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They would have thought that he'd be able to predict it. It was so common. It was like dying in an automobile accident or falling and breaking your neck. That's not how Brad was supposed to die.
The house still smelled like smoke and the three remaining wanted to go back to their last apartment. It wasn't going to happen though, so the two undamaged beds were moved into the one undamaged bedroom and they steeled themselves to stay there until they were moved again.
Schuldig was the most vocal in his feelings. He volunteered to sleep on the sofa so that the other two could have the beds, but he spent his nights curled up on the kitchen floor in front of the pile of ashes where the stove had been. Occasionally, Nagi and Farfarello could hear him whimper and mumble wordlessly.
On the forth night he went into the bedroom. Nagi was already asleep. Farfarello was in the kitchen snacking. Fuck Farfarello, but he was sleeping in the bed tonight. He needed some comfort.
Schuldig heard Farfarello in the doorway. He assumed that the blond would see him, and then go sleep on the couch. He didn't though. Instead, he came in and lay down beside Schuldig on top of the covers. He wrapped his arm around Schuldig's waist and Schuldig sank back against the hard chest. Before he knew it he was trembling and there were tears streaming from his eyes.
"It's going to be ok," Farfarello told him, unusually lucid. He tightened his hold on the other man.
Schuldig didn't know why, but some how he believed him.