Terrible Business
By: CrystallicSky
Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown, 'cause if I did, it'd be way hard to follow; every time I'd get an idea, I'd write it in until it ended up like an animated version of Anthology of Love.
Warning(s):Homosexuality, murder/character death, mild language.
Chase blankly inspected the aged mansion.
"Everything is to your liking, I hope?" questioned the equally-aged landlord.
The young man scoffed. "The wood is rotting, the curtains are mildewed, and everything is covered in dust."
"Well, you see, Mr. Young," the wrinkled man delegated, "this property has remained unwanted for a very long time, being so out of the way; it didn't make sense to waste money on upkeep if it wouldn't be earned back."
"Hm," Chase folded his arms over his chest, conceding, "very well. I'll purchase it." Seclusion from the human populous he had grown to hate was more important to him than the condition of the house itself.
"Oh, wonderful," old Mister Jennings smiled, "excellent! I'll go fetch the paperwork!"
As the elderly landlord shuffled off, the soon-to-be owner of this house wandered through the spacious parlor, past the old grandfather clock and particularly meandering over towards the tall, curling staircase.
The railing, it seemed, was badly splintered at a spot fairly close to the bottom, as if something heavy had crashed into it and broken it.
How odd…
The man dismissed it and waiting for Mr. Jennings to return.
--
The house, Chase supposed, wasn't all that bad when one got right down to it.
It was rich and elegant, if a decade or so outdated, and though only the dust situation was immediately remediable, it was surprisingly easy to get used to the smell of mildew and rot.
He had quickly picked out his favorite of the multitudes of rooms in the big, empty mansion and had begun to settle in.
He had chosen it for the queen-sized, black-sheeted bed, the fine chandelier on the ceiling, and the near wall-length window overlooking the breathtaking dark water of the lake adjacent the house, surrounded on the other three sides by forest.
Besides those highly desirable features, the walls were a warm, dark red, the hardwood floor unmarred with scratches or marks after all its years, and still working electricity, along with a television and a game-system or two, the majority of which Chase held no care for.
As badly as he'd wanted isolation (and in this secluded little area boxed in by so much nature and only Mr. Jennings within miles of the place, he certainly had that), it had been a long drive out here, and he was tired.
Most unlike his usual character, the man flopped gracelessly to the bed, closing his eyes and preparing for a well-deserved sleep…
"Who the hell are you, and why are you on my bed?"
Naturally, Chase immediately awoke, sitting bolt upright to face the stranger glaring at him in annoyance.
It was a young man, about fifteen, sixteen years old and dressed entirely in black.
He had skin as white as a ghost and ruby-red eyes, hair short and the color of flame, and he put his hands on his hips, frowning, "I'm waiting…"
The Chinese man found the youth rather easy on the eyes, but obviously did not voice this due to circumstance and instead demanded, "Your bed? I believe you're mistaken, boy."
"Name's Jack," he huffed, "thank you very much; and yeah, my bed, seeing as its my room and all."
The elder male stood from the bed being argued about. "Clearly you're confused; I bought the whole house this morning, meaning that all the rooms, including this one belong to me."
"Well, that's just plain impossible," Jack informed, " 'cause I've lived here for ten years."
Realizing that this was going nowhere quickly, as most arguments between immovable people do, Chase stopped, "Wait a minute: petty quarreling won't solve any of this. We're both rational people; I'm sure we can work this out."
The young man stared at him in consideration. "Alright, fine, I guess…"
--
"So, you see, I was rightfully given ownership of this house."
"Well, I guess Mr. Jennings must have screwed up or something," the recently-named Jack Spicer shrugged, "because I've been living here for, like, ever. I can't imagine why he'd sell it to you when its technically still mine."
"Technically?" Chase inquired.
"Yeah, well, I guess it was in my dad's name, but since both he and my mom are dead, it should've gone to me."
"You're parents are deceased?" the man once more questioned, this time with a small measure of surprise.
"Uh-huh," the gothic boy nodded, entirely casual, "mom died of cancer when I was little, and dad killed himself, like, six years ago."
Not entirely sure what to say to this, Chase spoke, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Jack replied, "I've come to terms with it and all that jazz."
"So you've lived here by yourself for six years?"
"Yup," he nodded.
"Why? Why not live with other family? Why not get out of here and go to school or on dates like a normal teenager?"
"Well, why'd you move here?" the youth shot right back, "I like being alone. I don't really have other family anyways, and I graduated from college what feels like forever ago, so I don't really see the point of making the effort to leave. I'm tied to this place: I really can't leave."
"And dating?" Chase reminded.
Jack shifted in his seat on the bed. "Ehh..there've only ever been a couple of ladies that liked me, and I, uh…don't exactly like the ladies, if you know what I mean."
"You're gay, then?"
"Yeah," the teen admitted, looking uncertain, "you…you're okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" the man questioned, "It's your life, and your place to decide which sex you find attractive."
"I guess I was just a little gun-shy from the last time I told someone that," Jack confessed, running a hand though his short hair as he sighed, "My dad went totally bonkers when he found out."
"So, then, I assume you've never dated?"
"Afraid not," the goth spoke, sadness in his tone, "I never got the chance to really love somebody, 'cause of dad."
"That's a shame," Chase tsk-ed, "you're a fairly attractive boy."
The youth gaped at him for a moment. "You-"
"Bisexual," the elder supplied with a smirk.
"Oh…cool, well, in that case, since you probably won't take it as an insult, you're sexy, too."
Chase gave an amused chuckled, "Thank you, Spicer."
--
As there was really no way to solve the issue of Jack, Chase not quite cruel enough to send an orphaned teenager, barely seventeen, out on his own, and the youth not selfish enough to demand the elder leave, a sort of compromise was agreed upon.
Jack could keep living there so long as he abided by Chase's rules, since the house technically belonged to him.
So far, it was working out rather well.
"No way," the goth laughed, "so then what'd you do?"
"I told him in no uncertain terms," Chase informed, "of just where he could shove that job, stapled his tie to the desk, and took the elevator out."
"Awesome," Jack decided, "pure, uncut, epic awesome."
"I choose to take that as a compliment," the man smirked.
"You know, Chase…I…like hanging out with you and stuff. I had…forgotten how cool it was to have other people around; I think I missed it."
The older man's smirk came as close to a real smile as it ever had. "I'm glad to hear that, Spicer. The whole reason I moved here was to avoid people; I'm sure you're aware of how foolish they can be. You are one of the smartest people I've ever met, and yet you still manage to be amicable, if you can understand that."
Red eyes stared at him blankly for a long moment, completely unreadable…and the very next second, Jack's lips were locked with his.
More out of shock than anything else, Chase pushed the youth away from him a bit, which caused the goth to abruptly realize what he'd done.
"Ohmigod," he gasped in horror, "I'm sorry, I-I-I didn't mean to, I just-I…oh, god, I'm sorr-"
"Spicer," Chase growled sharply through the babbling, "it's alright."
"Alright?!" he squealed, "No it isn't! I friggin' kissed you-"
"I didn't mind!"
This gave Jack pause. "Wha…what?"
"I didn't mind that you kissed me," the man spoke gently, moving his hand to a pale, white cheek, "you merely surprised me."
"Yeah…?"
"Yes. In fact, if you want to know, I rather enjoyed it."
The young man blinked up at Chase hope obvious in his eyes. "You wouldn't consider…I don't know…dating me, would you?"
The elder smirked. "Why not?"
--
Being thoroughly kissed on the downstairs sofa by his newly-declared boyfriend, Jack felt like purring, but instead settled for a quiet moan.
It had been just about a month since Chase had moved in, and a week or two since a romantic relationship had begun, and things were…getting serious.
The goth knew he was falling hard and fast. He didn't want to; if he weren't, he would have more time, but as it was…
He had to be quick about this.
"Chase," he whispered softly, "I…I think I love you…"
The man paused, pulling away from the youth. "Spicer, I-"
"Take me," Jack demanded, tone suggesting it was imperative that he obey, "now."
Golden eyes went wide at the sudden request, and he began to protest, "But-"
"Chase," the boy begged helplessly, "please, just…"
"Alright," Chase quietly agreed, pulling the albino off of the couch with him, "I will take you." It was sooner than he'd been planning, but if Jack really wanted him, he would grant the request.
Heading up the stairs to the bedroom, the elder man noticed Jack's hand on his throat, rubbing a bit as if it were sore.
"Are you well?" he asked, a bit concerned with the odd behavior in general and now this added point.
"M'fine," Jack assured softly, "it's just hard to breath on these stairs; don't worry about it."
The two continued towards the bedroom to make love for the first (and what would prove to be the last) time.
--
Chase awoke in the morning to find his lover gone.
On the bedside table were a note and a small piece of rope laid into a heart shape.
Plucking the small piece of paper from the nightstand, the man, with a sense of urgency, began to read it.
"Dear Chase,
Thank you. I want to say that first so I won't forget to, 'cause I really am grateful. I can't tell you why or where I'm going, but I have to leave you. I don't want to; if it were up to me, I'd stay with you forever, but I guess it's for the best this way. Maybe someday you can come with me, but for your sake, I hope 'someday' isn't too soon. Remember when I said I was tied here? That I couldn't leave? Well, I can't really explain that, either, but I want you to know that you set me free: you helped me love for the first time, and then last night after we…well, you said it back, and you meant it. I can't thank you enough for that because it wrapped up my unfinished business. I don't have to live in this house anymore; I don't ever have to see those goddamn stairs I hate again (I broke my ankle on those bastards, you know). I can…move on, now, I guess. So, I think I'm trying to say that even though we won't be seeing each other anymore, well…I still love you, Chase Young, and I always will.
Love, Jack"
Chase was stunned.
In something of a daze, he got up and dressed on total autopilot, note still clenched tightly in his fist as he vaguely recognized how strange it was to do such simple things without the presence of the goth he'd never asked for.
Going downstairs for breakfast (though he didn't truly feel very hungry at the moment), he stopped upon catching sight of the figure by the door.
"Mr. Jennings…?" he inquired, voice dull, "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, well, I just thought I'd check up on you, sir," the old man smiled amiably, "its been about a month since you moved in, and I decided to stop by and see how you like it."
"The house is fine," Chase assured before falling silent. "…do you know anything of someone who used to live here? A Jack Spicer?"
"Ah," the elderly gentleman sighed remorsefully, removing his hat as if in respect, "yes, I recall that boy. He had so much potential; such a shame what happened to him…"
"…'happened'?"
"Yes," Mr. Jennings nodded sadly, "killed in a murder-suicide six years ago today, if I recall correctly. Seems his father found out he was one of them homosexuals and went crazy, tied a rope around his own boy's neck and pushed him off the second floor before putting a bullet in his head. Jack wasn't lucky enough to break his neck from the backlash of the drop and suffocated to death on those very stairs. Y'see," his wrinkled, old hand gestured to the break in the railing that Chase had noticed upon moving in, "he kicked that out in his death-throes; shattered his ankle, but didn't save him. Terrible business, that."
The landlord suddenly glanced to the grandfather clock, noticing the time, and he commented, "That's funny; you know, I believe he may have died at about 9:00 AM, too, now that I think about it."
Chase was practically frozen as memories of the past month with Jack flooded his head, helping his mind echo pieces of the note in the young man's own voice.
"You helped me love for the first time."
"It wrapped up my unfinished business."
"You set me free."
As the old grandfather clock finally struck the hour and chimed nine times, the small bit of paper slipped from Chase's hand and lightly hit the floor.
A/N: Yeah, its a ghost-story; big whoop, wanna fight about it?