Never Would Have I Imagined
VBK
Chapter I: Hopeless
One meter and sixty centimeters. Probably even less, if he considers that, last time he was measured, he was wearing his combat boots. High-soled combat boots.
He is aware he has never particularly looked good. He's not hideous, or so he hopes, but that giant peninsula on his face is a bit too much, for a nose.
On good days, he feels a strong resemblance with Rostand's fictional Cyrano, or to the real man himself. Not because he speaks a good French, obviously, since he doesn't, but because of that damned pointy appendage on his face.
Ian knows that being short isn't that much an insurmountable problem. He is not a dwarf, after all, and height itself doesn't matter, if you manage to show a girl the good content of your heart.
Or if you manage to prove that you have the size she wishes, in your pants.
But, being short, coupled with being cursed with that nose, that makes dating really hard.
Bryan has made fun of him for both traits, for longer than Ian can recollect. He hasn't been the only one, either, but, if truth must be said, Ian admits that his teammates' taunting are the most harmless.
Spencer rarely even makes fun of him at all, let alone for his height and nose. And, well, Spencer is a giant. He is even taller than Bryan, and towered on the majority of the adults in the Abbey too. He really isn't in the position to mock him for being too short, when he can be mocked for being way too tall. And he has never mentioned Ian's nose, probably because he knows his own is not much better.
Bryan makes fun of him. Out of his three teammates, he is the one who jokes about his nose or stature the most. He calls him midget, or says stuff like 'duh, you reach things with your nose before than with your outstretched arms', but Bryan is an ass. He is never serious, and he mocks everyone.
As much as one would never guess from the outside, Bryan lives kidding around with people, taunting them, either to seriously piss them off, if he doesn't like them, or more often to just gives air to his mouth. He likes to talk and make people laugh at the idiotic stuff he says, and his jokes kind of grow on you, after a while. It's easy to get used to them, and even easier to not really take offense to the teasing word.
He and Ian, they have this weird custom of one of the two fake-pissing off the other, and the other chasing after the first. Bruises may occur, insults are always required, but it's an harmless exchange of opinion and affection.
Bryan isn't serious, when he talks shit about Ian's face. Bryan is tall, built, and has this handsome face nobody has ever expected him to grow into, but, even if he really is hot, he doesn't acknowledge it. He doesn't give beauty much credit, neither other people's, nor his own. If it wasn't for Tala, they would have never known that Bryan actually knows about the mere concept of beauty.
And, Ian has no problem admitting that Bryan is handsome. He is honest with himself, and his eyes work well. Why would he do otherwise?
Also, since he found out about the Falcon's utter infatuation for their captain, Ian often plays dirty, and, when made fun for his short stature, he replies hinting at the pathetic puppy love Bryan feels for Tala. Which is the best way to have a blushing Falcon chasing him around the place in two seconds.
Tala himself is the one that mentions Ian's stature the most, after Bryan, but, as with the Falcon, there is no malice in his words. Tala would never admit it, but he worries for them all, and cares for them all, and the last thing he would do is intentionally hurt them. Especially with words.
He does mention Ian's nose, sometime, but in those circumstances he is usually so pissed off, that Ian doesn't really have the time or means to focus on the offense. Usually, he's busy thinking how to stay alive, when confronting a fuming redhead.
His teammates respect him, even if they make fun of him. It's not like he doesn't retaliate doing the very same himself. After all, every one of them gets targeted with jokes of some kind: Ian for the stature and nose, Spencer for his size and for that expression he often makes, which makes him look as dumb as a real whale, Bryan for… well.
They wouldn't dare tease Bryan at all, hadn't he and Spencer found out about his utter love for their redheaded captain. Which is perfect, because just the mere hint of Bryan's infatuation for Tala is enough to irk Bryan. And for Ian to have a blushing Falcon chasing him, pretending to be angry.
As for Tala, he gets plenty of teasing by the rest of his team for the crazy color of his hair, for being a flamboyant drama queen, and kind of a sex addict.
For all these reasons, Ian doesn't mind (too much) when his teammates target him with jokes and teasing, reminding him about his two physical traits that nature has cursed him with.
He has painfully learned to put up with both, in such a very less lenient environment like the Abbey.
He knows he isn't good looking. Or better, he could be OK, if his nose was just a bit shorter.
He knows 'good looking', can see it whenever he looks at Bryan, Spencer even, or at some of their young students. He knows 'unreachable male beauty' when he looks at Tala, or Mikail, one of their older kids.
He knows he will never find a woman who will love him for his looks, but, maybe he can find one who will love him despite the way he looks.
He sighs, staring at the ceiling in his room. The silence around him is broken only by the faint echo of voices coming from a floor under. The rest of his team, with the kids from the Abbey that are living with them, is dealing with post-dinner cleansing.
For a moment, he considers stretching over his bed, reaching for his big headphones, and shutting out the voices with music.
Because he is an idiot.
Scratch that: he is a genius, a very smart person, and an extremely intelligent being, but he is also an idiot.
Why?
Because, despite knowing that he has a serious problem in actually finding a woman who is willing to put aside the way he looks and focus on his heart, Ian has, kind of, fallen in love.
With a beautiful woman, two years older than him, who he has practically never spoken to. Who he knows is two years older than him only because he is a nerdy stalker, and managed to hacker the facebook profile of one of her friends and colleagues, to see all the pictures of her he could find.
He has fallen for one of the most beautiful women on Earth, a dancer, who is also at least thirty centimeters taller than him. Well, maybe only twenty, considering that the only time he has managed to get close to her, she was wearing her very high heeled stage shoes.
He closes his eyes, picturing beautiful, perfect Valeriya in his mind. Dancing, wrapped around a pole or moving on a cube, wearing barely-covering outfits, more revealing than a bikini. Moving with her golden, wavy hair bouncing on her back.
With those incredibly long legs that are probably the sexiest part of her body, after the goddess-like face.
"How could I be so stupid?" he murmurs to himself, opening eyes and watching over the table. He looks for the digital clock, which tells him that yes, it's about time to get up and get ready for work. He needs to hurry, too, or he will be late, and a DJ can't be late, can he?
He exhales loudly and starts undressing, hitting the shower still in the gloomiest mood ever. He doesn't need much for this job, he doesn't have a real dressing code, as long as he wears dark colored clothes. He goes for black jeans, black hoodie and his black combat boots, sporting one of his most frequent outfits (which, incidentally, yes, looks very much what he was donning at the time of the Demolition Boys in the Abbey, but, whatever).
He grabs his bag and slithers his laptop inside it. He needn't bring it, but he likes working with his own better than the one the club provided him. Even if this means that he has to reach the club at least ten minutes earlier, to plug it in and connect it to everything.
He pushes his headphones around his neck, and swiftly runs down the stairs.
Only to suddenly stop and start coughing, both to cover the laughter and to attract the attention of two persons, whose bodies are intertwined to the point of attempting fusing themselves into one.
Tala and Bryan, who were taking advantage of the semi-darkness of the stairs that lead to the top floor where their bedrooms are, jump off each other, and plaster themselves on the two opposite walls of the corridor.
A twin set of flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes fixes on Ian's face, their guilty expression revealing how much those two hoped to enjoy their privacy.
Ian doesn't need anything else to figure out just how far their making out has already gone, but can't help wondering how farther exactly they were planning on going. Even if the kids all know about their relationship, it still isn't a good idea to give them a rated-M spectacle of what that relationship entails.
He shakes his head, smirking: "Oh, please, don't stop on my account. Do you want me to go and take the camera? I told you, a tape with you two would make us rich!"
Barely after Tala and Bryan finally got together, Ian seriously dropped off the offering. He has read about the type of perverted dreams some fans posted on blading blogs, and knows that a tape with the two of them even only kissing would make them consistently richer.
He had counted on Tala's dramaqueen-ness to make that happen, but the redhead had, surprisingly, refused.
"Piss off, midget" Bryan automatically replies, shifting his clothes back to their places, definitely revealing to Ian how far their making out has gone. And really, Ian was good without knowing.
"Oh my god, Bryan! Were you going to fuck him against a wall in the fucking corridor? What if one of the kid came up and saw!"
"Hey! I'm right here!" Tala protests, blushing: "and he wouldn't have" he adds, pinning Bryan with a pointed look that's actually all Ian needs to read the implicit 'you moron, you almost went too far, don't you dare try to screw me against the wall, next time I let you kiss me in a barely lit corridor'.
Ian's expression voices the 'u-hu' he's refraining from saying aloud.
Tala notices his bag at that very moment, and, eager to move on another topic (possibly one that doesn't involve admitting hat he is the one who gets manhandled in that relationship), he frowns and points at it with is chin: "are you working also tonight?" he asks.
Ian nods.
He has been working twice per week, for a couple of months, so far.
They don't really need the money: between what the court has ruled out that they can milk from Balkov, and the money they won in previous tournaments that rightfully belongs to the four of them, they have enough to keep the school alive and kicking. Especially with the help of Kai's funding, they can provide for the four of them, the school and the fifteen kids from the Abbey, who are living with them.
After a few months they started with the school, though, they have all picked up some jobs, if only to have something to do that didn't involve further time glued to each other, like they were doing at every hours, every days.
Being good with tech and music, Ian tried out as a DJ, more as a joke than hoping seriously to get a position, but he did. It was on his first day at the club that he saw Valeriya, first.
He's been working two night per week for some months, for a good pay, and for the priceless view of beautiful Valeriya. He isn't supposed to work tonight, but the guy who was has called out, and Ian offered to replace him.
It's an easy one, anyway: lame crowd, lame pop-shitty music, and Valeriya dancing. He would be stupid not to jump on the chance.
"Again?" Bryan pipes in, wearing an identical frown like Tala's: "but you usually do just two nights"
Ian shrugs: "It's an easy one, and the guy who was supposed to do it bailed out. I thought I could replace him" he honestly explains.
Tala's frown deepens: "Why?" he inquires further.
'Because I get to see beautiful Valeriya for another night, and because I'm stupid, and I've fallen for one of the most beautiful, most desired women on Earth', he thinks.
Clearly, he can't really say that so he opts for just shrugging, and says: "Money".
"We don't need them" Tala insists, still staring at him with those light blue eyes of his, that feel like they strip your soul.
Ian hates when Tala looks at him like that. It's already difficult to lie to the guy, but, when he looks at you with those freaking eyes, it's really really difficult, even for a premium liar like Ian.
"Let him go, Tala. Leave him alone"
Unexpectedly, help comes from Bryan, of all people.
Tala's eyes, distracted, leave Ian and move to fix on the Falcon's, spending a few moment staring into Bryan's light green own ones. When they move back to Ian's face, they have lost their unnerving, inquisitive strength, and Ian feels once again able to breathe.
"Whatever. Be safe" Tala shrugs, and walks down the stairs again.
Ian moves to take a step down himself, but is stopped by Bryan's hand on his shoulder.
He turns, looking at the deep stare in his taller friend's face, and can't help but wonder if his two teammates are fusing themselves into one being, for the incredible resemblance between this look on Bryan and Tala's previous inquisitive glaring.
"I know you're up to something" he announces, not caring to hear the lie Ian tries to come up with: "I know you have a real reason to go to that club. If you don't want to tell me what that is, that's fine. I will find out anyway" he adds.
If he was talking to anyone else, it would probably sound a lot more like a threat, but, to his teammates and friends, sentences like this come off more like warnings.
Ian keeps his stare with a blank expression, not bothering answering since he's not really being questioned.
"Just be safe, and don't go looking for trouble" Bryan concludes, removing the hand from Ian's shoulder and letting him go.
Ian swallows imperceptibly, almost touched at his teammates' concern for his well being. He smirks and tries to cover it with his usual cool look: "Ah, Bryan, I'm touched. Can I go now? Should I expect Spencer too, to come and tell me to be careful?" he teases.
Bryan snorts and starts walking the stairs, but waits up for Ian to walk the rest of them together. They part at the bottom of second floor, where Tala and Spencer are talking with the kids.
Ian lingers for a moment, watching Bryan join them in the big, well lit room where the happy voices are coming from. He doesn't care about finding out the topic of the discussion going on inside (probably they're just voting for the movie for that night).
He focuses instead on the feeling he is experiencing.
This warm emotion that he can't name, that always fills him when he stops and takes in his surrounding, here at the school, with what has come to constitute his family. The kids he teaches to, the guys he lives with, his teammates.
The people who have survived the Abbey and Balkov's crazy experiments, just like him, and among which he could never feel out of place.
Valeriya, dancing, gyrating and with hair bouncing around pops into his mind, and his smile shifts from fond to sad.
It's a good thing that he is enjoying this weird family he has now, because he hasn't many chances to build a proper one, one just his own.
He shakes his head and leaves, reaching the club just in time to plug in his laptop to every other machine and create a playlist. He discards the hoodie in the chair behind him, muttering in a low voice curses against the stupid new guy the boss has put at the console, while waiting for Ian to show up.
He doesn't have anything in particular against the mousy-faced barely out of teen age replacement that has been told to open the night. Everyone has the right to be inexperienced, and Ian knows that this job looks easy, but it's not.
The thing is, there is a reason why the crowd goes mad, when they notice it's him, showing up at the console. First, he has a lot of fans, because he is a good DJ, who has a good taste in music, and second because he doesn't make stupid mistake like playing Pussycat Dolls as opening songs for a night. Even if it's a pop music night.
People screams his stage name, his fans appreciating the surprise of having him here instead of some second category, unknown guy. Even those who are not into his kind of music, more techno and experimental, enjoy the pop songs he chooses.
'Because I have fucking taste in music' he thinks, almost angrily.
The dancers in the backstage are almost done putting on makeup and their tiny, skimpy dresses, and Valeriya looks as beautiful as ever. Ian grimaces a bit, noticing her, wondering how could he fall for somebody he will never even talk to.
He puts on a catchy song for the first dancer who struts on stage, choosing carefully in the playlist to find those which will fit better to the different dancers showing up.
When it's Valeriya's turn, her smile stuns him, and he swallows, forcing himself to remember that the smile isn't for him. It's her stage smile. It's for the audience, for the people there, not for him. She doesn't even know him, and she definitely doesn't give a fuck about a barely one-meter tall guy who plays music.
Is it that stupid, that he puts on one of his song for her?
She is the only one who can dance on them. She is the best and the most sexy, moving to the rhythm of the songs he creates, the only one who understands them.
Ian moves on to a more pop sound, as the night requests, and lets his mind drift off, as much as the presence of his private goddess (who is never going to be his) allows.
He wonders if he is wasting his time, pining for a girl who will never be his, who he has no chance even to talk to.
Because he is a genius, but also an idiot.
What he doesn't know yet, is that he's also the luckiest person in the world.
A chapter 2 is on his way.