FicWad

Yohji knew Schuldig before he knew who Schuldig was. Three times, if you counted the one when he hadn't realised it was Schuldig until he looked back on it, and still wasn't sure even then. Schuldig was sharp joints and pale skin and feathery orange hair; a thin face with the tang of cheap sugary whisky on its lips; hooded blue eyes that were never quite looking at only him and cool ghostly fingertips that caught delightfully at the underside of his mind.

/Tell me more about your dead girlfriend, huh/ - cruel, but still Yohji wanted him to stay.