K.Y.G.--1

Standard diclaimers apply, not to mention the one where it states that I take no credit for this fic. It was written by SilvVenom, that's who you should thank for writing it, not me. Unless you want to thank me for posting it......that would be okay.

"Hey, Heero, can I borrow your AP physics homework?"

The brown-haired boy glanced away from the window, eyes unfocused. It took a

moment for him to draw his attention back to girl sitting next to him. She

sighed, giving off an impatient little puff that blew her bangs away from her

He questioned politely, "What did you say, Hilde?"

She poked him lightly in the side, exasperated. "I said, 'can I borrow your

AP physics homework?' Geez, what's with you?" She leaned over him to peer out

the window, then scooted back to her seat. "What were you staring at anyway?"

"Nothing," he replied shortly, pulling his school bag into his lap. Rummaged

through it, he looked for the neatly labeled notebook entitled, "Hell."

They were currently riding the bus to school. // Not, // Heero thought

savagely, // that the administration would hire a real bus. They just give us

the Cepta schedule and tell us to get to school on time. //

He supposed it didn't really matter. After all, teachers and principles

weren't _supposed_ to give a damn about you. So long as your parents paid

He found the notebook and handed it over to his friend. She nodded her

thanks, then set about copying the complex equations to her own notebook, a

difficult task considering the bus ride wasn't a smooth one. Again, it really

didn't matter. So long as she had _something_ that resembled the equations

down, the teacher would check her off as having her work done.

Suppressing a sigh, Heero turned back to the window, watching as the

buildings and cars and people blurred into an ever-changing kaleidoscope of

color. School was just one of the many facets of his life that he hated. He

hated the homework, so simple he could complete it in his sleep, but so

endless that it consumed almost all of his time. He hated the teachers who

didn't care what he did in class because as long as he passed their tests,

they passed him. He hated the sterilized hallways that were either bustling

with snobbish, haughty students or totally empty; they made him feel

self-conscious and claustrophobic. He hated the cafeteria that served

hamburgers that looked like road kill and charged prices no one could afford.

He glanced up sharply, abruptly shaken from his reverie, and turned in his

seat to look at the passengers in the back of the bus. There, all the way in

the back, was a boy who looked to be around his age. He was draped across the

back seat as though he owned it, sprawled there like he hadn't a care in the

world. Bored indigo eyes that seemed much too large for the heart-shaped face

stared back at Heero and for a moment he felt his heart drop to the vicinity

of his toes. Dressed in a snug black t-shirt and baggy, black cargo pants,

well-worn Doc Martins on his feet, the boy practically radiated danger. Heero

almost felt ashamed of the catholic schoolboy uniform he had on, grateful

At Heero's scrutiny, the boy's mouth quirked a little.

Both of their attentions were drawn back to a fat, balding man in a business

suit who stood in front of the boy. The man repeated, "Hey!" again, and

"Hey yourself," the boy replied easily, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes.

Heero hadn't noticed them before. He knew next to nothing about cigarettes,

but from the packaging, they seemed to be of exceptional quality.

Again, the man in the business suit spoke. "My cigarettes. You just stole my

Having noticed Heero's attention had been drawn away from the window, Hilde

followed his gaze, then poked him lightly in the side and silently mouthed,

They were the only two people on the bus to pay any attention to the small

drama unfolding in the rear of the vehicle. All of the other passengers

stared fixedly out the windows or spearheaded their gazes at the back of bus

"You stole my cigarettes," the man repeated stupidly, livid with anger.

The strange, violet-eyed boy shook his head. "No, I didn't."

The man seemed outraged. "What are you talking about?" he growled, "You've

got them right here. Those are _my_ cigarettes. I _felt_ you taking them."

"No, you didn't," the boy smiled. "You probably felt a heart murmur or a

stroke warning. I'd see a doctor about that; you're in a dangerous age

bracket." He waggled his eyebrows winningly, fingers deftly plucking one of

the cancerous rolls from its container. "These are mine." His voice was firm.

As he raised the cigarette to his lips, he paused then deadpanned, "Don't

The man spluttered, reaching out with beefy hands in an attempt catch hold of

the boy's slight form. Slipping under the outstretched arms just as the bus

lurched to a halt, the boy winked in Heero's direction. Heero blushed faintly.

As the man stumbled forward and landed on the backseat, his face turned

bright red and he yelled, "You're a thief! A bloody _thief_! Who the hell do

Unconcerned the boy made his way to the sliding doors and stepped off of the

She nodded then muttered, "He _did_ steal them. You could tell just by

looking at him." She paused, then added in a disgusted tone, "He's horrible."

With another lurch, the bus started up again. Heero glanced out the window as

they pulled away from the curb, spotting the strange boy casually paused on

the sidewalk. His cobalt-blue eyes widened when the boy reached into his

Hilde went back to copying the homework and didn't hear him as he softly

"... the female followers of Dionysus were called the 'Maenads;' wild women

of the hills who murdered their husbands in an ecstatic frenzy and pledged

themselves to the mad young god." The history teacher, a pompous old fool

named Mr. Romfellar, moved slowly around the room, walking in between the

rows of desks as he lectured. "In the end, Dionysus himself was torn apart by

He rapped his knuckles sharply on Heero's desktop and glared at the students

at the other end of the classroom. "Quiet in the back."

Because the old man wasn't paying attention to his best student, he

completely missed Heero's look of distaste. It was gone after a moment and,

blissfully unaware, the teacher began to pace again, speaking in his

Heero ignored him, mind wandering. // I hate this class. Mr. Romfellar just

recites the information like a drone. What does he think I'm going to do?

Re-write the textbook just because he thinks direct citation counts as notes?

Sighing, he shifted in his seat to stare longingly out the window. // When

are we supposed to be able to live? That's what I want to know. What's the

point of all this? The more I think about it, the more I realize that schools

are just factories for turning out _robots_. // He picked up his pencil and

absently chewed on the eraser. As always, his musings quickly took a

decidedly sour twist. // They get you when you're small and vulnerable and

they take all the human parts away. Bit by bit, until you're just a wind-up

toy. Turn the key and set it running. Then the toy goes to a university, gets

A streak of black caught Heero's attention. It was only a small movement, but

his peripheral vision spotted it and he fixed his gaze on the disturbance.

His eyes widened in surprise when he saw it was the boy from the bus, walking

unevenly along a stone fence with a beer can in hand. A truant officer

approached him, stance rigid, and said something. The boy simply threw back

his head and laughed, flipped his middle finger at the man, and darted down


	The Anime Nirvana \| home K.Y.G.--1 Standard diclaimers apply, not to mention the one where it states that I take no credit for this fic. It was written by SilvVenom, that's who you should thank for writing it, not me. Unless you want to thank me for posting it......that would be okay. "Hey, Heero, can I borrow your AP physics homework?" "Hm?" The brown-haired boy glanced away from the window, eyes unfocused. It took a moment for him to draw his attention back to girl sitting next to him. She sighed, giving off an impatient little puff that blew her bangs away from her eyes. He questioned politely, "What did you say, Hilde?" She poked him lightly in the side, exasperated. "I said, 'can I borrow your AP physics homework?' Geez, what's with you?" She leaned over him to peer out the window, then scooted back to her seat. "What were you staring at anyway?" "Nothing," he replied shortly, pulling his school bag into his lap. Rummaged through it, he looked for the neatly labeled notebook entitled, "Hell." They were currently riding the bus to school. // Not, // Heero thought savagely, // that the administration would hire a real bus. They just give us the Cepta schedule and tell us to get to school on time. // He supposed it didn't really matter. After all, teachers and principles weren't _supposed_ to give a damn about you. So long as your parents paid them, nothing else really mattered. He found the notebook and handed it over to his friend. She nodded her thanks, then set about copying the complex equations to her own notebook, a difficult task considering the bus ride wasn't a smooth one. Again, it really didn't matter. So long as she had _something_ that resembled the equations down, the teacher would check her off as having her work done. Suppressing a sigh, Heero turned back to the window, watching as the buildings and cars and people blurred into an ever-changing kaleidoscope of color. School was just one of the many facets of his life that he hated. He hated the homework, so simple he could complete it in his sleep, but so endless that it consumed almost all of his time. He hated the teachers who didn't care what he did in class because as long as he passed their tests, they passed him. He hated the sterilized hallways that were either bustling with snobbish, haughty students or totally empty; they made him feel self-conscious and claustrophobic. He hated the cafeteria that served hamburgers that looked like road kill and charged prices no one could afford. He hated everything about it. Everything. "Hey!" He glanced up sharply, abruptly shaken from his reverie, and turned in his seat to look at the passengers in the back of the bus. There, all the way in the back, was a boy who looked to be around his age. He was draped across the back seat as though he owned it, sprawled there like he hadn't a care in the world. Bored indigo eyes that seemed much too large for the heart-shaped face stared back at Heero and for a moment he felt his heart drop to the vicinity of his toes. Dressed in a snug black t-shirt and baggy, black cargo pants, well-worn Doc Martins on his feet, the boy practically radiated danger. Heero almost felt ashamed of the catholic schoolboy uniform he had on, grateful that the boy couldn't see what he was wearing. At Heero's scrutiny, the boy's mouth quirked a little. "Hey!" Both of their attentions were drawn back to a fat, balding man in a business suit who stood in front of the boy. The man repeated, "Hey!" again, and glared at the strange youth, infuriated. "Hey yourself," the boy replied easily, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. Heero hadn't noticed them before. He knew next to nothing about cigarettes, but from the packaging, they seemed to be of exceptional quality. Again, the man in the business suit spoke. "My cigarettes. You just stole my cigarettes." Having noticed Heero's attention had been drawn away from the window, Hilde followed his gaze, then poked him lightly in the side and silently mouthed, "What's going on?" Eyes wide, he mouthed back, "I don't know." They were the only two people on the bus to pay any attention to the small drama unfolding in the rear of the vehicle. All of the other passengers stared fixedly out the windows or spearheaded their gazes at the back of bus driver's head, blank expressions on their faces. "You stole my cigarettes," the man repeated stupidly, livid with anger. The strange, violet-eyed boy shook his head. "No, I didn't." The man seemed outraged. "What are you talking about?" he growled, "You've got them right here. Those are _my_ cigarettes. I _felt_ you taking them." "No, you didn't," the boy smiled. "You probably felt a heart murmur or a stroke warning. I'd see a doctor about that; you're in a dangerous age bracket." He waggled his eyebrows winningly, fingers deftly plucking one of the cancerous rolls from its container. "These are mine." His voice was firm. "I bought them." As he raised the cigarette to his lips, he paused then deadpanned, "Don't suppose you got a light?" The man spluttered, reaching out with beefy hands in an attempt catch hold of the boy's slight form. Slipping under the outstretched arms just as the bus lurched to a halt, the boy winked in Heero's direction. Heero blushed faintly. As the man stumbled forward and landed on the backseat, his face turned bright red and he yelled, "You're a thief! A bloody _thief_! Who the hell do you think you are?!" Unconcerned the boy made his way to the sliding doors and stepped off of the bus. "Did you see that?" Heero turned to Hilde. She nodded then muttered, "He _did_ steal them. You could tell just by looking at him." She paused, then added in a disgusted tone, "He's horrible." With another lurch, the bus started up again. Heero glanced out the window as they pulled away from the curb, spotting the strange boy casually paused on the sidewalk. His cobalt-blue eyes widened when the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. Hilde went back to copying the homework and didn't hear him as he softly agreed, "Horrible." *** "... the female followers of Dionysus were called the 'Maenads;' wild women of the hills who murdered their husbands in an ecstatic frenzy and pledged themselves to the mad young god." The history teacher, a pompous old fool named Mr. Romfellar, moved slowly around the room, walking in between the rows of desks as he lectured. "In the end, Dionysus himself was torn apart by his followers..." He rapped his knuckles sharply on Heero's desktop and glared at the students at the other end of the classroom. "Quiet in the back." Because the old man wasn't paying attention to his best student, he completely missed Heero's look of distaste. It was gone after a moment and, blissfully unaware, the teacher began to pace again, speaking in his lifeless, monotonous voice. Heero ignored him, mind wandering. // I hate this class. Mr. Romfellar just recites the information like a drone. What does he think I'm going to do? Re-write the textbook just because he thinks direct citation counts as notes? // Sighing, he shifted in his seat to stare longingly out the window. // When are we supposed to be able to live? That's what I want to know. What's the point of all this? The more I think about it, the more I realize that schools are just factories for turning out _robots_. // He picked up his pencil and absently chewed on the eraser. As always, his musings quickly took a decidedly sour twist. // They get you when you're small and vulnerable and they take all the human parts away. Bit by bit, until you're just a wind-up toy. Turn the key and set it running. Then the toy goes to a university, gets a job, and settles down with someone nice... // A streak of black caught Heero's attention. It was only a small movement, but his peripheral vision spotted it and he fixed his gaze on the disturbance. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw it was the boy from the bus, walking unevenly along a stone fence with a beer can in hand. A truant officer approached him, stance rigid, and said something. The boy simply threw back his head and laughed, flipped his middle finger at the man, and darted down the street before the other could respond. Heero stared after him until the bell rang. Back to Main KYG