The Vain Struggle

Ch.1

\"Love is a game at which everyone cheats.\" Balzac


Ten - nine - eight - seven - six - five - four - three - two - one...

A resounding knock reverberated through the large room, hardly disturbing its occupant. He had seen this coming and counted down the seconds until the knock. Without looking up at the door he called out, removing his glasses as he spoke, \"Come in Schuldig.\"
The door slowly swung open in an all too theatrical and familiar gesture. Framed against the darkness of the hallway, his lean and wiry body tightly clad as usual, Schuldig looked in upon the quiet figure behind the desk.
\"Crawford...\" his breath a whisper, Schuldig called upon the midnight haired business man, about to ask more from him than he knew. \"Can we talk?\"
A silent sigh departed Crawford\'s lips. He set the papers he had been reading on the desk and looked up at the German silently. This was a bad idea, he knew this. He felt it all the way down to his toes. Diligently, he had been avoiding this \'talk\'. Nothing good would come of it, nothing. Nodding in acceptance, he waited for Schuldig to enter and close the door.
The click after the door closed sounded hollowly throughout the room, bouncing off of walls andnishnishings. Midnight colored bangs in his eyes, Crawford observed the man before him that caused the air to vibrate with the base animal feeling of sex. It was a constant current between them, a sexual tension that was uncomfortable for Crawford, but more than a welcome challenge to the redhead. The tension was palpable in the air, enough of a stifling feeling to weigh the room down heavily, like wet velvet thrown across the face.
The redhead obviously felt at home in the tension, although his counterpart surely did not. He watched the lines of Cawford\'s shoulders and back tighten, and the dark haired bishounen stir a little in his seat. He was beautiful, softly illuminated by one lamp on his desk, light sliding across his cheek bones, creating delicate shadows as fine as spider-silk. The light in Crawford\'s eyes was shielded softly, shielded from him, and he wasn\'t too happy about that. What further annoyed him was when the object of his a little less than faithful desire looked away from him, turning his slate blue gaze back to theerwoerwork on his desk.
\"I\'ve missed you, Brad.\"
\".....\" The words were not foreseen, but they were expected. Schwarz\'s leader continued to look at his paperwork, appearing to study it. He didn\'t answer, he couldn\'t think of anything good enough to say. What did you say to something like that? Something that would get you into such a mess? There wasn\'t much to say, at least he couldn\'t think of anything appropriate.
Jade eyes narrowed in annoyance, Schuldig slipped over to the desk, his movements languid and alluring in a serpentine manner. He stopped in front of Crawford, watching him for a sign of any emotion. The only thing he saw was the top of a dark head that shone black fire in the select spots the light grazed it.
\"Don\'t you have anything to say? After all we\'ve gone through?\"
\"What do you want me to say?\" Crawford sighed, looking up from his papers. The shadows across the German\'s face were sharp contrasts to the starkly lit pieces scattered here and there on his face and body. Light was unpredictable, illuminating only what it wanted, but not what Crawford wished to see. He could not see Schuldig\'s eyes; a good or a bad thing, he didn\'t really know.
\"An \'I\'ve missed you too\' would have been nice. Anything would have been nice, even a \'Fuck off, I\'m busy\'.\" Anger stole through the words, a harsh current to assault his old lover\'s conscience. It worked, guilt twinged inside and the American flinched, a tiny twitch of the left side of his lips. This gesture went unnoticed, but Schuldig knew the havoc he was wreaking. Deep down inside he knew, he had to know.
\"I\'m sorry,\" Crawford said without thinking, an impulse that was meant to placate- a simple instinct. For a moment the German was soothed, but the next instant he was once again calculatingthe odds, and intent upon getting exactly what he wanted by any means.
\"It\'s alright. You don\'t have to apologize. I was worried about you. We haven\'t really talked for awhile. You\'ve been avoiding me, ne?\"
Honesty did not seem like the best answer at that moment, so Crawford chose not to answer. Instead he shuffled the papers on his desk. Schuldig noticed his gesture of aversion, and decided it was not the answer he wanted. He approached his dark-haired companion slowly, sliding around the desk like a snake possessed. His eyes flashed twice in the stray beams of light, the jade brightening and showing the predatory instinct that always ran through his veins. Abruptly he sprang to stand behind the chair his desire sat in, draping himself across the tight shoulders to nuzzle the strong neck that was exposed from the once unbuttoned collar.
\"I\'ve missed you so... \"
\"... I know ...\"
\"Come back. I need you. You\'re perfect for me... and I\'m perfect for you.\"
\"....\"
\"You know I\'m right; you\'ve always known that. We\'re meant for each other. We should have never broken up in the first place, Brad.\"
\"....\"
A warm tongue caressed the back of his ear, startling the American slightly. He was barely able to stop himself from flinching, barely. He felt terrible for having left Schuldig in the first place, and he didn\'t feel like he could fight against the attraction he had for ttherther man. It was there, undeniable no matter how many times he told himself otherwise. Attraction, though clandestine, was still apparent between them. Nagi had felt it recently, and been looking quizzically at him for a few days.
The tongue had been replaced with teeth that were gently nibbling on his earlobe. It was pleasant, but not pleasant. He liked it, but he did not think it was a good idea. This whole thing wasn\'t a good idea, at all.
The German made a purring sound in his throat, a soft rumble that would have amused Crawford under any other circumstances. \"I would like to see you again. We should go somewhere together soon.\"
\"Schulidg...\" Crawford pulled away from the embrace, lifting his arms and stepping out of and away from his chair in one fluid movement. Like fluid friction, he slipped away in shadow, particles of light highlighting a feature now and then. \"This is a bad idea and you know it. We can\'t-\"
\"We can\'t? Why? Who\'s stopping us?\" Schuldig came out from behind the desk, his injured pride evident in the rigidity of his body. Not only was his pride injured, but everything else was as well. He wasn\'t hte best when it came to handling rejection.
\"....\"
\"Well? Who is stopping us? Who restrains you, Bradley? Other than yourself?\"
Confronted with what was obvious, but what he had chosen not to acknowledge, Crawford pressed his lips into a thin line, torn between the decision to tell the truth or not hurt his old lover. He didn\'t know what to do.. at all. He couldn\'t hurt Schul;dig, there was a part of him that cared too much for the redhead to allow himself to do that. He couldn\'t hurt Schuldig, but anymore self sacrifice would make him utterly miserable. Self sacrifice, martyrdom, was getting overrated, in his opinion, and very quickly.
\"You should "
"
\"Why?\" Schuldig glowered at him, injured pride shining through clearly.
\"You need to go. I need you to go.\"
The redhead stepped towards his elusive companion again. \"What if I don\'t? I think we need to talk this through. You can\'t hide from me forever.\"
\"Sometimes we must have love, either as a desirable good or an inevitable evil,\" sighed Crawford, his voice barely above a whisper.
\"More Voltaire? Or Balzac? Which whining philosopher do you try to hide behind now?\"
\"Bussy-Rabutin, not Voltaire. Or Balzac.\" Another sigh hissed from his lungs. \"We should talk later. I can\'t do this now. Not right now.\"
\"When later? How long are you going to run from this conversation?\" Another step clo The The shorter the distance, the more tense Crawford\'s body became and the more alluring Schuldig\'s motions.
\"Just... later.\"
\"Just later? What does that mean?\"
\"... Please ...\" When Schuldig showed no signs of leaving, Crawford sighed once in resignation. Turning from the accusatory look in Schuldig\'s eyes, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. As he closed the door behind him he felt the air from the hallway, and was soothed momentarily. The air was colder than the air inside of his office and the change in temperature gave him back some of the sense he had lost. He walked away, headbut but eyes cast downwards in a moment of weakness, and muttered to himself, remembering another quote he had memorized a long time ago.

\"One of the most seductive illusions of love is to imagine that we contribute to the happiness of those we love.\"