It was a windy day during the autumn season.. It was normal, for everyone except one family. The Lambert's.
The remaining family members of the Lambert's stood by the coffin, before they lowered it into the grave. The grave that would cloak the coffin from the rest of the world. Never to be seen again.
A woman in her early thirties cried into the arms of her five-year-old son, Roxas. Roxas hadn't the slightest idea of what was happening. Instead, he kept tugging on his mother's black dress, repeatably asking 'When is daddy coming home?' and 'Why aw they doing that to daddy?'.
There was a few word spoken prior to what was occurring now. Family and friends both shed tears as they finally began to lower the coffin into the grave. Sora—the same age as Roxas—began thrashing about, crying 'Uncle'.
The day was no longer sunny. It became cloudy and this dreary feeling came along with it. Not long after, it began raining.
Roxas' blue orbs were slightly hazed as he looked up to the raining sky. He didn't understand anything. This feeling was strange.
.Pretend.This.Is.The.End.Of.The.Dream.
Roxas woke up in a cold sweat, panting. He glanced at his roommate who was sound asleep, with the bed covers successfully hiding him. That was exactly like him. His roommate could sleep through an earthquake, after all. Roxas quietly chuckled to himself imagining his roommate sleeping peacefully even if a truck crashed through the room.
The rest of the night Roxas kept tossing and turning, being unable to drift off to sleep again.
The clock read '5:03 A.M.'. He figured he would just have a large dose of caffeine to help him stay awake for remainder of the day.
Still, he wondered about that dream. Or nightmare, whatever you wanted to think of it as. That's the only thing that he's ever dreamed about. Even in elementary school that's how it was. He wouldn't dream of 'polka-dotted dogs or monsters' or anything that was relative to that.
For now, he would go take a hot shower. Yes, hot and steamy showers are very helpful.
.Pretend.This.Is.A.Line.
It was a few minutes past 5 A.M. It was neither bright, nor dark. It was neutral, shadows of the night before still remained as the sun threatened to rise.
A man in a black cloak crept inside an apartment building in the Third district. He walked up and down the corridors before coming to a halt in front of one of the door's.
His face was still unseen, but the smile that revealed the man's fangs was evident.
He kicked the door down, the door making impact with a blond boy. The man smirked once more, showing his fangs once again. The boy tried to pry the door off of himself, but the door refused. It was much heavier than the boy.
Before the boy knew it, the door was easily flung off and he was being gripped by the collar of his shirt. He then made impact with a wall thirty feet behind him—which managed to get him in his neighbors apartment.
This strength was abnormal. The boy was completely limp and lay motionless on the carpeted floor as a red substance soaked the ground on which he lay. The cloaked man walked closer, eying the boy in front of him. He looked closely. "Damn, it's not him." he hissed to the dark room, quickly disappearing as a group of people—medics—entered the room. One of the tenants had called the police as well as an ambulance.
.Pretend.This.Is.A.Line.
By now, Roxas frozen in fear. Moments before he had heard screaming, and not the usual screaming coming from their neighbors who were newlyweds. No, this was completely the opposite. This scream was frightening. This scream could scare off a banshee.
He thought he was hallucinating. He thought it was just in his imagination. But after he got out of the shower and changed to suitable clothing—the knock on the door from a policeman proved that it wasn't in his imagination. The neighbor across the hall from them was murdered and what made things worse, was that the only thing found that could be used as some sort of evidence—was a picture of a 12-year-old Roxas.
Roxas' excitement of going home after seven years had vanished. He was filled with anxiety and fright. His dreams were now the least of his worries. The police had told him that the murder had mixed up apartment numbers. Roxas lived in 696, and his neighbor 666. But, one of the '6's' in his neighbor's apartment number had unscrewed and the '6' became a '9'. The police also advised him to move out immediately. The strangest thing was that he was supposed to move back to his hometown in two days. Coincidence? Maybe.
In one way or another, he wished he never left his hometown in the first place. But it was something that he had to do, for more than one reason.
.Pretend.This.Is.A.Line.
It was midnight, the cloaked man from the night before went down an alleyway of a brick building. He took out a brick out of the wall and a tunnel-like door appeared. He went down the tunnel, the noise of his boots echoing, as he tried to pace himself. The tunnel had eventually became hallways with doors that had roman numerals on them.
He stopped at the white double doors before kicking them open. In the room sat a man with gray hair, yellow narrowed eyes, and an aggravated look on his face. "How kind of you to reappear. Did you do what you were told?" The cloaked man started. "Or did you fail again, Number VIII?"
'Number VIII' was debating mentally whether he should lie. But, he had to make sure it didn't show. One little slip up in front of this guy and he'd be dead. Deader than he already was, at least. He decided to lie.
"Yes, he's dead." he said, trying not to show any emotion what-so-ever. "Very well," Number VIII turned around, ready to leave. Until, he was startled. "Number VIII, try to make you lies more convincing." Number VIII winced. Number I—also referred to as 'Superior'—had nailed him. Right on the target.
The leader of this Organization sadistically smirked. "I'm losing my patience Number VIII, dispose of him soon, or I'll get someone else to do it." The superior was currently walking to the window. "Unless, you want something to happen to your sister." The golden eyes were glaring at the jade green one's.
"I – I understand." He quietly walked out of the room, closing the door instead of slamming it like he would have otherwise. But he couldn't. This was a touchy subject. He did, though, glare daggers at the leader as he walked out.
.Pretend.This.Is.A.Line.
He stood at the same spot as he did seven years ago when he first came to this town, the bridge overlooking the water hundreds of feet below. It had also been at that time that he had met his roommate, Zexion. Looking back at what he had tried to do at this very spot, he couldn't help but laugh bitterly. If he had gone through with it, he would have missed out on so much—and there would have been so much he wouldn't have gotten to do.
"I knew I'd fine you here." A lilac-haired man was fairly noticeable in the distance. Zexion. "Actually psychology told me I'd find you here." The blond furrowed his brows. "It's a joke." The blond looked out at the horizon. "Right. Mr. Psychology, or should I say the-next-Dr. Phyl."
"..."
The blond chuckled at the older man's reaction to his comment.
"I never did ask you why you helped me that day." The lilac-haired man's eyes had wandered off. "Instinct, maybe? I'm not quite sure. Would it be strange if I told you that I just felt like I had to come here?"
The blond coughed into his fist. "Yeah. Yeah it would be strange. But, you're strange so I don't think it matters."
His roommate began walking back to the apartment complex. The blond wanted to stay here for a while, but it looked like it was about to rain. He took one more quick glance at the ocean. "Every thing's been strange, lately." No one else had heard him.
Once he got back, it did in fact start raining. The rain was pouring down. It almost seemed as if it was hailing because of the noise the rain made. There were flood warnings, too. Roxas hoped that the trains and the subways would still be running the following day.
"I'll be going now." Zexion said as he walked out the door. "Yeah, whatever." Roxas replied. It seemed weird that Zexion almost always went out at night. Usually every other night. He'd let it go. Maybe Zexion just had a job. Then another question would come to mind. What kind of job?
Roxas took out a black duffle bag. He had a lot of packing to do. It was mostly only clothes though. He'd thought about bringing the alarm clock but decided to leave it here. He wouldn't have to replace the alarm clock constantly if he didn't even have one.
.Pretend.This.Is.A.Line.
"Damn it! Why does he always have to bring up my sister?!" The enraged Number VIII slammed his fists on a desk in his room. Not his room at home. His room where Organization XIII was. He hated how his family didn't know what kind of trouble he was mixed up in. 'It's better this way.' he thought.
His sister. He'd do anything to protect her. And since this was Organization XIII and there were only twelve members, the Superior could do the same to her. He didn't want his sister to go through what he went through. So, he had to do what he was told. And soon. He didn't want to, but he had to. For his sister.
.Pretend.This.Is.A.Line.
A/N: New story! I spent a while writing this. I had it planned out in my head for two weeks before I actually started writing it. Guess that shows how much of a procrastinator I am. Procrastinators unite!
:D
Okay, this is based off a song. Hence the title, 'Demolition Lovers'. Man I love that song. Well, I'm sorry I haven't updated my other stories. I just kind of went blank. Again. For like the third time, maybe? I don't know. Well the story 'Untitled' will probably be updated soon, but I'm not sure about 'Roses are blonde and violets are red?!'.. I'll try at least, though I've started revising that one though. Yes,AGAIN. Except this time it's not going to end up another story. It's actually going to follow the same plot just a little bit different wording. So everything is un-hiatus as of..
1..
2..
3..
NOW! XD
And as for this story I was inspired by the song 'Demolition Lovers' and 'Vampires will never hurt you'.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything..
Those who review get a ..happy sticker? YEAH! Happy VIRTUAL sticker stamp thing. -Takes out smiley stamp to stamp people's foreheads with-
R&R!
Bye
P.S. Don't kill me, 'cause if you do I won't be able to update. x.x