Edited (1/3/06) Thanks so much for the support! Means the world
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Eureka SeveN, or any other copyrighted things I mentioned.
Title: Going Nowhere Faster
Rating: T
Pairing: Anemone X Dominic
I dedicate this fic to all the skateboarders who are eagerly waiting for Marty Mcfly's hoverboard to become reality.
Chapter One: Can't Get There from Here
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Stepping into the kitchen; barefoot, I involuntarily shudder as my warm feet meet the cold, linoleum floor. Eying the hot cup of coffee in Dominic's hand, I pray that it isn't the instant kind. "Good morning, Anemone. I made you breakfast," Dominic states, while placing the newspaper he'd been reading down; revealing his tired, slate eyes. Seating myself at the table, I smile, as if Dominic's wretched, though well intentioned, cooking appears appetizing. "Merci," I respond, while digging my fork into the rubbery omelet.
Waiting a few moments, Dominic eventually goes back to reading the paper, and I take this opportunity to lean down below the table and signal Gulliver, my obese chinchilla-esque pet. Waddling towards me, Gulliver plops down just below my feet, and I artfully slide the meal off my plate onto the floor. While this daily routine unfolds, Dominic remains oblivious, perhaps voluntarily, as he swallows two pills with his coffee.
"Well, I'm done," I quip cheerfully, disregarding the coffee he'd 'brewed' for me. "I'm going to go study," I imply, as if I honestly plan on taking the High School Equivalence Exam. Dominic had been the one to bring it up, due to my genuine interest in the College pamphlets that are addressed to him in the mail. There's just something about the glossy photos of well manicured campuses, gleaming young students, and wise professors that intrigues me.
"You'll do well. I have confidence in you," Dominic encourages; his lips forming a warm smile. Apparently he's more interested in this test than I am; which is making gathering the heart to tell him the truth even more nerve-wrecking.
Getting up from the table, I bring my plate and Dominic's to the sink; letting the water run an extra few seconds because I find it's sound soothing. Lathering the generic dish-soap, that I swear smells like Kerosene, onto the dishes, I take a paper-towel and scrub the glass, before leaving them on the dish-rack to dry. Gazing down at the marble counter-top, I study my reflection it's polish surfaced; that of a hollow-eyed girl in desperate need of saving.
I must've been staring out into space too long, because when Dominic slipped his arms around my hips, twisting our bodies into a tight embrace; I was honestly startled. Keeping my mouth shut, I let him hold me for a few moments. Our relationship, which is occasionally physical, though mostly awkward, tends to operate on this level. We don't bother to speak to each other; which makes communication often frustrating. Perhaps that is just another obstacle of love.
"Anemone...I..." Dominic stutters, as his alabaster cheeks simultaneously redden. Gosh, why does he have to act like a smitten schoolboy most of the time? My face, now crestfallen, turns away, but Dominic lifts up my chin and closes the gap in-between our lips. Pushing my body up against the counter, he deepens the kiss; without my consent. Managing to break-free, I shove Dominic away, and he falls to the floor in a 'thump'.
Looking up, his eyes widen with hurt; and I realize it's too late to take back what I've done. "I have to go," my voice cracks, as I run out of the room. Even though Dominic never gets angered by my outbursts; the way he feels sorry for me afterwards can be just as painful.
My head, oh God, my head. The throbbing pain led me to the bathroom, where I nearly collapsed. Inevitably, I could feel the blood gushing out of my nose. In a matter of seconds, it had already dripped onto the white marble floor; leaving a bright stain of crimson. Reaching for the medicine cabinet, my hand instinctively seizes the bottle of Oxycontin, my preferred pain-killer of choice.
Wait, something is not right. The bottle, which I'd left pristinely on the top shelf, is now approximately empty; a substantial dose I would've taken note of. Placing the prescription down, I mull over the situation. Moments pass and in a violent epiphany, one name comes to mind. "Dominic..." Sighing with dejection; I dump the bottle's remaining contents into the toilet, and push down the handle.
Sadly, this wouldn't be the first time Dominic has done such a thing. Back in the days of the military, I'd occasionally spot him with a syringe; shooting up morphine. He'd easily excuse the side-effects. Bloodshot eyes; allergies. Fatigue; stress. No-one seemed to mind, or felt the slightest tinge of concern. I sure didn't. But that was then, and this is now. He's been at it for months now, faking aches and pains for stronger prescriptions. If I only had the nerve to confront Dominic about his illness.
"Anemone, are you alright?" Startled, I knock plastic bottle onto the floor; but Dominic only seems to notice the blood oozing down my chin. "I passed by and saw blood; I thought you were hurt." I really need to start shutting the bathroom door. "No, it's just a nose-bleed; I'm so prone to them," As I talk, blood seeps into my mouth; and a metallic taste lingers. "Here, let me," he offers. Taking the nearest towel; Dominic clots my nose; leaning forward so our faces are just inches apart. As I gaze into his eyes, a strange feeling overcomes me. Wrapping my arms around his waist, Dominic drops the towel as I lean my head against his chest. "Will you be alright?" I ask; while he runs his fingers through my hair. "Anemone, I...I don't know," his voice trembles. I raise my lips, but I'm at loss for words of comfort. This isn't how our lives should be. What happened to us?
"Anemone..," My eyes shoot up, and I spot Dominic leaning his body against the sink. "I can't breathe," He gasps, before collapsing into my arms.
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"So, will he be alright?" The doctor, who wore a heavy glasses prescription, put down his clip board and sighed. "Kids today, dosing up on whatever's present in their parent's medical cabinet. In his case, enough Percocet to soothe the worst of cancer patients." I inch my chair closer, waiting for him to finish answering the question. "He'll be fine, young lady, though addiction's like his can be quite tough." I had flinched the instant the doctor called me young lady. "What about detox?" I won't let Dominic come home until he is better. I can't just stand around, and simply watch his self-destruction snowball out of control. I'm not strong enough.
"Well," the doctor paused for a moment, staring aimlessly out the window, "They have special programs for Dominic's illness, it can certainly be overcome. It will take time, but he'll get better; just you wait and see." I nod, not sure of how else to respond.
I left the hospital in a fog, simply meandering down the main road towards the nearest bus-stop. I feel so guilty. For awhile, I'd been blaming Dominic for what's become of him. But I guess he can't help it. Perhaps his addiction is just some coping mechanism. For a moment, I think back to Dominic kissing me, and how much he needs me more than I need him. Strange, because not too long ago, it was the other way around.
"Hey, are-yah alright?" a girl, maybe my age, stood adjacent to the bus stop, with a ref board under her left arm. Snorting, I shake my head, and she smiles warmly. "You look familiar, we must go to the same school, right?" Without thinking, I nod; and so begins a fine web of lies. "Well, whatever's bothering you, I hope it turns out alright." Though the street-lamps are dim, I am able to make out her cerulean eyes, and the honesty shown in them. "My boyfriend's sick," I blurt out, my voice tired and raspy. She raises an eyebrow, before placing her hand on my back in a gesture of comfort. "You're not Jordan's girlfriend, are you? I heard about his transplant, everyone's praying for a speedy recovery." I shake my head, again. "He...doesn't go to High School." The girl makes an 'oh' expression, before drifting her eyes to the ground. Just then, I feel as if I should go on. "He...he abuses, I mean, is addicted," tears swell in my eyes, and I bury my face into my fists. "I didn't mean to," She begins, but I interrupt. "He abuses pills; there, I said it!"
Following my outburst, there is a moment of silence, but the girl quickly changes the subject. "I'm about to go ref with some of my friends, since you seem so down, maybe you'd like to tag along? If you don't wan-nah come, It's alright, you seem far too cool to be wasting time with me anyway." Me, cool? I find myself laughing, almost unconsciously; and the girl turns away, with disappointment in her eyes. "I didn't mean...you see," She lifts her head, and I continue, "I think it's funny, how you said 'I look too cool' to hang with you. In reality, it can't be farther from the truth."
"So, are you coming or not?" The girl asks bluntly. "Uh, I guess," Holding out her hand, she pulls me up from the curb, and I remain still, while she begins to walk down the sidewalk. "Gosh, girl. Where-ever you plan on going; you can't get there from here." As she waits for me, I can feel something change, perhaps the wind.
"My name's Anemone." For some reason, I felt as if she should know my name. Grinning, she replies, "Can I call yah Em?" I've never been given a nick-name before. "I'd be delighted," I answer, contemplating the idea of an actual friendship. "I guess you'd like to know my name, huh?" I shrug, indifferently. To be honest, I find exchanging names ruins the romance of being acquainted strangers.
"I'm Lenzie, just Lenzie." Dropping her ref board, Lenzie gets on top of it, but not before instructing me to wrap my arms around her waist. "The site's only a few blocks, but why walk when there's trapar in the air?" Below, the ground becomes fuzzy as we pick up speed. Suddenly, I find myself reminiscing about type-END, my KLF skills; Oh, how I could ref back then.
"So, are you a fan of Gekko-State?" I casually bring up, looking for an excuse to brag about meeting them. "You mean those posers? Sure, they can ref, but the way Holland and the others dissociated themselves from reffing's roots; well, to be quite honest, it's sickening. I bet they can't tell the difference between Tony Alva and Tony the pizza guy." I laugh, as if it was expected of me.
"We're almost there," Lenzie states, stopping her board so we both can get off. As I wander through the surrounding area, the distinct smell of Chlorine lingers in the air. "Are we near a pool or something?" Disregarding my question, Lenzie takes my hand, leading me deeper into the brush. "Are you sure you know where..." I stop mid-sentence, spotting a drained swimming pool and group of refers that had congregated in.
My eyes trace the refers' movements; which shift between fluid and erratic. Their boards clash against the metal, grinding and grabbing every twist and turn. Just observing this scene can make one envy the rush they must be experiencing. And during these few moments, I find myself believing what Lenzie had told me earlier. Maybe Gekko-State does have the wrong idea; we should be honoring and embracing the influences that led to such a sport; not shunning them.
Halting her board beside me, one of the refers puts out her right hand, in a greeting. "Kook, welcome to the Old-School revolution." Well, I've experienced many unorthodox introductions; but none-with this much zeal.
The other's, noticing the girl's absence, descend from their boards as well; and I feel an obligation to speak. "What you were doing before, it was so..." "Real?" A taller boy interrupts. I nod, even though it wasn't my intended answer. "Our unique style, is in fact, just an adaption of the 'original' refers from back in the day. A time when boards needed four wheels and grip-decks," Lenzie continued.
"The Z-Boys," I mutter. And as if I'd spoken a secret password, their eyes all widen in astonishment. To be honest, I have a very vague description of the founders of reffing, just some sketchy information I uncovered in ancient Thrasher back-issues. But that can't stop me from pretending, now can it?
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Trivia:
Kook is a derogatory term used to describe individuals who pose as skateboarders or surfers.
Lenzie is a homage to real life female skater, Lyn-Z Adams.
Anemone mentions Thrasher, a Skateboarding hobby-type magazine publication. It issues the prestigious "Skater of the Year" award.
The Zephyr Team, infamously known as the The Z-Boys, (Tony Alva, Jay Adams, Stacy Peralta, etc) were the founders of modern skateboarding, making use of polyurethane wheels and the pools drained during the California drought in the 70's.
Please support this often forgotten pairing, and review!