No One Special
It was all normal once. Until he walked to my corner. He was beautiful. "Would you take a quick one tonight?"
(for 6-The-Cloaked-Nocturne-9)
"Yes," I answered. "Yes. Nothing in the world would make me happier right now."
Of course, I didn't think that he would leave me an hour or so after I said those words. I thought that he might have at least stayed a bit longer. I wanted him to stay longer. I wanted him to stay forever. I wanted him for myself.
It was long. It was hard. It was fucking good. I was sure to never have anything that brought me such pleasure. I was sure to never have him again.
After that hour, after he left, I felt a hatred tug at me. I may be a whore, but even I find something that I want eventually. Even a slut has some sort of feelings. Not that many cared of those feelings, but it's true. They're there. And they matter to that person.
Everyone has a true love, right? Everyone is meant to be with someone else, yeah?
I shook my head at this thought.
No, I'm not. I was never meant to be loved; never meant to be born, in fact. I was never supposed to be happy.
It wasn't until three months later that I saw him again. He was walking outside the old bar. I was on my corner, of course. Just like every night, I was waiting with a cigarette in hand. I'll never forget the first glance I saw of him that night. He was wearing his loose business suit, his tie untied. His hair was somewhat messy, but it was still beautiful. He was swaying some, and it was obvious he was a bit drunk.
He stopped when he saw me. Smiling, he slurred, "I remember you…. You still in that business, eh?"
"Not much else I can do now," I responded. He nodded, or rather bobbed his head. "So, um, do you have somewhere you need to be tonight?"
"Not really," he said, giving me a look. He chuckled and slung an arm around me, walking me to his black car. Another great night ensued.
It wasn't much later that he left me again, without even a small warning. This time, I was more ready for it, though. He dropped me off at my shit-hole apartment, shoving a piece of paper into my pocket. I kissed him on the cheek and began to walk up the stairs. As I went to my room, I sighed. I knew what was waiting for me behind the door and I didn't feel like facing it again tonight. I opened the door anyways.
"Demyx!" Naminé exclaimed. I frowned. It was two in the morning, she wasn't supposed to be up.
"Hey, Nami," I smiled to her and picked her up. "Where's Larxene?"
"She passed out again on the couch."
Sure enough, as I walked further inside, my sister was sprawled across the couch, mouth hanging open, asleep. I scoffed at the image my niece had to see almost every night. The family and environment she had to live and grow up with.
I took the six year old blonde to her my own bed and laid her down. She was asleep not long after.
The next day was like any usual Sunday. It was the only day of the week that Larxene didn't go out and get drunk.But that's only because she got so drunk on Saturday nights that she couldn't notice the difference. She slept on the couch all day, a bottle of vodka near just in case.
I huffed as I picked up even more dirty laundry. It seemed this place was an endless black hole for it. I paused as I heard the small yawn of a certain blonde. I turned to Naminé and picked her up. Smiling, I said, "Hey there. Did you sleep okay?"
"Yeah," she answered, giving me a hug. "Cam we go to the park again today?"
"Sure."
Little did I know that at the park, there awaited a being that I was more than happy to see. It was him, of course. He was walking with another man, a red head.The smile on his face made my heart flutter. I glanced over at my niece, confirming she was okay, and strolled over. I didn't confront him. I more just stood around, pretending to be really interested in the lake.
I saw him coming from the corner of my eye. He had gestured his friend away and was walking right up to me. He stopped a few feet away. "You look... familiar."
"You probably should," I answered. "From last night."
"Ah, yes, sorry. I thought... maybe a client from work or something."
"Not even." I rolled my eyes.
"So, um," he gestured for me to walk with him as he spoke. "May I ask a question?"
"Shoot."
"What brought you into your line of business anyway? I remember you saying something about it last night."
I pointed over to Naminé and smiled to him. "My niece, Nami. I want to adopt her, but I don't have the money for us to move out yet. See, my sister, her mother, is a drunkard and a bitch. So, I want to take her. I know what's it like to grow up like that, and it's not fun. As soon as I can get enough to take it to court and claim rights over her, I will. I'll hire a lawyer if need be. Hell, I'll almost do anything to get her away from the place we're in right now."
It was a secret that no one else knew. I never told Larxene or Naminé about any of this. I only told Nami that we would get away. And that was my entire plan. To get away.
And it was the promise that I made to myself every night before going to my corner. Every night, I would remind myself of why I was going to be people's pure attention and entertainment. Every night, I would make sure that I still had reason for life.
The man introduced himself then. He called himself Zexion Ishida. I told him my own name. And he said that we should have drinks sometime. I refused the drinks, but dinner might be nice. And at that, he nodded and we parted ways again.
He showed up at my corner, sober, the next night. It was early; only ten o'clock. And he asked me to go with him. Not for the same reason as the last times, but to go out with him to get dinner. And we went.
And that was the beautiful beginning.
Two years. I never would imagined it would turn out like this. I never pictured actually getting someone for once.
Naminé was mine. And so was he. No, not Zexion. But a man by the name of Xigbar.
He had made his promise to protect me from anything Larxene could pull. He took me from the streets. He brought me up. And he told me he loved me.
But I could never say it back.
Perhaps that's what drew him to becoming an alcoholic. Perhaps it is my fault. Perhaps I deserve his punishment. But I still wouldn't say it.
He would never hit Naminé. I told him if he ever did, that's when it got trouble for him. One slap and he would be gone from the face of this sad and sorry world. And that helped to keep Naminé safe. Like I had been trying to do for five years.
However, one night he came home in another drunken rage. More yelling, more bruises, more blood. And I took it.
Naminé came up to me when he had left. I reassured her as I had to do every night it happened. But this night, she quietly told me, "I want to leave."
And so we did.
He was arrested. Ten to fifteen years. Naminé loved our new lifestyle then. We lived together, just the two of us, in a small apartment. We kept it clean and homely. It was the first time I had lived happily; truly happy. And Naminé loved it. And that was enough for me to decide that this place would do for quite a while.
It was Sunday again. We woke up, dressed, and went out to go to the park. Naminé still liked to go there with her friends almost every weekend. And I was fine with it, as long as I came along.
At the park, she ran off as soon as she could. I stood around, then went to the path and began to walk.
"Hey."
I paused. I knew that voice. I turned around to face none other than him. He looked a little more cleaned up. There were no bags under his eyes or bloodshot eyes. He of course wore his usual business suit. I was ashamed of my own attire then. I wore the same old jeans and shirt, but bruises and cuts were still apparent on my face and arms.
It was he who would be my savior. He again wanted to go out for dinner. And that led to more dates and more sex. Eventually, he asked me the question that I had been wanting to hear. He asked me to fucking marry him.
And I said no.
It wasn't the right time.
But give a few moths to a year, and I might be ready.
And he nodded. He agreed. Not the right time.
Although it never did happen, I wish I could say it did. I wish I could transition from that and go that long ahead into the future. I wish I could tell how beautiful our big wedding was. That we had a wonderful honeymoon and then lived happily ever after.
But then, I would only be fantasizing.
I would have to leave out that the night he asked me, he was hit by a speeding drunk driver.
He died from it.
I wanted to blink and tell myself it wasn't true. After all, whores like me can't love. They can't be happy with a significant other. They were meant to. I wasn't meant to.
And I wish I could wake up one morning, and realize it was only a dream.
This was written for 6-The-Cloaked-Nocturne-9, as a request of a Zemyx. Well, I tried to make a happy ending, but I couldn't. I just typed and let my fingers flow over the keyboard and this came out. I think it's okay. I couldn't give them the happiest ending, but they had fun and they fell in love!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Dear 6-The-Cloaked-Nocturne-9, if this does not suit you, just let me know and I'll do my best to fix it.
Much respect, much love. Goodbye!