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Abandon	By : Cyndiana Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1722 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Abandon
- 1
TITLE: Abandon
AUTHOR: Cyndiana
RATING: PG-13 for mild depiction of M/M sexuality.
PAIRING: Till/Richard
ARCHIVE: A Feather in the Blood (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/afeatherintheblood/)
SYNOPSIS: Fluff, fluff, liebe und fluff…Till’s heart finds solace with Richard.
DISCLAIMER: Work of fiction. Not intended as a statement of fact. Not for profit.

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Your wet hair sticks to various parts of your face. Water drops play a game of tag down your cheeks, soaking into the collar of your t-shirt. “You’ll never take me alive!” you call out into the night, the soft rain buffering your shouts and giggles.

And mine.

I capture you in my arms, and spin you around. You pretend to fight me off, but to no avail. I am already kissing you, relishing the taste of rain and red wine on your lips.

I giggle ridiculously as you break free of me, and run through the garden, hiding behind the hedges.

“Reesh…Where are you? I miss you, come back…”

Silence, except for the rain.

“Reesh?”

I feel you leap upon my back, wrapping your arms around my neck, and legs around my waist. I hold your arms fast.

“Oh, you think you have me, but it is I who have you, Richard Krupse!” I declare with an evil cackle.

“Knock it off out there! Some people are trying to sleep in this hotel!” a man calls from a balcony. I promptly flip him off, and he retreats into his room indignantly.

I slip on muddy ground, and we topple atop one another, now muddy, and giggling like children.

We decide a mud clod war is now in order.

We each grab up clumps of wet earth and grass and hurl them at one another. I know we’ll have to pay a hefty fee in the morning for landscaping, but we’re rock stars. Destruction is our secondary job, right?

Especially at a posh hotel.

We fall once more into the mire.

We are a wet, filthy mess, but we are happy.

I am actually happy.

We laugh ourselves into agony as our sides cry out for mercy. You roll atop me, and kiss my cheeks. The moonlight, and the soft lanterns that light the garden give your already angelic face an even more innocent glow.

We decide it’s time to get clean, so we trudge back to our hotel room, leaving horrendous muddy footprints as we do.

Not so long ago, I’d have been watching from my own room while you and she did this very thing. I’d have chided you both for the money we’d have to pay for your destruction. You’d have both laughed at me, and disappeared into your room to make sweet, passionate love.

While I slept alone.

I don’t know what changed your mind. Before you married her, you knew how I felt, and I knew how YOU felt, and how badly you didn’t want to feel it.

One lipstick letter on your bathroom mirror in New York turned the Earth onto an entirely new axis.

One love deceased gave birth to another.

Muddy clothes fling left and right as we barely make it into the large, elegant shower, and profane it with mud and grass.

The warm water from the 4 shower heads washes us clean of our previous activity. We hurry to get one another clean completely, wiping each other down with soft wash cloths and sweetly scented apricot shower gel.

You smile so broadly, I fear as if your face will shatter from the sheer force of it.

And mine as well. My cheeks ache from my own smiling.

We kiss, and embrace, giving in completely to the demon that buffeted us both since our eyes first met one another’s gaze.

I still remember that night.

Your wet hair stuck to various parts of your face. Water drops played a game of tag down your cheeks, soaking into the collar of your t-shirt. Your lips said nothing, but your red eyes, puffy cheeks, and bare ring finger said it all. Before I could tell you how sorry I was for your misfortune you kissed me. You kissed me and kissed me, as if making up for all those years…

I feel a sob stifle in my throat, and feel tears flood as if little dams have burst in the corners of my eyes.

You cradle my face in your hands, and I turn away, feeling the hot shower spray on my back as I cry so deeply, I feel as if I am splitting in two.

“Till…Liebchen, what’s wrong?”

“This can’t be real…This can’t be real…I’m going to turn around, and you’re not going to be there.”

You turn me to face you, and you are still there, and very, very real…As is the love and concern in your eyes. I weep more deeply.

“Shhh…Till, please don’t cry…”

“Is it possible to be so happy, Richard? It can’t be…”

“Are you so happy, Till?”

I nod…It’s all I can do, since my voice is now failing me…

“Then, I suppose it is possible. I finally have the love I’ve hoped for all my life, Till. I know now absolutely ANYTHING is possible. Even this…us…this complete and utter abandon…Is possible.”

I hold you to me so tight, I’m not entirely sure you can breathe. Years of loneliness, despair, walking around like a discarded shell of a man spill from my eyes and down the drains at our feet.

You whisper over and over, “Ich liebe dich, Till…Ich liebe dich…für immer und immer…”

And somehow, someway,

I’ve finally found the faith to believe you…

If a man has the faith of a mustard seed, he can move mountains, I’ve heard it said…
Though I’ve the faith of a molecule, I’ve removed the granite from my heart.

Through your faith, hope, and devotion…

I am reborn, kissing you until the water runs cold.
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