Title: Just a Year
Author: BookyJuliet
Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera
Pairing or POV: Grilo (Shilo&Graverobber, Graverobber's POV)
Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form claim to, at any point, have any legal rights to Repo! The Genetic Opera. It should also be noted that zero is the amount of money that I am making from this little collection – and probably also that I have no right to the songs mentioned therein.
Rating: M or MA, because there is some mention of sexual-ness going on, but no graphic details…or details at all. Except fluffy ones.
Authors Note: I saw a lot of these floating around in the iTunes Shuffle drabble meme/challenge/thing. So I decided to take a crack at it. If a 'drabble' is defined as a piece of fiction that is no longer than a hundred words however, I failed…I failed epically. Still I hope you enjoy! OH! Also, happy readings, and reviews are always loved, but never forced.
.fun – Stars (iTunes Session)
"Can I stay?" She inquired timidly, voice trembling slightly as her dark eyes, so much older than her chronological age pierce him even in the darkness.
She was the single most beautiful and enigmatic creature he had ever been blessed enough to know in his strange, and admittedly dangerous life. Even now, drenched in blood and in the dress that at one time had dressed her mother's corpse she managed to find it within herself to be awe struck by the stars that shone brightly in the sky of Sanitarium Island. She was a true marvel, with nothing but death and rubble at her back and uncertainty before her those soft rosy lips managed to tilt into the softest of smiles.
It took him a breath too long to answer, but when he did it was with a wry, mischievous smile. "Kid, if you can keep up, I've always got a need for someone to carry my crap around."
Bastille – Bad Blood
The frown on her face confuses him as he returns with two, probably dry, sandwiches and bottles of water. In her hands an old tabloid boasts her picture built below the bold, block lettered headline. 'STILL NO SIGN OF SHILO' while the smaller subheading posed the question that apparently everyone wanted to know. 'Will she allow Amber Sweet to inherit GeneCo?'
"It's disgusting," she hisses as she tosses the paper to the ground, snubbing it with the tip of her plat formed boot as she kicked it away from them both with disdain.
"Yep," he agrees nonchalantly. "But a valid question."
Her response is a heavy sigh.
Charice – Lighthouse
There was a time in his existence when he sincerely believed that his life might mean something. Before his parents fell on hard times, and they lost their house; and then subsequently their lives. His father was the first to go, a victim of repossession. He hadn't been the kind of man to get surgery needlessly. The diagnosis had been cancer, and in order to replace the traitor that had become his pancreas, his family fall into debt to Rotti Largo and GeneCo. His mother followed shortly thereafter. And when he was newly sixteen he was an orphan on the streets of Sanitarium Island.
He learned quickly from the street rats, and Z-sluts. One such woman was a kind ex-GenTern named Amelia who had a rounded face and warm brown eyes. He would sit with her while she waited for the Graverobber of the sector to appear, telling him stories about Zydrate and the best ways a person could harvest it from the dead. That was the beginning and end of it all.
He'd always assumed that his existence would eventually mean something. But no one ever prepared him for that meaning to come from one little girl, crying silently as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, fingers gingerly brushing over the peach fuzz of new hair.
"You look beautiful," he breathed. Because it was true.
My Chemical Romacne – Vampire Money
GenCops combed the graveyard just feet from them as he hands her the needle already loaded with a fresh vial and quietly walks her through the steps of extracting Zydrate from a small female corpse. He tries to not recognize her face, though he does easily. But hey, the new world order had created a market for supply and demand; and who was he to deny the people what they craved?
"Smack it with your palm," he coaxes, remembering that they have gone through this before, though he can understand why she chooses to not remember. He hears the crack, and watches her pull the plunger back, the vial filling with dark blue glowing liquid.
Taylor Swift – State of Grace
It is the first time she's ever looked at him that way, her short dark hair sticks out in wild little spikes that refuse to be tamed as they sit on the steps of the mausoleum, watching the city lights. In her hands is a fresh cup of hot coffee, the throwaway cup is festively decorated, an expanse of red peppered with varying sizes of white snowflakes.
"It's Christmas Eve," she reminds him with a secretive smile, dipping her head. His chest comes to life with the frantic fluttering of his heart, and he curses it because he knows that it's wrong. She's so much younger than him, so innocent and in so many ways naive, but he recognizes that this girl has him securely wrapped around each of her pale graceful fingers.
But in her eyes, he sees an emotion that he knows he has been fighting, an affection that refused to be denied. "Yeah? Well then, Merry Christmas, Kid." He breaths, his low baritone voice rumbling in his chest as he reaches into his pocket and pulls a tiny glass jar from within his pocket, inside is the bug she's been trying to catch for as long as he has known her.
He thanks the annoying bug a final time for the happiness that brightens her eyes as her arms wrap around his neck.
Lana Del Rey – West Coast
He finally caved and put some his savings towards a tiny, rundown apartment in the slums. Mostly, because Shilo isn't used to living on the streets, he hates to be tied down, but the anxiety he feels when he wonders what would happen to her if she was ever caught by GenCops or spotted by one of Amber's many informants lessens the second he locks the door behind him on his way out in the morning.
And if he had any doubts left in his mind, they were quickly dispelled as he walked through the front door much later that night. She was there in the kitchen, an apron on wrong, swaying along to the song that floated in through the open window, singing softly in a crystal clear voice that rings through the space. When her eyes find his face, she smiles but doesn't stop.
No, this apartment was a very good idea. He would never doubt that again.
The Neighbourhood – Afraid
She's posted up in the corner when he finally makes it to the party being hosted by the neighborhood to welcome them. With her, is a lanky blond boy with an easy grin and kind eyes; Graverobber instantly hates him. He can tell she isn't offering him anything more than polite conversation, her eyes are hesitant, but amused; and for the first time he feels the cold fingers of jealousy tangling in his guts.
"Hey, Kid!" He calls, satisfied when her head instantly shoots in his direction, flashing him a stunning smile that has the power to make him weak in the knees. She excuses herself from her new friend to stand in front of him, instantly starting to prattle on about her day, and people she'd met.
"His name is John," she offers suddenly without being prompted. "He is nineteen, and very nice. But also very boring." He feels a rush of relief and gratitude; until he catches 'John's' stare from across the room, which prompts another flair of jealousy and results in his arm wrapping possessively around her tiny shoulders.
"Thanks for waiting for me, Kid," he teases.
Bruno Mars – Natalie | Gramber
He growls in annoyance when he sees her round the corner. Her security detail has tripled and instantly his customers start to scatter to the wind not wanting any trouble with GeneCo's new heiress or enforcers.
"What's the matter, Graverobber?" She coos as her fingers smooth up his chest. "You don't look happy to see me…"
He snorts, rolling his eyes as he tilts his black painted lips into a sarcastic smirk. "What's the matter, Amber, you own the company and still have to rely on street Z?"
She waved his question away as she pressed a small fortunes worth of credits into his hands.
"Z me," she demands and he sneers at her as he shoves her down, using his boot clad foot to hold her down as he pressed the Zydrate gun to her neck and pulled the trigger. He'd never be allowed to truly kill her for real, so the short moment when the trigger is pulled and her eyes go blank is the best he can get. He chuckles as her security rushes forward to shove him out of the way and gives them a stiff bow before he takes his leave. His customers won't be back tonight. Not with her around.
A Silent Film – You Will Leave a Mark
Three-oh-five AM is glaring at him in angry red, too bright for the darkness of the room and he searches blearily for whatever disturbed him enough to wake him from the deep and much needed sleep. He finds the interruption in the form of Shilo Wallace, tiny and fragile curled up against his side, her fingers twisted in the fabric of the shirt he'd passed out in.
"Kid," he croaks voice rough with sleep and thirst, lightly shaking her awake. She always slept on the couch, refusing the bedroom, and his offers to share the bed, so to find her beside him came with no shortage of confusion and curiosity.
When her eyes open, he knows she was never asleep, and he allows her hand to cup his cheek, her warm thumb smoothing over his skin as she leans in and presses her lips to his. "Shh," she mumbles as she shifts her weight, her thighs trapping his hips under her as he stared with wide eyes.
Maybe he was still dreaming? But as her lips brush down along his neck he knows that for once, he is wide awake, and wastes no time in flipping them over. Her thighs cradling his body as he stoops to ravish her mouth. "Are you sure this is…I mean…you want this?"
Her reply was a kiss pressed so tenderly to his lips that he was suddenly choked up with emotion. When the night came to an end, sunrise threatening the horizon and her soft, even breath teasing against his neck, he suddenly realizes why they called it 'making love', even if he refused to ever apply the term to what had transpired between them as he watches the sunrise rise casting light against the soft white expanse of her back.
The Civil Wars – D'Arline
It's been a year since the Genetic Opera aired live on Sanitarium Island. It'd been amazing to watch her grow from the lanky, strung out girl she had once been into the strong and beautiful woman that she is now. The long black wig she used to wear didn't compare to the soft curls of the chocolate kissed tresses that now framed her face and brightened her complexion. Though she wore more makeup than he did these days, her cheeks were still flush with heat and her eyes bright with intelligence.
"You comin' Kid?" He asked out of habit, her initial alias was dying a slow death, and while he sometimes changed it out, using her given name or some other witty nick-name he came up with on the fly, 'Kid' was still his go-to, and if she cared, she never said anything.
Hefting the canvas bag over her shoulder and tucking away one of her many books on rare species of insects, this one a field guide to Sanitarium Island's graveyard bugs, she grinned and nodded her head, her fingers twining through his. "Yes. Do you think we might find a Zydriarachnid?" Her eyes gleamed with the possibilities. "I've always wanted one but they run so fast!"
He chuckled at her chorus of questions, shaking his head lightly as she continued on. She was the single most beautiful and enigmatic creature he had ever been blessed enough to know in his strange, and admittedly dangerous life. And for the first time since he was a child he knew that his life meant something; that he had a purpose. And her name was Shilo Wallace.