It Just Takes Time
Me:.. W00t. ..;
Disclaimer: I own nothing of real value. Including BeyBlade and whatever subtitles.
Warnings: Shounen-ai, possible yaoi, meaning Boy/Boy relationships. Don't like it? Leave.
"Talking"
Thinking
(Me interupting you)
If you weren't one of those people that sticks out in the crowd- The noisy crowd that shoves past you because they could care less—This never would have happened. If I had just stayed in my corner, minding my own business like usual, I would never have fallen for you. Nope. Not me. Never.
I'm the happy-go-lucky kid with a slight annoying side who never does anything wrong. Never did drugs. Never swore. Yep, that's me. That little goody-two-shoes. The perfect little angel. Never talked back. Never lied.
Pfft! Yeah. Okay. That was a lie right there! Maybe I seem happy. Do I? Really? It must be this mask I wear, hiding my own thoughts. My own feelings. Even if they weren't hid people wouldn't care. They just don't understand, right? No. They just don't give a damn.
I'm just some kid who lives out his life, doing everything he can to keep his sanity, with a smile on his face. My world; my problems. I'm just some kid that wants to find a friend who will actually have a normal conversation with someone without screwing up. I'm just a kid who wants to not feel so annoying and unwanted. I'm just a kid who… Wants to be wanted. Wants to be cared for. Wants to be… Loved.
Can you believe adults actually used to tell us that the world was a magical place where no one gets hurt and you're always free to express yourself? That you could never be hated, and no one ever does anything bad, and that good always triumphs over evil? That no matter what you do, someone will always love you for 'who-you-are'. And if you try really hard, you'll always achieve your goal?
What a load of crap.
Hatred is all around us like fog. It's in the air we breath, accompanied by her two friends Sorrow and Pain. You get reminded of it when the jocks from school hunt you down, beat you into a bloody lump and throw you into the nearest trash can…. Then run away from the crime scene. You get reminded of it when you're mother just decides to leave one day. Calls you a 'freak' as she bursts out the door. She hates you. She hates you. She hates you.
You hate her.
You get reminded of it each time your father lugs the half-empty brown, beer bottle each time you argue about not getting him another smoke or the TV remote, and it shatters upon the nearby wall. Heaven forbid he actually does his job and pay for the expenses of this rat-infested junk pile.
You clean. You cook. You even have a small job. And you're what? Seventeen? Most kids your age just get a job to pay for a skate board, or just some extra cash you can show off to your friends. But you can't show it off. You know why, right? Because you're too busy spending it for your own heath because your father could care less about you.
And each time people make fun of people like your father—some drunken has-been- You wince. Knowing. Oh you know what your father is, alright. And you know what you are. Nobody. Nobody at all. And nobodies get teased. You know why I get teased?
It's because I look like a fag. I'm feminine-like, although not to my consent. Lithe, slender, and even down-right girly. I know, for a fact, that this body did not come from my father's side. No way, no how. Who knows what type of sick, twisted monster screwed with my mother to create me. I don't want to now, that's for sure. I have light, tapered blonde locks framing my heart-shaped face. My eyes a deep shade of sapphire and rimmed in thick black lashes. I'm hideous, I know. I shatter mirrors for God's sake.
And I know what you're thinking. That I'm just some melancholy emo kid who sits around and mopes all day and takes Anti-Depressions and then complains on how they make them even more depressed. But I'm not. I still smile. I still laugh. I still hang around with other kids.
I'm just… Different. Distant. Like a timid flame in the heavy darkness. I don't know. Don't ask me.
And then there's you.
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
The very first time I saw you… I was drawn to you. Whether I liked it or not that's how it was. It was during my job. Running around the long the isles. I hate this stupid job I was thinking, over and over in my mind. And- Whoops- Here I go plowing into one of the most important people in my life.
I'm just some kid who lives out his life, doing everything he can to keep his sanity, with a smile on his face. My world; My problems. I'm just some kid that wants to find a friend who will actually have a normal conversation with someone without screwing up. I'm just a kid who wants to not feel so annoying and unwanted. I'm just a kid who… Wants to be wanted. Wants to be cared for. Wants to be… Loved.
So… Will you listen to my story?
I didn't like how this day was going. Not one bit. I stood on the ladder, cradling boxes of cereal and what-not in my hand and gently placing them on the shelf with the other. I had already managed to knock down five, and of course the domino effect had taken place, spewing many of them across the checkered-tile floor.
It was still early morning: Around 8 or so. People came and go as they pleased. But not I. I was still stuck in this Hell hole with shoe imprints by the door and the booming, woman loud-speaker voice. Sometimes, when no one was in the store, I'd go joke around with it.
'Captain Jack-off. Your Sex Toys have arrived.'
And I sat there—Well, I was standing until I collapsed- Laughing which soon came to tears. But it didn't last long. My boss heard, somehow, and boy did I get a whooping for that. He didn't fire me, though. At first I thought he was being nice. But it was K-Mart. They really didn't have that many workers in the first place.
I winced, dropping over yet ANOTHER box of cereal. Whole Grains? Who in their right mind would really eat this crap? I bet people just lie on the back, telling them it's healthy. Or maybe they put some sort of mind-controlling stuff in the recipe to make you buy more…. That's the only reasonable explanation I could think of, since my mind is in Sleep Mode. I think I had it once, the cereal that is. Tried it. Hated it. Never had it again.
I was happily minding my own business when Tyson just decides to go running down the isle with a mop in his hands.
"Maxi-channnn!" He drawled, "Oh Maxi-channnn!" Oh for God's sake, no. The minute he decides to call me by that name I know he wants something. And I usually end up being succumb to his whining and just decide to follow the suit. I rolled my eyes, turning and sending him a mind-numbing glare. Alright, make a few notches below mind-numbing, but it was, in fact, a very gruesome one.
"Oh dearest friend of mine…" He began, sending me one of those 'oh-so-pure Hero of the Lot' smiles.
"What is it, thou Complains-a-lot?" I remarked snappily, continuing my venture to place the cereal boxes on the shelves correctly. The other boy didn't even seem to notice the many boxes already on the floor…. Yet.
"Hey… I was wondering if… You know…. I have Hillary coming over and all…" He glanced around as I slowly stepped down from the ladder, finishing the boxes of cereals. Before I knew it, a mop was shoves into my chest and I couldn't help but hold it.
"You sure you want to clean up for me? Oh, Maxi-chan, you're so nice! I'll repay you later"- He gave a small, sharp bow—"Bye!" And he began dashing down the isle.
"I didn't say I woul-" But it was too late. The other boy had already disappeared and I was left alone with his job. This is so usual though.
So what did I do the rest of the day, you ask? Simple. I kicked the remaining cereal boxes under the shelves, innocently blaming the bad-bad-meanie-meanie shoppers at our store, and fetched the bucket of charcoal colored water. Seriously: What do they put in this stuff to make is so… Gray? I shivered at the thought, dumping my mop into it. I slopped it on the floor and began pushing it to and fro in a rhythmic pattern.
With each swish I complained.
Stupid Tyson…
Swish,
Why'd he have to give me all this crappy work?
Swish,
So what if he had to go see… What was her name again?
Swish,
Lindsay? No it started with an 'H'…
Swish,
… Henry? Hill—Hillary! That was it!
Swish,
If I had a girl friend, I wouldn't just go dashing off like that.
Swish,
Leaving my friend to do all the workd.
Swish,
I should have him fired!
Swish,
…Stupid Tyson.
And that was how I usually got anger out. Blaming Tyson. It began with hatred towards him, and ended with hatred towards him. It's quite relaxing, actually. Much better than any drug or therapy could do. I highly recommend it.
Then when that was finished, and I purposely showed my anger by ramming the mop into the bucket for all to see, I got to go to do some more things! Yay! Happy day, happy day!
God.. Stupid…Work ...Hate… (Place few other choice curse words here.)
It was midday when it happened. I ran into… Him. Of course, I was overly worked at the time, and already bored. I had, tucked under my arm, a box of chocolates to be delivered to isle 13… Right away! Sir yes sir!
It seemed like forever until I finally managed to reach the location in time.. When I saw you. Completed awed.
You were tall, with muscles decorating your ivory flesh. You had thick, jet blacks locks around your face, split into two tails around his cranium. Your eyes- So alive and burning and shining with amber and gold- were now being fixated on a certain item on the shelf. I really didn't care what.
Your body was flawless, like a God. His skin looked so supple, and just the way his clothes hung on his body made me shiver. He looked foreign, Chinese maybe? Just the way his eyes curved, and the type of clothing adoring that perfect body.
Which I had managed to run into.
I forgot that I was running, completely mind-numbed, and toppled over with him. My legs straddled his hips, both arms on either shoulders, our lips just a butter fly apart. I could feel his moist breath. What a day…
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