Here's another update for you. I haven't really been posting many because I've been planning out many more stories that I'll show in the near future (hopefully). Of course, them all being based upon Sweeney Todd, because as soon as I started writing this story, I suddenly realized how much fun writing about him, and the whole concept, was. XD
So, look out for more Sweeney Todd stuff from me!
Sweeney dragged himself up the stairs to his tonsorial parlor, having tripped on his way up at least two times already. He was glad to get out of Toby's vision. He needed time alone to get rid of all of his...blood.
No one could get it wrong: Sweeney Todd was not a squeamish person in the least. How else was he able to slaughter all those men without even flinching?
It was just his...his own blood that unnerved him. He could deal with small cuts. But how could one expect him to remain calm with such a gash that ripped so dangerously close to that cold, mangled heart of his?
Benjamin Barker had never been good with blood of any sort. The smallest cut on either himself, or someone else, made him scare in the most audible of ways. When he was shipped off to Australia, he saw things happen to others...the most grisly, gory, horrible things. After a while of being forced to watch it, the sight soon grew stale. So stale, he wasn't afraid anymore.
However, fear of his own blood stuck with him, to his dismay.
Mr. Todd pulled the door to his shop open and staggered in, still shuddering. He tried his best to avoid looking directly down at his chest as he stiffly unbuttoned his waistcoat. Once he finally managed to get it off without looking, he slung it over his monster chair that was still stained with the Judge's blood. The sight of the stains caught his dark eyes for a moment, and he gazed down at the chair with an odd expression on his face.
He knew he needed to get rid of them before people really started to get suspicious. But...how could he bring himself to do that?
Never. I'll never.
He shook his head, dismissing the idea. If he and Toby really left, it'd be before then. Judge Turpin's blood would always be there, unless someone else followed up on intentions to clean it.
The demon barber didn't want to see that.
Sweeney tried to push this topic to the back of his head though, as he began taking off his once-white pinstripe shirt that was now ripped and bloodied up from the alley brawl/massacre. He tried to keep it from brushing against the wound..but this wasn't easy, naturally enough. When he finally stole a glance down, he jerked his head away from the sight immediately and gave an intake of breath that stung his gritted teeth.
This is 'ow a surviving customer of yours would've felt, Mr. T.
Sweeney's hard glare returned at the sound of that dreaded...voice again.
"Oh," He muttered casually, throwing his shirt over the barber's chair, on top of the waistcoat. "and where've you been?"
Toby wasn't there. He could argue with his inner voices again.
Don' get me wrong, love; I've been watchin'.
"Really?" Sweeney said matter-of-factly, uninterested. He reached down and grabbed the cloth that was hooked onto his belt.
Oh, yes. I take it you an' Toby are startin' to get along well.
"I don't expect it to last long." Sweeney grumbled, moving the rag out of the way to view the wound again. What he saw made him feel faintly lightheaded again: more scars. He knew they were there...but it was never the biggest pleasure to see them. They were on his chest, some right on next to the new wound, and on his torso. He knew for a fact that there were some on his back as well. However, the nastiest looking one started on his stomach and somehow stretched to end on his back. Half the scars he didn't even remember getting. That one in particular, however...he remembered full well how he got it. He just didn't like to talk or think about it.
Sweeney soon found himself collapsing into his chair, breathing out heavily and pressing his hand against his forehead.
For once, he didn't know whether to feel angry or pleased when the voice rang out in a worried tone for the first time,
M-Mr. T, you-you never told me you 'ad-
"You know now." Sweeney snapped, finally lifting the cloth and placing it against the bloody wound, stifling a yelp of pain. He kept his glare pinned on the window though.
I'm sorry, dear.
He flinched in startled surprise at the feel of an icy cold hand resting against his bare shoulder. "That's cold," He gasped, suppressing a shiver. "g-get off, Mrs..." He paused.
Wha' 'tis it, love?
"...Mrs. Lovett!" He jumped up swiftly and, still pressing the cloth close to his chest, he grabbed the waistcoat and pressed it over that, ignoring the sting.
She could see him.
He knew that...sort of.
It just didn't occur to him that he was...
Hehe..no need to get worked up, Mr. T. I don' bite.
He growled lowly, already feeling heat rising into his face. "Just leave me." He muttered.
Oh, very well. Be good to Toby, or I'll be forced to return. Savvy?
Sweeney grunted in response.
There was silence.
He gloomily went back to sitting in the chair and wiping away at the wound, trying to get it clean. It was awful. Why had he thought of Toby before himself? He could have prevented all this blood from pulsing out if he treated it before he took care of the wound on Toby's arm...let alone hug him.
...Why did he do that?
At the sight of the boy crying, Sweeney felt...helpless, and awful. Something just clicked in him. Something that obviously caused him to give in to the urge to think that Toby would be safe in his arms for a few moments. It wouldn't only be good for Toby, but it'd reassure the barber as well. When he left the shop, Toby was smiling.
Strangely enough, that was all Sweeney Todd wanted to see.
Dear Mr. Todd,
Anthony wrote, curiosity still eating him alive. He was finally going to ask Mr. Todd just exactly what was going on. Johanna sat on the couch, watching him write.
Johanna still doesn't want to read anything you say. Perhaps a visit would be necessary. I'd enjoy your company, and I'm sure she'd learn to as well. But, if I
He stopped writing abruptly, and Johanna stiffened; a loud bang from outside the door of their house sounded off.
"What was that?"
Johanna was getting ready to rise from where she sat, but Anthony got up before her and quickly pushed her back down.
"I'll take care of it." He told her gently. "Stay here."
Johanna was getting ready to protest, but reluctantly gave up and nodded.
Anthony smiled down at her and slowly lowered his head to kiss her. She let him, and all her remaining protests immediately died on her tongue at the feel of his lips against hers. When he pulled away, Anthony turned and walked into the other room. The sound of the door opening and closing properly reassured Johanna enough, and she waited for his return.
And waited.
And waited.
What was taking so long?
Johanna was a pretty impatient girl. But...this was really beginning to feel like forever.
She got up from where she sat and walked over to the door herself. She pulled it open and gazed out into the night with her bright blue orbs, a puzzled look on her face.
Then she gasped.
"Antony!"
She ran over to his limp figure that was sprawled across the grass.
"Antony?" She whispered shakily, kneeling down beside him to cradle his head in one hand. "Antony, can you hear me?"
There was no reply.
She frantically checked his breathing.
He was still alive, but his breathing was growing fainter by the minute.
What happened to him?
Johanna lifted her own head to look around, but saw no one in sight. She needed to get help; she knew nothing medical of any sort.
So, her being the clueless young teenager that she was, she began aimlessly walking down the street, looking for a passing resident (or really a person of any kind).
As she walked down the sidewalk, she did see someone. Someone who was walking ahead of her. It was a man who was wearing a dark brown trench coat and a hat that looked as though it'd belong to a detective.
"Excuse me, sir!" Johanna called.
The man stopped.
Johanna neared him at a cautious pace, as he hadn't turned around yet.
"Excuse me," She repeated breathlessly. "but I-"
"What're you doin' out 'ere, girl, at this hour?" The man demanded, flipping around to look at her with an irritable look on his face. He looked to be around his early 70's, with his faintly wrinkled skin and graying hair that stuck out from under his hat. He wore a pair of glasses over his grayish-blue eyes as well.
"I-I need your help, sir. If you'd be so kind." Johanna replied quickly.
"What's the matter?" He muttered, the sour look on his face still remaining.
"My..my.." Johanna wasn't exactly sure what to call Anthony to herself, so she just said hastily, "my..my friend...he's been seriously injured. I need-"
"I don' know anything about dealing with injuries, girl."
Johanna breathed out heavily. "Can you at least help me bring him back to our house?"
The man glared at her for a few more heartbeats before letting out a sigh. "Fine then. Don' expect much else from me than that."
"Of course not, sir." Johanna let out a sigh of relief. "Follow me." She led him back the way she had come.
"Are you stupid?"
Toby grimaced. The question seemed so simple, yet it took so much out of him. Though, he made an exception for not spewing a snappy reply: Mr. Todd's words were faintly...humorous. He decided to savor these moments, because the demon barber could snap right back into a murderous, homicidal state at any time.
They were scrubbing the walls again. The blood was...almost gone.
"You tell me," Toby replied with a half smile. "I never went to an actual school."
"Oh," Sweeney shook his head ruefully, placing a hand on his forehead again. "is that why?"
Toby held back a laugh, pretending to be offended. He reached out with both hands and shoved the barber forward, already bracing himself for much shouting and razor-slashing. He was careful, however, to keep the wound on the demon's chest away from the wall, which was now patched up from under Mr. Todd's shirt. Sweeney stumbled forward with a startled yelp and pushed off from the wall only seconds later, flipping around to fix Toby with a daring grin (much to Toby's shock). The demon barber stepped right up to the boy in only one stride and shoved him back with a rough jab to the shoulder. This took Toby by surprise, but a smile came over his lips before he could prevent it. He jumped forward and rammed into Sweeney's mid-section, looking to knock him off balance. Sweeney was too strong though, and he let out a mere grunt against the surprisingly powerful in-pact before shaking Toby off him without much effort.
"You're getting stronger, boy. I'll admit." He gave a quiet chuckle.
"Really?" Toby perked up a bit.
"Yes," Sweeney blinked down at him with faint surprise in his eyes before adding in with a smirk. "I suppose you may leave it to a life of crime to shape a boy into a real man." He emphasized the second from the last word on the complete purpose to humiliate Toby (why else?).
Toby straightened indignantly. "Tha' ain't funny!"
"No?" Sweeney reached down to playfully ruffle the boy's hair. "So I suppose this ain't either?"
"No! Stop! Don't-" Toby cut himself off and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and giving a childish huff.
When Sweeney finally took his hand away, Toby's hair was pretty messed up. "I'll be honest," He murmured. "it looks presentable, at least."
"Unlike yours?" Toby sassed.
"'Ey, watch it." Sweeney chided. "That's enough cheek for one day, don't you think?"
"I don't know," Toby tipped his head thoughtfully. "you seemed to have fit far more in than I."
"Well, there's a good reason for you to listen, then."
"And why is that?"
Sweeney rose an eye brow at him. "Maybe because I can kill you...?"
"Oh," Toby frowned. "right." He looked away, the frown remaining, until he lifted his head suddenly to gaze back up at Sweeney with hopeful eyes, "But..but you haven't killed me yet."
Sweeney stiffened. "...Right." He turned away to continue scrubbing the wall, now avoiding eye contact with Toby completely. "..uh..get back to work, lad."
Toby sighed. "Yes, sir." He reluctantly did as Mr. Todd said, and this boringly went on for a while.
They did make progress for once, however. The job was almost done.
Sweeney didn't seem to want to talk any more though, let alone fool around much more than they already had. He worked tirelessly. Toby was growing weary, and watching Mr. Todd's strong efforts made him feel even more so.
As if he just noticed this, Sweeney stopped and turned to look down at him. "We're almost done." His voice had that usual dark tone about it, and Toby wasn't sure what had come over him since the last time he spoke. "We'll continue tomorrow, an' hopefully finish as well."
"All-all right, Mr. T." Toby tilted his head to one side, confused.
Sweeney let out a breathy sigh and ran a gloved hand through his hair. He did look a bit tired, actually. Toby knew the barber would try his best not to show it though.
"You know," Sweeney began nonchalantly. "for a nuisance thief of a child, you follow orders well." He turned away from Toby and headed for the bakehouse door.
"Hey!" Toby sprung after him, slowing his pace soon after to bump against Sweeney's side. "How many times do I have to make clear that I ain't no thief?"
"As many times as it'll take to convince people like me." Sweeney replied calmly.
"Oh?" Toby blinked up at him. "And how many times is that?"
Sweeney was grateful for the shadows to cover the small grin that was growing across his face as they began walking up the stairs. "Why are you asking me?" He demanded, poking Toby in the shoulder as he added, "Ask yourself."
Toby tilted his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sweeney shook his head, still hiding his smug expression. "Well, only you can beat the truth into someone. Whatever that truth may be," He waited for them to reach the very top of the stairs, then turned back to look down at Toby. "You decide that though."
Toby shrugged. "I..I still don't understand."
"Oh, well," Sweeney breathed out. "I can't say I'm quite ready to demonstrate." He stalked back into the shop, and Toby hesitantly followed after him in silence.
"When will you be-"
"I'll know when." Sweeney glanced back at him, a crafty glint in his dark eyes. "You wont."
Toby still looked confused, and mildly nervous. What did the barber intend on doing that he wouldn't be prepared for? He shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Well," Sweeney walked over to the side door and pulled it open, the candlelight from outside leaking its way into the room. "if you'll excuse me, I've got-"
"Er..hold on a moment." Toby muttered.
"What?" Sweeney only took a mere side glance over his shoulder, the expression on his face proving that he was a tad irritated at being interrupted.
"I..uh..I-I haven't had fun like that in a..a while." The boy mumbled with obvious difficulty. "Th-thanks for that."
Sweeney stared at him, frozen and taken aback. He cleared his throat and awkwardly turned his attention to the door frame to run his hand along it, mostly so he didn't have to look at Toby while he desperately scraped his brain for a suitable answer. He caused someone...fun?
Of all things!
Toby sighed, already having expected for the barber to be speechless. He gave a small smile. "S'okay, Mr. T. You don't have to say anything."
Sweeney turned his head to look back at Toby for a moment longer, still without speaking, and then retreated outside to rush up the stairs to his shop.
Mr. Todd pulled the door open and walked over to the giant window within his tonsorial parlor, staring down at the eerily lit street below. After a while, he began pacing. He was too lost in thought to do anything else.
When this long session finally came to an end, he sat down in the barber's chair and took out his razor to flick it in and out a couple times. His movements were sharp and jerky.
What was wrong with him?
When he broke from Australia, he wasn't the same person that he had been fifteen years before. He was aware that, sooner or later, he'd hurt someone. Merely to take out his anger and hurt on someone. He now knew for a fact that he'd never be Benjamin Barker again. He was fully content with not trying to be him again, too. Sweeney Todd was a different person entirely. He and Benjamin could not be alike.
But...then again...
...could they?
Sweeney Todd had not been born to have fun. He'd been born to take his revenge.
But revenge has been taken. Toby didn't kill you, and you could have quite easily killed yourself by now to reunite with your Lucy...so why haven't you done that yet?
Sweeney blinked in surprise at the new, unfamiliar voice that rung out. It was dead silent, but not...
It definitely wasn't Mrs. Lovett.
Then the question caught his attention...
Why didn't he kill himself yet? It was such a simple solution to his problem. All along, it had been. What kept him from moving forth in self-harm?
There was no one he cared about around here, surely?
No one around here cared about him, obviously.
...Right?
Yep, that's where I'm leaving things again. If you think Sweeney is acting a tad out of character, I already know.
Don't worry. That murderous guy that everyone loves will be back very soon.
*Evil laugh*