Toy Soldiers
PROJECT BEAUTIFUL
A.N/ Hey everyone, it's been a while! If you don't know me, well hi, I'm Lizzy and I mainly write for Kickin' It, but I have other ideas on my mind at the moment. And if you do happen to know some of my stories, then it's good to see you. :)
This is my story for Project Beautiful. I hope you guys like it, and sorry if it's a little messy and that there are errors, it's my first time writing in a long time!
"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists… it is real... it is possible… it's yours."
-Ayn Rand
Her foot wasn't even halfway out the door when the cameras started to flash, bright lights everywhere, and shouting coming in all directions.
She sighed, thinking, this is my life, for the 983rd time for two years.
It had rained again last night. That afternoon, the clouds hovering around the sky, the chilly winds blowing raspberries, it was the perfect backdrop to Kim's mood.
Pacing herself, the nineteen-year-old hurried along the gray, abandoned path, away from the cluster of photographers and paparazzi. Along with the amount of time she quickly walked, her freezing hands stuffed into her dark coat's pockets, the noise soon died down, to only a distant hum. The car traffic could be heard, though.
Robert, her chauffer and driver, stood in front of the all too familiar limousine. His hands were clasped behind his back and his casual, grim smile nodded at her as she scooted into the back seat. The door swiftly swung shut.
The car burst to life, the engine humming as Robert revved it up. Soon afterwards, they were on their way.
Kim's phone buzzed. She dug it out of her stuffed pocket (she counted two gum wrappers, a triple set of movie tickets from last month, a receipt, and a ripped-off chunk from one of her previous scripts, in some movie she had vaguely remembered doing, along with a whole wad of tissues). She unlocked it. Immediately, a photo popped up. She smiled.
To others, it would've confused them as to why a picture of some old and frayed store or building, with the words "Bobby Wasabi Martial Arts Academy" written in a horrible, bright green color, would be on the home screen of the great Kim Crawford's phone. To the young movie star, it held a sentimental value.
It was her family. The one she had left behind when she had moved to New York.
She stared at the photo much too long for her likings, for she started to wonder over what her friends were up to all the way in Seaford, so Kim opened her messages. There was one new message: Kimerroo, are we still getting coffee at the place? :P
She typed a quick reply back, then clicked the phone off, returning it to her pocket.
Robert's deep voice interrupted the silence.
"Mrs. Crawford, would you like me to pull up towards the side?"
Her head snapping up, Kim said, "Thanks, Robert."
As she stepped out, the blonde surveyed their destination. A smile edged onto her lips; she couldn't resist.
In front of her stood a small, not very populated coffee shop, with a warm, homey feel. Kim walked inside, the bell on the door jingling happily, raising her spirits. A wave of fresh-brewed coffee and baked muffins hit her, making her growling stomach rumble in excitement.
The boy sitting in front of her, with his floppy, dyed orange citrus colored hair and big, squirrel-like eyes, who was no more older than Kim herself, ordered a giant, iced Expresso, with cream and everything on top. Kim rolled her eyes.
"You know, that thing can kill you one day," she chastised with a smile. The waitress returned with the drink, setting it in front of him. He glowed with a child-like happiness.
Shrugging while bending the red straw's tip, he shrugged and just said in return, "Then I'll die with happy taste buds!"
Unwrapping a straw, Kim rolled up a bit of the wrapper and shot a spitball at his face. Blaise protested, "Ow! What was that for?"
Imitating him, she shrugged and plopped her straw into the opening in his cup. "Save some of this poison for me, stupid."
He rolled his eyes but made no move to stop her, so they sat in silence, drinking the iced coffee.
Yes, the famous movie star, Kim Crawford, who had risen from the age of sixteen, was having coffee and lunch with the much adored, eighteen-year-old musician, Blaise Pierce, who had the mental age of a toddler, especially around sweets.
Cream dripped down from his chin, forming a goatee on Blaise's face. Kim snorted into her straw.
"You look absolutely ridiculous."
"Thank you, I try!"
He seemed to have forgotten he had just swallowed a mouthful of coffee, and was attempting to speak while chewing his drink. It wasn't working so well, if you counted the drool running down his chin and onto his puffy coat.
Kim shook her head in dismay at her friend's weirdness. It was also one of the perks of being friends with a child stuck in a famous person's body; they were unpredictable, wacky, and absolutely, positively insane.
They also seem to have the tendency to stuff straws into their mouth and start flapping their arms around, like a walrus.
When Kim failed to appeal to Blaise's walrus-exploiting game, she decided to watch him devour a big box of donuts in a five-minute count.
During the fourth donut, Kim got a phone call. She excused herself with a smirk towards her friend, and walked outside, standing a little off to the side of the coffee shop's door.
"Hello?" said Kim.
"Kim…" the voice trembled, and she could hear a faint sob. After a few moments of sniffling the person recovered. "It's Julie… Remember?"
An image of scrawny, mouse-haired girl with glasses and a small smile appeared in Kim's mind. She nodded, but then realized that her old friend couldn't see her.
"Oh, yeah, hey Julie! Is everything alright, you sound like you're crying?" The great Kim Crawford stuttering. That was a first.
At the mention, Julie broke down again and started to cry again. Kim felt confusion and a pit in her stomach. Her friend sniffled and she could practically see the tears running down the poor girl's face.
It took much longer for the girl to calm down, however her voice shook and cracked.
"How are you?"
It sounded meek even to Kim.
Cautiously, Kim said in a low voice, "Julie, if something's wrong, you know you can tell me, right?"
There was a small "Mhm," followed by what was the sound of an elbow being used to cover up large sobs. Her high spirits dropped instantly. It made the blonde want to sprint all the way to Seaford and hide under the covers with her friends; protect them from whatever monster was causing Julie so much pain to speak about.
"Kim…"
"Milton's gone…"
"Milton – He- what, gone… No, nonononono!"
Whatever came after was a big, dark blur of pain.
[Three months later…]
The boys had grown taller, all of them.
The Latino didn't smile; it was so out of the ordinary for Kim to see him like that. Her eyes furrowed at his slouching figure, trying to hide from the peering figures. Kim didn't like this version of him; he had always been yelling and screaming and jumping around as if on a sugar high, the center of attention. His dark brown trench coat's collar was pulled up, hiding his drooping mouth and neck.
And then there was Eddie. Eddie, oh Eddie, why? He had matured so much since Kim had last seen him. The latest she had seen him in the last few years was when they were fifteen, and then he had moved away. Eddie was built like a football player now, bulky but strong and fit, unlike his panda like features from before. Kim also silently noted that the geek she had met in band class was gone, replaced by a more confident person. She wished she could have seen him grow up, but sadly, she hadn't.
There was the handsome boy whose jaw was tightened; it looked like his teeth was going to shatter any moment. Kim wouldn't have thought he was the same person if she hadn't stared at him in the eye.
He had grown, grown much more than Kim had expected. The charming and optimistic persona was gone, gone somewhere unknown. Guilt rode on his face, then anger, than sadness, and then sorrow and pain. He didn't bother wearing a coat, his ears and necks red from the cold. Jack's hand clenched, and then unclenched.
One was missing from the bunch.
A bright haired, freckled face, with intelligent eyes full of mischief and ideas.
Kim's heart tugged at the thought of her friend. He was dead, killed himself. And she couldn't do anything now.
For once, her face didn't have makeup caked on, and her hair was it's loose, curly self, pulled together by a ponytail, and she wore a simple overcoat with jeans and combat boots. It has been a long time since she had done this, dressed so casually, but she owed it to Milton.
Rubbing her hands together for warmth, Kim made her way over to the cold boy. Loose strands flew into her eyes as she said quietly to him, arms crossed and staring at the gravestone, "Do you need a coat? I can go get you one, if you want, I mean…?"
He looked as if he were a corpse, which sent a chill down her back at the thought. Eyes sunk, teeth clenched, pale skin with red spots forming from the sting of the early December weather, Jack looked ready to just lay down and sleep forever.
She received no answer.
The pair stood like that, snow starting to fall down, with one of their friends standing off to the side and the other slinking into the shadows, sitting between two gravestones. The only sound was the hiss of the wind and the faint voices of people nearby. Otherwise, it was silent.
Taking one last look at her friend, she decided without a hint of selfishness at her own stupidity and took off her jacket and draped it onto Jack's freezing shoulders. A sudden wave of intense iciness hit her as soon as it was off her body, however she remained in her former position, teeth clenched and bearing through it.
"Are you stupid? You're going to get a cold," a hoarse voice called out somewhere between a headstone. Kim didn't care that her arms felt like they were falling off; her friend needed it more than she did.
Because that was what made everyone love Kim Crawford so much, whether as a movie star or as a regular girl from a small town. She was genuine and strong, a warrior. She remains loyal, and thinks of saving her friends before herself; it was her courage and dumb boldness that set her apart, always. You would never see Kim put herself ahead of her friends.
Though she couldn't save one soldier from falling.
Kim had received the full report of the suicide a few days after the coffee shop fiasco.
The weeks before had felt like she was trudging through river of lead: heavy, slow, and full of pain.
She had known even when she had started being friends with the boy that he doubted himself. He thought of himself not good enough, always thought that people were better, even though he was brilliant, the brightest of their class.
Milton was always put down. Being the scrawniest in their old karate dojo, being the winner of the Geobee but getting little to no recognition, being that one kid who strutted around in a LARPing king costume, the kid who got straight A's for six whole years, and being the perfectionist. But he had had his friends, his best friends.
Apparently, Kim thought with a little bubbling anger, they hadn't been enough. That the entire group of friends' crazy antics and adventures together meant nothing to Milton when he had swallowed those pills on that fateful afternoon.
The anger dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. It wasn't Milton's fault, or theirs, or anyone's.
We swear by the light of the dragon's eye…
It was something that had been set like a game of dominoes; one event fell to the other, like a small crack in the pavement. Her best friend had just happened wanted a way out, and fell into the crack.
To be loyal and honest…
When one's fire became too big, a spark so small but caused so much, too hard to control, sometimes it would fade and start to die. And sometimes, it just needed to shut down completely, without knowing the consequence it left behind, the ashes.
And never say, "die."
He wasn't dead.
Milton was forever in their hearts, which still beat for him, which still loved and hated and hurt. He wasn't a coward for running off into the unknown, leaving behind the people and things he loved to still love him and weep for him.
Of all the people in the world, Kim understood. She understood, maybe not everything that had caused him to do it, but she understood wanting to run away, start on a fresh piece of paper. She had done it herself, running to New York when the chances of making it were slim, when her friends had to stick together without her yelling at them to forgive and make piece.
Milton and Kim did the exact same thing.
But now, she had knowledge. She had wizened up – No, she had grown up. Kim had gone from playing with toy soldiers to becoming a warrior. And she wasn't going to let Milton's memory go to waste. Hopefully, he was at peace now. It was, after all, what he had wanted.
The one force had brought the four friends together, after all these years: love. Love for their friend that was gone.
They were warriors, standing strong and tall in the graveyard, speaking to their friend who was listening somewhere, someplace and smiling at them.
And even though one soldier has fallen from their ranks…
He wasn't gone.
Well, that was basically four whole pages of word vomit... Sorry if there were any errors, grammatical mistakes, if it was choppy and disorganized. I tried to finish this the best of my abilities, and well, I guess practice makes perfect. If you didn't really get it, Milton commits suicide *le cries* because of a form of depression from everyone judging him and making fun of him, and sorry if this doesn't qualify for the "bullying" memo, but this just popped into my head for it...
On another note, keep your eyes peeled, because I'm going to start writing more often (not sure if I will update my stories on hiatus...?). Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated! :)