Disclaimer: Jack Spicer is my favorite Xiaolin Showdown villain, hands down. If I owned this series, his life would be nothing more than an abysmal void of living Hell just because I love to see people like him overcome hardships and things of the like. Alas, I possess no such power… curse you XS owners! I am foiled yet again! Also, more than half the summary was taken from a poem written by a friend of mine. It's called Downsides, and it is my favorite poem written by her. I'm so glad she let me use it!
Summary: There are two sides to everything. One cannot exist without the other. Upsides and downsides. Left sides and right sides. Insides and outsides. Light sides and dark sides. Finally, Jack-side and Rai-side. JackxRai.
Warning: This fic contains boy love and all other synonyms of the word. If you're not sure what that is… please go to Google and perform an image search. :)
Guys, it's finally happened. I'm in an author's slump. I can barely read fanfiction let alone write it out. I fell so ashamed. I dunno, I guess I figured that by doing this, my slump would shrink a little and could finally get back to TS. I haven't even so much as planned the next chapter… sigh… So, please enjoy this little oneshot while I try to get back on my feet as an FF author. Or should that be hands? Get back on my keyboard? Argh, who cares as long I start writing again, right? By the way, there really are (supposed to be) two sides to this. We'll see how it works out.
On with the fic!
Theory of Delusion ~Jack Side~
He's not especially nice to me. Whenever he sees me, he never fails to throw a couple of insults my way. I'm used to them all by now; they're usually the same. Although, he has been getting creative with a few new ones as of late…
I'm pretty dumb to be considered a boy genius when I think about it. It's that aloofness and jokingly harsh attitude of his that made me fall in love with him.
Love.
That's a pretty extreme word. I don't like it very much. It denotes an interpersonal attraction from one human being to another. It means so much more than just 'liking' someone on a simple level. I was hoping that this 'love' feeling was nothing more than a mere phase brought on by hormones and that it would disappear if I immersed myself in unrelated activities.
Luck's never been on my side. Even after all this time, I'm still in love with the childish prankster Raimundo Pedrosa. Worst of all, the feeling is unrequited. I don't know how to stop it. Some genius I am.
It all started on that day. Raimundo had just finished mopping the rough jungle floor my snow white face. My assumption was that the other Xiaolin Losers had stayed at their temple of whatever while Raimundo used the Longi Kite to fly here.
It was… embarrassing, to say the least. But you get used to failure after the first thousand times! I don't even know which of those stupid artifacts we were fighting for anymore! All I know is that he won and I, despite my unparalleled intelligence and mechanical assistance, played the role of loser once again.
After failing to obtain another of the coveted Shen-Gong-Wu for what seemed like months on end, I had began to question my reasoning for going after them in the first place. Why did I really want them? Was conquering the world worth it? Most importantly, if I by some sliver of miraculous hope I was finally able to posses every last one of those godforsaken trophies, would it make me… happy?
A tan hand was offered to me. I eyed the outstretched limb suspiciously. I make it a point not to trust anyone. Not even Wuya. We had been enemies all this time. Why lend me a hand all of a sudden? It was trap! He wanted to see if I was pathetic enough to accept help from my adversary. How dare he disgrace me! I won't fall for it!
"I'm not gonna stand like this all day," he scoffed, rolling those encapsulating emerald orbs of his.
I glared daggers at him. I would not allow myself to give in.
"Fine, be that way," Raimundo muttered under his breath. I in turn also breathed a sigh of relief. I cast my gaze to the dirt-covered floor of the jungle, glad that he had given up and returned from whence he came. The sound of soft footsteps made their way behind me.
"Good riddance," I whispered in a defeated grumble.
A pair of strong arms found their way around my waist and I almost gasped in utter shock. Almost. Jack Spicer had at least some dignity. I was now held in a steady standing position with my back against the chest of the Brazilian who had just defeated me for the umpteenth time. A warm hand found its way to my shoulder and equally warm fingertips brushed up against my cheek.
At this, I actually did gasp. Damn him!
"You're cold," he pointed out, hot breath grazing the back of my neck. I had just been face first in the mud! How the hell did he think I would feel? Regardless of that, the thumb from the hand that was on my shoulder began running small circles on the back of my neck. His gentle fingers at the same time brushed away some of the dirt from my dilapidated facial features.
We stood like that for a moment. Him softly caressing my neck and cheek, and me letting him do it.
I was pathetic. It had to stop.
"What do you think you're doing?!" I snap, freeing myself from his grasp, no matter how soothing it was, and turning to face him coldly.
"Chill dude, I was just—"
"Just what?! Making me out to be a fool! No! I refuse to be the butt of your jokes any longer! You and your little dragon friends can just leave me alone! I don't want anything to do with this anymore!"
Extreme, yes. Dramatic, I'd have to say so. Childish, most certainly. But it silenced him.
"You don't know what it's like!" I continued shouting. "Each and every time you and the others challenge me to one of these meaningless Showdowns, I always play the role of the loser. When was the last time I came close to winning one of these stupid things, huh?"
He just stared.
"And it's not enough that you have to take them from me, is it? You have to take them from me and use the very same Shen-Gong-Wu against me in the next Xiaolin Showdown! It's not like I get tired or anything either! You four get to rotate, while it's always me who has to participate despite the fact that my wounds from the last round have hardly even healed! Have you ever thought about why you wanted the Shen-Gong-Wu in the first place?! What do you gain from my constant loss?!"
Of course, I failed to mention that I had long since renounced my motivation for caring to gather them. I was merely playing along now. Raimundo was at a loss for words, and, for once, I felt quite triumphant. He opened his mouth, only to close it again in a fish-like maneuver. We eyed each other, locked in a staring contest between ruby and emerald.
I had won.
The Brazilian mumbled something unintelligible under his breath so I couldn't hear him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy white trousers and kicked a tiny pebble with his shoe. I leaned in closer as he repeated.
"So you can't have them…"
It was like a ghostly whisper. But I had heard it. And something in me snapped. Before either of us even knew what was going on, I had tackled the Dragon of Wind to the ground and was holding him by the hem on his red shirt, straddling his slim waist.
"So I can't have them, huh?" I repeated, breathing heavily into his face. "Do you really hate me that much? Do you, Raimundo?" My fists clenched, I wanted to punch him right in his pretty face. Looking back, that's exactly what I should've done. He deserved it! Don't ask me why he did, but it made perfect sense to me! The person underneath me could be a crying child and I'd still feel the same. As long as it wasn't me, I didn't care. I didn't want to feel this way anymore! But I couldn't bring myself to punch him.
So I kissed him instead.
It was quick. He didn't even see it coming. Hell, I didn't even see it coming! I had acted on impulse. These unresolved and unfoundedly disgusting urges had to make their way out somehow. For several seconds, we stayed like that; our lips connected and my hands fisted in his shirt.
"Jack, what're you—" he gasped after I pulled away.
I kissed him again, this time more fierce, the taste of cool spearmint burning on my lips.
His hand moved to the back of my neck and he made no attempt to break away from my hold. That in itself was odd. He had proven so many times before that he was stronger than me. Why was he letting me kiss him? I didn't dwell on it.
Instead, I nibbled at his lower lip hungrily, begging for entrance into his moist, pearly white cavern. He must not have been in the right state of mind today. He let me in. The moment our tongues met, I felt a spark of electricity far greater than those I had received from the Eye of Dashi. And believe me; I had received a lot of those.
Somehow, his hands had found their way up my shirt and were now exploring my chest. Similarly, my own hands were running through his soft chestnut hair while we struggled in a pointless fight for dominance. It was pointless because we both knew I could never prevail in such a battle.
True enough, Raimundo beat me in the battle of tongues. I looked him in his eyes. They were filled with such lust and need the likes of which I had never seen before.
I pushed him away, disgusted with myself.
"Dude, what gives?" he finally asked, panting. I turned my back to him, straightening up my shirt before I cleared my throat to reply.
"It was my turn."
He looked confused at my comeback and I opted slowly to explain.
"Tell me, Raimundo, did you… enjoy what I did to you?" His tan cheeks flushed a crimson shade that was even deeper than my own recently unkempt hair color. "Never again. I'm no longer going to hunt for the Shen-Gong-Wu and you will no longer experience that. Neither of us will."
I couldn't help but smirk at my own cleverness.
"How does it feel to have a taste of your medicine? I gave you something you enjoyed and took it away just as quickly. Weren't those your exact words? 'So you can't have them'?"
He flushed again, but this time it was out of anger. In a matter of seconds, Raimundo had bolted to his feet, sputtering nonsense before finally managing to spit out something that was even remotely coherent.
"I don't know what you're problem is!" he yelled, infuriated with me. "There's no way I'd ever let that shit happen again! I'm not a goddamned fag like you, Spicer!"
If my heart weren't so numb by now, that would've stung.
"You're sick! You're sick in the head!" his tirade continued. By this point, I had stopped listening and began to take enjoyment out of his perplexity and fury. "I hope you burn in Hell!!"
Putting on my best confident poker face, I turned to make one final witty remark.
He was gone, living up to his name as the Dragon of Wind.
And so I walked. Through the thick brush of the jungle, I trudged back to my lair, settling into a nice warm bath once I had arrived. I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment at what I had done to him.
For once, I had shed the horrid role I had been forced to engage myself in all these years. For once, I, yes I was the victor! I had won!
But presently, now that I think about it, it was that single, stupid, spontaneous kiss that had caused me to develop these useless feelings for the chestnut-haired Brazilian. I fell in love with him the moment our lips locked and tongues met.
And I hate myself for it.
Because I had wound up falling in love with him, the entire point had been lost. Once again, I had lost.
It seems that I was born to be a loser after all.
End