Basically a MarVex story (luv 'em 2 bits) :3 I OWN NOTHING... o_O x 3 o
More chapters on order...erm...aka, coming up soon? xDD
(and yesh...I know, the title is laaaame.....it's meant to be clever...lol. Instead of "Growing Pains" it's "Living Pains"......agh, don't carbonize me, thank you!) Dx
Heh...but happy munching! Tell me what you think
Almost all characters used belong to the SQueenSquad.
LIVING PAINS
CHAPTER ONE: Past Memories, New Beginnings
O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O
Brilliant green eyes watched observingly as scenery slipped by, eyes darting back and forth as they picked an object of focus, which would eventually slip past the car-window. The eyes were intelligent and calm, holding mostly boredom in their gaze. The boy sighed audibly, propping his chin on his palm, closing the beautiful emeralds with a flutter of brown lashes. Almost like out of a movie, thought the boy in self irony, notching the volume of his music device higher. The soft melody of an acoustic guitar accompanied by a rhythmic thump filled his ears brimly, zoning out the rest of the noises. He could hardly hear the annoying tick-and-click that the engine of the Lexus had a habit of making, which usually rendered him helplessly irritated. The scream of the air-conditioner – which his father persisted on calling 'a gentle purr' – was now only a mere hum. The boy was oblivious to the sounds around him – which he was very thankful for – as he leaned into the music. No wonder that after a few moments he was completely taken by surprise as he felt a sharp pain smart him across the left side of his face.
The green eyes spread wide for a split second, trying to register the unexpected feel. He turned his gaze to his left, and winced as he realized his father's hand was suspended in mid air. The boy quickly tugged at his earphones, yanking them off in time to hear the end of his father's sentence "–and trust me, you'll regret it dearly, Vexen."
Vexen bit his lip, as he had fully grasped the situation by mere common sense – his father had been talking to him with him obviously not listening. He hadn't needed to hear the first part of the last sentence to know that it had been a severe warning – a threat . He considered it bliss not to know what the old man had said – the man's threats and means were nothing to toy with. Even so, Vexen was quite used to his ways, and almost automatically heard himself saying, "I'm sorry sir." His father grunted, giving him a quick glare, which never failed to send a pang of fear through his son, as if anticipating some greater trouble. His father was a no-nonsense man with a short temper and an almost psychotic obsession on respect and discipline. Vexen certainly didn't want to find out what the man would have in store for him if he decided to go against him – ever.
A few minutes passed in awkward silence – at least for Vexen, who nearly squirmed in his seat as he waited for his father's calmed down tone, which would mean he was off the hook. The man finally spoke up, clearly a bit sobered down, "Yeah, so like I was saying...I want you to behave out here, you hear me? I don't want any of that shit you pulled in ol' Stoneyhurst." The man's hazeleyes snapped up to his son's green ones, his eyes housing danger – almost like prettily packaged murderous intent, Vexen thought anxiously.
"I mean it, Vexen. I won't tolerate it one bit." The man continued, snapping his eyes back to the road ahead. "I hope we've reached a mutual understanding?" Vexen knew better than to answer the man's question, as he'd meant it in a rhetorical sense. He didn't care what Vexen thought anyways, no bother, so he kept silent, only nodding hastily, fiddling his thumbs over the buttons of his device. In his mind though, he let his true thoughts bubble up, What the fuck ever, you evil, mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch...I wish you'd just...keel over and go to hell... He sighed inwardly, placing only one ear bud into his ear, just in case of if his father started talking again.
The rest of the ride went about silently, if one ignored the background noises of the clicking engine, the roaring air conditioner, the ticking clock on the dash board, the time-to-time grunting from the man driving, and the minute music that seeped out of Vexen's ear buds as he listened, drowning into the music, starting up on the book he'd received as a parting gift from his only 'friend', the Stoneyhurst librarian, mr. Gables.
Books. They were the only thing that comforted him in a whole world of hurt.
O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O
Vexen stared blankly at the gorgeous house, the interior overwhelming his sensory periphery. As much as he hated to – even mentally – he had to admit that his father had a highly good sense in taste. A plush, dark-green carpet ran across the floor, sliding underneath all of the doors along the hallway. The wooden doors were very dark and shiny, with golden handles and key holes, which contrasted beautifully – oddly enough – with the pale, minty-green-and-blue tapestryon the walls. All of the curtains were royal blue – like the thin stripes on the wallpapers – tied back with shimmering gold ropes. The couches in the entrance hall – an entrance hall! – were the same deep, rich earthen color with the doors. All the equipment in the house were state-of-the-art, new and shop-shiny. Even the kitchen was shiny. It was tiled with green and blue mosaic, a table, chairs and counter tops made of very dark wood, lemon yellow curtains and linen perking the atmosphere. I wonder just how much this house must've cost...
The white stairs – no, not just white, but made of marble! – ascended cloudily upstairs, bringing one to a velvety red carpet – just like the ones important and famous people walk on! Thought Vexen in amazement.
His eyes glided over the decor as he moved from room to room, just as he'd done downstairs – which was filled with a few elegant guest rooms, a couple of shiny and sterile toilets, a study, a storage room, a walk-in closet, a sitting room with all the electronics one could possibly imagine, and an extravagant dinning room, set with an abnormally long table in front of a cozy fireplace. The upstairs had fewer rooms. One of the doors led to a large bathroom, one to a toilet, and one to a miniature shower room – Vexen was sure his father would hog the large bath all for himself and leave him with the size-deprived one without a toilet...
There were three more unexplored rooms left. One he found to be a room for his father, another one for him, and the last one was...a room...filled...with...
Vexen gasped as he pushed the double doors open, his eyes absorbing the sight before him. Books. Lots of books. He tore into the library, long hair swinging madly as he moved down the first aisle.
This was one of the biggest libraries he'd ever been in – well, excluding the Stoneyhurst's town library and his former school's library. His fingers slid over new, matte leather covers, eyes sweeping past the titles on the edges. The Melancholy. Lords Of The Rising Dawn. The Door To December. Deeds Of Darkness. Magniloquence. He turned around the corner of the long shelf, turning down to another aisle, this one filled with another genre of novels. He repeated the previous, savoring the scent and feel as his eyes reflected the titles. Misery. Truth To Dare. Theory Of Pets. Insomnia. Committing Memories. Vexen couldn't believe his eyes, sweeping past aisle after aisle, admiring the customized handicraft of the bound leather volumes, all the text on the covers written in an eloquent silver script.
He was admiring an aisle supposedly full of classics – Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe and the likes sweeping past him – when he heard an amused chuckle. Vexen stopped on the spot, and with an arm still extended he turned around, meeting his father's stout figure leaning against the book case at the end of the aisle, lips curled into a warm smile. No, not a warm smile, a sneer. The extended arm that had been trailing over the books now dropped limply to his side, the shine in his sparling eyes dulling down a bit.
"Enjoying ourselves, are we, hmm?" The older man smirked. Vexen glanced at the sea of books, deliberately averting his gaze from the man's own, nodding slightly, feeling uncomfortable under the man's mocking gaze. His father barked a laugh, saying, "Good. It's for you."
Vexen's eyes shot up from inspecting the novels at his side to give his old man a rather disbelieving, bewildered look. He wasn't sure if he'd heard the man right. Just my imagination...he couldn't have... The man merely nodded, his luscious, mid-length, auburn locks bouncing slightly as he did so. "It's a present. For you. The library, 's all yours."
The older man relished the look that lit up across his son's pale face, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink and lips setting slightly ajar in amazement. The man swelled with pride as he watched the brilliant orbs light up, the gleam almost visibly refracting through the crystal jades of his eyes.
Lenfelt a sudden twinge of pain and guilt-ridden deja-vuwash over him. How beautiful the boy was – and how much he looked like...
His eyes glazed over as he stared at the flustered boy gaping around at the voluminous library, his mind filling with a burst of memories he'd buried deep down under, dormantly residing within him, almost forgotten...almost...
O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O
"Mister Frost...?" The doctor's voice had sounded as he'd walked into the room, ridding himself of his latex gloves. "Yes, doctor? Is there a problem?" Len had felt a surge of panic course through him as he'd taken in the doctor's ominous, uneasy expression.
"I'm afraid that your wife...unfortunately, she has passed away."
Len had stared at the doctor blankly, disbelievingly, the words almost choking him. "She...she's...my Mandy...she has..." Len had managed to croak strickenly, the doctor nodding sadly and placing a sterile hand on his shoulder, "I'm so sorry for you loss, mister Frost."
Lenhad shaken his head frantically, trying to rid himself of the buzz that had slowly and persistently started settling into his ears. His eyelids had felt hot and gravelly as he'd squeezed them shut, willing the tears away. He'd opened his eyes, staring wide-eyed at the green-clothed man.
"What...? Why...? How did she...?" He hadn't been able to bring himself to finish the sentence. The doctor took hint of this, understanding his their meaning with ease.
"She died of severe birth complications." The doctor had supplied, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, saying, "I'm so sorry for you loss, mister Frost," one last time before he had exited the room.
Lenhad just stood there in a daze, for how long, he hadn't known. After a while, with a sudden jolt of malice, the doctor's words bounced back at him, sprouting a white-hot, searing pain across the left side of his chest. He'd almost doubled himself over as the impact and the meaning of the words had attacked him, washing him over with despair and hurt, leaving him with the feeling of something brittle and fragile breaking within him into millions and millions of fragments, invisible smithereens, without a sound.
He'd started his silent lament then, realizing the weight of the words as he spoke his thoughts out loud in the silent room.
"Mandy is dead...she's nevercoming back..."
He wouldn't hear her sweet laughter anymore. He wouldn't see those beautiful lips curl up into a soft smile anymore. He wouldn't get to caress her smooth, scented hands anymore. He wouldn't get to revel the sight of her face set into a cute little frown as she concentrated on something anymore. He wouldn't taste those treacle tartsthe way she made 'em anymore. He wouldn't get to enjoy her witty jokes or her affectionate, sarcastic comments as they talked anymore. He wouldn't wake up cuddling up to her slim figure, breathing in her familiar scent and smoothing the sunshine locks tickling his face anymore. He would never taste her. Never touch her. Never feel her. Never–
He'd looked down as he'd heard a gurgling, cooing sound. He'd numbly stared at the baby in his arms, almost absently watching it curl one of its little hands into a fist.
Severe birth complications. The words had flashed across his mind almost innocently, as he'd stared at the tiny being in his arms. The boy had yawned, his small hands extending up and forward blindly as he did so, his tiny legs kicking out almost as if on reflex.
Severe birth complications. He'd kept on staring at the baby, his eyes widening. The baby had opened its tiny, pink lips, its face scrunching up, pale porcelain skin flushing, seemingly preparing to cry.
Severe birth complications. The baby had been born...but it had killed Mandy...and Mandy had died due to this baby's birth...
He had almost dropped the baby in disgust, sorrow and hatred wallowing within him as he'd managed the then wailing baby into its hospital crib. Len hadwhisked round and started to walk away from the room, not wanting to acknowledge the thing that had caused his wife's death – and her possible suffering. Len had been surprised to hear a gasped out sob echo in the otherwise empty room before he'd basically moved a muscle. He had cried uncontrollably in the off-white hospital room, his heart shattered. He had only been left with the baby – the thing – that he'd started to despise from the depths of his heart at that very moment.
He hadn't had wanted to take the baby home, but he'd really had no choice. Although he hated the thing, he wasn't a cruel man – it was the fruit of his loins after all, a product of his love for Mandy, and he'd felt that it deserved a proper home no matter what.
Days passed by, Lenonly making contact with the baby when he'd feed it or clean it up. The boy – then named Vexen, a mingling of his hatred for the child and the name Mandy had picked, his name, Len – had cried relentlessly all the time, tiny arms flailing in the wooden crib in the baby's room as he'd wailed, red-faced, mouth wide open, tiny pin-pricks of tears pooling its still tightly shut eyes. Len hadn't cuddled it, hadn't smiled at it, hadn't looked at it... Days had passed on like that, the baby growing more silent and stoic with each day that passed, with Len reallynot caring. His heart had still ached. It was its fault.
One day he'd been picking the baby up from its crib to change its nappies, and he'd caught an odd glint out of the corner of his eye. He'd glanced at the baby quickly, as if in passing, but before he could've looked away, he'd caught the baby's face into his gaze. His mouth had fallen open, his eyes widening in a slack expression of shock.
The baby had opened its eyes for the first time. The eyes were a beautiful green, shimmering, as if carved out of the purest of jade with an onset of emerald. The boy had smiled up at him, stretching its tiny appendages towards him in the air, the light from the window illuminating the gold twists on his head. Lenhad gasped, staring at the baby in amazement, who'd then begun to cry as the man holding him had squeezed his fragile frame with trembling hands turning white.
Len had then clutched the baby in an embrace, holding it close to his chest, breathing in the baby scent as his body started shaking, convulsing almost violently as he'd cried and sobbed into the baby's sunshine hair.
'Just like my Mandy! Just like my Mandy!' He'd whispered into the baby's ear like a mantra as he'd sobbed, shocked at how much the boy looked like his mother.
O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O
Taking a final look at the boy, who was now stuttering his stunned'thank-you-sirs', Len turned away from him and started towards the double doors of the library.
"Just...don't ever come and ask me for anything again. Ever." He grunted as he made his way out, disappearing into his master bedroom down the hall.
Vexen didn't mind.
Books. They were all that he needed – and more, considering the private collection's volume and stock. He huffed. It wasn't like he'd need anything apart from the books surrounding him – they were his companions, his friends. They'd allow him to escape the every day pain of being him.
O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O