Life Isn't Supposed To Be Easy
Summary: Ed and Al move to a new city after their mother dies. Upon starting in Central High, Ed seem to have immediately caught the interest of the schools most feared guy; Envy. So much for Ed's chances at a normal life.
A/N: This story will be written in first person all the way through, however the POV will change back and forth between Ed and Envy. Every second chapter will be written from Ed's POV and every second chapter will be written from Envy's POV, starting with Ed's POV in this chapter.
Chapter one: What The Hell?
'Well, isn't this just great' I think sarcastically as I look out the window. The rain is pouring down outside and we have yet to find the umbrellas in the mess that comes with having just moved to a new town. Al is trying to get things into order but I think that's pretty much impossible. But just aside from that, nothing good could come from starting school on a rainy day, not for me anyway.
I sigh and get out of bed, trying to find something decent to wear. After doing so, I walk to the kitchen down the hall. Al is already there, preparing breakfast as he usually does. Upon seeing me he smile and say a cheerful "Good morning nii-san."
"'Morning Al," I answer and smile slightly. I don't feel happy, or much at all except for a gloomy nothing-really feeling, but that's beside the point.
Breakfast is eaten in silence. Al seems to have noticed that I'm not in the mood for conversations so we sit there eating our respective breakfasts.
I'm once again watching the rain pour down outside the window. I always do this, whenever it's raining I tend so find some window to sit nearby to watch the downpour. Mom used to say that it looked like I waited for something special to happen. Maybe I am, and whatever I'm waiting for just hasn't happened yet, maybe I'm not. I'm not sure, but whenever it's raining I'll look out the window, not in the mood of talking to anyone.
After eating breakfast we prepare to leave for our fist day at our new school. It's just a ten-minute walk from our new 'home' and we're there in good time to pick up our schedules and find our lockers and homerooms.
The school is a lot larger than our last one and finding the office was a bit of a challenge. So after looking for it for about five minutes, we ran into someone who looked like he could have been a teacher and asked for directions.
The secretary looks up as we enter the room. She's a kind-looking woman with short red hair, large green eyes and a small friendly smile that seemed to appear as soon as someone enters the room. The moment we stepped inside she greeted us with a "Hello there boys."
"Hi," Al answers with one of his ever-present smiles as we make our way over to her desk. Al is so comfortable around people and sometimes I sort of envy him that.
……--……
Reaching my homeroom early, I take a seat near the window and watch the rain. If anything it's pouring down harder than it had when we arrived and there are no signs of it letting up anytime soon.
Never turning my gaze from the rain, I reach into my bag and take out a sketching-pad and a pencil and start to draw something without ever looking down on the paper. I have ever only glanced briefly at the 'drawings' in search for a blank paper. I don't want to look, to see them, because if I was to look more carefully at them I would see what they actually were sketches of.
There, hidden in plain sight are the things I don't want to remember but can never forget, free for anyone too see, that is, if they have enough patience to look trough the pointless-looking first appearances. That's why I never let anyone look through the sketching-pad. In it are all my secrets and bad memories in a sort of perfect code.
I'm so caught-up in my rain-watching I don't even notice the students starting to file into the room until an odd guy with long green hair speak to me.
"What's that supposed to be?" he asks, having leaned closer to further examine the 'drawing'.
I quickly swirl around to face him and close the pad in the same movement. This cause him too look up at me and I can't help but do a double take. The guy has purple eyes. Of course I shouldn't be anyone to talk; gold isn't the most common eye-color out there. And then there's the possibility of colored lenses, but for some reason I get the feeling that this was his natural eye-color.
"Nothing" I say, noticing my voice sound almost angry although I'm really just scared that he has seen anything of what it's really about. He obviously hasn't as he just shrugs and says a simple "Whatever".
The teacher, a strict-looking woman, enter the classroom and all the students still standing hurry to their seats. She takes the roll call and force me up in front of the class to be stared at like some zoo-animal or something and then sends me back to my seat before starting to talk about something but I don't catch it as my rain-watching habit draws my attention back to the window.
I really like watching the rain. Either I get lost in thought, though of course never about anything depressing, or I'd get lost in the raindrops, not thinking of anything, just watching. It's rather soothing actually, to get lost in the raindrops that is. It's like there is really nothing but them in the world. No troublesome past, no annoying so-called friends, no school or important things too do, not even my always cheery little brother.
I feel someone tapping me on the shoulder and turn to see the guy from before.
"Class is over O'chibi-san," he tells me. I know he probably didn't mean anything by it, but being me I instantly react to the word 'chibi' in the same way I always react to insults about my height.
"WHO-ARE-TOU-CALLING-SO-SMALL-AN-ANT-SEEMS-GIGANTIC-IN-COMPARISION?" I yell, standing up in the process. Now, there are usually two reactions to this. Either they become frightened and don't speak to me ever again, or they think it's highly amusing and purposely try to call me short as often as possible.
The guy sends me an annoyed look.
"You don't have to be so loud Chibi-san," he complains.
"Don't call me short," I retort.
"But you are," he say and I notice that he's standing a bit too close for my liking. "Short and cute," he continues. I blink at that last part. People don't usually call me that. Cute, that is.
Before I can registrate what's happening one of his arms has slipped around my waist, pulling me up against him, and the other tilts my head up. Then his lips were on mine. Soft, moist, demanding yet surprisingly gentle.
As soon as my mind catch up with what's happening and I realize that I'm standing here, in my now empty homeroom, being kissed by a guy while I should be trying to find my next class and possibly get there on time, I try to push him away, but he doesn't even seem to notice. I keep trying, but to no avail. He's simply much stronger than I am.
I hate feeling helpless and try to avoid situations where I can't do anything to affect the outcome. This is obviously one such situation. The other guy is much stronger than me and try as I might I'm not getting away until he decides to let me go.
……--……
When I come home I go straight to my room, lock the door and dump my bag on the floor next to it. I really feel like being alone right now.
I walk over to where I've put all my CDs for now and take out one a friend made for me a while back. It contains mostly Evanescence-songs. I put it in my stereo and press the play button. The first song is Imaginary. I like that song. I don't really know why, I just do.
I walk over and lay down on my bed. Most of the day had been okay, really. Just like every day you start a new school a couple of weeks into the semester. Some teachers had you stand up front and have people stare at you like a zoo-animal or freak or something. Others just mentioned it and then got back to the lesson, telling you to stay behind a minute or two to get the papers you need to catch up.
No, the real horror had been in the morning, just after homeroom. Tears started running down my cheeks as I thought of it and I didn't bother to hold them back. Who was here to see anyway? The door was locked so Al wouldn't, and our apartment was on the third floor, so no-one would see though the window.
It is still so fresh in my mind, it still feels so real. The steel-like grip he had, how his lips felt against mine, my panic when he forced my mouth open and shoved his tongue inside, the taste of blood when I bit down in panic, hoping to make him withdraw. No such luck for me.
I haven't felt as helpless in a long time as I did then. I could do nothing to get away, and believe me, I tried. I tried every trick I could think of, but I couldn't get away. Then when the need to breathe made itself felt, I panicked. From there it was pretty desperate tricks.
The thing is; I was too close for anything to work properly.
I cry for a long time. When I stop the music has long since ended and I feel terribly tired.
Somehow I still manage to make my way to the bathroom and brush my teeth. Then I go back to my room, strip down to my boxers, turn on the music again (though lower this time) and get into bed. I try to think of nothing and just let the music lull me to sleep.