They had always assumed that it was Tala who was the leader. Tala, who was the strong one, able to cope with whatever challenge he had to overcome. Tala, with his fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes, startling against his pale complexion, who would be the one to stand up, head held high, and encourage his team to keep going, just a little more. They had always assumed it was Tala who was the Alpha Wolf of the Blitzkrieg Boys. They were wrong.
It had been he, Bryan, who was the force behind Tala, and effectively the rest of the team, who was always there. Bryan, with his logic and lack of silly emotions, such as fear and love, who would be there to pick Tala up from the floor when it was just the two of them, holding him close, telling him that it would okay, that they had to take it slowly. Bryan would be there for Tala when adjusting to life outside the Abbey, life with freedom, became too much for him. Bryan would always be there when Tala was softly crying in the darkness, hands frantically tugging at flaming hair, strands on the floor. And nobody, but the two of them knew.
After all, who would expect the cold, calculating "killer" could be so...dare I say it, loving. He was a freak, a monster, a psychopath. He had tried to kill Ray all those years ago! Don't think they forgot about that.
The rest of the team never knew a thing. They could never know. They had always believed that it was Tala who was the strongest link of the team, not as mentally wired as they were. But Bryan knew that if they knew then the iron bond, which was already past straining point, the cracks more than obvious to see, would be broken. And they, as a team, would too, be broken.
So, Bryan never said a word. Never even let on. He'd still walk around, that everlasting frown on his face, that antisocial sneer apparent, and he's act like it never happened. No special contact with Tala, no secret nods in the morning, no sly winks during training. No hugs, brief shoulder rubs, quick glances, change in vocal tone, nothing.
You could trust Bryan. You could trust Bryan with your life.
Sometimes, Tala would not appear in the team locker room before a match. They never worried; it was in their leader's nature to disappear sometimes. He always came back before the match began. So, they would sit there making any last improvements on their blades, talking quietly in their native Russian, and they would never notice that Bryan had slipped from the room.
He wouldn't run to Tala, but he would walk softly, hands held behind his back, head down to the floor, until he reached the room Tala was in. The cleaning closet. Small, dark, and no one who would walk in. Except Bryan. And he'd open the door softly to find that Tala was on the floor, knees hugged to his chest, head to one side, looking so small and innocent like a child. It was pathetic really, pathetic and heartbreaking.
Closing the door, he would sit down next to Tala, not saying a word. That's how it was. You don't offer Tala, or any of the Blitzkrieg Boys, help. It's insulting, suggesting that they aren't all there. You have to wait for them to come to you, because once they do, you know that it will be okay. Because they choose to seek help, not have help forced up on them, causing them to suppress it all, the hate, rage, fear, betrayal, abuse, further inside of them, making it worse.
And so, after a few minutes silence, Tala turned to face his team mate, Bryan.
"Do you think I'm sad?" he whispered, in their beloved Russian, eyes blurred with salty tears.
"No," Bryan's answer came, swift and firm.
"They do. They all do. I hear them," Tala began. Bryan listened carefully, waiting for him to continue. Never interrupt. "They look at me, looking down on me, and I know what they're thinking, they're thinking, 'he's the one from the Abbey, he is. That psycho would nearly from Granger to death. He's nothing more than a puppet to be controlled. They're all the same, that lot. They're just waiting for their master to come back and take the strings again.'"
And with that, Bryan took Tala's arms and pulled him towards him, the limp form leaning on him, head resting on his shoulder. There were no tears this time. Just emptiness. That was when it was sometimes the worst. The blank look in his eyes, slumped shoulders, limp limbs. Bryan knew that when Tala was like this, in his emptiness state, there was nothing he could do to make Tala stand up proud, and be the Alpha Wolf. Because he couldn't hear him. Deep inside Tala's mind, he was just lying in a pool of nothingness, not trying, not caring, just lying there for hours, until that flame, that spark that you see in his oh-so-arrogant eyes returns. The flame that never seems to burn out, until next time.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Bryan knew that Tala was in no state to battle today. Gently easing Tala away from him, not that he would notice in his zombified state, he slipped out of the small closet and ran to the rest of them team, no longer in the locker room, but out in the stadium. Not even breaking out in a sweat, he sprinted out into the stadium, where he noticed Spencer looking worried at the lack of two of their strongest team mates, quickly spotted one of the officials, and walked over to him. He explained the situation quickly in his fluent English, his strong Russian accent clear in his voice.
The official nodded, and Bryan made his way out of the stadium, to the closet again, hearing the echo of the official as he announced into the microphone, "We regret to announce, but unfortunately Tala Invanov will not be taking part today due to a severe migraine."
Once back in the closet, he stayed with Tala for what seemed like hours, until he felt a small stir, and Tala raised his head slightly, blinked and breathed in deep. Bryan knew that Tala was okay now; he was out of the depressed state. Neither of them said a word as they left the closet and made their way back to the hotel room. Bryan would deal with the rest of the team later.
He would. And no questions were asked, because he was one of them. He was their brother, and brothers had to stick together. And so, they began their circle again, acting the normal, just waiting for the pressure to build up in Tala, so that Bryan could be there to make it all better. Bryan would be there to let him know that it was okay, and that there was nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with him, contrary to what a doctor or a psychiatrist would believe.
Only, even Bryan didn't know how bad it would be next time.
For a long time, nothing happened. Tala continued as normal, as did the rest of the team. The championships ended, and they came in second to Granger's team. Granger as the champion for the third, consecutive year.
And then He came back. Face splashed all over the newspapers and television stations, declaring that he was a changed man, that he wanted to revolutionise the sport. Boris Balkov.
They had to stop him. They couldn't let any suffer what they suffered.
That night, before they stormed the BEGA building, Bryan had opened the hotel room door to find it empty. Spencer had obviously gone out to train, no doubt. Bryan believed Tala had gone with him. He truly had. Until he heard a noise. A small clinking noise, like the sound of a paperclip falling on a wooden floor. It came from the bathroom.
Making his way slowly there, for fear of what he would find, even though it might be nothing, he opened the door and nearly screamed from what he saw. There, in the middle of the bathroom floor, was Tala sat cross legged, a rubber band tied around his arm, and an empty syringe in his right hand. Head slumped, he was murmuring to himself incoherently in neither Russian nor English, tears falling on his face, the diluted pupils unfocused.
Moving quickly, Bryan held Tala under the arms for support, moving him so that he was leaning against the wall. He gently untied the band and threw it across the floor. Taking hold of the syringe, he held it carefully, as if in fear of it penetrating his skin, and placed it in the sink. He went back into the main room and took out a bottle of water, half finished. And then he made his way back to Tala, placing the bottle in front of him and waited.
He waited as Tala cried silently, the bruise on his arm turning black and yellow, the injection hole rising to become a swollen red island in the middle of the bruise. It would scab over by the morning, hidden shamefully by Tala's long sleeves. All the while, Bryan went over and over it all in his head.
He couldn't let Tala go through this again. Not the way he was last year. The year when they skipped the tournament after their embarrassing failure to Granger the year before. They all assumed maybe they were training, or adjusting to their lives of freedom.
They never would have guessed that Tala spent all his time in crack dens getting high however he could. They never would have guessed that Bryan joined Tala in trying to forget. They never would have guessed that, at just sixteen years old, Tala had already used his body as a makeshift chemistry set, putting more drugs in his body than a chemist has in their shop.
But they came clean. It wasn't easy, but they did it. It was easy for Bryan. He just went cold-turkey, putting up with the withdrawal symptoms, and focusing his time of getting his fitness levels back up again. For Tala, it was much harder. But he did it, all temptations aside. And they came to the championships and no one would have guessed what they had been through last year.
Bryan always dreaded this happening again. Tala was getting more lucid now. Upon seeing where he was, and that Bryan was next to him, he broke down sobbing, his trembling hands covering his face.
"I'm a disgrace!" he yelled and Bryan couldn't take it anymore. Kneeling in front of his broken captain, he took strong hold of his hands and wrenched them away from his tear stained face.
Tala had expected to see Bryan furious, but instead, he saw nothing but kindness in his features, something which he probably will never see again.
"Listen to me. You are not a disgrace. There is nothing wrong with you. You are strong; we all are, having to overcome what we went through. This is a moment of weakness, nothing more."
"I can't take it anymore, I just can't take it," Tala whispered. "He's all I see, every night when I close my eyes and in the morning when I wake up, he's there, laughing at me."
"He can't get you anymore, Tala. I won't let it happen. But we can't let him hurt anyone else."
"I can feel him, and his dirty hands on me and his leering face. I just want it all to go away, make it all go away," Tala whimpered, collapsed into tears as Bryan, still kneeling, held his brother tightly in a hug.
"I won't let him get you. I promise," he said gently to sobbing Tala, stroking his startling red hair until the sobs gently got softer and softer, until they stopped all together.
Moving the now sleeping Tala back against the wall, Bryan took hold of the rubber band and syringe and wrapped them carefully in a bandage, making sure that the needle posed no risk. He put the small bandage in the pocket of the Slipknot hooded jacket he was wearing. He then sat down with Tala, and held him close as he slept quietly, twitching occasionally.
"He won't get you. It's going to be okay. You're strong Tala, I know you are, " he whispered softly.
They stayed that way all night.
In the morning, Bryan woke early and left the hotel room quickly. He found his way to a dirty alley way before pulling out the small bandage and putting it on the floor. Pulling out a lighter, he set the bandage on fire, watching as its contents burnt in the small fire.
A few hours later they stormed the BEGA building.
Tala acted as strong as ever, the Alpha Wolf, the captain, the head leader. Behind him Bryan followed, acting the cold team mate. Nothing was said about the night before. Nothing was said about the painful mark that hid under Tala's sleeve. Nothing was said as Tala was rushed to hospital, unconscious, as the doctor's addressed his wound and spotted the mark.
Nothing was said as I, Kai Hiwatari, returned to visit the friend that I had betrayed so many times as he lay unconscious in hospital, the mark hidden under a layer of bandages. I stood there and looked at my friend, yes friend, as he lay there, an inch from death, and I knew what to do.
I took the Beyblade from the pillow, and I made my way to Tyson.
Let me know if you would this to be continued. x