BAM. I got a review, and it was good! BAM. So here comes chapter two of Rose Thorns. ahahahaha. Okay here we go. Oh, and I know it says that it's an angst/romance, but it also has a tad bit of humor. Just a bit.
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Johnny had been driving for some time after the incident at the gas station. He had no idea where he was going, and yet at the same time certain surroundings were starting to look familiar, though he could not recall a memory with them. It was kind of like when you see someone out in public, and you feel as though you know the person, you just can't recall their name. Johnny squinted his eyes to see if there was a car up in the distance in front of him, and then switched his gaze to the rear view mirror. There were no other cars.
How strange.
But Johnny kept driving, and soon he could see a sign up ahead, but it was so far away that he could not read what it said. Johnny sighed as the sun started to shine brighter, and somehow it was already 9 AM. He tried to remember what time he had left that horrible city, but it was such a long time ago that he could not.
The sign was just ahead of him. He sat up a bit straighter as the words of the sign started to become clearer, and as he read it, he became confused. It clearly said:
"Welcome to the city of The Author Was Too Lazy To Name It!"
What a strange name. Johnny shrugged it off and passed the sign, willing to stop in this city to see if it differed from his old one at all. He looked around as he entered it, the towering buildings seemed to glare at him menacingly, and Johnny looked away from them. Yet as he looked straight ahead, another building, a lot smaller this time, caught his eye, and he gasped. A sign swinging above the door of the little building clearly said "Yummy Tummy Pastries."
Johnny suddenly knew where he was.
Immediately a scene played in his mind, from his own point of view, of him walking up to the building and seeing two slightly demonic looking dough boys. He remembered going inside the shop, and the kind old man giving them to Johnny, after noticing how Johnny examined them with interest. The memory went through his head as though on fast forward, and Johnny took a deep intake of breath and slammed on the brakes. While he had been remembering, he had almost crashed into the car in front of him. He had gotten used to no cars being around him. Johnny made a beeline for the shop, somehow feeling that he should revisit it. He parked and got out of his car, and walked up to the door, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why, but somehow he felt... what was it, scared? Nervous? He shook his head like a dog trying to shake off water and ticks, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, saying "Don't feel, don't feel, don't feel..." over and over in his head. He breathed deeply, and the feeling subsided.
His hand was reaching for the handle, the bell on the door chimed, and Johnny stepped inside. Johnny's gazed traveled to every crook and crevice, taking it all in. It hadn't changed a bit since he had last been there, since he had gotten Mr. Fuck and D-Boy. Even the old man was standing behind the counter. Johnny only noticed when the old man coughed slightly. Turning slowly on the spot, Johnny turned to face him.
"Oh... I remember you," the old man said. Johnny just stared.
"I remember you too. How the hell are you still alive? You were eighty years old when I last saw you," Johnny said, cocking his head. The old man smiled an eerie, toothless smile.
"Oh... I have my ways."
Johnny didn't want to inquire further, so he continued to stride around the shop, stopping here and there to look at the chocolatey and fattening goodness. He had just turned to leave, still not knowing why he had come here when the old man spoke again.
"You seem troubled. Is there something I could help you with?" The old man had gone from creepy to kind and concerned in a matter of minutes, and Johnny was taken aback. Shaking his head, he turned to leave.
"Are those little dough boys still giving you trouble?"
Johnny turned his head so fast to face the old man that he pulled something in his neck. Rubbing it, he glared at the old man. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do. Still insane, are you? Yes, you were a little nutty when you first came in here, I could tell by your eyes. I gave you those dough boys, remember? I thought you needed some friends." He was grinning again. "Oh yes, friends who enjoys insanity as much as you do, friends who--" he was cut off by Johnny.
"I DON'T enjoy insanity. I DON'T enjoy what my life has become, and I don't enjoy the fact that it was you that gave those THINGS to me!" And with that, he turned and ran, breathing heavily, and jumped back in his car. He placed his hands on the top of the steering wheel and rested his head on his hands. What had brought him back to this place? He knew where he was, and this was the last place he wanted to be. To be here would flood his body with emotions, of hate, of pain, of terrible anger. He looked up, blinking back tears once more.
Johnny C. had returned home. But 'home' wasn't quite the right word for it. It was indeed the place that Johnny had grown up, indeed the place where things had started going wrong. And now he was back, back to the place that had caused him to become what he was today. Shoving these thoughts away, he started his car once more and left the little pastry shop, hardly thinking about where he was going, and yet he knew. He knew where those wheels were taking him and he could hardly stand the thought, and yet at the same time he was eager, sickeningly eager. As he drove, the blurry distorted memories he had come to know slowly started to get clearer, and he drove past his old school. He slowed down, and stared up at the gigantic red letters that spelled out "SKOOL". He remembered being pushed around on the playground, being pushed and shoved into the sand, skinning his knees. This time it wasn't as though a fog cleared his vision though, it was more like it was just happening, just that very second. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He drove on, for what seemed to be an hour and a half, when finally he had reached his destination. He had no idea how he had made it there, for he couldn't remember the directions. He parked the car and stepped out, looking up at an abandoned two story house, the white and blue pant peeling. He sighed heavily as he stepped up the stairs leading to the porch. He looked up at the door, with the peeling numbers of 267 barely visible. He sighed again, and choking back tears pushed the stubborn door open.
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BAMCLIFFHANGER. Ah isn't it obvious where he is? Yes well. I immensely enjoyed the old man. He reminded me of a walnut for some reason. This chapter wasn't that good, cuz I dunno. It just wasn't. But yeah. I promise the next chapter will be better. No flames please :puppy eyes: R&R though.
