The Anime Nirvana | home
K.Y.G.--2
Same stuff, I'm sure you've gotten the hang of it by now, right? Well, if you haven't, there are still five more parts to this story after this one.......just so you know.
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"... it's not at all like the usual fantasy writing style. He's really so
_poetic_; it's almost as though I'm dreaming when I read these books," Relena
informed him grandly as they stepped from the store, through the doors, and
onto the bleak, gray street. In her manicured hands she held her newest
purchase, a thin volume entitled, "RuneFest: Trolls in Love."
Heero said nothing, simply stared at her bobbing blonde head as she
scrutinized the back cover of the book. She spoke to him offhandedly, taking
for granted that he would follow her as they made their way down the empty
streets back to her house. He did, trotting at her heels like some sort of
demented puppy.
"This is... well, it started as a trilogy and this is the seventh book. I
suppose he just had so many ideas. Boys can read it too, you know. It's not
just a girly series because it's fantasy. And all the characters are really
strong and distinctive." She smiled, hugging the book against her flat chest.
"There's this one girl... a sort of sorceress with a magic sword..."
Her high-pitched voice grated his nerves; he'd long since learned to tune her
out. // I don't know why I bother to go shopping with Relena. I don't know
why I bother to go anywhere with her. She asked me to be her boyfriend and I
agreed... but I don't like being around her. If I had a magic sword I'd
probably use it to cut her head off. // Trailing her steps obediently, he
suppressed a sigh. // I shouldn't be too hard on her. I'll probably marry her
or someone just like her. //
Time moved as slow as molasses and it seemed like an eternity before they
were even remotely close to the blonde girl's house. He could tell they were
almost there, even though he hadn't lifted his eyes from the ground for the
past few block, because the area had become more populated and occasionally
another set of shoes passed his on the street.
Relena continued to talk the entire time. She never seemed to run out of
breath or subject matter. Maybe it was some sort of gift, he mused, like the
ones you'd find in an action comic book. Come and see Relena, the Motor
Mouth! Able to kill with a never-ending stream of words!
"... I was having an argument with those silly Scripture Union people today.
I hate them, you know, always going on about God and Jesus when really they
simply sit around and drink _beer_ all day. And every time I argue they just
say, 'What about Jesus turning the water into wine?' as if that somehow meant
he _drank_ it all."
The argument was one of many for Relena. She was extremely self-righteous and
had no qualms about letting the rest of the world know _exactly_ how she felt
whether they wanted to hear her or not. Sometimes Heero wondered if she
thought she was the Queen of the World or something.
"I mean, they're just not interested in _any_ other aspect of the life of
Jesus. He's only meaningful to them as a one-man miraculous brewery."
"WAHOO! I'll drink to that!"
The couple blinked simultaneously, turning to the source of the noise: a boy
reclining on a nearby bench. Beautiful eyes, red rimmed from all of the
alcohol he'd consumed, dressed head-to-toe in black as though he'd been
dipped in a vat of paint, and Heero _recognized_ him.
// The boy from the bus! //
The boy tipped an imaginary hat to them, mouth locked in an insane grin.
"Afternoon, sirs!" he exclaimed, tipping back his beer can to take another
sip. Heero was enthralled, watching the dove neck pulsate as the boy downed
what was left of his drink. With a start, he noticed the long, soft braid
dangling over the edge of the bench and he felt the insane urge to touch it.
He would have, actually, but Relena grabbed him by his hand and dragged him
along.
"Who the hell does he think _he_ is?" she fumed. "It just proves what I was
saying. No one has morals anymore. The world's sick! Everybody's sick!"
Wisely, Heero kept his kept his mouth shut. In his mind's eye, he visualized
the strange boy, tilting back his beverage and drinking deeply, lips pursed
around the mouth of the can. He'd seen the boy three times in one day; that
had to mean something. Maybe the boy was an omen of death; if looks could
kill, Heero knew, the boy could be considered a heart attack on legs.
From behind them, he heard the boy's throaty alto burst out into a rousing
rendition of, "I am the very model of a modern major general."
"Everybody's sick!" Relena repeated and he realized sourly that she was
waiting for him to say something.
"Except us," he responded dutifully. "We're not sick." // Just different, //
he added silently.
He tugged his hand from her grip and fell into step behind her.
As they reached her house, she turned to him with an almost feral smile. "My
parents are away for the week, you know. Would you like to come in?"
// No. // He shook his head, ignoring her disappointed look. "I have homework
to do. And I need to study if I'm going to pass my calculus test tomorrow."
He didn't really, but it was a good excuse.
"Oh." Perturbed, she brushed her long blonde bangs from her eyes, attempting
to tuck them behind her ear. "That's too bad. I was hoping..." her voice
trailed off as he shook his head again. "Well then," she pouted, "I guess
I'll see you tomorrow after school."
Leaning towards him, she placed her mouth on his and forced her tongue,
unwanted, between his lips. To another, her actions might have seemed teasing
and seductive, an attempt to arouse him and convince him to stay, but they
weren't. Not to him at least. Her touch made him feel dirty, sometimes almost
physically ill.
After a moment she pulled back, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes,
her cheeks flushed. "See you tomorrow, right, Heero?" Her voice was throaty,
but she didn't pull it off nearly as well at the boy from the bus.
He nodded obediently, only wanting to go home.
Relena skipped to her doorstep, calling over her shoulder in a shrill voice,
"Are you sure you don't want to stay?"
But he was down the street and gone before she'd even managed to get out the
first word.
***
Heero lay on his bed, arms crossed beneath his head as he stared morosely at
the cracks on his ceiling, trying to block out the angry shouting that he
could hear clearly, despite the fact that both of his parents were a floor
below him. Their voices drifted up to him, burdening his ears.
He wanted to ignore them and sleep.
It wasn't working.
"... I can't believe you, Odin! He's your _son_ for godsake! And there you
are, pawing through his things, watching him while he sleeps. Do you make a
practice of watching young boys or is it just him?!"
"Shut up, woman. I was... checking him to make sure he was safe, and why
shouldn't I look through his things. He's got nothing to hide, does he? This
is still my house and I'll run it as I see fit, so shut your mouth and make
dinner."
The brown-haired boy shifted on his bed a little, turning on his side to
glare at the barren wall instead. He didn't want to hear this, though it was
nothing new. Either they didn't think he could hear them (they were raising
their voices loud enough to wake the dead) or they didn't think he was home.
Or, more likely, they just didn't care if he heard them.
He didn't _want_ to listen.
"I've seen the way you look at him, you bastard. And don't think I don't know
about those... those _magazines_ you keep up in the attic. Ours has been a
marriage based on trust, Odin. I _trust_ you to keep your mouth shut when
you're up to something disgusting but this... this is sick! He's a boy! He's
your son!"
"And I've seen you looking at him the same way, bitch. He's _your_ son, too.
If I'm sick, you're just as bad, if not worse, Une. _I'm_ not the one who
gave birth to him!"
And so it went on, up until the time his mother called him down for dinner.
Something sick inside of her must have insisted that she raise her voice even
higher because when she called for him, she screamed.
He walked down the steps stoically, ignoring the looks from both of his
parents as they sat down at the dining room table to eat. The conversation
was tense, as always.
"You haven't been helping me around the house lately, Heero," Une complained,
her eyes narrowing. "You've got responsibilities, young man, and you'd better
take care of them."
He didn't even bother to look up from his plate as he answered quietly,
"Leave me alone."
"Come on now, boy," Odin murmured, "You know your mother's just been upset
since your granddad J passed away. No need to be sulky." He spooned some peas
into his mouth and chewed them noisily.
"He didn't pass away," Heero said with a glare, because he had been fond of
Grandfather J, "He was beaten to death for his pension."
"Oh!" his mother exclaimed. He wasn't sure if she was surprised he knew what
had actually happened or because he'd spoken the damning words aloud.
Following hot on the heels of her surprise was anger and she snapped
furiously, "I don't believe this! This year is becoming a nightmare. Granddad
J's dead and you're just going to joke about it?" But there was a hint of
fear in her hard eyes.
"Look," Odin said placatingly, "Let's not argue. We're just worried about..."
"You're not worried about anything except what the neighbors might say,"
Heero said with conviction. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
They both reached for him then, but he leaned back, shoving abruptly away
from the table. "I'm getting out of here," he snarled. "I'm getting out and
I'm _NEVER_ coming back."
The door slammed shut and his parents simply stared after him, listening to
the angry footfalls as they faded to silence.
***
// But you always do come back. // Heero cursed himself as he stalked down
the street, shivering against the cold. He was glad he'd grabbed his jacket
on the way out. // You jump as high as you can and then fall back to the
ground and everyone pretends that nothing happened. //
Suppressing a growl, he viciously kicked at a stone on the ground. // I hate
everything. //
His mind turned dark and twisted and he savagely thought, // I hate all these
faces. I hate this town. I want to see wolves in the high street eating
babies and tearing the faces off policemen. //
Closing his eyes, he swallowed the lump in his throat and killed the tears
that abruptly threatened to surface. // Hate, hate, and more hate. I feel
sick. _Unsavable._ //
Though he hadn't had any purpose or direction, his stomach suddenly rebelled
against him and reminded him that the tasteless food he'd picked at for
dinner wasn't enough. Across the street he spotted a Burger King and after
checking his pockets to make sure he had cash, he made his way over and
walked in. The place was empty and there wasn't a line. That was good because
he wasn't in the mood to wait.
"Just fries, please," he told the worker at the cash register.
"What size?" The oily man behind the counter looked as though he hadn't
bothered to shave for a few days. The chunky face was pocked with indents and
pimples and his breath reeked.
"Regular."
"That'll be two dollars and forty cents," the man said. He held out a beefy
hand and Heero gave him a fistful of change. The man counted it, nodded, and
muttered, "Your fries will be out in a minute."
There was a crash and they both turned to look at the boy who'd kicked the
door open. Slim fingers were wrapped securely around a bottle of cheap vodka.
It was the boy from the bus.
// He looks good, // Heero noted, and it was true. Though still clad in his
black clothing from earlier, he now wore a black jacket to protect him
against the bitter cold, and his hair was rumpled and windblown. The boy
stood, swayed uncertainly, then fixed his surprisingly sober gaze onto Heero.
"I saw you on the bus today, didn't I?" the boy asked, eying him curiously.
"Want a drink?" The bottle was extended in his direction.
Heero's eyes dropped to the ground shyly. "I don't." He cleared his throat.
"I don't drink."
The boy grinned, "Want to start?"
When the greasy man came back clutching the order of fries to his chest, he
was surprised to see that both boys were gone. Shrugging, he popped one of
the squishy fries into his mouth and grimaced at the taste.
