Ugly Duckling

Chapter 1- As I hold fate in my hands, I wonder if I'm doing the right thing...

April 4th, xxxx

It was Lussuria's sixteenth birthday, and he was spending it at the park, alone. He sat in a swing, his fingers kneading at his skin as he tried to take his mind off of the pain he felt. His slender, toned body was trembling with apprehension as he gazed at the bustling down a short distance away. His short, spring green-dyed hair only frustrated him further as it hung before his sky-blue eyes, and the young man found himself longing for a pair of sunglasses, at the least, so that he could block out the intense sun rays that tormented his already-poor eyesight. His mind screamed for his mother to come and take him back, and his heart lurched as it recalled the words that his parents had spoken to him.

Lussuria had come up to par with the idea that no one loved him. His homosexuality was the main cause, but on top of that, he had feminine intrests, and was, according to his parents, 'impossible to keep out of trouble.' The young man sighed, tears welling up in his eyes as his eyes trailed to the scar that stretched over his wrist. That cut, he bitterly thought, was not his fault. He looked up, brushing his messy green hair out of his eyes as he looked around the empty park, and his nails dug into his knees as he remembered once more the fact that he was abandoned.

"Well...," he began to himself. "Pick yourself up off the ground, hun... you should treat yourself- it's your birthday."

He hung his head and covered his face with his hands, then, after taking a moment of complete self-loathing, he stood, and walked out and into town, where he hoped that there was a chance that someone might take pity on him. He shifted through the towns, getting dirty looks from nearly everyone he passed, and he soon gave up, and slumped into a bench, before someone came out to tell him that 'his kind' wasn't allowed to sit there. Lussuria continued shuffling along, his hands stuffed in pockets that acted like fingerless gloves. He felt the pain swelling at every corner, the feeling of total rejection overtaking him as people purposely bumped into him. A few people stopped to accuse him of pickpocketing them, at which Lussuria just shook his head sadly and continued on. He soon came up upon a very young man, looking about thirteen years of age, who was curled up in a ball on the ground, using a tattered, old top hat to collect money. The teen was blonde, hair completely hiding his eyes, and from his place sitting on the ground, he gently rocked himself, hugging his knees close.

Intense pity took Lussuria over as he saw the quivering, weakened form, and he knelt down beside the other teen. Biting his lip, the took off his torn, dirty jacket, and placed it over the blonde's shoulders. "Are you okay, sweetie?" he murmured, using the soft voice that imitated that of his own mother.

The blonde looked up, and between the bangs was a pair of wild, bloodshot eyes, and the owner of them lunged forward, grabbing Lussuria's shoulders in a harsh vice. "Money... I need money," he rasped. "If I collect enough... maybe... maybe mama and papa will take me back..."

Lussuria stared at the young man, undaunted by the roughness and wildness that the blonde displayed, and reached out. "It's okay, hun," he soothed, touching the other's cheek. "I know how you feel." The blonde gave a few more uncontrolled trembles, then grinned.

"Your hair looks like grass," he giggled. Lussuria sighed, then nodded.

"All right, hun."

The young teen picked up the tattered top hat and placed it on his head, and leaned in beside Lussuria. The blonde whispered, "I'm a prince." After a moment of mulling over the other's words, Lussuria smiled, and stood, then held out his hand. The 'prince' didn't hesitate to grab Lussuria's hand, and Luss pulled him up.

"I think we can help each other out," the older teen said. "What's your name?"

"Ushishi~," laughed the blonde, bowing. "You can call me Prince Bel, if you want. I concur that we could assist each other. You?"

"Lussuria," the other murmured, blushing lightly. "Are you homeless, too?"

Bel paused, his grin vanishing. "Mama says I'm crazy," he whispered. "When I killed my brother... they threw me out on the streets with nothing but the clothes on my back. Papa was really mad... he said that he hated me. ... I haven't seen them since." The younger teen trembled for a moment, and whispered, "I wish they didn't hate me..."

Lussuria could feel his motherly impulses coming on, and although he was aware of how much shunning he could recieve, he smiled, and held Bel close. "My parents are the same way, Bel; I understand."

"Did you kill your brother, too?" Bel asked, still gently shaking in the older teen's embrace. Lussuria shook his head.

"No, hun, I don't have a brother. I'm... well... I'm just gay...," Lussuria said, his voice dropping to a whisper. Bel grinned.

"What, that's all?"

Lussuria smiled, and, before the people of the streets cast a dirty eye that Bel noticed, he began to lead the prince off towards his usual hangout. As they came back up to the park, Lussuria looked back, and Bel's wide grin shone back at him- proof that there was someone who could tolerate him in the world. Lussuria sat back down in a swing, and watched as Bel sat down on the ground beside him, reaching out, and placing his hand on the older teen's knee. "You don't have to sit on the ground, hun," Lussuria murmured. Bel shook hie head, and rested his head on his own knees, taking off the dusty top hat and rummaging through the little money he had collected.

"The prince wants to know if you're hungry," he mumbled. Lussuria sighed.

"I'm always hungry," he said. "I haven't seen a satisfying meal since January."

Bel took something out of his hat, and held it up to Lussuria. The older teen smiled at the apple he was being offered, but politely turned it down. "You should have that, Bel-chan; you earned it."

"The prince is choosing to give it to his new friend," Bel answered. Lussuria reluctantly, but gratefully took it, and reached down, patting the prince's head.

"Thank you, Bel-chan."

As the two sat in the park, alone, with the sun setting in the distance, they could feel a new sun rising between them.

Meanwhile...

"Stop! Thief!" cried the shopowner as the dark-haired boy dashed away. "That little runt!"

The boy turned a corner into an alley, and disappeared from sight completely, managing to get the food while he was at it. The aforementioned dark-haired male was someone who stole frequently; but it was his only way of surviving. He was orphaned- or abandoned, he didn't know which, and he had always been looking out for himself. This boy's name was Levi- short for Leviathan. His dark brown hair stuck up in several places, and piercings of every sort decorated his face- on his lip, his nose, his eyebrows, his ears, as tiny symbols of his fondness for metals and electricity. His narrow, black eyes were sharp and mean, and beneath them were dark spots, for he almost never slept. He was fifteen years old, and well known around town as someone who pickpocketed and swiped items from shopping stands. He trusted no one. He was perfectly capable of living independently, and skilled in the arts of street living.

His rugged, torn clothes were only one aspect of his all-over messy appearance, but his gentle side also shown through a ring that he wore- the only potential momento of the mother he never knew. He, like Lussuria, was shunned by all, and had no friends.

But he was strong enough to survive. He was powerful.

He was alone.

-End Chapter

So there's not going to be a lot of romance here, but y'know, shounen-ai, hurt/comfort throughout. A little something for people who really like to go 'awww!' like that. XD

Once I got it in my head to think of the older Varia's kid forms, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and decided to postpone 'True Self' until this was done. Speaking of, five chapter minimum to this fic. :) And I'm also hoping to warm some people (as well as myself) up to Levi a bit. I personally hate him with a passion, but I've been working on seeing him differently.

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