Brad sighed to himself as he lay in bed, staring up at his ceiling. A pale white ceiling…Pale as her skin had been the last time he had seen her…Seen her corpse…
       A small body was snuggled up next to him, and he squeezed Nagi’s slender shoulders, which he had an arm wrapped about. No matter how much he loved Nagi, she would always hold a piece of his heart, always haunt him. The American had told Nagi about his lost beloved the night before, after they had made love in the silky sheets of his bed. Winding down from it all, he had told Nagi where he would be in the morning. The teenager had pouted a bit at first, but had understood, for he was in a similar situation. No matter how much he loved Crawford, he would always love Toto in a special way.
       The clairvoyant slid from bed, careful not to awaken his beloved. He slowly showered and dressed, slipping into a deep navy blue trench coat to keep away to the cold. Under this he wore a deep black dress shirt that made his coat look like water it was so dark along with matching pants. After making sure Nagi was warm and sound asleep, he grabbed his keys and wallet before leaving. His shoes clicked lightly as he walked down the hardwood floor of the hall, his perfect image reflecting all around him in the mirrors that lined the walls.
       He walked into the living room and spotted Schuldich sleeping on the couch. The German had his arms and legs thrown every-which-way in a classic display. Farfarello was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a bowl of chopped apples in his lap. He turned his head towards the American and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going out.” Brad said curtly, his words clipped and short a tone that allowed no question. Farfarello nodded and Crawford gave a short nod before walking out the door.
       As he turned round the corner of their street, a brief memory entered his mind. Glorious locks of golden blond hair, endless streams of it, framing a delicately flushed face and brilliant midday eyes. Brad shook the memory from his jarred mind and turned down a street. He pulled to a stop and got out of his car. He walked into the flower shop and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was working behind the counter.
       Bombay, humming a cheerful tune to himself as arranged something in the desk. His short hair was damp, as if he had showered a few moments before. He was wearing a short sleeved red and white baseball style shirt that greatly accented his build, showing off his slender waist while at the same time flaring off his well-developed body. Adorning his legs was a pair of baggy dark blue corduroy pants, covering the tops of his shoes.
       He looked up when he noticed somebody was in the shop and opened his mouth to greet the American when he realized who it was.

“Schwarz!” He cried, jumping over the counter. He landed in a fighting stance, four darts held in his hand. “What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed, narrowing those endless sapphire eyes of his…Eyes so much like hers…

“I’m here to buy flowers.” Crawford answered calmly. “A bouquet of red roses.” Bombay blinked at him in confusion.

“That’s it?” He asked wearily, his stance relaxing a bit.

“If I were to attack you, I would have already done it.” Brad folded his arms across his chest. “Schuldich enjoys games, not me.”

“Okay.” Bombay replaced his darts in their hiding place and flashed the American the peace sign. Brad was floored by the action, staring dumbly while the teenager readied his arrangement. Brad paid for the flowers and left, feeling thoroughly confused. Which is something he didn’t like to be. Why had Bombay simply made the arrangement without any fuss? Weiss was strange…
       Crawford drove and reached his destination within a few minutes. He got out of his car and walked down the gravel path, stones crunching under his feet like the shattered remains of his heart Esset had walked over years ago. A wind blew threw and his raven hair picked up, blowing in unison with his coat as he walked over a hill. At that moment, he felt so hopeless. Like a lost white rose, struggling against a winter’s storm, hidden behind a curtain of snow. Vainly fighting for his own right to live, fighting the future only he could predict with a power that was a curse and a gift.
       Hollow and empty, vacant as the rain drops that began to poor, he walked towards the single grave stone that haunted a Sakura tree, red marble in color, red like velvety crimson. He stood in front of the stone, tracing it time and time again, memorizing every nook and cranny like he had so many times before. Mixing with the rainwater striking his pale skin were tears that had long since lost meaning to him. What was the point of crying if he couldn’t bring her back?
       Brad felt slender arms wrap round his waist and he was pulled into a small embrace, looking to find a pair of dark blue eyes, midnight captured and sewn into their depths. Nagi pulled his lover against his frail body in a tight lock as Brad dropped the roses, sobbing. The teenager looked at the grave stone.

Jessica Crawford 1976-1997 ~END~