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"If it's Teito... I believe Frau can overcome it."
Stupid. Stupid goddamn Labrador and his stupid damn unnecessary comments. Of course he can overcome it, who do they take him for? He's better than that stupid scythe.
Stupid, stupid...
He glowers, tossing aimlessly on the small bed. It's not like he even needs sleep, but unconsciousness sounds pleasant right about now.
So, of course he can't fall asleep.
He can hear Teito tussling with Mikage in the bath, trying to properly clean the furry creature. He still remembers the bath he was thrown into, scalding hot water melting frozen joints, and he tries to recall that warmth.
He runs his tongue over too-sharp teeth and he fails, fails, fails.
No sense of self-preservation. Either of them, if he's being honest with himself. He can't shake the image of Teito's face (scared worried anxious hurt blood smeared by his mouth my fault my fault) but the words keep repeating in his head (my Bishop, don't hide anything from me) and he can almost taste–
Is his hunger his own, or the Scythe's tainted influence? He can't tell anymore, where it ends and he begins, if they're really even separate anymore. If they ever were to begin with. The Scythe only meshes with him, he was the only suitable Ghost, and he knows it’s only because he’s Zehel, but he can’t stop himself from wondering sometimes if he’s Zehel because the Scythe meshes with him.
He doesn't even realize he's digging nails (claws, sharp and black into his chest) into his palms until there's a wet feeling and he stares, slowly wipes blood away with the inside of his shirt, and Teito, of course Teito comes out then, chooses then of all times to decide hey, yeah, bath's over. A shirt and boxers and a towel ruffling his hair and Mikage on his shoulder and ah, yeah, he does not look happy.
Frau decides the best course of action is to just roll over, face away, ignoring the "Hey!" of protest. But then slender, callous hands are pulling him back over with a surprising amount of force (why didn't he fight back) and he does his best to glare. "I'm trying to sleep here."
"Since when does sleep involve a blood ritual?" Teito snaps. "Don't hurt yourself!"
"It's not like it was intentional! And aren't you a bit young to be my mother, brat?" Fierce green eyes glare back at him, and he's regretting picking a fight this late, this soon, he's regretting staying in the same room at all because Teito is so close and his arm is burning, burning, the scythe is fire etched into his veins and yet it's still so cold. "Just... shut up and go to sleep," he mutters.
There's a bit of shuffling from behind him, Mikage squeaking and then–
A weight on the bed, the covers are lifted and Teito is pressed against him, probably half off the bed because it's rather small to begin with and what the fuck is Teito doing.
He scoots up against the wall just so he can sit up and stare down at the kid who's apparently lost his fucking mind, who has the nerve to stare up at him unabashedly and announce "You're stupid and cold, so I'm sleeping here."
Frau shoves him off the bed without a second thought, half panicking. "Are you fucking suicidal, brat?!"
"No, just bruised," Teito dryly responds, climbing back into bed for round two. Frau stares incredulously, and Teito responds by simply tugging the man down, tossing the blankets over him as casually as if he were tucking in Mikage.
He can feel the boy's soft warmth radiating off his body, filling up the space under the blankets, soaking into his cool skin, and he's nothing but a leech (leeching heat, leeching life, claws digging into his chest and trying to rip out something delicious something wrong) and he doesn't know how to get out of this one.
He pleads. "You're going to kill both of us. Move."
Teito closes his eyes and rolls onto his side, turning his back to Frau, leaving himself completely defenseless. Frau wants to scream, but he settles for biting his tongue until he tastes blood.
"Fucking move, you damn brat," he growls, and it sounds too much like a real growl, guttural and... He closes his eyes and tries so hard not to think about it.
"Don't wanna."
"Are you five!?"
"I know you are, but what am I?"
This time he does scream, a little, and he tries to shove Teito out of the bed again but the boy has learned and grips tightly to the sheets, refusing. He turns around and green eyes are too close, too close, his grip is slippery at the best of times and Teito seems hell-bent on testing all of his limits when he's already so tired and so hungry, the disgusting taste of Velne still in his mouth.
"I heard," Teito says. "Castor and Labrador. They get cold, so you must too. Stupid lying Bishop. And they believe in you too, so you're the only one that doesn't. Shut up and go to sleep."
And with that he closes his eyes again, not bothering to move away, and Frau half-jokingly wonders if it would really be that bad to kill the brat.
He imagines the way Teito looked on the floor and immediately regrets it.
The scythe is growling, a low hum as it burns its way through his body, and he hates it, hates the way Teito smells like a five star meal, hates the way he swallows thickly and has to try to convince himself he's not going to hurt Teito when he already has.
They haven't gone away yet and he wonders if he's stuck with pointy teeth for good at this rate. Ah, that would make it hard to keep up his image. With his luck it's almost guaranteed though, everything is hard lately.
He glances at the mess of dyed-blonde hair on the pillow beside him and he groans. Another sleepless night, then.
It isn't that he doesn't want to be close to Teito. No, the opposite. He wants to protect him, but he's a threat to him as well. He wants him to smile, but he's made Teito frown so many times.
Failure, failure, failure. How many more times can he screw up before..?
Teito's hand slides across the mattress, lazily grasping his own, and he squeezes out of reflex before he jerks his hand back, only for Teito to stubbornly cling on. He digs his nails in (nails not claws he's sure they're not black this time just nails not claws not claws) as a warning, and the boy doesn't even react.
Right. As if a war slave would flinch over some nails. As if he'd really be afraid of some minor wounds with everything that's trying to kill him right now. He hasn't even pierced the skin and he thinks maybe that's good because if he wasn't in control then he would've, right?
...Right?
He gives up and lets his hand lay limp in Teito's, the same firm grip that pulled him to his senses and he lets it anchor him now. He wants to believe he won't hurt this boy who trusts him. He wants to...
He pulls him closer, buries his face in dyed-blonde hair and inhales the scent of soap and dye and Teito, and ignores the burning in his veins in favor of the soft warmth pressed against his chest. "Don't blame me if you get cold, brat."
For a moment, Frau thinks maybe he's already fallen asleep. But Teito hums, squeezes his hand and relaxes. "Won't. Frau is warm. Stupid Bishop," he mumbles, words slurred with sleep.
He can't imagine how tired Teito must be, but he sort of can, because he feels it too. He can't remember the last time he slept well. His death was probably the only peaceful rest he ever got and, well, look at how that turned out.
He runs his free hand through soft golden locks and closes his eyes and thinks, well, maybe it didn't turn out too badly after all.
When he wakes, he panics.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep, and it couldn't be good, Teito was so close and oh gods why was he stupid enough to get that close, to bury his face in the scent and inhale, masochism is one thing but this borders on homicidal and–
A squeeze, and he realizes Teito's hand is still entwined with his own. He takes a deep breath, an old habit, and realizes he's exactly how he fell asleep. His body is still on fire, and he thinks he drooled on Teito's hair, which the boy is definitely gonna kill him for, but he's alive. He's still breathing. He's even still asleep.
He squeezes back and lets out a shaky sigh, deciding against getting up.
It's warm. It's not like a bath, or the icy burn of the scythe. It's almost like the sun, the way it seeps into your skin, blinding and nourishing. He can't remember waking up like this, not even when he was alive, not even when he had a heart that pumped hot blood the way it should.
He's almost glad he doesn't, because he's sure he would've had multiple heart attacks by now.
Just one more moment, he thinks, nestling his face back into the pillow and Teito's hair. It's so stupid, he knows. It's risky. It's selfish.
It's warm.
When Teito wakes up, Frau tries to pretend to be asleep. The boy knees him in the gut for drooling and he retaliates by throwing a pillow at Mikage, forcing Teito to jump in front, taking a blow straight to the face.
Their easy bickering feels like home, and he can't tell where the scythe ends and where he begins, because they both want that boy and they both can't have him.
He thinks he's okay with it, so long as Teito smiles like he is now as he marches off to take a bath.
He doesn't even notice when the burning stops, when Teito wraps his arms around him on the Hawkzile and it could be a warm sunny day for all he knows, the bitter chill a distant reality. The only thing he feels is the soft warmth of this boy.
It’s not as though future suddenly got brighter. They’re still up against bleak odds, and Frau isn’t carefree enough to ignore that, or optimistic enough to think the best of things. It’s only like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, a sudden strange confidence that he, at least, won’t be a danger to Teito, that he can protect Teito, that they have a chance.
It could just be the speed of the bike, but it feels exhilarating.
It feels warm.
When Teito dies, he doesn't really feel anything.
It's not that he doesn't care. He just doesn't feel anything at all. As if a fragment just happened to chip off, leaving a blank space behind. He knew it was going to happen, somewhere in his heart, so maybe that's why. Teito always had the makings of a heroic sacrifice, too good for this shitty world. It doesn’t even feel like a failure, because it was Teito’s choice, because Frau knows better by now than to expect anyone in his life to stay.
He tells himself it's what acceptance feels like, and when he takes up his new job as God of Death, he almost believes it, if he keeps himself busy enough.
When Teito is reincarnated, it feels like a crack has been fixed, poorly, painted over with a gaudy mismatched color. It's messy and he can't tell if it's better or worse than before. He peeks in once, on a one year old with bright green eyes and a (bigger, longer) pink puffball curled up beside him and he knows without a doubt that is Teito and it's not.
His name is Tiashe now, and that's okay, really. He's happy Teito is back in any form. He's happy Teito gets to have his family and gets to be free of all the horrors he experienced before.
But something inside him whispers that everything he experienced was what made him who he was, so really, Teito is still dead like this, it's not him, not the boy who once used tomato sauce to trick him into being worried.
He kills the voice and gets on with his job. If he peeks in on Tiashe from time to time, well, it's just nostalgia. Someone as old as he is, is definitely allowed that much.
They say the only ones who can see the God of Death are animals, small children, and those touched by death or dying. So when five year old Tiashe (such bright green eyes so clear he can't remember Teito ever looking so innocent) points curiously at him in the window, he isn't surprised, though he ducks out of view immediately.
When fifteen year old Tiashe notices him, he tells himself it must be some sort of side effect from the reincarnation or something. Hell if he'd know. It doesn't matter. He gets on with his job. It's busy.
Labrador tells him Teito has beautiful eyes, and he thinks nothing of it. Lab always makes such vague comments.
Castor tells him that Tiashe is growing up to be a fine boy, someone who will make a fine leader, and Frau bites back a comment about how Teito would've made a better leader and nods along. He misses the way Castor glances at him out the side of his right eye, analytical.
When he runs into nineteen year old Tiashe, it's unintentional. Labrador told him to meet him there, and–
Maybe it wasn't unintentional, he curses. But it's too late to run, because standing in the midst of the garden is Teito (not Teito, Tiashe, the boy who didn't suffer the boy who didn't hold his hand), and those green eyes are definitely locked on him, seeing what they should not see, and he can barely bring himself to look at this boy who he does and does not know.
Tiashe stares, Mikage standing beside him. The little dragon has grown large, but Frau is certain the growth is stunted somehow. By now, he should've been huge, too big for their home, and maybe that's why he isn't growing as much. He still won't ever separate from Teito. A promise across reincarnations, remembered even in that form.
It hurts.
He turns to leave, not even bothering to say hello or goodbye because he already did, before, and this isn't Teito, it's Tiashe who's calling out for him. "Wait, come back!"
He runs.
"Stop!"
Why oh why did he come here. Hell, why is he even running? It's so bland. He could get away much faster. He can teleport, for fucks sake. But he can't bring himself to do anything but run, maybe until his legs are numb (such silly human reactions but he's not human he's not alive not in anyone's world now), maybe until it doesn't hurt. There's footsteps behind him and Mikage has joined in the screaming and he wants to turn around and shout "Traitor!" at the stupid pink puffball but he doesn't, he runs.
He runs until he's tackled into the grass a ways from the garden and then he stands up and makes to run again, even though it's ridiculous, but–
There's a hand grasping his and he freezes, blood running cold like it hasn't since he felt the Scythe and oh, he can remember how it feels because he still hungers, in different ways but all the same.
And Tiashe stares up at him, at this blonde God of Death in his black robes, wings floating and maybe not as intimidating as he was with the Scythe but still, he should be some degree of looming but there's no fear in those green, green eyes.
"Teito has such beautiful green eyes, don't you think..? "
Teito, Lab had said. Teito, not Tiashe, and Frau thinks he gets it, because those green eyes are so bright and alive he's missed it, but this close he can't look away and he sees the spark of stubbornness that drove a child to challenge the gods and then, he speaks.
"Frau."
A squeeze, the hand that pulled him to his senses, pulled him to salvation.
"You stupid perverted Bishop. Don't hide anything from me."
Realization filters in slowly, seeps into him like the warmth from the sun, from Teito. He didn’t feel anything when Teito died because the world had ceased to exist, the world in which he was alive. This isn’t a tacky new paint job- it’s a whole new coat of paint in a whole new room, a whole new world, one where Teito is alive and can stay alive and Frau is still alive to him.
He knows this is a little backwards. After all, Tiashe existed first; Tiashe was the bright-eyed boy born to a kingdom. Teito came later, an orphan sold as a war slave, but Frau has only ever known that one, that boy who drew the short stick every time who's now finally won something but it's Frau who feels like he's won everything.
And maybe he might be crying, and he didn't actually know he could do that, and it's totally ruining his image, but Teito is stammering and before he knows it Frau is laughing, laughing, laughing, and he falls to the grass and he drags Teito down with him and he holds him too close.
"You damn brat," Frau mutters, burying his face in soft brown hair, in the same Teito scent that's now mixed with flowers instead of hair dye and soap. "I really missed you."
"I said I'd come back," he defends, feigning offense, but his hand is still twined with Frau's and he makes no move to get up. "...I missed you too, stupid Bishop."
"I'll have you know, I got promoted. I'm the God of Death now. Call me sir."
"Hell no."
Labrador and Castor watch from behind a bush, smiling in satisfaction as the two bicker. Labrador quietly leads Castor away, unwilling to intrude anymore on this moment, and Frau spends only a moment to glare in their direction.
Teito tilts his head to look right at Frau, and he smiles, relaxed in a way he's rarely ever been. "Whatever rank you get, whatever reincarnation, whatever happens, you'll always be my Bishop."
Frau grins, a mouthful of normal teeth, a body pleasantly warm, and full of desires that are wholly his own. "Good, 'cause you'll never get rid of me, brat."
And he knows, there's a lot to do, always, always. He isn't even sure if Teito's parents know about his memories, and Frau himself has a job to do.
But he can't think of anything he ranks higher than laying here in the grass with Teito's hand in his, so everything else can wait until later.
It's warm.