A/N: I have decided to write in a new, different style.
So here you have it. I present to you, "Our Little Game."
Disclaimer: Yes indeed, I do not own Gakuen Alice
Once upon a time, there lived a sister and a brother. They lived in a large cottage at the end of the woods. On their twenty-second birthday, their cruel parents never awoke from their sleep, leaving the two siblings to commit incest. A week later, disgusted townsfolk stoned them to death. Therefore, with no other choice, the incestuous sister and brother lived happily ever after in a land filled with cotton candy clouds and chocolate rain.
Hold it right there.
First of all, that was just a mere thought. I don't have a dirty mind.
Second, I would never commit incest with my brother. What am I, an animal? Even animals aren't that mad, are they?
Third, I absolutely adore my parents.
Well, that last one may or may not be true…
Fourthly, whether or not that is a real word, if God did exist, he would kick the incestuous kids out of an alleged Heaven. Christ, I don't even know whether or not to be religious! Think about it! Incest, of all things! Incest.
I'm not that stupid to support incest.
And stop. Before you even begin, stop judging me just because I mentioned the Savior here. Savior… bleh. Please – I've heard enough criticism about my "lack of faith." But honestly, I have my reasons. I have my reasons.
Come to think of it, the idea of incest popped into my mind solely because of a certain infatuated couple. Despite their contrasting features, they'd obviously spent a lot of time together, matching their outfit and hairstyle accordingly.
The blondie—I coughed mentally, not too bothered at the racist thoughts my mind was projecting; I was keeping them to myself after all— had purple and blue highlights as the colors in her hair weaved into a French plait reaching down her chest. Atop her head sat a yellow sunhat with strawberry lollipops circling the rim. Personally, the yellow was too bright for her already-bright hair. She looked like Goldilocks without the curls. Her right nostril was accessorized by an oh-so-fancy loopy-earring. Wait, nose ring.
Maybe Mom would let me get a nose ring… Nope, never.
The ridiculous blondie was holding hands with a glum-looking brunette. Her hair, instead of being accentuated with purple and blue, was streaked with white and red. Admittedly, it looked attractive. And no, I am not going to totter towards them on this sickeningly fast subway just to congratulate her above-average looks. The grouchy-looking Miss American Apparel traded the nose ring off for a pair of loopy earrings that looked blue under the dim lighting of the train. And instead of a sunflower hat, she wore a black baseball cap that was decorated with skulls.
Scary.
What intrigued me, however, was the twin part. They wore a matching set of gladiator sandals matched with short black bottoms; both shared the identical button-up shirt. I cringed mentally as the two giggled, giggled, (even Miss A.P.!) before closing the already-little space between them.
Ahem, who wears shorts and sunhats in the middle of winter? It's bloody cold! Barbie-girl over there, apparently. And Miss American Apparel.
Twitching quietly in my seat opposite of them, I quickly adjusted my own cap. The two lovebirds had begun making out. Making out! On a subway. Underground. In public.
It struck me as odd, how people were able to express their love so easily. That was only supposed to happen in the romantic comedies I was obsessed with (and guiltily, still am).
Yep, completely different from my nonexistent love life.
Don't pity me. Pity the girls who have their hands wrapped around each other's necks. I swear that they'll kill each other… intentional or not. I swear.
Don't bring God into this. Thank you.
Unable to tear my gaze away from the lovesick couple, I, like most of the subway-goers, watched in fascination as the Miss Apparel and Barbie continued to devour one another in a heated session.
And no, unlike some of those pesky, preachy Christians out there, I don't hold anything against gays. It's not like I can force them to fall in love with a guy; they're just themselves. So the third finger is for you if you decide to judge Barbie and Apparel.
Why the heck am I bringing religion into this? Eh, I have nothing better to do with my life…
…Lies.
Oh come on. It's twenty-fifteen. Loosen up.
Spoiler: I might even be bisexual.
Ugh, whatever.
Finally managing to divert my gaze from the hot mess, I was more than relieved to hear the static-y voice on the intercom and the squeaking of breaks; both of which announced the end of our little journey.
Realizing that I was the first one who bolted to my feet, I ignored the people who stared at me dumbly. If they didn't have anything better to look at, I wasn't one to stop them.
Okay fine. I felt a snivel of a fraction awkward. Tell me that you wouldn't if you were the first one who practically bounced to their feet in excitement when everyone probably knew that all you wanted to do was get off this dark, crowded subway.
Thought so.
As low murmurs rustled throughout the subway car, I grew irritated. "Blasted pancakes," I muttered.
Well hey-ho, that wasn't supposed to come out of my mouth.
Straightening myself, I cleared my throat. Nodding briefly at the gawking passengers, I stepped forward.
Before dashing uncontrollably through the open doors, I grinned at the couple that had paused their kissing.
Lowering my eyes, I leaned forward and snatched a lollipop from Blondie Barbie's hat. Diverting my gaze towards the glum-looking-again brunette, I pointed at her shirtfront. Still smiling, I articulated crisply, "Button up."
Not quite sure what had come over me, I unwrapped the red candy, dropped the plastic wrap in a nearby waste bin, and popped it into my mouth. Ducking into the subway station, I made a quick getaway before the morbid passengers had a chance to suffocate me.
Don't make me explain myself. I acted on my own.
No, I'm not retarded.
Hiding my eyes under my cap, I clumsily climbed the stone stairs two at time and whilst meeting the daylight, I sloppily soaked myself in a puddle.
What a surprise.
Frowning, I tugged at the paper stick in my mouth. Sucking on the lollipop, I looked ahead.
The thing about New York is that the season changes can be a bloody blummin of an annoying thing. As of now, the early-December precipitation was unwilling to be friends with me; large, fat raindrops drenched my cap and seeped into my hair. The strands clung uncomfortable to my neck as I groaned to myself.
Obviously, the universe hates me.
It's not like I like the universe any more anyway.
The only thing doing me justice is the strawberry lollipop that is currently dyeing my tongue a colorful shade of red. I think so anyway. But even my tiny sense of comfort was whisked away from me when my teeth made the mistake of chewing and swallowing the last bit of strawberry.
The remaining stick lodged itself in my mouth as I continued trudging towards my destination in the rain.
I am definitely moving next year.
Passing by a Starbucks filled with huddling humans, I wrinkled my nose and wished desperately that the unceasing rain would let up.
Wait, backtrack.
An old man, withered with age and bent with time, stood broken by the sidewalk. His body was wrapped in dirty rags; the soles and laces of shoes were battered and torn; his hair was a disheveled mess that looked like it hadn't been washed in ages. His teeth were yellow with the seasons as he quietly tried to ask for contributions. Nobody paid him any heed, and nobody paid him any mind – everyone merely brushed passed him and continued on his or her way. A few bolder teenagers dropped a penny into his beseeching plastic cup, but that was all. The man too, however, despite the looks of him, was a human.
Honestly, those brutes could have contributed more than a bloody penny! Their hair was covered in slick hair gel and they wore designer clothes. Heck, even their bloody feet were clad in more than the average man's monthly salary!
Chewing my lower lip, I could only shake my head. Yes, I will gladly take the spotlight of a pampered diva by openly displaying my distaste, thank you very much.
The man noticed me standing there, under a barren tree in the rain. With a pitying smile missing half its teeth, he held his cup out. "Please… Any… any'ing 'ill help…"
His meager voice nearly pronounced "hell" instead of "help."
With a concealed cough, I glanced at him and turned around. Without so much as a word, I stepped into the cramped Starbucks before pushing past the people clad in thick jackets and gloves.
As I shook my wet hair, one of many thoughts ran through my head.
I should have worn a raincoat.
Not bothering to be polite, I made my way through the line of people. But hey, it's not my problem that people can be ignorant. I'm not ignorant. Looking up at the barista, I whipped out a dripping credit card. Holding up a hand at the protesting people behind me, I lowered my voice. "Grande Americano, warmed turkey and egg sandwich, a blueberry muffin. Heated."
The man in a pink apron merely blinked in surprise before hastily nodding. He turned around, fulfilling my orders.
Wordlessly swiping the card, I nodded at the man's quiet word of thanks.
Pfft, I should have been the one saying thanks. Whatever.
Behind me, I could hear murmurs of "Who does she think she is?" and "The hell?" and "What a diva."
Grabbing the items off the counter, I purposefully grabbed a small tube of chocolate-covered coffee beans and I tossed it towards the barista. "Add it into my account."
Swiveling back into the crowd, I looked back and said, "You will never get far without helping others."
Greeted by more hisses of anger, I just shook my head.
Idiots are inevitable.
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