Disclaimer: I deny any and all possession of the characters featured in this segment, because I don't own them...I just, shall we say, rent them.

Just be thankful that I don't own them.


You're right, GintaxAlvissForever, this really was too short. How's about a revision?

I was inspired to write this when I was listening to "Suicidal Dream", by Silverchair.

WARNING!! This particular segment contains contemplating suicide, even attempting it. Turn back now, while there's still time.


"SUICIDAL DREAM: REVISED"

Everyone knew Chazz Princeton. When he began, he was at the top of the freshman class, an Obelisk star bursting with potential. Oh, and he could be so egotistical about the matter! Every day, he'd be putting on airs and sniping the inferiors with bullets of derision...particularly to a certain dim-witted, happy-go-lucky Slifer freshman that was, most alarmingly, stealing his thunder.

Well, eventually, he did return. Only to be tossed into the pit, with the other lowly students that he used to address as "Slifer slackers" or "Slifer slimes," depending on his mood. Now whenever he felt it nessessary to call one a name, he had to remove "Slifer" from all his insults.

Yes, even after he was compelled to start all over at the bottom rung of the ladder, he still maintained his airy and haughty attitude. Singled out from his dormitory mates by a dirty black jacket, he would still strut his way around the school, his nose up high, his untamed hair even higher. Most found it amazing that despite all that had happened, old Chazz kept his spunk. His fire still burned with passionate ambition for conquest.

...At least, that was what everyone else saw. And it is a known fact of life that the mind can be fooled by what the eyes perceive.

Evening had fallen, and Chazz was in his room, on his bed, hugging his knees. His blue blazer from when he was still an Obelisk hung useless on the wall, neatly wrapped in a plastic sheet. All was silent; he didn't even bother to have the lights on. He was all alone, once again.

It was funny, wallowing in this pain, and not one tear would fall from his hard coals for eyes. Perhaps it was because he was incapable of shedding tears. His eyes were too shriveled from the inside, as they were on the out, for them.

What was even worse, it was all invisible to everyone around him. Sure, people admired him and how he dueled...didn't they? Or...was it all mere lies? It'd be no surprise if they were; really, how good can he really be if he couldn't beat that imbecile Yuki? That boy was supposed to be a flunkie, and yet somehow he always recieved the limelight!

No, no one admired him. They were only taunting him, tickling him mercilessly with derision and disgust, clevery desguised as bittersweet flattery. They all hated him, and frankly, he hated them all, too.

Even Chazz's own family held no belief in him. Two contemptuous faces materialized in his mind: his much older, more successful brothers. Their family name was huge in the business world. But even in that area, he would fail. He was not kin to them; in their eyes he was some...some monkey boy, a monkey that they would push and shove to do their bidding, in their stupid quest to make the Princetons on top of the world. If he could not prove himself, they would hate him.

Although...it may have been too late for that. They had already forsaken him, the last time they had ever met. Because Jaden had defeated him, again, on global broadcasting. Where billions of eyes could strip him of his dignity, to see the real flop he was.

But it did not end there. Even his own woman cared nothing for him! Ohhh, Lexi, he thought ruefully. When all my world came crashing down, why weren't you there? Don't you love me? Did you ever love me, at all? Well, if no one else would care for him, the least that could be that she would still be there.

But...she was not. He had been such a fool to count on love to see him through. He saw Alexis appear before him now: her sharp russet eyes staring him down, repulsed by his sentimental idiocy. He had told her countless times that he loved her, even wrote her poems of his passion. And for what? She turned her back, just to run off with other men: Zane, that old lofty son-of-a-bitch with the emotional compacity of a stone, and even worse than him...Jaden! Of all guys!

What did Chazz not have that she found in others? What? But then...did it matter now? The point was, she didn't care for him. Just like everyone else.

Suddenly, a whole brand-new, and most disquieting thought came to Chazz: would anyone still not care...if I was gone?

He lifted his head up just so, coal eyes flashing. He had never thought of something like this before...why hadn't he? All he wanted, all this time, was to be someone...and he had failed. What other option remained...except to end it all? Carrying this cumbersome burden on his shoulders for so long had driven him mad; why not finally be rid of it? For good?

Chazz took a good examination of his dingy room, finding it almost incredible, realizing how many of his belongings served as potential instruments of his self-induced demise. He thought he kept a pocketknife somewhere in his drawers. One slit to the throat would be sufficient...

Or the sheets of the very bed he sat on. He could always hang himself there from the ceiling, just like his old jacket was...less bloody, but just as lethal...

Oh, decisions, decisions, Chazz thought, deranged excitement pulsing through his veins. But all I really want is a means that'll take me out. Quickly and quietly.

Slowly, he turned to the side and arose. Hurrying to his drawers, he tore them open and ripped clothes from out of them, tossing them in every which direction. Before long, he found his stainless steel pocketknife with the plastic handle.

A desperate grin crawled over his lips. Yes, this would do. There was no changing his mind; nobody could stop him now. Not that they would.

Gradually, Chazz lifted the blade higher, and higher, until the icy-cold razor side was pressing against his warm, throbbing throat. Shivers of anticipation skipped up and down his spine.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and held his breath. This was it...farewell, God-forsaken world...I won't be missing you from the other side...

He was about to press the blade harder into his throat and slice it in two...when...

Crrrrrrrreeeeeeeaaaaaakkk...

"Chazz?" a voice called from the open door, warm and anxious. Chazz froze like an ice statue, stunned. How could he had been as dumb of to keep the door unlocked? He turned his head to find none other than that slacker whom helped stem all of his troubles.

"Uhhh, Chazz? What happened to your room? And...what are you doing?"

Sensing that Jaden was spotting the knife, he quickly dropped it on the floor, kicking it far under the table with the heel of his shoe. "I...I...oh, mind your own beeswax, slacker! You've never heard of knocking?"

"Sorry 'bout that, Chazz," Jaden answered. "I heard some noises over there in our room, and...is everything okay?" he asked with a raised brow.

Well, so much for being subtle about it. Chazz released his breath and lied through his teeth, "Of course, everything is fine! Now go away, and don't bother me again!"

"Great! The boys and I are goin' fishing! We wanted you to join us!" Jaden reached over and grasped Chazz's wrist.

"No, I don't wanna go fishing! Get offa me, Jaden!" he protested.

But it was in vain. "Nonsense, Chazz! What were you going to do in here, sit there on your bed, acting all miserable?"

"No! I was...I was...I was looking for a book to read!" There was a slight error in his excuse, however: he hated reading. As well as everything else under the sun.

And Jaden did not quite buy it, himself. He cocked his head to one side, giving the raven-eyed boy before him a look that was both thoughtful and quizzical."But...I thought you hated reading."

Chazz bit his bottom lip. "W-well, I--of course I hate it! But see, I--I was going to, well--ACK! Damnit, Jaden, why don't you just leave me alone and ruin someone else's life?" He turned his head away from this slacker. He couldn't bear to look at him any longer.

Jaden recoiled in surprise. Ruin someone else's life? What did he mean that? He could not remember ever hearing those words out of Chazz's mouth before. Was he really as well as he was trying to let on?

Is he still here? Oh, for crying out loud! I told him to get! So why doesn't he?! It's not like he would care--

But suddenly, Chazz's angry train of thought was shattered...by two arms wrapping around his chest, under his arms.

What the--?!

Chazz swirled back around, only to be struck by a tidal wave of shock and confusion: Yuki was HUGGING him!

"Hey! what're you doing, Jaden?" Chazz protested, writhing and fighting to pry this pest off of him. No avail, Jaden kept a steady grip on him. As if he was afraid to let go of him, pressing his cheek hard against his back.

At that moment, Chazz was lost. He wanted this guy to go away, could he not get the message? Or was he just stupid that way?

And yet...on the other end of the scale, it felt...odd, to get this thing called a hug. All through his pathetic life, he never felt the comfort of someone's arms around him. Not from his tyrannical older brothers, not from the woman of his dreams...no one. So, why was his own rival giving him this now? No one was supposed to care about him...right?

Chazz fell still, his two rough coals for eyes burning from the inside. From what, he could not tell. The two locked eyes, his pained face gazing into Jaden's soft one.

The silence seemed to draw out for an eternity. Until: "Chazz?"

For the very first time, the Princeton choked on his words, "Wh-what?" Suddenly, he no longer felt like the strong, airy boy he had tried to paint himsef as. Finally, his facade began to tumble down.

"Tell the truth...please."


Yeah, I don't think this was too good of an angsty fiction myself, even in its revised form. More like a drabble. Do you think it's better if I stuck with comedy?