A.N.: This is my first and probably only Kickin' It oneshot.
I got the idea from the episode when Austin play's Ricky. I thought about Ricky's personality, and how he was with Kim, and his current situation in life, and how that made him who he is. Now don't be angry at me, but I that that was how Ricky truly was, and I Love stories where characters like him keep their true selves a secret, mostly because of the poetic angst and drama it holds.
Warning: Cutting.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Kickin' It.
Beyond His Mask...
She's never seen someone look like this.
So free.
So beautiful.
And it was Ricky Weaver. The arrogant little asshole of a pop-star, whom not only used her best friend, Jack Brewer, as a bodyguard, but had also taken advantage of her starstruck affections.
Yet here he was, standing in the hallway, blood dripping from an open wound on his arm as he leaned against the blue lockers of Seaford High.
She'd been on her way out of the changing rooms after she finished gymnastics when she'd heard the school's main entrance open, followed by the sound of many cameras clicking, fans screaming his name, and reporters calling out questions.
In the open glass door she could see the reflection of the flashes of cameras capturing the oh so wanted snapshot of the great Ricky Weaver, and she could see his face smirking the same arrogant, charming smirk, and despite what had happened the night before, her heart still skipped a beat.
Not wanting him to see her, less something undoubtedly horrible were to happen, she hid behind a corner, and peeked over the edge.
She watched as he strutted past about three quarters of the lockers before he turned his head back towards the entrance. His piercingly blue eyes searching for any sign of life. She watched hope begin to fill his eyes, a smile beginning to play on his lips. He turned his head in all directions, and she ducked behind her corner so as to avoid him catching her, then looked back around when she heard a light bang and a metallic rattle.
He was leaning back against the locker, his head dipped back against the metal doors, and eyes closed as he sighed softly.
And that was when she noticed his smile. It was nothing like the smirk he had worn just a moment ago, which, as she looked back, seemed almost forced. This smile however, she suddenly realized how rare it truly was.
She had only seen it once before, back before she realized his true intentions. She had dismissed it as just another one of his golden, heart attack inducing smiles, but now that she really thought about it, he looked so relaxed, and almost free then.
It was when she'd walked in to meet him in the cafeteria. It was empty. Void of the lunchladies, his bodyguards, and the student body. He had his phone in his hand and seemed to be texting someone. She had thought at the time it might have been his agent, but now that she thought about it, it might have been his family. She knew he had two sisters, and that his parents were still alive, and that he was an uncle of a two year old girl named Sasha, though that was about it. His family life was kept well away from his work life, and the paparazzi and reporters seemed to keep away from it all. It must've been one of his relatives anyway because that smile seemed so warm, so loving, so kind, and she felt butterflies fill her stomach. Once he realized she was there though, his phone disappeared back into his pocket, and the smile was quickly replaced by his ever charming smirk.
As she continued to watch as he just leaned against the locker, eyes closed, she finally seemed to make a small semblance of understanding.
He was alone.
Besides Kim herself, he was alone. No Paparazzi, no screaming fans, no reporters, no one. And she finally understood. The Ricky that had been outside moments ago, the Ricky that had used her affections, the Ricky that had used Jack, that Ricky was simply a facade. A mask. A mask he was forced to wear by his label, his publicist. A mask his fans demanded.
She remembered how when he first claimed fame, he had been so real, so kind. She remembered how in his interviews he said it was all about the music. She noticed how, overtime, the mask was slowly slid into place. How he turned into a boy who referred to himself in the third person, how he broke so many hearts in so many cities. And she felt sorry for him, she really did.
Back then his eyes had this soft yet bright innocence, and now they looked guarded, jaded, plastic, hollow, the list goes on.
She watched as his eyes slowly opened, and to her surprise they looked to be almost brimming with tears.
Taking in his full form she realized despite the fact that he was alone, he was still trapped. Almost free.
Almost.
But still trapped.
Reaching down to the hem of his left sleeve, she covered her mouth, brown eyes blown wide open as he pulled up his sleeve, revealing many, many cuts.
Some long, some short, some jagged, some faded, some even still healing, but something deep in his blue eyes made him look itchy.
Quickly reaching into his right pocket, he pulled out switch blade, and she bit down on her tongue hard to keep herself from crying out as he dug the tip of the blade about half an inch into his arm, and slowly began to pull it up along his wrist towards his shoulder, and stopped just below his elbow joint.
Looking up, she watched as he let his head fall back against the locker, and though his eyes were closed, large tears continued to fall down his perfect, golden cheeks, as he heaved a long, unbelievably happy, shaky, sigh of relief. Soft sobs of happiness falling past his lips.
Opening his eyes, she felt her heart throb at how his beautifully blue eyes looked so old and worn.
And it was then she realized.
She was now looking at the young man, oh how she blushed as she realized it, beyond the mask. And he was beautiful. Even beyond Jack at that very moment.
He just looked so free, so happy, so beautiful. It took all her restraint and will power to run over, throw her arms around his neck, and kiss him with everything she had. Everything that would hold this Ricky in place. But she couldn't. It wouldn't be right.
The Ricky she was looking at right now was not the attention loving, charming, Devil may care, arrogant, careless popstar Ricky that had broken more than too many hearts, but the free, kind, loving, beautiful Ricky kept hidden away behind a revolting mask. A Ricky as delicate as porcelain that if he knew she knew, it would only lead to disastrous consequences of her own selfish desire.
A soft, almost inaudible sigh past her plump, pink lips, and her eyes widened in terror as Ricky's sharply piercing blue eyes flashed wide open towards her chocolate brown orbs. His blue eyes a mixture of fear, terror, and uncertainty.
Hoping to gain just the smallest amount of trust, she smiled as kindly as heavenly possible, and shook her head.
"I won't," she whispered, and felt her heart skip a beat once again as a truly, undeniably breathtaking smile fell upon his lips as he nodded, silently thanking her.
Never once dropping her gaze, he slid the knife into his pocket right jean pocket, removed his undoubtedly expensive jacket, and wrapped it around his still bleeding wrist, before giving her one last breathtaking smile, and disappearing around the corner, and soon, undoubtedly back to wearing that despicable mask.
Yet silently, she hoped. Hoping that someday she might see that one true Ricky Weaver once again. Not that filthy mask of a young, putrid, man-whorish boy, but the true, kind hearted man beyond the mask.
A.N.: Well there ya go.
Love it or hate it is your choice.
If it's liked enough I might do a sequel.
Please review.