlessly working and then coming back to Crawford’s and moping, because he agrees with Crawford: he’s acting pathetic. So he goes to a bookstore and reads for three hours, and then leaves with the second book in hand and his wallet slightly lighter than before. He gets a cup of tea from a corner teahouse and absorbs the ambiance over poetry. When he gets back, he feels less like death warmed over than he has since he first got a picture in the mail.
And speaking of that…
“Crawford?” he asks, finding the man doing work at the kitchen table.
Crawford looks up, but says nothing.
Ran takes the envelope he of photos and puts it on the table. “Do you know who sent these?”
Crawford raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Ran slumps down into a chair. “Crawford.”
The American puts down his pen carefully and slides up his glasses. He is stalling for time, and Ran doesn’t care; he wants the world to crumble more than he wants to have this conversation. “I saw Yohji and Asuka together while on a conference a month or so ago,” he admits. “They were acting…the way he used to act with you. And I knew Yohji would talk his way out of any accusations I made. And so I called a friend.”
“And had him investigated?”
Crawford sighs. “Followed. I had him followed.”
“Who wrote the notes?”
And now Crawford seems confused. “Notes?”
“On the back of the pictures. Who wrote them?”
Crawford frowns. “I just told him to send you irrefutable proof of your lover’s…indiscretions. I didn’t tell him how to go about it.”
Ran pulls the envelope back and stands. “Who did you ask?” he asks, almost as an afterthought leaving the kitchen.
“Schuldig. He’s German-you wouldn’t know him.”
Ran nods and goes to his bedroom. His, because he’s worked out rent with Crawford. He picks up the book of poetry and then puts it back down. He feels tired, but knows that’s just sadness. So he makes himself do work at the desk-he and Crawford met in the same office, though Crawford has now been transferred to a different section. In time, he forgets what the pain in his chest is for.
He meets Schuldig four months later. It is at a party Crawford hosts at his apartment. Well, party is perhaps too suggestive a word. It is a gathering of friends. Ran invites Ken and Omi, friends from his high school days. Omi brings a date, a girl named Ouka. Ken’s date arrives late. Her name is Yuriko, and she’s just returned from Australia.
Jei Farfarello comes, and Naoe Nagi, with a girl called Tot who looks slightly older than him, but acts younger.
And then the door opens as Ran is getting a tray of drinks, and Ran forgets to pick up the tray because the man who walks in the door has hair like fire and a smirk that makes Ran shiver down to his toes. He doesn’t see Ran as he comes in and greets the living room, but his accent is German and Ran suddenly wants to kill Crawford. This man can only be Schuldig.
Crawford comes into the kitchen and frowns at him. “Is something wrong?”
“That’s him,” Ran hisses.
Crawford raises an eyebrow and takes the tray. “Of course,” he says. “He’s a friend of mine. Why wouldn’t he be invited?”
Ran walks into the room and sits at Ken’s feet. Schuldig takes a glass and sits on the couch across from Ran and smiles, then stands and holds out a hand. “I’m Schuldig,” he says.
Ran takes his hand and feels a familiar warmth in his gut. “I know,” he says solemnly. Schuldig’s grin falters a moment, and then he sits down and holds up his glass. “What is this?” he asks Crawford, swishing the golden liquid around.
“Yours is urine. The rest of us are drinking champagne.”
“Crawford!” Nagi scowls. “That’s disgusting.”
Schuldig just laughs at Crawford’s chagrined expression. When he takes a sip though, his eyes go wide and he motions for something to spit into. “Is something wrong?” Ken asks. Crawford seems shocked and nearly drops the tray. “What? What’s the matter?”
Schuldig is suddenly fine, even amused. He swallows and says, “Just surprised me: this tastes more like jizz than piss.”
Nagi’s mouth drops and Crawford goes red. Schuldig smirks at him, and Ran snickers. He decides he likes this man who can rile Crawford without missing a beat.
This man who says “I’m sorry” when he doesn’t have to; when he’s got nothing invested in Ran even when he’s breaking his heart.
Schuldig comes over more often after the party. That is to say, once every few weeks or so. Ran leaves him alone with Crawford for the most part. But sometimes they speak cordially, as if Ran doesn’t know who Schuldig is, and as if Schuldig doesn’t know he helped Ran face the jagged truth.
One day, when Crawford calls to say he’ll be late after Schuldig has been there five minutes, sitting at the table while Ran makes him coffee, Schuldig blurts, “I’m sorry.”
Ran tenses, and then picks up the full coffee mug and the sugar bowl and places it in front of Schuldig with careful motions. “So you said,” he says, turning to get the creamer.
Schuldig runs a hand through his hair, out today instead of in the ponytail it is for work, and sighs. “I really am though. You didn’t deserve that.”
Ran sits carefully, wishing for a drink after he’s in the seat but not wanting to appear more anxious by rising to get one. He sits very still, fingers curled against one another on the table, and then looks at Schuldig’s face. His blue eyes seem sincere. His customary smirk is not there.
Schuldig looks down into his coffee and sighs, then starts pouring in sugar.
“I don’t understand how you can drink that,” Ran says abruptly.
Schuldig stops with the coffee halfway to his mouth and then takes a hesitant sip. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. Ran watches it, pretending not to.
“Wanna try it?” Schuldig asks after putting his mug down.
Ran reaches for the mug and Schuldig slides it forward. The mug is hot but not scalding against Ran’s fingers. He turns the mug and puts his lips right over the shiny spot against the enamel where Schuldig’s lips were moments ago, and raises the mug.
The taste is bitter, but he feels all the same as if he has just been kissed. The aftertaste is sweet. Ran slides the mug back to Schuldig and licks his lips, slow, considering. Schuldig watches him, though Ran can tell he is trying not to. He is familiar with that look.
He is ready to see it again.
They go out for the first time on a Saturday. Ran asks Schuldig, and Schuldig seems surprised but pleased.
They kiss for the first time on a Tuesday. Schuldig’s lips taste like soba noodles from the corner stand, and Ran sucks Schuldig’s tongue into his mouth so that when Schuldig withdraws, all he will taste is Ran.
They make love for the first time on a Friday. Schuldig undresses him like Ran is a god, and Ran clings to Schuldig like he is the only solid thing in a world of water. Ran breathes into Schuldig’s pillow afterward, and feels himself shaking. He thinks fleetingly of Yohji, and then shoves the thought away. Schuldig is not like that. He is safe in this place. And as if hearing the thought, Schuldig wraps an arm around Ran in his sleep and tugs him close. Ran’s heart slows. He falls asleep.
Ran gets the photo two years later. It is in an anonymous manila envelope, and he nearly cries when he sees it. But he opens it, and his heart stops.
It is Schuldig, with an open velvet box in his hand. The diamond ring faces the camera, and Schuldig looks so hopeful Ran chokes on his breath. He flips the card over desperately, and when he sees the note on the back, he laughs. “Yes,” he breathes, barely able to get the sound out, “Yes,” louder, “Yes, you fuck, never scare me like that again!”
Schuldig slips out of the front room and looks chagrined, but gleeful. “Really?” he says.
Ran drops the photo and jumps off the chair and onto Schuldig, wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist and his arms around Schuldig’s neck. “Say it,” he says.
“Marry me.”
Ran kisses him, hard, and drops his feet to shove Schuldig against the wall. “Yes,” he says huskily, pressing against him. “Now give me the damn ring and let’s go celebrate.”