I've uploaded this before (thanks Kat for reviewing the last time 3) but deleted it however this is for PsychoPyro, my newest friend, and I just want to say: Thank you.
Disclaimer: Masashi Kishimoto owns this world and its characters.
Warnings: OOC? Later Violence and mild language but none here, I don't believe.
To be specific, if I had any hand in his demise then it would be that I was the last one to touch his noose. The hand that secured it around his throat, the one that threaded the loose ends. That was my hand. You could tell it was my hand that did it because I always wet the tip of my finger and lightly pinched at the individual strands that came undone. It's all metaphorical of course. He hasn't actually killed himself. I have never touched a noose. Yet sometimes I think we could both feel it coiling around his neck and all he had to do was let go of the world underneath him.
This isn't a result of depression or sadness, but because when one lived too much with just going through the motion, it becomes only so evident that the person was killing himself, just as he was doing.
Like now, I was studying him as he sat across from me. His eyes never wandered or strayed from the book in front of him on the table. If I hadn't been watching his eyes as intently as I was then I would have thought he was reading it but his irises never moved within their space, they were stilled as if time stopped.
"You're doing it again." He mumbled through unmoving lips.
I blinked, and immediately began rubbing my own eyes, not having realized that they stung from staring too intently. With my fingers still pressed against my eyes, I replied, "So are you." I lowered my hands back down and placed them in my lap before looking back into his eyes that had risen to be leveled with mine.
He had brown eyes that looked like liquid milk chocolate that were depthless. Sometimes I liked to stare into them and imagine the stories that were hidden in them, just beyond my sight. They were always in shadow, though, by the roughly textured and messy crimson red hair that feathered out just above his eyes and just below his chin, unevenly framing his soft face. The hoods over his eyes visibly lowered as he looked at me with the same bored expression he always wore, "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you."
My head cocked to the side as I thought this over, "Probably because I'm the only one who talks to you, hmm." I replied, just as bluntly.
His eyes seemed to glaze over as he visibly lost interest in the conversation he himself had started. He looked back down at the book, resuming his fake reading, "That must be it."
Our conversations tended to go this way a lot, as I assume he had only so many responses to give out. Sometimes I thought that hanging out with him was like being in the company of a beloved doll, one that you had to pull the string and he'd respond, for he never ignored me but neither did he give too much of his own thoughts on his own accord. He never particularly varied from his usual expression so there was another similarity. Likewise though, he must've thought being with me was like being with a child. The child and the doll: how fitting.
I sat there pliantly for the next hour or so before finally he closed his book and quietly stood up, "I'm done reading." His words were almost as quiet as his actions. He reached for the book with one of his pale hands and slipped it against the crook of his elbow and chest.
Nodding, I stood up and began to follow closely as he walked through the library's aisles. We lived in what was nowhere near a big city and with few people who actually came to the library; it was rather small and clumped together and light was dim and sometimes flickered. There weren't any new books that were added I believe for years, so all the books had visibly worn binds and the pages were turning a faded yellowish color. He walked over to one shelf to put his book away. He had chosen a rather boring book to not read in my opinion, the book being on mechanical machines of some sort or another.
Once it was shelved his hand lingered on surface. He must've been lost in his own world again. Moments went by before I piped up, "Any place you want to go to next, Sasori, hmm?" He seemed to twitch at the use of his name. I don't think he liked it because it was his grandmother who named him and he didn't feel too fond of her I believe.
His hand slipped and he turned over, gazing blankly at me, "Anywhere, I suppose." In other words he would follow me this time.
I brought my forefinger to my lower lip, repeatedly tugging thoughtfully and allowing for it to make that snapping noise, "Let's go to the rings."
The rings. Not in our town but the one over held the underground fighting rings. The rings were dubbed as so and had been the place where stolen robots from the armies fought. People would 'suit up' in these ten-foot giants and would then begin to brawl, tearing and pounding the robots with little to no mercy of the person on the inside. It was absolutely brutal but then again the very possession of these machines was illegal. Honestly a strange place for two teens to hang out at, but that really wasn't ever questioned by either of us.
"We'll have to ride the train, which means we won't get home until later."
I shrugged, "My parents won't care… will your grandmother?" Sasori only had a grandmother and the few times I met her I could always tell she was a little out of it.
"Maybe."
"…"
"…"
"…So?"
"Fine, let's go." He turned and led the way out of the library and into the frigid winter evening. My arms clasped against my stomach, huddling closer for the warmth. Maybe, I should have pestered my mother for a scarf, after all it was only early winter. By my side, Sasori seemed unaffected and he had worn an even thinner gray sweater than my jacket was.
Sasori walked down the sidewalk and to the subway station just down the block. It was a small town with a few neighborhoods on the outskirts. No one really was on the street; we weren't even big enough for hobos or street performers. The biggest our town got was a few historical buildings and a single subway that seemed like it only led out.
The town itself was rather dull and the paint chipped almost to where it looked like the intentional style, as if the buildings had their own little epidemic. The buildings were only two stories at max and from the outside one could tell it would be musty and almost certainly moldy on the inside. The streets were singular lane, one for each direction, and had relatively no litter but once again there needs to be people to litter. Some small trees and shrubs adorned the sidewalks but nothing too eye catching and most were wild and uncontrolled.
We walked in our usual silence and once we reached the downward path with the flickering 'Subway' sign above, we ducked under the ceiling and entered the very dim and heavy aired station.
No more than a handful of people were down here and none besides us were with another person, all seemed content to be alone in what could only be considered a dark, damp station, even if it hadn't rained for days. Sasori led us over to the ticket booth, a small glass box. The entire front surface was a touch screen and he pressed the only word available, welcome. It booted to life and asked for both the amount of people and location. He typed both and then said he would pay for the two of us. The cost came up; relatively moderate in price, before it spewed out his change after he paid. I nodded my thanks to him as he handed me the ticket and we ventured over to one of the empty benches waiting for the subway.
The bench creaked and moaned under our combined weight and for a while that was the only noise. There wasn't any people watching to be done and I had twiddled with my black and white striped arm warmers for long enough and even lost interest in picking at the buttons on my navy blue jacket before I glanced back over at him. I don't know why I always describe him because he never really looks or does anything different, even when wearing different clothes does he manage to look the same. "Are you excited?" I knew the answer.
"Not really." Nothing excited him.
"Will you bet this time?" Gambling was to be expected with brawls, especially the underground, illegal ones, which held robots.
He blew out a breath, still staring forward. "No, we're minors." Both of us were a little older than sixteen. However, unlike him, sometimes I would bet if in the mood.
"It's not like it's legal to begin with, hmmm."
"So why are we going again?" He asked absentmindedly, this time his voice rising a little in his dreamy sounding question.
"Because you said I could decide, hmm." I reminded him.
The subway arrived and we both stood up and were the only two to actually board it, having our own compartment to ourselves. He sat down in one of the seats and I stood in front of him, holding onto one of the cool metal handles above my head. It creaked and started to slowly begin to move before gaining speed. Outside the windows everything was a jagged red blur from the unpainted brick tunnel. The ride lasted for a little over a half hour and neither of us found reason to speak during it.
There was a muffled voice over the intercom as it told us blandly our destination just before we arrived and shortly after we got off. This station was much busier and brighter looking, the throngs of people actually made it hard to maneuver. I began to worm my way through and didn't bother checking to see if he could do the same. The air was hot with everyone's breath and only began to cool as the closer we got to the exit, however instead of going up the path to the city above, he and I slipped into one of the more unknown hallways that was so hidden in shadow, and unless you knew it was there to begin with, then you wouldn't have seen it.
This hallway offered no light and I allowed my fingers to trail softly on the rough brick wall to make sure it was still there. The hallway was long enough for a person to turn back with several chances but soon enough we could hear the soft shouts and feel the vibrations of everyone's movements. Soon enough both made my body shake softly and my stomach clenched in the adrenaline that seeped from others and into me. Stage lights became visible at the end and everything became louder, more of a roar than cheering.
I had to put a hand to my eyes to shade them from the blaring bright lights coming from the ring and as we exited the hall, we entered the rings. Maybe this would be our town if it had the population and sin; it smelled offensive, of a mixture of body odor, grease, and something more rancid. People, sweaty and flushed, were everywhere, the stands, up against the ring's bands, and anywhere else. The room itself was very large and more like a large capacity that outstretched the definition of the word room.
Someone softly bumped into me from behind and I glanced over blinking in surprise. It was Sasori and for first time that day he showed slight emotion. He had recoiled from people bumping into him and his face scrunched up ever so from displeasure. He muttered a quiet apology and held his arms up to his chest, still cringing from every nearing person. I laughed slightly, "They're going to need to put you in one of those machines, hmm." I could barely make out my own voice above the shouting and overall rumble.
He scowled at the area around my chest, probably not even actually seeing me, "I don't need the images." Maybe along with all of his other problems, he was claustrophobic as well.
Smiling, I reached for his wrist and tugged him, more unwilling than before, up into the stands. We went to one of the higher rows and sat down. Apparently they were having an intermission or something as no robots were currently fighting. I also noted how Sasori sat closer to me than he normally would of but didn't say anything.
"Awe, look it's a kiddie couple. How cute." It was a woman's voice and we both turned to look over our shoulders. There was a group of five people, probably all in their early twenties. They had stripped out of their outerwear and down to shorts and tanks, for both the guys and girls, and even then their bodies glistened from sweat. It was the toned blonde, I believe, who made the comment.
The darkest skinned girl lowered her cigarette and blew the smoke out coolly into my face. She rested against a single arm and had her legs crossed loftily, "He could do better, honestly. He's pretty cute." I spluttered, almost missing her words, trying to shake my head away from the ring of smoke that still seemed to circle the air.
"She has… potential." One of the guys spoke this time.
The woman barked a laugh, "Definitely not! Look at her-" Both of us turned back in our seats and I noticed how he scooted just a little away from me.
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