It's been awhile huh?

Thanks for staying with this for so long. And sorry about that.

Let's get right back into it, shall we?

Papercuts

Chapter 8: Break Beat Down

"I want you to tell me everything you know about Teito Klein."

"If you're asking me that, then you already know."

Of course, he answers in fucking riddles. Frau closes his eyes and tempers his rage for about the thousandth time since yesterday.

He'd never been good at that. Never.

And when he opens his eyes, he sees Castor staring at him. That same, hard stare.

They'd known each other for far too long to try to lie.

"I know something at least. And I have no fucking idea of what I'm looking at." Frau tries again, "All that I know is, I really, really don't like to look at it."

"And you're still looking?"

"I don't want to look away."

"...You haven't really changed much, have you?" Castor sighs. He walks over to the window and looks out at the view beyond.

It was only two or three seconds before he'd started to talk.

Thinking back, Frau realized that in itself was a warning of the shitstorm that was to come.

"The boy's name is Teito Klein. You know this as well as I. But that's the only thing people expect you to know because they know if you heard the rest, you wouldn't just stand by. Like they have."

"Stand by?"

"Stand by and watch." Castor lowers his head, slowly shakes it, "Remember? You'd raise all kinds of hell, like you normally do."

"..."

"And some of them had actually caught on to that pattern that 'sets you off'."

Castor's actually looking at him now.

"Frau."

He'd heard that grave tone once before.

It never had been a happy memory.

"Can you promise me something?"

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Every time he woke up, he said a prayer.

It was a habit that he'd worked into his day when he moved into the District. Capella had told him about it.

'A Prayer for Everything'.

Before he opened his eyes, he thought words in his mind. Simple words.

Single words.

With those single words, he connected it to people and things that he knows.

"..."

Before he opened his eyes, the first word that he thought of is 'safety'.

Of this, he thought of three people.

One was the lonely young woman he'd met on the bridge that fateful night. A sad smile and sadder eyes, who talked of her family and ailing child.

Who he met again in his employ, tear stains still visible on her cheeks.

For the woman called Kurena, he prayed for her safety.

Then he remembered that she still hasn't returned and his throat is dry.

The second was a bright young man who he remembered as a boy. By 'boy', he meant the him from a few years earlier, but he'd acted so innocent, so naive and so cheerfully oblivious, that was the term he'd used to define him. A boy with a sunny smile and kind eyes, whose hand was warm as he shook hands with him.

A boy with a strong smile and wavering eyes, who waved him farewell as he left the town gates.

For the boy named Mikage, he prayed for his safety.

Then he remembered that he can never see him again.

The third was a little child that he'd met for the first time under storm clouds, drenched wet as if the sky wanted to hide his tears and his sadness. A child with shaky hands and a shakier voice, who refused to look him in the eye.

A child who looked at him with haunted eyes the second time they'd met, scrunching his hands up and speaking words too grown-up for him.

For the child called Capella, he prayed for his safety.

Then he remembered that he'd probably never be safe again.

He opened his eyes and the blinding white of the hospital room fills his vision.

"...?"

His body felt weak, horrendously weak.

"Where...oh."

He didn't need to look too far to see him.

A figure in black, sharp contrast with his pale skin and sharper eyes. Sitting close, too close, too fucking close to him.

"You're awake."

Finally. It's heavily implied in his sentence, impatience seeping into his very tone.

"...I'd hoped otherwise."

That response doesn't rouse a reaction out of Ayanami. Not yet.

...Or maybe it does.

He could recognize the storm in his eyes.

There's a second word in his prayer, but he can't remember.

Ayanami reached over and he feels a tug. Ah, Ayanami's taken his hand.

Heavily bandaged, he could barely feel it. Through the bandages and the medicines that make his eyes heavy, his thoughts weak.

He could barely feel the kiss on his palm, the lips on his fingers and the tongue that tastes his skin.

But it still revolts him, makes him want to throw up.

"I'd thought you'd appreciate something like this."

"All it's doing is making me retch." He said dryly, pulling his hand away, "You're acting creepy. More than usual."

"Only acting creepy, hm."

"Thus far, anyway."

Ayanami's changed his tune, but he's only acting. Of course he can tell.

Of all people, he should know when a person starts to lie.

"I thought it was strange. A boy from class had come and visited while you were still asleep."

That's all it took for the cold sweat to break out over his skin.

A boy from class. Who was it? He honestly doesn't know, because who would care enough to visit him?

"The Oak boy. He was quite worried about you. He'd heard quite a lot of things, it seems."

Hakuren.

"..."

"They'd found you wandering the streets, covered in blood. You were bleeding far too much."

...He was smiling again.

Deep from within, he felt a shard of fear pierce through his heart.

"But some of it was not your blood, was it?"

He looked down.

"Who were the others? Had they tried to harm you?"

Not an ounce of warmth or worry in that tone.

"Why do you care?"

"Because someone has to pray for the corpses that you leave behind."

And then...then, he sounded absolutely delighted.

"Since when were you the type to pray?"

His words sounded steady, at least. He raised his head up again and tempers his fear, met those cold, dead eyes, "Don't tell me the District has had an influence on you."

"Staying in any place for this long, you'd adapt to some of their customs." Ayanami said. He's the one who looked away now, "And you are the same aren't you?"

A hand that tugged on his hair, hard.

He sucked in a breath. An involuntary gasp of pain.

He's angry.

This is bad.

"Isn't that the meaning of your existence?"

"My existence?"

He'd wipe it out with the next few words, like he'd always try to do.

"To protect the master of this body, Mikhail."

Ayanami hated to say his name.

Had he run out of patience already?

"I do not pray." Mikhail said coldly, "I do enough to protect him on my own."

My prayers are his. They belong to him.

"I wonder. What exactly are you willing to sacrifice?"

Mikhail closed his eyes.

Everything.

"I could kill you before you even so much as move."

"I know." Mikhail said.

And beyond everything else, he doesn't want this body to die.

"Your master would surely suffer when he wakes up. So don't move."

Words endlessly repeated.

To protect his master, he had to lie still.

Mikhail gritted his teeth as he moves closer.

Lie still. Be weak.

Mikhail closed his eyes.

Be weak so you could let him be strong.

"How far you've fallen, Angel of Death."

He'd come to hate that name almost as much as his master did.

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"Promise you something?" Frau asked. The question is unexpected comes at him from left field, almost.

"Yeah. Before I can tell you anything, you have to promise me this."

How strange.

Hadn't he heard that question a few hours before? Yeah.

Word for word.

In a young boy's hoarse, dying breath.

"Promise me something."

It was a plea in the harsh tone of a curse. He'd refused to let Frau go, let Frau get any help. With strength far more than his feeble, broken body had ever let on, he grabbed hold of him.

Strength that had been reflected in his eyes. Dark green, unfocused, like he wasn't even seeing who was in front of him.

Like the words were a desperate prayer for a god not willing to listen.

"...Let me go! I need to get-"

"I can't! Not until you promise me!" He'd yelled.

"Why...?! Fine! What do you want me to promise you?!"

What was that after?

Was it his imagination?

He'd sworn that he saw the boy's eyes flash red.

"You shouldn't break this promise. No matter what."

"Fuck, I get it already! Just tell me!"

The boy smiled. Almost angelic even as he uttered the next words-

"Frau?"

"...It's nothing. Can you...just get it over with?" Frau inhaled, a deep breath and asks, "Whaddya want me to promise you, Glasses?"

"Just one thing. After you hear this story, I want you to do something for me."

"What?"

"I'll explain later."

"...Whatever. It shouldn't be harder to do than the other promise I have to keep."

"Other promise?"

"The brat made me promise something to him before I could get him help."

"What exactly was that?"

"You don't need to worry about it. You know as well as anybody else that I'm terrible at keeping promises."

"...Not exactly the best kind of attitude when I am the one asking you to keep them."

"Yeah, but you're a pain in the ass to deal with. So I keep them for sanity's sake."

Castor huffed then, almost childlike. But he noticed the look in Frau's eyes.

He hadn't seen it for awhile.

"Whatever promise he asked you to keep...don't do it." He said finally.

"Way ahead of you, Glasses."

There was no way he could.

But the expression on the kid's face was burned into his mind.

"Promise me, Frau." He'd said and his words are little more than puffs of air, his tone so brittle it could break into pieces.

In a hospital room with the door strangely locked...

...A boy with red eyes embraces a man.

For a boy so far-gone to make a monster protect him,

To make an Angel of Death pray for salvation,

I want you to fulfill a promise to me.

And behind his back, he smiles.

"Frau, I'm begging you."

"Please...kill me."

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I will keep updating this, don't worry! Really.

I really wanna see this story finished. I'm sorry I made you all wait for so long.

I...there were issues. Up to a point where I couldn't even entertain the idea of finishing this but...

for those reading this...thank you for sticking with me.

Thanks. Really.

-Justanothersinger

[J to you and me, heh]

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