Flash Photography
"Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue."
My teacher says that to me all time. I first heard it from him when I was ten, but I didn't have a clue what he meant; I was neither a pigeon nor a statue, I was a boy. I thought he was being silly, but he's never silly. Mr. Synoground could quite possibly be the most serious person I've ever met, because even Cloud has his odd moments. It wasn't until I got older that I came to understand the analogy, and I became more conscious of all the complaints I made about my life. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that anybody could deny my prerogative to bitch and moan, but I supposed that, over all, I've more or less got it easy. Well, I've got it good, at any rate.
I sat cross-legged on the swivel chair, slowly turning it from side to side with my hand, pushing and pulling myself away and towards the neatly polished wooden desk. My eyes were unfocused, and I stared at a sheet of paper in front of me without really seeing it. I hummed absently, lost in thoughts that had no particular relevance to one another. The curtains closest to me were closed, but the ones on the other side of the room were drawn back, letting midday sunlight brighten up the study. I'd always liked it in there, because it was spacious and quiet, and the double doors had a lock and bolt; it was a good place to hide in when family invited themselves over. In front of the desk I was at, there was a large area in which a sofa faced the window, and a simple-patterned rug hid the white marble tiles. There was a magnificent bookcase against the wall, filled to its utmost capacity with a variety of novels. There weren't many textbooks, because I wasn't very interested in facts, but the ones I did have were only there because my teacher asked me not to misplace them.
Click. Click. Click.
A familiar sound stirred me from my reverie, and I glanced towards the open doorway expectantly. Just as I thought I might, I saw a young Labrador wandering into the room. His fur was pale yellow in colour, felt almost like velvet but softer, and smelt like youth. I always wondered why baby creatures had that unique scent that just seemed to fade away with age. "Hey there," I called quietly, watching as he ambled around curiously, sniffing here and there. His big feet and lanky body looked kind of awkward, but he had the most enchanting eyes; they were large, and dark, and so expressive. "Come here, Puppy," I said gently, patting my thighs to prompt him. Looking up at me, he stood stock-still for a moment or two, before he bounded over to me like a squirrel on crack. His ears flapped maniacally and his mouth was open, a glimpse of his pink tongue peeking out from between his jaws. I smiled as he raced around the corner of the desk, accidentally skidding past on the marble floor. He backtracked quickly, but more carefully, and wriggled his hindquarters whilst he looked up at me, licking his lips.
I'd given my dog the most creative name in the world, as you can tell. I can't quite remember what I'd taken, or snorted, or smoked, or whatever the fuck I did on the night I bought him, but I can recall walking around the streets of Melbourne with a little yellow puppy in my arms, trying to shelter him from the light drizzle by pressing him to my chest under my coat. I was with Hayner on our last night in Victoria, and we'd been to some old coastal town a couple of hours away from the city. I think it was called Queenscliff. On our way back up, there was this … place; I'm not quite sure how to describe it. It was a little bigger than a town, I suppose, but not even close to a city. Anyway, we were in the little mall – I mean, really little – called Market Square, and I passed by a pet store. In a split second, I decided that I was too lonely in my big empty house, and so I walked inside and somehow coaxed the saleswoman to sell me a Labrador then and there. I have no idea how I did it, but I ended up walking out with him. I don't even remember paying, but I just assume I did; they wouldn't have let me leave if I hadn't.
I couldn't think of a name, so I just called him 'Puppy' whenever I needed to refer to him that night, and it stuck.
Rather unfortunately, for him, I guess …
Puppy was squirming so much that I couldn't simply reach down and grab him, but instead had to unfurl my legs and stand up. I got onto my hands and knees, and he immediately scrambled towards me, ducking under my neck and licking my chin repeatedly. I wished I could, but I couldn't suppress my reaction to the way he tickled me so, and I laughed. Kneeling, I wrapped my arms around his belly and lifted him up. Puppy was turning his head from side to side, trying to look up me, and he panted happily. I set him down in my lap after I'd returned to my former position on the chair. "Stop it, you daft thing." I mumbled, stretching my neck and raising my chin away from Puppy's eager tongue. I didn't ever regret buying him, because he always made me smile. Even when he piddled on the staircase, his apologetic stare always outmatched my reprimanding one.
"Are you having fun?"
I looked towards the door again, not particularly surprised by the unexpected voice. My teacher was approaching me with his patient gait, a briefcase in one hand and an arm cradling a notebook with loose papers jutting out the sides. My heart skipped a beat, my breath hitched, and I watched him carefully, trying to analyse his expression. For a second, I thought I was in trouble, but he smiled at me and I relaxed. I wouldn't usually give a damn if I had gotten myself into strife, but Mr. Synoground was a different matter all together; I'd known him for thirteen years, and I knew what could happen when I misbehaved. I had been home-schooled for all of my academic life, and he had always been my teacher, so we knew each other well. Maybe we'd have been on first name basis, like I was with my regular substitutes, but ever since I was little I'd been calling him the same thing. I mean, I knew his name was Xemnas, but calling him 'Mr. Synoground' was just a force of habit. He'd seen me grow up, seen me turn from an inquisitive child to an awkward teenager, and then to the anti-social person I am today. He would have been like a father to me if I didn't already have one of my own. Or two, for that matter.
"I thought he wasn't allowed in here, Roxas." Mr. Synoground said, placing his briefcase on top of the desk. I continued to pat Puppy silently for a little while longer, before I shrugged nonchalantly.
"He has me pinned, what else am I supposed to do?" I replied.
"Discipline him. Don't allow him to come anywhere near the door, if you have to."
"Syndy, he's only eight weeks old."
"It'd be best to start when he's young, don't you think?"
"…" I stared at him, "What if I don't want to?"
Mr. Synoground glanced up at me, mildly surprised, but he went back to shuffling through the notebook he'd set down. "It's your decision, Roxas. If you don't want to, then you're entirely within your right not to do so." He replied coolly, "But I know how fond you are of complaining, and I can imagine that your dog's disobedience will quickly become a prime source of it." I knew it just as well as he did, but I wasn't about to admit it whilst he was around; I didn't want him to be right, even though he was. Puppy had already chewed one of my shoes so badly that I had to throw it away, and there was a suspicious tear in one of the cushions on the couch in the living room.
There was a chair in the corner, pushed up against the wall for whenever we worked in the study; some days I preferred to be in the lounge room, and once it had been in the kitchen. The older male pulled it over to the desk and sat down, picking up a textbook that was on the ground. I'd dropped it earlier. He put it down in front of him, flipping through the pages quickly to the one we were at, and then adjusted the angle so that I could read it too. "Are you ready?" He asked. I looked at him, and then down at Puppy. "Put him down." Mr. Synoground said, but it was clearly a command, as opposed to a request. Puppy was standing in my lap, his front paws on my thigh and his back ones on the seat between my crossed legs. He was panting due to happiness rather than exhaustion, and his tail was wagging a mile a minute. I picked him up under his front legs and placed him on the ground. He didn't seem fazed; he just ran off.
"What are we working on today?" I asked, dropping my hands into my now empty lap. He pointed to title of the chapter. Since I'd pulled out the Maths textbook earlier, I knew that that was the subject we'd do, but I wasn't sure what topic. "Logarithms?" I mumbled, frowning slightly as I looked down at the word. Mr. Synoground nodded.
"I know you don't like it."
"I don't like Maths at all."
"Well, if we don't do it now, it will just be twice as much of it later."
"But I –"
"Why put off until tomorrow what can be done today?"
I sighed. "I hate Maths."
"Yes, but you also hated poetry, didn't you?" He replied. I didn't respond. "Care to disclose what you do in your free time?" He continued. I huffed and crossed my arms across my chest, looking away from him angrily. He had a point, and I hated that about him; he was always right. I could sense that he was nodding in that knowing sort of way, and then I felt him pat my shoulder blade fleetingly. He turned back to the book, and I followed suit – albeit with a small, disgruntled 'tch'. Mr. Synoground glanced at me, smiling softly. "Good boy." He murmured, reaching over the desk for the notebook he'd put on it.
The words were barely out of his mouth, but I'd already looked up at him with the corners of my mouth perked upwards, forming the beginning of a smile. As far as I could remember, and as far as I was concerned, I was spending my entire life trying to hear that phrase, or ones like it. I was always striving to be praised, because it didn't make me seem as useless as I felt. I wanted to be acknowledged for what I did right, rather than what I did wrong; people were so quick to chastise, and so slow to appreciate. The very reason I'd grown to trust Mr. Synoground was because of his ability to do both just as well as one another, and the way he looked out for me. All I'd ever wanted was to be good for my parents, but I never was; I was always so naughty, and Sora was so good. I was the bad twin. Sora was always being told that he was such an angel for helping Momma, or a real champ for doing something for Dad. But I couldn't ever think of anything to do for them. Xemnas was different, though, because he was my teacher and my teacher only. Sora had someone else.
My brother had gone to a regular school once, when he was thirteen. It got too much for him to handle, and he left two months shy of finishing the year. We just couldn't persuade him to keep going anymore. I had always had Xemnas, and my parents never sent me to a real school because they thought I didn't have a chance of making it work; I'd either be bullied terribly or be a terrible bully. I never cared, because I'd always thought that the other teachers might be different to the one I'd grown accustom to. The thing I liked best about Mr. Synoground was that he never told my parents when I'd been bad. He'd spare me the trouble of my father's disapproving looks and my mother's angry voices, just so long as I made it up to him. I always did, because I couldn't bear the idea of my parents being mad at me. I didn't want them to know that I'd misbehaved; I wanted to be just as good as Sora.
Every time I heard 'Good boy, Roxas', or 'Well done', or 'I'm proud of you', it made my day that much better, even if it'd been shit up until that point.
"Will we do English tomorrow?" I asked quietly, pulling my chair closer to the desk. He was silent for a little while, and I was about to ask again in case he hadn't heard me, but he spoke.
"Yes. Since we have to do Mathematics today, I'll make up for it by letting you work on your English tomorrow."
-- --
Mr. Synoground had left long before the sun began to set. I had walked upstairs, past the second floor and onto the third. The third floor of my villa was just a single bedroom – a maid's bedroom. I didn't actually have a maid, so the room simply served as an extra place for guests to stay, though I rarely had any. However, there was also a door on the landing outside the bedroom, which led to the flat roof. One thing about where I lived was that none of the houses had those regular roofs you see … just about everywhere. Well, at least everywhere I usually look. I unlocked the door and stepped outside, but the heat out there was the same as it'd been on my ascent; the air conditioner wasn't left on all the time up in that room because I rarely went there. Puppy followed me.
The sky was pale blue, like always, and it looked hazy. I guess that was because of the sand. I had a clear view of the area around me, of the vacant lots being prepped for construction, of houses in the midst of being built, and of villas much like my own. Most of all, I had a clear view of all the sand. I glanced up at the sky, at the setting sun. Of all the countries that we had houses in, this one had the most beautifully unique scenery. I liked the privacy I had here, since no one really knew that I even came to this place, but the thing that I liked the best was the magnificent Arabian sunset. I folded my arms across my chest, my eyes trailing down towards the horizon, where the sky faded into shades of pink and lilac. As time wore on, the colours would be brighter, and the sun would be perfectly round and vibrant. I knew because I'd seen it before, and yet it never lost its novelty.
I didn't live in Dubai – well, on the outskirts of the capital, actually, which wasn't Dubai at all – all the time. It was just a place that I went to when I needed to lay low, and now was one of those times. I'd been at home a few months ago, living with Sora in Los Angeles, and we'd attended the premiere of some movie. I wouldn't have a clue which one, but I know Sora wasn't in it. There was a possibility that one of his friends was, but I never asked; I was dragged along, and that's all I knew and cared. It wasn't a big deal, to be honest. Everything was blown way out of proportion. A woman had turned up with her bright red stilettos, white-blonde hair and black-tipped bangs, and a bona fide mink coat. Sora has always loved animals, but I'm not sure how far he would have gone to make a point. I, on the other hand, was willing to take a canister off a young lady pressed against the railings with her baseball cap tilted low over her face.
She must have been a PETA activist who'd anticipated Ella De Val's attire for such a night, because I can't see why else she'd bring a can of paint to a movie premiere. Whatever her reason was for having it, I mumbled something about wanting it and gently slipped it out of her hand; she was a little surprised about being spoken to, so she didn't fight me for it. I walked casually behind Ms. De Val, uncapping the cylinder, and stepped on the bottom of her white coat. I shook it quickly, and then sprayed a zigzag down her back with wide amplitude and short wavelength. The red shone brightly, and I felt satisfied with it. I stepped back and smiled at her when she whipped around. Sora practically tore my arm off when he yanked me away, panicking and telling me off breathlessly. I didn't care; she deserved it.
Unfortunately, my publicist didn't quite agree with me. She told me that it was none of my business if someone chose to wear fur, and that I should let the activists do what they come to do; snicker behind my hand if I have to, but don't ever do that again. Though she wasn't so much saying it as she was screaming it, and it wasn't even over the phone, so I could hold it away from my ear. She kept thinking up ways for this to be disastrous, and it started to freak me out. I didn't care if the world thought I was a rash little boy, but I did care if I'd made my parents ashamed of me again. In retrospect, I probably should have thought about it first, but I'm kind of hasty in the worst of times. She told me that I'd be the talk of the town, and that it'd be wise to keep my head low.
Elena was right; the media had field day on what I'd done. But Elena was also wrong; they loved it. Well, maybe not everyone, but for the most part they did. I didn't watch or read a lot of it, so I don't really know what was said, but apparently none of my fans were upset with me. Despite this, I did as my publicist advised and tried to avoid leaving the house. It was then that I flew to Australia with Hayner, where Sora and I own a house in Sydney – we share all of them, but we don't usually live in the same one at the same time, unless it's the one in LA. We got bored and decided to go see what Melbourne was like, and ended up getting high and making fools of ourselves. Once again, I was in the spotlight, but this time with my professional skateboarding best friend. But at least I hadn't flashed my crotch at any cameras. Thank God for jeans, right?
And that was how I'd ended up in the United Arab Emirates, so that I could stay off the news for at least a few weeks. I'm never out of the media, because I get dragged onto magazine pages whenever Sora's in the headlines, and vice versa. We're kind of a package deal, I suppose. It's what I get for being a twin. Unfortunately, sometimes our little sister is brought into the light as well, but I don't think she cares as much. She's fifteen; what's the worse she can do? Nobody cares about my older brother, and I know for a fact that he likes it that way. He has his own life to get on with, the lucky bastard.
Unlike inside, where it was stuffy on the third floor, the roof gave me access to the light breeze. I walked over to the wall and peered over it; it almost reached my shoulders, and was about a foot thick, so I had to stand on my tiptoes to get a proper look at my front garden. It wasn't a particularly big garden, and this house didn't have a backyard. I couldn't see directly below me, but there was nothing there but stairs to the front door anyway. Maybe other people would be able to see it, but I was too short. Puppy sat in the shadow, panting and looking up at nothing. I checked on him quickly, just to make sure he wasn't chewing anything he shouldn't be, and then climbed on top of the wall. I stood up slowly, holding my breath, and looked down. It was a long way. It was three floors, in fact. Not to mention that the ground below was concrete.
For some reason, thoughts of jumping sometimes came to me. I didn't particularly mean to think about it, but it just happened occasionally. If I wanted to commit suicide, I wouldn't slit my wrists or put a bullet through my head, and I wouldn't overdose or hang myself. If I tried to drug myself to death, there was a chance that somebody might find me in the nick of time, and I'd end up being rushed to hospital to have my stomach pumped or God knows what. It was the same reason with cutting my wrists. I didn't like the idea of choking and, for all I knew, I might just give myself brain damage if I tried to used a gun and it didn't work out so well. But jumping off my roof? It'd be quick, and nobody would be able to stop me or save me. I probably wouldn't be found until later, until it was completely and utterly too late. If I ever decided that I didn't want to do this anymore, I knew the way to go.
But I carefully lowered myself back down, clambering off the ledge and onto solid ground. Puppy was eying me suspiciously. It wasn't time; I felt no desire to die just yet.
I whistled for the lump of yellow fur and wandered back inside.
-- --
I called my manager two days later, asking her to book a flight back to LA for me. You'd think that we'd be tired of one another after being glued together all of our lives, but Sora and I have attachment issues; it's never long before one of us break. Usually I'm the one abroad, because Sora has a fear of airplanes. My manager didn't object to it, because she felt a duty to my wishes and not to Elena's. That's what I've always loved about Aiko. She's a woman about my height and build, and she looks a lot younger than she is; my sister mistook her to be my girlfriend at first. I don't know how old she really is, but she has the appearance of someone my age. We hired Aiko after our last manager made Sora cry. She was from Japan, which I think sparked a sense of instant attachment in my brother. Maybe … in us both, I suppose.
Aiko rang me back the next morning to tell me that someone would come to pick me up at 4:30am on Wednesday. Waking up that early wouldn't be difficult for me; I had insomnia anyway.
-- --
Puppy was playing with the tassels at the end of the rug in the living room, and I was staring at the clock anxiously. 4:49am. I tapped my short fingernails against my leg, watching the seconds hand tick slowly. Finally, finally, my mobile rang. Without checking to see who it was, I flipped it open and answered. It was my ride. I told him I'd be right out, and grumbled angrily once I'd hung up. My things were already packed; all I had left to do was lock up one last door on my way out and coax Puppy into his carrier. "Come on, boy." I said, walking outside with a remote control in my hand. I pressed the only button that was on it, and the gates at the end of the garden opened to let the car in. Moving back into the entrance hallway, I crouched down so that Puppy would come running, and he did. I picked him up and put him into his holder, and wasn't surprised to hear him whine. "Sorry." I mumbled.
"Good morning!"
I turned around, crossing my arms over my chest as I did so. I glared at the male who'd entered my house. He had long black hair with dull grey streaks at the top, and it was pulled into a ponytail. He had bright eyes and a number of scars, but his most distinguishing feature was the patch her wore over his right eye. "Xigbar, you're an idiot." I stated, hissing through my teeth. He drove me crazy, he really did, and not in a good way.
"Aw, c'mon baby, don't be like that."
"No, really." I spat, "You're an idiot and I hate you." He feigned a look of hurt.
"That's no way to talk to the man looking after your skinny ass, now is it?" He replied, moving to take my suitcase without the need to be asked.
"I can look after myself perfectly fine."
"Oh really?" Xigbar scoffed, "How much do you weigh? Fifty-three kilos?"
"No." I said indignantly, putting my hands on my hips. He was a good bodyguard, but he got on my nerves a lot.
"You so do."
"I do not!"
"…" He surveyed me as he paused in the doorway, my luggage in tow, "It's even lower, isn't it?"
"Leave me alone and just get in the damn car." I answered gruffly.
"Alright." He sighed, walking outside, "But I really would like to see such a little thing like you keeping all of your fangirls at bay."
I moved Puppy outside, and then pulled out my keys to lock the front door. It wasn't until I was finished with it and walking down the driveway with the carrier in my hand that I noticed the car. It was just a taxi. I sighed, but transport was transport, and so I didn't complain. Well, not about the vehicle, at least.
As we pulled onto the street, the gates closing, I turned to Xigbar with a frown. "I should fire you, you know?" I said.
"But you won't." He even had the audacity to wink at me.
"Xigbar, you were late."
"I wasn't the one driving."
I glanced at the man in the front; he was just a local taxi driver.
"But I guess it is my fault, because I slept in." He said, grinning. My jaw clenched. "Oh, settle down. We're going to be hours early anyway; your flight doesn't leave until twenty past eight." I didn't respond, and he just stared at me. "Stop looking so angry."
"I am angry!"
"You always are. I know you stress out under time limits, but you should just relax sometimes, take the load off –"
"Xigbar?"
"– every once in a while. What?"
"Shut up."
-- --
Beep.
I looked up at the red light. A glance to Xigbar informed me that he was snickering, a lopsided grin on his battered face. He gestured towards his cheekbone, and I lightly placed a hand over my own absently, mirroring him. Oh, right. Someone came over to me with a handheld scanning device, but I held up a hand to ask them to wait. I unscrewed the barbell and slipped it out, placing it in a small rectangular container by the metal detector. My hand moved to my ear, removing my industrial bar in the same way. I didn't know what material these piercings were made of, but I figured that they were responsible for the scanner beeping at me. I dropped it in with the anti-eyebrow piercing. I was about to step through it again when I remembered one more. Glancing around at the security guards, who were watching me, I could feel my cheeks redden a little. I'd once had an embarrassing incidence in another airport where I'd forgotten about this one …
"Xigbar, come here." I ordered quietly, fingering at the bottom of my shirt idly. He laughed a little, but obliged. Biting down on my back teeth, I used him as a shield to hide myself from onlookers whilst my hands crept under my shirt. They moved up to the left of my chest, and took out my last piercing – besides the studs in my earlobe, but they had never made the light go red before.
"You kids today with all your secretive jewellery. Got one on your dick, too?" The older male sneered. I shoved my fist into his stomach as I walked away, scowling. I think I'd be far too scared to get one there, though I knew people who'd done it. After putting it with the others, I walked through the scanner again, relieved to clear it.
I jammed all three bars in my pocket, and I didn't return them to their usual places until I was safely on the plane.
-- --
The flight had been sixteen and a half hours long, give or take twenty minutes. I was tired and I had a sore neck, and my head was pounding because Xigbar kept hassling me. I always flew business class, which meant that I had to sit right next to him, stuck between him and a window. I hated the window seat, but Xigbar said that he wanted to know when I decided to get up and walk about, which meant that I had to be sitting somewhere where he'd have to move for me to get past him. By the time we'd landed in LA, I was in such discomfort that I more or less just wandered after him in the airport, snapping at him whenever he spoke to me. I let him lead me to wherever we had to go, and I was reminded of how lost I would be if I ever tried to do this on my own. I was used to flying, because I'd done it so often, but I'd never known how to get from A to B without someone there to help me. I was eighteen, but I was also hopeless in such situations.
I was so sleepy that I sat down on the luggage trolley while Xigbar kept an eye out for our stuff. My chin was resting in my palm, my elbow was propped up on my thigh, and my eyelids were getting heavy. I might have fallen asleep like that if it weren't for a small, shrill squeak that came from behind me.
"Oh … Oh my!" The voice said soon after, and I slowly turned my head without actually changing my position, "Y-You're … And you're … You're here! In LA!" I blinked at the young girl lazily. She looked to be the same age as me, and I think her parents were watching her curiously from a few feet behind.
"I live here." I replied casually. She said nothing, and just stared me for several seconds, before she started to rummage around in her pockets. I knew what she was looking for. She pulled out a pen.
"Can you, you know … sign … um …" She was searching for something again. I watched her whilst she looked herself up and down, patting her pockets and checking the floor around her as if they'd be a notepad just sitting around. Finally, she paused and lifted up her leg a little. "Can you sign the bottom of my shoe?" She asked, holding her foot in her hand so the sole was facing upwards.
"The bottom of your shoe?" I repeated slowly, my eyebrows creasing. She nodded at me. I shrugged and reached out for the pen, which she gave to me. If someone wanted me to sign their shoe … well, I guess I would. It was an odd request, but people did stupid things sometimes. It didn't bother me any, just so long as she left me alone afterwards. I scribbled my signature on the white sole of her converse, and then held out the pen for her to take back. She was grinning at me, and took it delicately like it was some rare artefact.
"Thank-you." She said quietly, "Just wait until my friends find out that I saw Roxas Winters in the airport!" The girl waved at me and trotted off, jabbering on to her parents about God knows what.
"Come on, Mr. Popular, stand up. I've got your things." Grumbling, I did as Xigbar asked, and he placed the suitcases on the trolley. I eyed it, but he seemed to read my mind. "No, you can't sit on it, and I won't push you. You've got two legs and a heartbeat, so walk." He said.
"Whatever. Let's just hurry up and get out of here so we can go get my dog." I muttered, rubbing my eyes with my palms. Poor Puppy. We had to go pick him up from a different section, because dogs didn't just come in on the conveyer belt like the luggage did. He must have been frightened without me. In turn, I was frightened too; what if something had happened to him?
-- --
When I got home, Sora jumped on me. It was still early in the afternoon, and he was perfectly awake. I wished I could have said the same about myself. Xigbar let out Puppy for me, who trotted out and started sniffing around immediately, excited to be somewhere new with scents of other animals all over the place. I dragged my feet towards my bedroom, but my brother was slowly circling me as I walked, talking to me about things that I wasn't paying attention to. I love him and all, but I've learnt to tune him out sometimes. I just kept nodding as if to acknowledge him, but I think he saw through my act, because he'd stopped in the door way as I approached my bed and put his hands on his hips. Sora sighed. I glanced at him and noticed that he was looking at me in exasperation. "What?" I asked.
"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" He said, shaking his head with a small smile. I offered him a one-shouldered shrug, sitting down to kick off my shoes. My bedroom was just the same as I'd left it. It was dark because the curtains were closed, and my drawers were still open halfway from when I'd gone rummaging through them in search of clothes to pack. Sora seemed to notice this too, and went to pull the curtains back to let in some light. I was about to go to sleep, and he was lighting up my room. Thanks, brother. "I said," He continued, "that you're meeting Reno tomorrow morning. I think he's found you some work." I rolled my eyes.
I hadn't been in a movie since early 2006, and I'd declared that it'd be the last one for the rest of my life. I hated acting. I'd always hated it. As children, Sora and I were a real hit with sappy morons who gushed over our youthful innocence, and I guess that someone noticed this and decided to use it to the best of their advantage. We started out in advertisements for things like toothpaste and soap, and gradually progressed to television shows, where we played brief roles like the protagonist's friend's children. We got more important parts as the public grew fonder of our charm, and we starred in our first real movie when we were nine. We each had qualities that "made us adorable"; Sora had a lisp, and I couldn't pronounce the letter 'R' until I was nearly seven. I was "Woxas Winturz" as far as I was concerned. I can't bear to watch old footage of us, because it's just so humiliating.
"I've told you hundreds of times, Sora. I'm done. I don't want anything to do with it anymore." I replied, lying on my back. The only reason I'd done it in the first place was because I didn't have a choice; we were asked by our parents when we were four if we wanted to be on television, and Sora had agreed on behalf of both of us without consulting with me first.
"I'd have thought you'd have liked the music industry."
I looked up at him. "What?"
"Music?" He repeated.
"Um …" I didn't quite understand what he meant.
"Just meet with Reno." Sora winked at me, smiling broadly as he walked towards the bed. He lay down next to me, curling up on his side with his head bowed and his cheek pressed against my shoulder. I wanted to go to sleep, but my legs were still over the edge of the mattress, and I didn't really want to push my brother away in order to fix it.
And I guess, in a way, I wouldn't have been able to do it anyhow. We'd always been glued together, but I can't remember if that had been someone else's doing or our own. After all, he was the railing that kept me steady on shaky grounds, and I was the trouble that he thought was worth it.
-- --
Sora had too many dogs. The worst part was that he was able to look after them all, which gave me no excuse to get rid of any of them. I suppose I didn't mind most of them, because he seemed to pick out pretty pleasant ones. He had the most docile Collie named Gisele, and I must say that I kind of adored her. She had long fur and sweet eyes. Sora also had an English Cocker Spaniel, black from head to tail, and he was the master of guilt-tripping my brother into giving him food. There was a year old Basset Hound that wandered through the rooms curiously; he'd walked into my bedroom so many times, just to stare out the window for a minute or two before leaving again. Cinderella was a gold Chihuahua puppy that he got recently, and is my prime evidence that Sora's gay, even though he's dating a girl. All of them were tolerable, though none compared to Puppy in my opinion, but there was one more that I detested.
Something slimy was attacking my hand. I noticed this as my eyes fluttered open, my mind still lingering in a dream-like state. I yanked my arm back, as it'd been hanging over the edge of the bed. Sitting up with a disgusted frown on my face, I glared sleepily down at my brother's one dog that I truly wanted to lock outside the front gates. An English Bulldog stared up at me, licking his lips innocently. "Get out!" I shouted, pointing to the door. He didn't move. Growling, I clapped my hands at him. "Go!" I tried. Still, the dog didn't budge. Frustrated simply because I was always grumpy in the mornings, and I already disliked him, I clambered out of bed and chased him away. His stumpy legs carried him quickly out my door, lest I attempt to take him by his collar. Max stopped once he was a fair distance into the hall, turning around to give me a sad look. I scoffed and shut my door behind me, walking towards him only to get to the lounge room. He trotted away.
The couch was facing the other way, facing the glass wall that opened up to a deck, but I could see a head of vibrant red hair over the back of it. I was only wearing an old black t-shirt and green silk boxers, but Reno had seen me in my pyjamas before anyway. Still, I anxiously tugged at the bottom of my shorts, trying to pull them just a little further down to hide more of my legs. Harley, the Basset Hound, was sitting next to the sliding door, gazing out at the view placidly. I looked at him for a moment and walked to the far side of the room, where the adjoined kitchen was. "Aren't you kind of early?" I said to the fridge as I opened it, searching its contents for something worth drinking. I settled on apple juice, curling my fingers around the bottle's handle and taking it out. No sooner had I turned around and closed the refrigerator, the juice clattered to the ground as I jumped. "Oh my Go– Who the hell are you!?" I asked defensively, startled by the person whom I'd thought was Reno. He was, in fact, some complete stranger. The man had turned in his seat whilst I was looking through the fridge, and when I'd glanced back to him I noticed his piercing emerald eyes and mischievous smirk. He'd scared the fuck out of me.
"Sora!" I shouted, my wary eyes glued to him in case he made a move.
"Relax, kid."
The familiar voice had come from my left, so I turned my head to identify who it was, though I was already rather certain. Reno was walking in from the other room, through the other entrance than the one I'd come from. "Who is this?" I asked, jerking my thumb at the newcomer. Before my agent could explain, several other people trailed in from behind him. I became very, very aware of how little clothing I was wearing. Without prompting Reno for any explanations, I walked past them briskly until I was in the hallway, where I broke into a run for my bedroom.
"What did you do, Axel?" I heard Reno say.
"I didn't do anything. You might want to pick up what he dropped, though."