Think about it! The Esca crew going to a music school! Now this is great thinking, huh, huh? I'm excited, as you all know anyway. I know it might seem slow at first, but bear with it. yes, there are VH scenes in this chapter. So don't worry, you'll get your fluff in this chapter.
This will certainly give me something to do while I ponder on "Sing A Lullaby".
Ummm….enjoy? Don't forget to review. Oh, and I know this chapter won't be the best of all, but it's something very good to consider, I think, when it gets going. I just wanted to get this out to see how you guys would react.
Anyway. . .
Disclaimer: I do not own any of thee characters or likenesses which belong to the series and movie, Escaflowne. Also, the song is "Let's Get it Started" by The Black Eyed Peas.
Φίλημα των ματιών της μουσικής /
Baciare Gli Occhi Di Musica /
Kissing the Eyes of Music
Song One: Tragically Joyful, in the key of F
Lashes locked down in concentration, the smooth tempo that lazily extracted the light of day and magnified the moment's tenderness. All things involved upon the staff cooled her mind.
The piano lay back peacefully in her apartment, singularly standing in the middle of the warm, colorful, although sparse, room. And because she was the single resident of the small apartment above the café, and had no objections, the bright light of day was filtered by no windows, but welcomed with open glass of the balcony the encompassed one whole side of the flat. Passerbys on the busy streets of the capitol could always count on the melodies wafting across the delicious smells of the café during the late afternoon, warming hearts and causing time to pause always just slightly, before they moved on, thoughts still lingering.
Her hands glided through the keys with such grace and movement, that even though she messed up, even though wrong notes pierced holes through perfection, her relaxed and watery movements, almost languid, it seemed in this impermeable hot weather, pulled everything together-even the mistakes-into one whole.
Her black, noble piano was rooted to the cool southern stone of the apartment, the Spanish terrace open for the balcony that graced over a small but well-known part of the city, almost a bohemian place, everywhere graced with ringlets of green, golden leaves of ferns, and the haunting beauty of spiraling, mangled oaks and mesquites. And as Hitomi played her life-story, so tempting and chaotic, tragically joyful, she couldn't help to think, as she breathed in the deep moisture than always permeated the air of the southern capitol of the southernmost part of New England, how much she really loved this boisterous, original, rural big-city. Every modern convenience of the world, every skyscraper carved from an architectural artist, was pleasure to the eyes, even the muck and grime pleased her.
How she loved this place.
-- "The Tragically Joyful", in the key of F
Hitomi's gaze lifted from her reverie, her eyes finally finding the rays of color in reality, rather than the expanse of highlighted black behind her lids.
She had stopped the music, letting it ring slightly, but then, taking her foot the pedals, it was rendered complete. She sighed contently, always the pleasure of finished chords making her feel complete.
Hitomi looked to the corner of the room, where in it lay, cradled like a small child, a full violin displayed in its red-velvet case. Always displayed, but never played. How it was her sister.
Her contentment was dimmed, and a watered tint of grey colored over Hitomi's green eyes, like the disruption of silt underneath the surface of emerald-mirrored Mexican underground rivers. She leaned back, her hands grasping to the edge of the black piano bench. She looked up expectantly, as if wishing for an angel to materialize from the rich southern air, pass through the Spanish-tiled ceiling, and embrace her with love, filling her face with images of angels and wings and feathers, pure as the Madonna.
Hitomi turned her head ever so slightly to the violin.
Her father's image rushed through her mind. Green eyes that she saw through now, misplaced brown hair in an endearing sort of way.
Bare feet took diminutive steps towards the case, the inviting coolness of the warm-colored flagstone touching her dancer's feet with every light step, as a kiss upon each moment forward.
The neck, curved inward like all string instruments, seemed like the stem of some great and wondrous plant. It was hard for Hitomi to imagine such a strange a beautiful instrument was once just wood, just horse hair, just some ore material.
Her long, thin fingers grasped the thing around its neck like a mother, and Hitomi found no difficulty in pulling it up to her neck, her fingers placed in F, the long bow in her right hand. She cupped the instrument in her crook, lovingly pressing her cheek to it before assuming proper position. Placing the bow perpendicular to the violin's strings, she halted for a brief moment, her only hesitation.
And then, in a motion that moved her wrist like a gentle knob, and her arm a graceful poise of elegance, she gently pulled the horsehair bow across the strings.
It was just one note.
She pushed the bow up, only reaching up a note half-step higher than the first.
Eyes tearing, she continued.
And her usual passerby was slightly moved, slightly astounded.
It had been a long time since anyone had heard a string instrument singing out the tragic joyfulness of life from that balcony.
A little red lipstick, a slight curl under. Hell yeah. What a blow job could do for a girl's hair.
Big black boots.
Long, blonde hair.
Oh, she was too sweet…with her jet-black stare.
Millerna stood at her door, legs shoulder-width apart, hands on hips, almost in dominatrix form, her legs bent in that high-heeled-shoe kind of way, the bend that bends the road, the bend that bends the boys.
She took one last firm look in the mirror and smiled, yes, seductively, to herself even, before she shut her door decisively.
Hitomi stared blankly at the mirror in front of her, her annoyance peaking.
This was her beloved capitol: A charm of music in the light of a green day. A dark, neon-sparkling party at night on The Strip.
Why would she ever agree to something like this? She tugged on her right ear, annoyed, still scrutinizing herself in the mirror. But her ego got the best of her.
She did look good. A whole lot better than a few years ago, that was for sure. A WHOLE LOT BETTER.
Not-Too-Short black halter, tight, comfortably worn jeans, high heeled boots, a white-and black African scarf covering most of her hair, and trailing down to hang at her shoulder. Always original, but never showing too much of anything except her dancer's arm and deep neck, decorated only by a pink pendant and silver cross.
But Hitomi didn't want to go, even though she liked putting on the clothes and the make-up and the heels. Yes, pouring on the image of "I'm going somewhere and doing something" was great. But…actually going there and doing those things again? She'd sit, as always, stubbornly sipping on something too strong for her own throat, in the very same seat the whole night, usually in the back, denying to dance among. . . the. . . orgy.
And it wasn't right, that she was there! She should have never gone the very first time. So why did she continue going? Millerna was going to be the holy death of her. Hitomi made the holy cross against her head and shoulders in a quick, practiced way. She placed her hands together, gathering the cross that lay beneath her shirt into her praying hands.
Perhaps she was fighting back from her grandmother's society by using Millerna's secret one. And perhaps she was also fighting Millerna's night society with her grandmother's proper one. She had been stuck in the middle of many things, but this was quite different than anything else. What would a normal person do, being able to interchange between social lives so easily?
But really, what was the purpose?
Hitomi looked longingly at her piano; the tall windows that lined the back wall of her small, open-spaced apartment closed and cover-drawn, making her beloved keys seem lonely and caged.
Why couldn't the sun always shine, so that she wouldn't have to go out into the dark, dark night?
And actually spend time with her friends, like she wanted? Why was that such a problem?
"Hitomi-ku, why are you looking at me like that?"
Hitomi was glowering at Millerna, who was leaning too casually against the taxi. The lights above them wavered hesitantly, the dark, heavy pressure of the humid air leaning in. Hitomi was not pleased.
"It has occurred to me, Milly, that we don't need to do this at all! They don't need to see us!" Hitomi hissed out.
Millerna rudely and very clumsily grabbed, shoved, and sat Hitomi down into the taxi cab. "Hitomi, don't be anti-social."
"I'm a brooding musician. I'm supposed to be that way."
"But, Hito-ka," Millerna answered, deciding not to notice that Hitomi rolled her eyes at yet another degenerating nickname, "How will you ever have fun in your life if all you do is go to the academy and play your music, twirl around in pink, then come home and play your music, while twirling around in pink? The only people that will ever know you are your aunt and uncle that run the café. And that's only because they bring you your food upstairs."
"I have a schedule. I fill it, and the rest I leave for nothing. And I like it that way." Hitomi looked out the window defiantly, biting her bottom lip in a grimace. No one understood her love for the staff. Five lines, four spaces, everything below and above and in between. Music moved her life, imbedded into her very soul. It did not classify- it determined. It determined her character, her love, and her actions with everyday people.
The glass reflected her expression, and Millerna could see.
The curly-haired woman sat closer to Hitomi, and with the strength of a million men, placed her arms gently around her friend. Like a cat, Millerna snuggled her way into Hitomi's heart.
Slouching over, Hitomi rubbed her eyes. She sighed deeply in yet another lost battle to her friend's ambitious charm. She raised her tanned face so that her forehead rested grimly against the back of the passenger's seat.
"As long as Dilandau is there. I don't want to be bored all night." She mustered out.
Millerna smiled triumphantly, clapping her hands together in victory. Her dimples receded more as her smile widened.
"Oh, don't be so damned smug!"
"Hey, young lady, watch your language!"
Hitomi laughed, she couldn't help it- she was always laughing with her friends. It was a blessing, and it never ended.
"And I don't twirl around in pink!"
All that answered her was Millerna's twinkling laughter.
They sat on the second floor in cigarette darkness, over-looking the dance floor, shaded and highlighted in the blue neon lights of the bar. There were few that she knew, and many, many more that she had never seen before, all lounging around a large table. Millerna seemed to know all of them, and if she didn't, woe to them, because she would immediately give them a nick-name, mostly based on their appearance.
Hitomi couldn't have felt more out of place. Why should she feel so insecure here? Why couldn't she always be in her element, completely calm, completely in control, and totally confident, as in the attitude she immediately regained every time she was behind a stand full of music, every time her fingers pressed down on the contrasting piano keys, or pressed down on thin strings? She couldn't offer any useful knowledge or conversation in this dark, high-energized world that belonged to her friends. However much fun she might have here, however much she laughed and danced and drank, she did not belong there.
It was something she knew only herself, because everyone else beyond and near her accepted that she was there, non-obtrusively.
How was this possible? She was supposedly a part of a high-class family, though she'd thankfully lowered the way she stood out by coming to the academy. And now that she was pushed into the high-rise socialite underworld with her sister in rebellion, Millerna, Hitomi couldn't have felt more alone.
She really did end up, stubbornly, with a drink too strong for her throat. Even so, she drank it defiantly, no matter how it burned. Little by little, she kept a straight face while downing the vile hard liquor. Did people like to drown themselves in this crap?
"And so, I said, 'hey man, you've got nothing to worry about, because if you're going to get anywhere in life, it's all about the hair!' And while he was laughing, trying to smoke the cigarette, his hair is so fucking long, that it caught on fire from the cigarette!" He flailed his arms about, recounting the scene, "It was the worst smell in the world! He was so frantic, he just ran around in circles hitting his head as hard as he could to get rid of the fire," He mock-squealed, "He put it out just in time, but ended up bald, anyway!" Dilandau roared at the end of his story, slapping Hitomi on the back, "I mean, can you believe it? Fucking funniest thing I saw all last year."
While the others laughed, Hitomi choked, coughing because of the impact, and was lifted from her reverie.
"Oh, shit- sorry, Hitomi." Dilandau mumbled awkwardly, lifting her hands and trying to clean up the ice.
"It's okay," Hitomi said, fumbling to get her glass to stay up, Dilandau's arms getting in her way. "Now – who's this guy you're talking about, you pyromaniac?"
"Allen Schezar, the only man I've ever met that has been that obsessed over his hair and not been gay," Dilandau answered, leaning back again with a cocky expression, receiving another uproar from the table. Hitomi laughed, too. Dilandau was always loud and hilarious, always the center of entertainment.
His bright red eyes twinkled mischievously at Hitomi when a loud bass line came up in the club. Hitomi looked up at her friend warily.
And the bass keeps runnin' runnin' an' runnin' runnin' an' runnin' runnin' an' runnin' runnin' . . .
"What . . .?" She asked, but was distracted when Millerna sat up abruptly in her chair.
"I love this song! Let's go dance!" She shouted, and almost every guy rose from the table, following many others. By the time Millerna finally chose some lucky guy, Dilandau was already dragging Hitomi behind him.
"Dilandau, you know I'm not a good dancer," Hitomi said, her voice close to a whine.
"Yeah, but you're better than that pole I was dancing with last night," Dilandau retorted, his eyebrows wiggling.
Hitomi gave a mock face of disgust, "You whore."
Dilandau turned Hitomi around when they entered the middle of the mass of people dancing in front of the stage, finding her waist with his arm, moving with the fast music steadily, "Oh, you know it," he drawled out suggestively. "Besides, miss ballerina, you're a liar!" Hitomi laughed, just moving with the flow.
When she was with Dilandau, with Millerna not far off, Hitomi almost felt like she had a connection here.
"Dryden, really. . . don't you think this is going a bit too low, even for me?"
"Allen, I'm desperate. Desperate and totally uncultured when it comes to this type of thing. It's perfect."
"Didn't you say that about the academy, as well?"
"I didn't think the place would be so huge, or that I'd be so busy all the time."
"I wouldn't think someone trying to master piano, trombone, flute, music theory, and music history all at once would have much to do," Allen quipped cheerfully, checking his hair in the visor's mirror.
"Very funny." Dryden drove speedily, a glowering look about him. Allen simply paid heed to his seatbelt, swishing with the jeep and moving languidly, a little too indifferent. "I was hell-bent on finding some girl there," Dryden smiled to himself, "How was I to know at the time how much I really loved music?"
"Your pops just wanted to get you cultured," Allen said, drawing his voice out with sarcasm with the last word.
"Too bad he got more than he bargained for," Dryden smirked, taking a right way too fast for an old Wrangler.
"Look, I don't plan spending the whole night there." Allen gripped the bar and dashboard in a moment of panic for his life when Dryden took another hard right. "Stop doing that!"
"Doing what?" Dryden asked, looking at Allen innocently, quite interested in what the frantic blonde had to say.
A car horn let out a shrill honk, and Allen took the wheel and swerved them on the right side of the road that they were supposed to be driving on. "Watch the road!" He yelled, more from fear for his life than anger.
Allen sighed of relief when they arrived at the parking lot for the club, hastily making it out of the Jeep. Why oh WHY did the DPS ever allow Dryden Fassa to have a license all those years ago? Didn't they realize that there were other people that loved life out there? "We can't spend all night here," Allen said after getting used to being on non-moving ground, "Sunday I have to go down and see my sister. She complains that we never see each other, even though we all go to the same school."
"Well," Dryden pondered, his thoughtful brown eyes gleaming, "It is a big school."
When the two friends stepped past the old door, the place was more than what they expected. All blue neon lights breaking through a hazy darkness that permeated all clubs: the smoky haze of mixed tobacco. Bars lined the walls with one wall reserved for a DJ, the dance floor spread out as wide as possible and raised slightly above the regular floor. One look up and he saw two other stories of balconies looking over the dance floor, the simple lines of metal and blue etched glass connecting each level with graceful stairs.
A dangerous thing to do, Allen thought, though smiling with dark amusement. Any drunken dancer would just go down like a timber. . .
Allen looked to Dryden, who, with his mouth slightly agape, roamed the crowds with his brown eyes without shame. Allen smiled in exasperation, "I'm going to the bar," he said, but was sure Dryden either didn't hear or didn't care, because all he received as an answer was a light, gruff "mm".
"Hitomi!" Dilandau shouted through the pierce of the music. The sandy-blonde haired woman continued to dance, even as the red-eyed albino squeezed her waist for attention. Dilandau leaned down to Hitomi's ear and repeated his call, just as loud.
She stopped dancing, and looked up at him painfully, clutching her ear, "OW!"
Dilandau smiled ruefully, and clapped her around the shoulder, leaning down again but this time not shouting, "Do you want something to drink?"
Hitomi smiled when he released her and moved back, and she nodded, "Can you get me some water? I'm really parched," She yelled. Dilandau nodded and led her from the dance floor, leaving her at a thin couch while he headed to the bar.
Van pulled long on the slim cigarette, looking through the building with thinning interest. It was dark and crowded, of course, as all clubs were. Lights flashed and music thumped upon his chest in the bass beat. As his small group of three paused at the entrance, Van looked over at Gaddess who was on his right.
Gaddess quirked a smile, "It could work," He said, "All we need to do is talk to the manager . . ."
Van nodded, and gave a lop-sided grin to his friend, "Maybe the pay will be better this time?"
Gaddess rolled his eyes with annoyance, smiling, "Like you're so hard up for money, Fanel. Jesus Christ!"
Van chuckled a little, and then turned his attention to the girl that was clamped to his side. Gaddess noticed the change in attention and frowned at the girl, his expression one of . . . distaste. He turned into the crowd without another word, and Van watched him go without a sound as the dark-haired woman squeezed him even tighter.
"Oh! I haven't been here in so long!" She squeezed him by flattening her palms erotically around his middle. Van noted with slight vexation that her hands kept on getting lower and lower as the night progressed. Her body, squeezed into a very short, very black dress, pressed up against his side as she pushed him in a certain direction. "Let's go get some drinks!" Her voice was high and chirpy.
Van allowed her to pull him along, his actions indifferent to anything she did. Kira was beautiful, Van knew, with her long, wavy black hair, her long, long legs . . .
She was witty and sharp, too; there were many that would want her attention. But Van felt nothing for her except instinctual attraction, and therefore her gave no action that would mean anything, either. Van had long ago given up, women were women, and that was it: legs, hair, breasts, and a vagina. Love equals Lust in this world, and if she wanted him to be something, he wouldn't deny her, but he sure as hell wouldn't fulfill her, either. In the end, all of these girls were the same. Sure, they were important. Sure they meant something. But not to him.
The whole term 'Falling in Love' was a joke. Not that it was unreal, or possible, but the idea that people made it out to be was quite impossible.
Fine. If they wanted it that way, he didn't care. Van wasn't staying in New England forever, anyway. They could dream all they wanted; he wasn't going to lead on.
Kira leaned over on the bar suggestively, and immediately a bartender zipped up to her dainty side, ready and very willing, "What'll it be?" the man asked, leaning in as well, his eyebrow raising in a receiving expression. Van allowed himself a small grin, the bartender didn't notice him behind Kira.
"Strawberry Daiquiri."
The bartender smiled and winked, "Coming right up."
"Oh, wait, Van, what do you want?" She asked, turning her face around and once the bartender saw the man behind her, his face changed from one of hopeful prospect to sheer disappointment.
Van was about to answer, but his beer order was cut off sharply by the echoing screech of two voices:
"YOU!"
Van raised his brow in surprise as he recognized one of the 'yelling people'. Dilandau Albatou, in all of his silver-haired, red-eyed, albino glory, was held at freezing point with a long, menacing finger, shaking at him in muscular anger. The finger's owner? A tall, blonde man, his hair long and frame built, with nice, neat attire. Perhaps the kind of guy moms would cheer for when daughters brought him home for dinner? Van's thought stream didn't last for long, because the blonde man took his chance in the moment of surprise and moved in to lunge at Dilandau.
Soon the whole club became involved as Allen chased after Dilandau through the dance floor, pushing people aside. A patterned blur rushed past Van just as the dance beat cut off, and the crowd voiced their displeasure with a colorful array of emotion. Luckily, the patterned blur seemed to have some effect on the two men.
"Dilandau!" Hitomi called, running after the man. She managed to get in front of him when the blonde man she didn't know had cornered the albino against the DJ's tables. She held on to Dilandau's arm, "Don't make a fool of yourself," she warned. Dilandau rolled his eyes and gently nudged her aside.
"Hitomi, I can handle myself."
Van shoved his way through to see what was happening, leaving Kira alone and undoubtedly confused. Who was this girl, and why was she protecting Dilly, of all people? Was she Dilandau's girlfriend?
Hitomi didn't let his shove deter her, and she stepped in Allen's path as he drew back his fist, glaring at Dilandau with his blazing blue eyes, "Wait! Stop it, both of you!"
"I'm going to murder you, Dilandau!" And Allen took another step forward.
"That's not very fair, Allen, I never did anything to you!" Dilandau said, smirking ever so smugly. He tried to move Hitomi out of they way, but she seemed a little out of it the minute he mentioned the blonde's name.
"You lying BASTARD!" Allen moved in for the kill, enraged by the albino's comment, but Hitomi's voice stopped him.
"Wait…wait…you're…" Hitomi looked at Allen with recognition
"Huh?" Allen looked down at her as if she had just appeared.
Dilandau smiled wickedly, "Allen, you've got nothing to say for once?"
"YOU'RE Allen Schezar?" Hitomi asked, her hands on her hips.
"Yes."
"…"
"What?" The blonde asked incredulously.
"BWUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Hitomi doubled over in laughter, and then looked up at Dilandau, who smiled and nodded, chuckling himself. Millerna also laughed, along with most of the people that were sitting at the table when Dilandau had recounted his experience with Allen. Allen lowered his arm from its position, now very annoyed.
"You told her?" Allen asked in monotone.
"Yes." Dilandau became mock serious, growing taller, biting back a giggle with a deep frown.
"You've told everyone?"
"Yes…" A grin formed on Dilandau's placid face.
"You BASTARD!"
"YAGH!" Up and over the turn tables, Allen roughly pushed Hitomi out of his way to get to Dilandau. The DJ scampered out of the way as they continued the chase towards the exit, Dilandau's only hope of escape.
Hitomi made no sound as she lost her balance, taking a few ill-placed, wobbly steps backwards, trying to stay up, but then lost her balance for good. She cried out in anticipation of hitting the hard floor.
She blinked, encased by a warm, pliantbody.
For it wasn't the ground that she met but a pair of strange, dark red-brown eyes, that looked down at her for just one moment before the owner of those eyes pulled her up with his strong arms. His right arm, which had been the one to catch her as she was propelled towards him, was still gripping around her shoulder blades, cupping Hitomi's right side, bringing her body in to cradle into his in a very unusually affectionate way. Her cheeks were softly tinted pink when she looked back up at him when he didn't let go. Van looked down at her again, his unusual eyes locking with her green ones. His confident, cold expression unnerved her. He was a robot, cold and unmoving as steel. Hitomi quickly stood on her own, backing away slightly, and Van released his arm without a change in emotion. The whole course of events that had happened when she fell only took a few seconds, but a lot of things had passed between the two in that short time.
Hitomi was slightly taken aback when a beautiful, dark-haired woman appeared from the gathered crowd, running up to the man that had caught Hitomi, slinking her arms around his waist and looking up at him with pouting concern. Her body was pressed close to him, and Hitomi twisted her face in a look of disgust. "Honey, are you okay?"
"I told you, don't call me that," Van said icily, his voice thick with an accent Hitomi didn't recognize. Hitomi's expression deepened. He treated the girl like that, when she looked like his lover? Van looked at Hitomi, catching her disapproving gaze. Hitomi washed her face from emotion when she noticed he was looking at her, but Van had seen it. The girl locked to him glared at Hitomi, her eyes flashing with anger, like warning signals, fire alarms.
"Are you okay?" She asked again, looking up at Van, her voice sweetly betraying her eyes.
"I'm fine," He looked away from Hitomi reluctantly. His expressionless face confused Hitomi. She felt like she was intruding on the two, so she turned around, finding Millerna by her side as she jogged towards the exit where, apparently, the muscle men of the club made sure the two trouble makers were not inside.
"Come on, let's leave. Let's go back to your place." Hitomi heard the girl say behind them. They seemed like they were also following to the outside parking lot, where Dilandau and Allen ran to.
Van picked up his pace, worried about his friend outside. No one could tell by his body language, but he was still concerned. Dilandau took things too far many times, and when the man's temper flared up, it wasn't a good thing. He had experienced this first-hand.
"No, I've got to get Dilandau."
And he left her there in her high heels as he finally broke into a run for the exit of the club. The action was over inside. Everyone that had been watching resumed their movements; with the music back on (the DJ cool and sheepishly recomposed) their attention was grabbed by something more exciting. The little black-haired temptress in her little black dress fumed, left on the dance floor alone. Her expression didn't change as Dryden and Gaddess ran past her as well, obviously going in the same direction Van had.
She lifted her nose as a man near her asked her to dance, and she complied. She could go and visit the handsome brute later in the night, anyway…
Hitomi rounded the corner with a quicker pace, skidding and having to slide around using her hand as support on the ground for balance. She almost fell, again, but the dark-haired machine that had caught her earlier helped to pull her back up while also running beside her, not missing one running step.
"Stop falling down!" He yelled back at her as he quickly gained speed and was lost in the cars, moving to the back of the lot.
Hitomi hissed in annoyance, forcing her legs to move faster. That guy was starting to really get on her nerves! She looked behind her and Millerna and two other guys she did not recognize were close behind.
When they arrived at the scene, Allen and Dilandau were separated by three cars, the former clutching a lamp post and the latter leaning up against a Jeep with a black eye. The blonde-haired man looked in pain, but Hitomi couldn't see any cuts or bruises because of the small sedan blocking her vision of anything but torso and up. He looked, however, to be holding a knee quite gingerly.
Allen looked murderous as he let his leg go and circled around the sedan and the second car, getting closer to Dilandau, who seemed, if nothing else, just briskly irritated.
"He wasn't kidding," Hitomi breathed.
"Huh?" Van asked, looking at Hitomi.
"Allen really is that serious about his hair."
"…Huh?" His face became confused and she laughed lightly because the look didn't suit him
Allen raised his right hand, pointing at Dilandau accusingly, and the point-ee raised his arms, smirking, "Okay, okay, you win. I'm sorry. But your strands seem to be in good working order now."
"You think this is about my hair?"
Blink.
"Um…yeah….I kinda did."
"You screwed my sister!"
"Who's your sister?"
"You BASTARD!" And for the fourth time that night, Allen made for a dramatic lunge.
"Stop!" Dryden bellowed, pulling Allen away just as he arrived in the parking lot. The brown-haired man was breathing heavily, amazing his onlookers that after all that running he was still able to pull away the determined, angry blonde-man. "Let's just go cool off somewhere."
"Um," Millerna piped up, "Why don't we settle this over some coffee?"
The six people there grew silent, a little taken aback at Millerna's friendly voice.
She looked at Hitomi suggestively, who was standing next to Van. Hitomi reflexively moved away from the guy. "I know a great café a few blocks down."
Hitomi glared at her, but everyone agreed. That is, everyone but Dilandau and Allen.
"Celena Schezar. You fucked her over."
"Oh, her?"
"You BASTARD…." Allen raised his fist.
Dryden grabbed it and laughed nervously, "I'm sure it's just one big misunderstanding…"
"Celena's great. But she's just my friend. Nothing more,"
"You see!" frantic Allen, "You're a fucki-"
"Waitwaitwait, Celena with the platinum hair?" Hitomi was serving out coffee to everyone after apologizing to her Aunt for them being here so late at night. Of course, since Hitomi hardly brought anyone but Millerna to the café, her aunt hadn't said a word, just smiled lazily and went back to sleep. They lived right behind the cafe as well, right underneath Hitomi's apartment. The group of very strange, very unlikely acquaintances sat tensely in the largest booth next to the large glass windows that opened out to the dark street.
"Yeah, remember, we went with her that one night a couple of weeks ago to eat Indian food?" Dilandau to Hitomi.
"Oh, yeah! I remember now! Holy crap, she ate that red pepper, the whole thing!"
"Yeah, and was crying so bad because it was so hot, that she tried to wipe her tears but the chili juice got all in her eyes…"
"Yeah, it looked like she was in some serious pain."
"That was only a couple of days ago."
"I haven't seen her since."
"I wonder if she's okay?"
Hitomi and Dilandau went silent and Hitomi smiled sheepishly. No one moved or said a word.
"Waitwaitwait…" Allen cut the silence with an irritated gesture, "So you're telling me that a couple of days ago, when she had come home all puffy-eyed and red, that it wasn't because of you, it was because of some pepper?"
"……" Dilandau looked from Hitomi to Allen, then back again.
"……" Allen leaned back in the booth, waiting silently for a response.
"Um, yeah."
Allen laughed boisterously, and it made Dryden and Van and Gaddess exchange worried looks. "Oh, wow. Okay. So it was just one big misunderstanding!" Allen smiled down at Dilandau, "What a relief!" And he clapped Dilandau around the shoulders, and took a big gulp of coffee. Millerna leaned over the table, cocking an eyebrow, along with Hitomi, Dryden, Van, and Gaddess.
"Well, good! I'm glad that's settled!" Dilandau said happily, taking a sip of coffee.
Allen removed the cup from his face and his expression looked grave. He glared across the café, not looking at anything, and his grip tightened on Dilandau. Dilandau jumped in surprise and almost spilled his cup. The change in emotion also caused the relieved faces of the other four people to stop their motions and look worriedly at the poor soul they referred to as 'Dilandau',
Allen said in a very low voice, "I'm still going to murder you for what you did to my hair." And he turned his face very slowly so that he was glaring at Dilly evilly.
Nobody moved.
Not a word.
Not a sound.
"HAHAHA! Oh, the look on your faces!" Allen took his arm from Dilandau and sipped his coffee leisurely, leaning back in the booth.
Everyone tried to relax, but the air was still tense. Allen clapped him on the back a few times, "It's okay, I won't kill you anytime soon," he smiled, and took another sip of his drink.
"Millerna, right?" Dryden smiled at the girl, breaking the mood with a change in subject.
"Yes," and she beamed happily.
"This place is nice," He looked over the old-world café, and suddenly was reminded of Spain, all in bright colors and classic themes. His was impressed, "How did you find it?"
"Hitomi's aunt and uncle run this place," Millerna said, motioning to the suddenly shy girl that sat across from Dilandau, "We both work here when we can."
"Really? I should come here more often, then, if there are girls as pretty as you two here." Dryden smiled flirtatiously at Millerna, who just blushed.
Van raised an eyebrow, watching as Hitomi rolled her eyes.
Hitomi looked up at him; he sat directly to her left. They locked gazes for a moment. Van almost smiled, but willed himself to his regular stoic expression. There was something lovely and strange to him in her sunlight-green eyes. It was like a defiant innocence, assuredness that only came through constantly facing her worst fears. Van's inward smile soon came to rest on his features when he realized he was getting great amusement while watching her squirm slightly at his imperious gaze, her hands now not so sure as she clasped her coffee mug. His arm was draped lazily and unnoticed around the back of the booth, incasing her in an inescapable situation.
The two hadn't noticed that everyone else had grown silent and was now watching them.
"Hitomi!" Millerna nearly yelled to get her attention after failing to do so once already.
The shock of the voice outside of her and Van's silent world caused her to jump slightly, the loose mug jumping with her and landing with a loud thud on the table. It was only one-third full, so not much leaked out, but she immediately reddened and stood up, running to get paper towels. Van wasn't the only one to notice how her hands shook to wipe up the brown liquid.
"Well, it's getting late, don't ya'll think?" Millerna asked smilingly, perking up from Hitomi's small disaster. She silently wondered what had her friend on such an edge.
There was a small round of agreement, and the group slid out of the booth, Hitomi taking the mugs to the counter to be cleaned later as she opened the glass door to let people out.
"Put some ice on that," She commented, referring to Dilandau's black eyes as he headed out. He saluted her sloppily.
"Yes, ma'am," He mocked, making her smile.
Dryden left with Millerna on his arm, and the bright blonde winked at Hitomi as she left with him down the street. Hitomi looked at her disapprovingly, and Allen saw this as he was leaving, "Don't worry, mi'lady," he smiled brightly, a charming smile, Hitomi thought, "I'll make sure nothing happens to them."
For some reason, she trusted him.
Gaddess was waiting for Van, but the raven-haired man just waved him on with a good-bye. Hitomi had left some of the spill, and he mopped it up with a napkin, going behind the counter in a self-possessed manner Hitomi didn't like. She walked away from the door and picked up the mugs before he could touch them, "You don't have to do that," She said. Van picked up the annoyance in her voice.
His lips curved into a mocking grin and she found that she hated that smile. Van couldn't remember being so intrigued.
"I just want to make sure you don't drop something again. Are you always so clumsy?" Van asked, leaning one hand against the coffee bar, his right eyebrow up. His deep accent was strange, it came out ever-so-often with certain words. It wasn't unpleasant, but when those words came out of his mouth Hitomi suddenly hated the sound of his voice.
Hitomi's cheeks flared red in annoyed anger and she whipped around from the kitchen, marching past him as his eyes trailed. She picked up her purse on the booth table and motioned to the door, opening it so the stranger would get the picture.
Van smiled, lazily putting his hands in his jean pockets and walked outside under the light. As she locked the door, Van tilted his head to the side, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
Hitomi raised her chin slightly as she turned around, her anger still apparent, "Don't be a jerk," she seethed in a whisper. Normally she would never say such a thing, but this man . . .this stranger seemed to really grate at her nerves, slicing them down to tiny, unsubstantial threads.
Van laughed, titling back his head so that his loud, chiming laugh echoed slightly. Hitomi was slightly taken aback.
Van's face was half in shadows because of the late night, but Hitomi could make out his handsome face easily. Now if it wasn't dipped in that sarcastic smile, he would look a lot better.
"What's so funny?"
"You . . .you are so strange," Hitomi's face wrinkled in displeasure, adding to Van's amusement, "I like you."
". . . Excuse me?"
"Where do you live? I'll walk you home."
Hitomi was, again, shocked, "W-why?"
"Why do you think? It's dark; there are strangers all about. . ."
"I don't need protection."
"I'm talking about the stranger's protection, not yours." His eyes danced merrily. Hitomi cursed him many times over.
"You are a jerk. My apartment is around the building. I'll make it on my own, thank you. And since you are a stranger to me, you'd better watch your back." She glared at him wearily and tried to push past him.
Van didn't miss his opportunity to block her path, "Well, I guess we really haven't met properly. I'm Van Slanzar de Fanel." He stuck out his hand, and something about his robotic appearance Hitomi had memorized at the club vanished.
Hitomi looked up at him suspiciously, her hand moving out to his slowly, "Hitomi Kanzaki Degasso. That's a pretty formal name there, Fanel."
"I'm from a pretty formal family," he commented, his stolidity slightly returning.
"I know the feeling." Hitomi said, sighing. Van didn't dismiss the comment.
She started walking towards the alley where the stairs led to her apartment, and wasn't surprised as Van's long strides followed her silently. She looked up and saw him watching her, his red-brown eyes gleaming with a worn fire, and for an instant she saw something else in this strange person that wasn't cold as stone. He returned to his normal state at once, looking back straight ahead as they turned towards the alleyway, which wasn't gloomy and dirty as Van had expected. It was lit by the moon, and a stone path sided by green crawling plants curved around a flight of steep stairs on the left. At the other end of the short, thin alley, Van's gaze could only see the endlessness of a park over an old black railing. Obviously there was a drop-off.
"Is that Mesquite Park?" He asked, a little shocked.
Hitomi smiled, "Yes, my apartment over looks it. This is Claide's Cliff."
"I thought this area looked familiar. I haven't been down here in ages," He answered. Hitomi looked up at him in confusion. He didn't seem the conversational type, yet here he was, so cold, talking like a normal person.
Hitomi started up her stairs, when Van's unusual voice made her stop, "Wait, Hitomi," The way he said her name was strange, as if in a different language. When she looked down at him he didn't seem to want to say anything more.
She seemed to be getting angry, "Isn't there someone waiting for you 'at your place'?" She asked, a little accusingly.
Van paused, and suddenly remembered Kira. The club incident and his normal life seemed a galaxy away. He recalled what the black-haired girl had said earlier. This green-eyed girl had been paying more attention than he thought. But they hardly knew each other. Why was she acting like that mattered? What, was she expecting something great from him? It's not like they knew each other, why was she trying to pry into his personal life? Van's composure stiffened and his playfuil air was gone.
"Perhaps," Van said smoothly, his icy stare returning to his enchanting red-flaked brown eyes. Hitomi felt his maroon eyes glare into her and immediately regretted her comment. Lord forgive me, she prayed silently, because it doesn't look like he will.
"Arrivederci, Hitomi Kanzaki Degasso." And the man turned and disappeared around the corner, his accent full with the words.
Hitomi released her breath as he turned, a little dissapointed and sad. So much for meaningful human contact. She watched the spot where he left, leaning against the stairwell, half-up, almost expecting him to come back. Maybe that was just hopeful wishing.
Hitomi shook her head. That Van guy was a jerk, and obviously had little morals in his life, apparent from that dark-haired woman he was so uncaring towards. Did he just use women?
Hitomi was suddenly glad he was gone.
But when she lay down on her full bed, muscles sore and biting her every move, Hitomi couldn't sleep. She blinked up in the blue shadows.
But his eyes were so strangely beautiful. . .
Oh, that was really long. Hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it! Next one to come after I update Sing a Lullaby!
Cev