Let's Try This Again: Frederich And Claude

Frederich sat up in his bed. It was almost noon, but that meant he was up earlier than usual. He tried to keep the hours of his shop consistent, but he was constantly changing them. That, or he just didn't wake up on time at all. Alarms were useless, as he slept through them. Once Frederich was asleep, it was up to his body when he woke up.

Trudging downstairs, he yawned loudly. It had been a few days since he'd had a proper client, and things were getting even more dull. He needed to blow off some of his pent up energy.

He took a can of coffee from the fridge and changed the sign from 'closed' to 'open', before he sat down at the table and began to sip.

He knocked on the door once, twice. He surprised himself with his nonchalance; here he was, facing his destiny, his life's goal, and he was treating it like another trip to a corner store. He inhaled, walked through the door; the bell jingled to announce his presence. He was handling this well, but he probably should have expected that--he hadn't been particularly emotional for years.

And yet, when he laid eyes upon the man in the shop, he felt his heart falter for a moment. Yes, this was definitely where he was supposed to be.

He took a slow step forward, aware that he was quite the sight. Though he was barely 5'10 he was fit, with a chiseled stomach that he showed off shamelessly. His black skinny jeans drooped, showing his hips. Around his neck were several necklaces made of black velvet and silver and lace and crosses.

"My name is Claude von Volfe," he stated calmly, though his heart was in his throat. "Are you Frederich? If you are, I've been looking for you. We need to talk."

Frederich looked up from his coffee and his book, his hair falling into his face as he did so. Slowly, he brought up a hand to push it back from his good eye, not bothering with the other. It wasn't like moving the hair out of his other eye would let him see better, since it was covered with an eye patch.

"Are you a customer?" he asked in a slow, tired sounding voice. He used his fingers to trace patterns into the wood of the large table. "If you are, it's only fair to warn you that my rates of service are very high. That said, I always get the job done right. I just need you to provide as many details as possible, in order for me to do my job properly."

He glanced down at his coffee, taking a short sip of it. "Please sit down."

Claude sat down without hesitation.

"If I need to pay you to speak, I will," he said, "but you must listen. I have been searching for you for a long time...you'd think with a name like yours it'd be easy, but it wasn't. I've seen hundreds of Freds, hundreds of Ricks...but seeing you right now, I know you're the one I've been searching for."

He slid his hand across the table to lightly touch Frederich's hand. His grey eyes were intense as he watched his face--oh that he could catch Frederich's eye for only a minute. A minute was all he asked, even if he craved so much more.

"I doubt you remember me, but I remember you," he continued softly. "You feel just the same. You've...changed. I feel we have become more or less the same since we last met. For that, I am sorry."

He glanced at a clock on the wall. He had told Sigrid he would be home by noon, but that promise no longer seemed relevant; he wanted to stay here, next to this man, for eternity.

Frederich stared at him for a very long time. Minutes passed, before Frederich finally shifted in his seat, leaning back, away from Claude.

"I know that the sign on my store is a bit ambiguous, but I don't sell drugs here," he said calmly. "I also am not interested in any product you're selling, or in a fortune telling. Above all, I am not interested in having sex with a stranger, and I certainly will not pay you."

He stared at him for a second longer before he finally said, "please leave my shop. Children live here."

Claude stared at him for a moment, incredulous--was this Frederich's idea of a joke? He didn't seem to be smiling. Outrage and shame filled him when he realized he was serious.

"I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression, but I'm definitely not here for that. Perhaps I haven't been frank: you and I are childhood friends. Well, perhaps acquaintances is a better word, but still, that changes nothing.

"You are my closest friend in the whole world." He said the words without a hint or irony; indeed, they were completely true. Down to the core of his being, he believed them, lived by them even.

"Back then, when we were children, I was weak. I was lonely. But you played with me during my family's vacation--you helped me find my parents again when they had left me behind. You were the only one who cared for me on that entire trip."

He paused, clearing his throat; he could hear a faucet dripping in another room, the drops in time with the ticking of the wall clock.

"I've since become...powerful. I can see things--my sister says I possess paranormal abilities. Psychic powers, if you will. Now I help others." He reached for Frederich's hand again.

"None of it meant anything if I couldn't see you again, though. So I searched and searched, and now I've found you again. Frederich."

Frederich leaned his head back, his hair falling out of his face. With a blank expression, he thought about it. He rifled through his many memories. He had to dig up the deeper ones, which had become nearly unreachable. Then, he remembered. Yes, this man looked a great deal like that kid he had helped.

He leaned forward, using his hand to push his hair over his shoulder.

"Claude von Volfe," he said slowly, still mulling over the memories. They churned in his mind, but there were a lot of things he had yet to understand. "Why did you come find me? We weren't friends. I was a kid. No one else has ever sought me out, like you.

"In fact, you unnerve me, Claude von Volfe." He leaned forward, narrowing his dark black eyes, as he used his hand to reach for Claude's arm, which he grasped tightly. "There is something about you that I do not like. You reek of death, Claude von Volfe. Are you aware of this?"

He stared into Claude's eyes, barely blinking. "Yes. You have some inkling of power, like you said. No doubt due to some scrape with death. Did he leave you alive for some purpose, or did he just spit you back out for the hell of it? Never mind, I don't care too much.

"What I really want to know, is why you've sought me out. Because of one incident years prior to my own accident? Or do you need help, just like the rest of the people who walk through those doors?"

He swallowed, tugged at the velvet choker. There was a skull hanging from it.

"I need you," he said, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. He had mulled the thought over many times before--after all, going to such a length to reconnect with a mere acquaintance was by no means practical. But as he thought, and thought, and thought some more, he had come to a conclusion: this was his life's goal. There was nothing else that could rival its importance.

"I want you. I desire you. I want to be with you, because you are the most important person in my life." He spoke calmly, though he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

"I know I reek of death, you know. I can smell it on myself--spirits cling to me, follow me, talk to me. It's as you say--I died years after we met. And I've used my powers to find you again--Frederich, the most important person in my previous life."

He gripped Frederich's arm in return, meeting his gaze.

"Please accept me--I am your humble servant, if it means I may keep your company." He glanced around the shop, at the many strange items and dusty books lining the shelves. "You know how useful someone like me can be. Use me, if you want."

"Do you think you're special, Claude?" Frederich asked, staring at him. "Many people have walked through my door begging me for the exact same thing you're begging me for. They need me, just as you do. But when all is said and done, they know when to let go, Claude. They do not dwell on the past. I see to it that they move on with their lives. Why is it that someone hasn't seen to it that you're moving on? Isn't it time you find someone in your current life?"

He shifted ever so slightly, though he did not break his intense stare.

"I don't want to use you, Claude. I want you to take a good, long look at what my life has become, and then I want you to walk away and form your own life," he said sternly. "I will be doing this for as long as I live. Though my work is fulfilling it is dull, and boring for most of the time, and exceedingly dangerous the rest.

"Tell me, have you dealt with spirits yet? Exorcised them, or had to kill one? It's not pretty, I'm sure you know, or you can at least imagine. You hear the screams in your sleep, and for a person like me, who cannot wake up, it is a nightmare that doesn't end.

"What I want you to know, Claude, is that the second you step into this store, there is no turning back."

"Are you trying to scare me off?" he asked, impatience creeping into his voice. "What do you think I've been doing while searching for you, Frederich? I've been honing my skills. My sister insisted, and I was curious--I must have banished hundreds of spirits across the U.S. I've been doing this for years, just as I assume you have."

He touched Frederich's cheek with his fingertips for a split second, before pulling his hand back.

"...You are the most important person in my current life. You were important in my last life, so I found you again--you are my reason for living. I would've just gone back by now, if I didn't have thoughts of you. I can't think of a person who has done more to make me what I am." He glanced to the side as the thought crossed his mind; could Frederich tell? It was probably better not to mention it until he had at least secured some form of friendship. Love would have to wait.

"If here is where you are, then I never wish to turn back. I never intended to let you out of my life again after this meeting."

Frederich pulled back from Claude. He shrugged.

"Fine. If this is the life you want," he yawned involuntarily, shaking his head slightly. "I can't stop you. You can even life here if you want. There's a spare bedroom upstairs. From now on, you need to watch the shop when I'm sleeping. Which is a lot. I'm narcoleptic, so if I fall asleep, bring me to the couch, please. If it's when I'm with a client, wake me up. Always wake me up if there's a client. I'll show you how later, when it's necessary."

He leaned back into his chair.

"Is there anything else you have to say to me?"

"I love you," he said bluntly, completely serious. He reached out and held Frederich's hands in his. "I've been speculating that we're probably soul mates--the memories of you are the most vivid from my past life."

So much for love waiting. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but feel proud for having gotten his confession out in the air. It felt so good to finally tell someone; no one had known, not even Sigrid.

"I'm hoping you can come to love another man as easily as I can--I only like men, I think in part because of you." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Get out," he said suddenly. "You're affection for me is only going to get in the way. So leave."

Frederich stood up.

"Goodbye, Claude."

"It won't!" he insisted quickly. "My love for you has never prevented me from completing a job--it's merely what keeps me going. Without the thought of finding you, I would have simply walked back into death's welcoming jaws." He stood up as well. It was a less impressive gesture than he had hoped, as Frederich was a few inches taller.

"If you don't return my feelings, I don't mind. I just want you to understand that I do love you, and I'll do anything for you. I'm used to disappointment, I assure you--you can't do anything that will hurt me." He set his jaw, knowing his words were false; Frederich was perhaps the only person he feared could hurt him.

"In any case," he continued, "I refuse to say goodbye to you so easily, Frederich. I've been searching for you for years. You are my life goal--the goal of my second life, at least."

"You don't get it, do you?" he asked, grabbing his coffee and taking a long sip. Now empty, he threw it into nearby the trash can. "My customers well being comes first on a case. But there's no doubt tht if you had to choose, you would choose to save me. Am I right? Claude, I cannot have that. My customers and the case always come before my own life. Always."

He stared him directly in the eyes.

"Do you understand?"

He returned Frederich's gaze without backing down.

"If that's what makes you happy, then I'll do it without hesitation," he said honestly. "Your company isn't worth much if you're miserable. I want my favorite person to be happy--doesn't everyone?"

He glanced at the coffee in Frederich's hand.

"...Could I get some of that, by any chance? Or will I have to buy my own food when I live here?"

"I don't believe you," he replied bluntly. "But I'll let you stay."

Frederich shifted slightly, and slowly.

"If you want food, then you'll have to buy it. The only thing I eat is coffee."

"Will I have to buy everything I use?" he asked. "Should I grab you some more coffee? Where will I sleep? What type of gifts do you like?" He didn't sit back down just yet; his mind was suddenly ablaze with hundreds of questions. He had waited for this moment so long.

"Do you remember me? Do you find me attractive now? Are you in a relationship? Does anyone else live here?"

Frederich stared at him blankly for quite a while, thinking over the questions.

"Yes, yes, I don't care, I don't, yes, no, no, my sister and a gay ghost," he replied all at once.

"A gay ghost?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. "How...unusual. In any case, I will move into your room, if that's okay. I want to spend lots of time with you from now on...I never got to know you well enough." He smiled slightly, messing with his hair.

"Even if we can't be lovers, I want to become good friends. Please, tell me about yourself."

"Don't tell him I called him gay," Frederich said, partially in retrospect. "If you move into my room, don't touch anything more than you have to."

Frederich slowly made his way to the couch, sitting down and sighing a deep, slow sigh.

"There's nothing more you need to know about me."

"But I want to know everything," he insisted, sitting down beside him. "Unless you'd rather hear about me? I can do that. Ask me anything."

"No, I'm not interested in you, either," he said bluntly. "There's nothing interesting about me. My parents are both dead and I hunt ghosts with my sister. That's it."

"...That's everything about me too," said Claude slowly, surprised. He cautiously reached for Frederich's hand.

"Frederich, I think we really are destined soulmates. I mean, I know I've only just met you again, but we have so much in common, and you're really handsome and I really like you. I hope you don't mind if I keep trying to win you over." He scooted closer, smiling.

"It's been too long. I missed you."

Frederich flinched, withdrawing his hand. It was the fastest he'd moved since waking up.

"Refrain from touching me," he replied suddenly. "We are not soulmates, and I do not like you. You still smell like death."