A/N: Psyche. I don't know, I feel like the second chapter should be up also. Mainly because neither really forwards the story, only providing like, background information. So, it works out I think. Anyway, go read on.
Beware
The ceiling stood still above the brunet, or at least it felt like it was still. He could stare at his ceiling for ages, noting the butchered stains from water damage or the former mold spots that were in the corners. The people who owned this house didn't take good care of it before his family moved in. There were a few holes where larger lights were probably held and other spots that were poorly duct taped instead of filled. The brunet tried to fix part of the ceiling with some paint, only to ruin it further. His ceiling was a piece of art, or at least he sarcastically thought it was.
The brunet's newfound hobby was to watch the ceiling, as it seemed to be the only thing centered in his life. It didn't spin out of control like everything else. It stayed perfectly in place, letting the brunet know there was something stable to hold onto. All he needed was the security and for once it was granted by the piss-poor conditions of the wall above him. He stared at the ceiling, gathering thoughts of clarity, pretending that nothing was happening outside of his door. It was a game to him, a fucked up game. Ignore the screaming, ignore the tears, all that existed was him and the water damage. It was so easy, yet it dragged time on longer and longer.
The everyday task of school grew into an escape every passing afternoon. He looked forward to disappearing in textbooks and paperwork, keeping a distance from his reality. The brunet could act like the way he wanted to feel: happy, successful, ready to take on college, the way he should be. He would look up into the blue sky and wish for the some sanity. Just an ounce of peace. His wishes would never come true though. The brunet would collapse on his cot, straining his eyes to make out the dark dots from the mold. It most likely wasn't healthy to live in such conditions, but what else could he do? Everything else in his life was equally messed up.
Every night, his eyes would struggle to stay shut, always slipping back open. He never consented to consciousness, his body would just kick him back awake. He drowned in his awareness, listening to bottles breaking and drunken threats. No matter how many sleeping positions he tried to curl up into, rest was something he was never allowed. The brunet gave up and allowed himself to absorb every heated word that left his father's mouth, including 'faggot' comments towards himself. Not a single positive word.
xoxo
A sneaker to the abdomen awakened Neji, knocking the air of him. He heaved, curling in a tight ball, trying to breathe. A small tear formed in his eye, but he pulled it back.
"Wake up, faggot," his father slurred, bending over to pick up the sneaker he tossed. He held it in his hand, waiting for Neji to regain oxygen. Neji knew what he was waiting for, but he didn't want to say it.
His father raised an eyebrow, asking, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Neji uncurled himself, breathing steadily once more, but remained silent, staring at his father's bloody, bare feet. Either he cut his foot or kicked someone in the face. The sneaker met Neji's skull, along with, "What the FUCK do you think you're doing? Get the fuck out of bed."
A shock of pain went through Neji's head from the sneaker. He rubbed it tenderly, but began to sit up in bed. He knew it was a bad idea to keep ignoring his father, but he hated this. Every fucking morning was a new way to harm Neji. Not enough to cause physical marks, but hard enough to make sure Neji knew who was in charge. The brunet grit his teeth, trying to suppress any ill words. It was too early to start a fight, plus Hanabi would be starting her first day of school in a year. He didn't want to ruin her first day by causing any more drama than necessary.
Neji picked up the sneaker, rolling it to his father's feet even though he knew he would be hit with it at least one more time. The sooner it happened, the sooner he could get ready for school. He watched the bloody feet get closer to his bed. A hand threaded itself through Neji's long, brown hair and pulled him up. His scalp burnt from the hold, but he didn't try to fight back.
"I think you forgot to say something to me, faggot," his father mumbled. Neji could smell the stench of alcohol spewing from his mouth. It was absolutely putrid. He had to get shit-faced on Hanabi's first day after his mother told him to keep it down. Hanabi didn't need to be any more nervous about it.
Anger rushed through Neji's veins, thinking about his father's attempt to mess up her day as he growled, "I don't think I did, father."
He took the foot to his stomach, knocking the air back out of him. When he doubled over, the sneaker smacked him across the face at full force. The grip around his hair tightened, probably ripping out a few strands from the rebound of his head. Neji tried to fight the tears in his eyes, but when he tasted blood pooling in his mouth, they fell out. He refused to sob in front of his father though. He would never let his father feel like he won. He tried to quickly wipe them away when he earned another hard tug to his scalp.
"Crying, faggot? What happened to those balls you had a few seconds ago?" Neji clenched his jaw shut. Backtalking would be another hit, not answering would be a hit. Either way, he couldn't win. He opted for silence, promising a good day for Hanabi. He'd take the brunt of the violence if he meant she would be left out from it. He was thrown back onto the bed, landing with an 'oomph.'
"Hmph," he heard his father say. He imagined him smirking at Neji's defenseless body. "Don't start shit you can't finish, got it?"
Neji spit out the blood in his mouth near his father's feet before grudgingly replying, "Yes, Sir."
Yes, sir. God, that boiled Neji's blood having to refer to the authority figure as 'sir.' As if he held any sort of respect for him. Why the fuck should he? He's an abusive drunk who lives off of handicap checks which mainly funds his never-ending line of alcohol. Yeah, that's really respectful.
Neji heard him mumble something before the feet exited his room, slamming the door behind them. He counted five seconds before letting the repressed tears fall out. His heart felt so heavy, while his stomach churned in agony. He hated being so weak, never being able to fight back without some catastrophic result occurring to the rest of the family. If he had his way, he would have taken Hanabi and Hinata away, run away somewhere safe and live on their own instead of the shithole they had to call a home. If he had his way, his mother wouldn't be a submissive pushover who's desire to fight back dwindled when she received threats of divorce from their father. It was disgusting. People like his parents shouldn't have even tried to bear children if their future turned out like this.
He spit out another wad of blood and saliva on the floor, wiping the trail with the back of his hand. He hoped the only marks were inside his mouth, not on his face. He didn't want his first day of school being spent explaining a large red mark on his cheek. The only thing that kept his mind from slipping into absolute chaos was maintaining his grades in school. Good grades meant scholarship which meant free school. Free school would give him a degree that gets him a job to get money, buy a place, and take Hinata and Hanabi in. The possibility of taking them away was the one thing he could have hope for. Hope. After years of dealing with the same bullshit, hope seemed to grow sillier and sillier, yet it was the only thing that kept him running at this point. Without it, he would have given in to complete submission of his father.
Neji stood up, almost stumbling in the process. His head felt dizzy, re-cooperating from his father's strikes. He made his way to the tiny window which made his room feel more like a prison than a bedroom. He looked outside, seeing the sun shining bright, yet hardly any light could make it through to his dank room. Neji frowned, hoping it wasn't some messed up metaphor life was giving him. He looked over to the opposite wall, making out the time. 7:06. Eventful six minutes, wasn't it?
The brunet sighed, quickly preparing for his first day. He peeled off his bloody pajamas and pulled on a t-shirt, a white sweater, and gray baggy shorts. He picked up his messenger bag, exiting his Hell for a happier place. No matter how vicious the confrontations were here, there was school, ready to open it's violence-free arms to Neji.
xoxo
A large, yellow bus rolled up to the curb of his neighboring house. He didn't want anyone to know he lived in the piece of shit place next door, so he stood in front of the nice house beside it. As the doors opened, it didn't seem the bus driver didn't even tell the difference of the addresses. He waved him to come aboard. Neji nodded, biting his lip. He took the three steps up and turned towards the aisle. Everyone's eyes followed him as he tried to find an empty seat. It was suffocating the attention they paid to him, but it came with being a new student. He had experience three other times before this one. Now all he waited for was someone to shout out, 'Hey, new kid, sit with me!'
To Neji's surprise, it never came. It was odd considering there was always some exuberant person in the morning. Apparently, he rode the morning misery bus. The only free spot he found was by a redhead who stared out the window. He sunk into the seat, waiting for him to turn around and stare at him. He did nothing. In fact, the only action he did was switch from the window to his hands that rested on the backpack on his lap. He inspected every crevice, every uneven skin tone patch, even the chipping black nails he had. It was interesting to see someone so intrigued by their own hands compared to the new student beside them. In a way, it made him happy to know there was someone who could care less about him existing, new or old.
His eyes fell down to the black jacket with quarter sleeves. From under it, the boy fidgeted with the hole-y black sweater's sleeves, poking his fingers through random holes. He wondered if the boy knew how odd he looked playing with his hands. He probably did know and ignored it. Neji looked away from the boy, not wanting to become some creep watching him the whole bus ride.
After a few minutes, the bus pulled up to a large building. There were swarms of teenagers walking across the lawn, up the stairs, and disappearing into the doors. Everyone on the bus began to stand up, squeezing into the aisle. Neji waited a bit, not wanting to push himself between the two large kids who stood beside him. As he waited, he took a glance at the redhead. His eyes focused out the window, watching kids exiting the bus. It was amazing the lack of care this kid had. A spot opened up and Neji stood up, slipping in with ease. He walked behind a girl, taking the three steps, and hopping onto the sidewalk of the school. His eyes peered up at the tall building. He whistled for a second, impressed by the design of the place. He smoothed down his long hair and made his way towards the entrance, forgetting about the redhead.
xoxo
"Class, we have a new student. He moved from Konoha City, so give him a Sunaville welcome!" The stocky teacher told the class, bearing a grin that screamed enthusiasm. A couple students mumbled a welcome while everyone else either groaned or ignored him. Neji felt even better from the bus ride. His English class didn't give a shit about him being new either. The teacher motioned him towards the back of the class to get a desk.
He walked down the aisle, searching for an empty one. Right smack in the middle of the last row was one. He slipped into it and placed his single notebook on the top. Neji glanced to his right, seeing a black-haired boy with spiked hair in the back. Kind of looked like a duck. He almost snorted. He rolled his eyes to the left, seeing a familiar blaze of red hair. The boy from the bus sat next to him, erasing a bunch of words from a piece of paper, including his name from the top. The redhead seemed fascinated by the shavings, he even smiled for a second before frowning again. Neji looked away, gulping. He hoped that the kid was just bored and not a little psychotic in the head.
The teacher yelled out something about last night's assignment. Neji watched his peers gather up papers from their desk, passing it down to the person on their right. Oh, they were collecting it. Neji turned his head to the redhead who frantically re-wrote whatever he erased before. The girl beside him pushed the papers into his elbow. It took a few seconds, but the redhead took the stack, adding his to the top. He leaned over the right side of his desk, arm limply holding them out to Neji. He took them from the boy's hand, stealing another look at him. The red hair was shagged and matted like he just woke up and went to school. Neji twisted to the right, handing the homework to the black-haired boy.
The brunet faced forward, listening to the lecture that had to do with the assignment they were handing in. According to the teacher, it was the last assignment for whatever book they read. There was going to be a test on it at the end of the week, but they were going to start a new book: Lolita by Vladmir Nabokov. Neji's eyes widened, surprised by the choice of the book. He read half of it in his old public library and it didn't seem very school-friendly. Older male to pubescent girl relationships didn't seem very educational, however it was a good read compared to other choices the teacher could have made. He assumed it was because everyone in the class was seventeen, eighteen, and would be mature enough not to take the premise of the story to a darker place than it already was. Neji almost scoffed if that was the intent. Teenagers were teenagers, they could take anything to a dark place if you gave them ample opportunity.
The next forty-five minutes skimmed by almost too quickly for the brunet. He was enraptured by lecture, eager to begin reading the book. He loved when a good book was available for an English curriculum, it improved his grades significantly. Neji took a glimpse towards the redhead. He sat perfectly still, focused on lecture. Perhaps he enjoyed the book too.
The bell rang, scaring awake the kids who had been sleeping the whole time. A few people laughed at their reaction. The kids started to gather their papers, filing out of the class immediately. Neji waited for a few more people to leave before he stood up. He wanted to ask the teacher where his next classroom was without appearing dweeby and lost to everyone. He picked up his notebook and looked up, meeting someone's eyes.
Eyes so blue, as if someone balled the ocean into a marble and placed it into this person's eye sockets. His eyeliner was harsh in comparison to his soft eyes, lining the lids for emphasis. The redhead's eyes widened for a moment before breaking the eye contact. He looked down at the floor, pressing his papers to his chest and walked around Neji to the doorway. Those eyes, he thought, visually following his exit. It took every ounce of restraint in his body not to follow the boy.
xoxo
"So, you're new, right?" the black haired kid from English class asked, shoveling a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Neji nodded, trying to understand how he ended up surrounded by a circle of people. He had been sitting by himself until the black haired boy sat beside him. What followed was a line of other guys with weird face markings. He probably sat at their normal table and they refused to sit elsewhere.
The black-haired boy swallowed his potatoes and said, "I'm Sasuke." He pointed down the row of guys surrounding him. "Kiba, Choji, Shikamaru, Shino." The all gave little waves during their introductions.
"Neji," he said, stabbing the salisbury steak on his tray with a fork.
The other guys launched into a discussion about school that he didn't understand seeing as he was new. He continued to stab the steak, unable to bring himself to consume it. Years of malnourishment dampened his appetite, spoiling any chance of eating foods that he liked.
He detached himself from the table's words and looked around the cafeteria. Tables stuffed with loud teenagers eating and shouting while teachers stood by the door ways, arms crossed. They were the watch-hawks, ready to swoop in to separate fighting students or correct bad behavior. While it was a role they were paid to do, it seemed annoying to say the least. They had to stand there and watch every single teenager, looking out for trigger words that would cause a ruckus. He'd never want to be a teacher in high school at least.
Neji sighed, pushing his tray away from him, hoping someone would claim the steak so it wouldn't go to waste. As he thought it, Kiba nabbed it with a fork. He stuck it in his mouth and devoured it with ease. Neji half-smiled at the sight. Now he knew who his personal garbage can would be. He looked away from the table, attempting to figure out the layout of the cafeteria. There were more than a dozen round tables filled to the brink with students. The lunch line was pressed towards the back of the cafeteria along with the vending machines. He shifted his focus to the windows where he could make out kids eating in the brisk autumn air. It was really nice outside, he thought. Why didn't I sit outside to eat?
He watched a pink haired girl smile at the blond boy beside her. The blond boy threw his head back, presumably laughing. Then his eyes met Neji's stare. Neji shifted his focus to the empty table beside them. Upon changing focus, he saw a faint red dot walking towards the table. He tried to see if it was the redhead, but it disappeared as soon as it appeared. A quick breeze entered the cafeteria, followed by the red dot. Neji turned his head. It disappeared again. Not wanting to lose it again, he turned back to face the table and stared at the cafeteria doors. The redhead from earlier pushed the doors open, leaving lunch. When his foot touched the hallway floor, the bell rang.
The boys at his table sprung up, cheering for their next class, gym. Sasuke patted Neji on the back and asked what he had. He answered study hall. Sasuke said he should get it changed to gym before running off with the rest of his gang. Neji was left by himself at the table to watch his peers leave. He was glad they left. They were too loud for his tastes.
xoxo
Neji opted to walk home instead of taking the school bus, wanting to enjoy the weather while he could. The temperature was just right with the slightest wind to rustle his long hair. He tucked a strand behind his ear and placed his hands into his pockets, keeping his stroll slow. He took in the little houses with manicured lawns and white mail boxes off the curb. It was nauseatingly perfect the way these houses existed down the block of his house, the tattered flat level with dead grass. The sun warmed his face for a second before vanishing behind a puffy cloud. Neji looked up, watching the sunlight light up the cloud like a lantern. He wanted to lay down on someone's lawn and watch the clouds, but he had to get home. If he wasn't home soon, his mother would be a target of his father's anger (if it flared up).
He snarled to himself, hating that even when his father wasn't around, he'd ruin any happy moment Neji experienced. He peeled his eyes from the sky, lengthening his stride. With every heavy-footed step, he felt worse and worse as if someone was deflating a balloon. He couldn't stand having to return to purgatory after a lukewarm day of school. He'd relive the same uneventful day over and over again if it meant avoiding his household. Hell, licking a toilet clean was more appealing.
Amidst his dark thoughts, he had arrived home, opening the shoddy door. The knob was loose, meaning sometime this week, Neji would stop by a hardware shop to buy a new knob and lock. He rolled his eyes at his new task, entering the empty home. He shut the door and heard his father bellowing about his mother's cooking. What's new?, he thought. When she cooks, he complains it's wrong. When she tries it another way, he says he likes it the other way. Bullshit. He took off his shoes, placing it on the shoe rack everyone seemed to neglect. Boots and sneakers were strewn across the inside mat rather than put away. Neji leaned over and gently put them away except his father's. He propped them neatly by the door so he could hop into them later.
Neji dragged his feet through the entrance way towards the living room. Hanabi and Hinata sat on the floor, watching the television set with two little plates of food in front of them. He dropped his messenger bag on the floor. It made a thud that caught the girls' attention.
Hanabi smiled, greeting him, "Hi, Neji!" The smiles she gave were rare. It brightened Neji's mood whenever he saw it, reminding him when he was younger, more innocent. Those days are gone though.
"Hello, Hanabi," he replied, baring a small grin for his sister. She hopped up to her feet, tossing his arms around Neji's waist. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders in return. "You had a good day at school?"
Hanabi stepped back and nodded her head frantically. "It was great! The teacher was so nice and gave me stickers and I made a friend and I found out she was from Konoha City and said 'welcome back'," she paused and frowned at the end. "Even though I wasn't there last year..."
Neji held her again, saying, "It's fine, as long as everyone was nice, right?" She smiled and nodded her head, sitting back on the floor with Hinata.
He nodded at her briefly before walking to his room. He opened the door and and threw himself on his bed, still bloody from this morning's session. He picked at the dried blood, taking a few deep breaths. He could still feel the burn of a rubber sole against his cheek. It tingled, reminding him of his place. He was a bottom-feeder, not even worth the scraps his mother would reluctantly serve to him, Hinata, and Hanabi. Father got to feast, passing on the leftovers to Neji. Even though he was dirt in his heel, he was the other man in the house. Neji would thank him, then give the pieces to Hanabi, wanting to make sure the youngest was the best fed.
Neji shut his eyes, ignoring the muffled yells from the other room. He silently went over the tasks he'd be doing over the weekend: laundry, scrub the bed clean, clean out the garbage disposal, fix the doorknob. How much was a doorknob? Ten dollars at least? He groaned and flipped over onto his back. There went next week's school lunches. He had to save up the money otherwise the door probably wouldn't lock anymore.
He felt his head spinning, overwhelmed from everything. The shadows in the kitchen of his father pulling his mother's hair, the half-healed wounds in his cheeks, the scraps carelessly tossed on Hinata's and Hanabi's plates. The food hardly looked cooked. They looked thinner than usual too. His head took another spin, almost inducing him to vomit. He gagged and curled up on his side, forcing it back in place. A tear rolled down his cheek. It burned too much to puke, even if it would make him feel better for two seconds. He felt his body roll as if the bed lifted up. Neji gripped the sheets, trying to hold on. He felt his body roll again, this time to the left. He dug his nails into the cotton not wanting to fly off the cycle. Why did everything have to move? Couldn't he get a minute of rest?
Neji rolled onto his back once more, gripping the sheets as hard as he could. He felt like he was upside down, holding on for dear life to stop from falling. Every time the grip loosened, the force behind him grew stronger. His throat went dry, his heart pounded endlessly, he felt the sweat pouring from his head. This was it. He was going to lose and fall into the abyss. He could see the dark pit that awaited him. Why was he fighting? In the end it was pointless.
He let go. He opened his eyes.
The ceiling. The water damage stared back at him, reminding Neji that it wasn't real. He wasn't falling, he wasn't spiraling, and he definitely wasn't giving into his doom. It stood perfectly still. Neji imagined how stupid he must have looked, clutching the bed as if it was his only means of survival. He took a few deep breaths, wavering the nausea that sat at the end of his throat.
The ceiling was his center. He lived in the centripetal force, but the ceiling was the center. Beneath the ceiling, life stood still. In his room, his life was completely motionless. Just the way he likes it.
A/N: Okay, NOW there will be an update near the end of January or beginning of February. Thanks for reading.
