All things turn sour in time.
No matter how long-lasting it seems to be, often, things change in an immeasurable pace; what you thought was held in your hand would crumble to dust.
A young boy sat at the table - it was breakfast time at his home.
His dark hair was tied into a short ponytail, his green eyes, calm like the surface of a lake, stared into the green tea as steam puffed its way from the liquid itself.
He frowned as he inhaled an unpleasant whiff of steam - he looked up and saw his father sitting there, frowning as he flipped over the newspaper. A cigarette was hanging from his lips. Smoke leaked its way out of his mouth as if he was a dragon.
The house was awfully quiet, normally at this moment, his mother would have came out of the kitchen, hands on her hips, shouting at his father asking him to drop that 'thing' from his mouth and start eating.
But today was no that day - on their table was two slices of bread and a jar of jam.
There was no clattering in the kitchen, the smell of freshly cooked food absent from the house this morning.
It seemed extraordinarily empty, with the father and son sitting at the table.
"Shikadai," his father's magnetic sound rang in his ear, probing him out of his thoughts. "Hurry up and eat your breakfast."
Shikadai eyed the slice of bread on his plate, hastily pasted with jam.
Normally, his mother would cut off all the edges, toast it until it is crispy and golden brown before putting it aside some other food, sausages and fried eggs perhaps.
The boy said nothing as he pushed the bread slice into his mouth, it was bland, almost tasteless.
Hastily gulping up the tea, he put down the empty cup and stood up.
"I am going to school." He said, grabbing his school bag from beside his chair, he walked out of the house.
The older man sighed as he heard the quiet thump of the door closing.
He stroked the goatee on his chin, as he put the dishes into the dishwasher.
His tie was draped over his shoulder, drying his hand, he checked whether he had got everything with him.
He sucked his teeth as he felt the hollowness in his pocket - his wallet was in his room.
Slowly, he ventured his way up the staircase and into his room.
Opening the door, he could see her lying there - his wife of sixteen years, apparently asleep.
Her long eyelashes brushed her adam's apples, tiny wrinkles near her eyes crinkled as she sniffed in her sleep.
He frowned as he looked at her - he remembered how they met: a one-night stand, then the next day she was there in his office, smirking at him.
Somehow, he had been in her clutch since then - everything seemed so perfect when they first got together and got married.
Nothing seemed to be different when she gave birth to his son, everything did not seem to change.
He only started to notice when it was almost too late - she was different, as if they were strangers that just so happened to share the roof and bed.
She seemed to have lost her sense of humour, and devoted almost all her attention to their son.
Temari seemed to be reduced to Shikadai's mother, rather than his wife.
"Aren't you going to work?" He realised that she was staring at him, she sat up on the bed, dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt, her sandy blonde hair wildly messy.
"Yeah, forgot my wallet." Without hesitation, he grabbed the leather wallet from the dresser.
Shikamaru sighed as he walked out of the door, and headed for the main door.
She said nothing as she stared at him, turning away and walked out of the room.
She waited for a while, silently listening to his steps away from her room, and out of the house.
Her emerald eyes widened, as she peered at the light.
Stretching herself, she stepped off the bed and walked into the kitchen.
Almost without blinking, she pressed a few buttons on the coffee machine, as the coffee dripped into the cup, she sighed softly.
Shikamaru had been very distant - he was always working, which was strange for someone like him.
She knew that their business has grown over the years, but Shikamaru was never a workaholic.
He was deliberately avoiding her, and no matter what she does, all he seemed to do was trying to brush her off.
It was work and work all the time, he no longer seemed to care about her, about the family.
She took the coffee in her hand, and took a sip, the bitterness tasted awkwardly sweet as it brushed passed her tongue.
Perhaps even the most bitter coffee tasted sweet, against her own circumstances.
She sighed as she finished the coffee, walking back into the living room, she pulled out a list and tried to figure what to cook.
A faint smile came across her face as something in her mind clicked.
"Mackerel it is then," she smiled to herself, perhaps this could change somethings.
"What do you mean your parents are fighting?" The blonde haired boy arched an eyebrow, his pale skin almost glittering under the classroom lights.
Shikadai shrugged. "My mom didn't bother to get up to fix breakfast, it's that bad."
"That's something," another tanned girl said, blinking her amber coloured eyes. "Moms are probably very mad when they don't make breakfast, right Inojin?"
"I have to agree with Chouchou on this one," Inojin replied. "Did you hear anything, fights?"
"No, the thing is, my dad is always working late, and when he comes back, my mom doesn't talk to him."
Shikadai scratched his head. "I don't remember them like this - they were always talking and laughing in the past."
"Maybe something happened?" Inojin suggested. "I mean, you know soap operas and stuff, when a marriage goes wrong, there are only a few reasons."
"You are suggesting that my dad or mom has an affair or something?" Shikadai arched an eyebrow, his green eyes rolled up and stared at the ceiling. "Troublesome."
"Meh, but auntie Temari is so beautiful!" Chouchou exclaimed, her hands shoving into her bag of crisps. "Why would uncle Shikamaru cheat on her?"
"Could be the other way round, you know." Inojin added.
Shikadai sighed and stood up, walking up to the window, he stared at the clouds. The sky was grey and boring.
He was so used to the idea that his parents is the ideal couple, envy of all.
He was not so sure, not anymore.
The uncertainty scared him, he was not sure what he would be expecting when he got back to home today.
The silence, the tension was straining.
The bell rang to signify end of recess. Shikadai pressed on his neck and walked back to his seat.
"Troublesome," he muttered as he opened his book; he found himself unable to focus on what the teacher was saying.
He told himself not to think about it, what if it was all over?
What if his parents are getting a divorce?
He did not know, more importantly, he did not want to know - perhaps if he did not think about it, it would not happen.
Author's note:
I was not quite sure whether I should do this ... but anyway this is the beginning of the sequel to ACP.
As you can see we are off to a rocky start, let's see where this will take us :S
Enjoy! Read and reivew!
V.S.V xoxo