Serena was awoken from her
unpleasant dreams by an equally obnoxious sound – her alarm clock. She covered her ears, but it was no
use. She had set the thing to
"Foghorn," which meant it got very loud, very fast. Sighing, she left the sanctity of her warm, cozy bedcovers and
mentally steeled herself for the day ahead.
She stripped down to her
birthday suit and turned on the shower, and then she waited for the waters to
warm. She smiled a bit as the tepid
waters cascaded down her weary back, easing some of the tension from her muscles. She grabbed her loofah, squeezed some body
soap into it, and worked it into a white lather. Starting with her arms, she scrubbed clean every part of her body
she could reach. She would have shaved
her legs, but since she had been Sean most of the time in public, she didn't
bother. At least there was one saving
grace to all of this deception.
When she had finished, she
wrapped a warm towel around herself and took a deep breath. It felt so good to come out of the shower in
the morning. She felt clean, refreshed,
at least in body. Her mind, however,
was anything but relaxed.
She kept thinking about her
encounter with Darien that day. She had
wanted to see him, as Serena, so badly that she could taste it. She was scared, though; that instead of a
warm greeting, she would get more of the same treatment she had received when
he had dumped her – cold, callous indifference. The very thought made her shiver. Still, she couldn't help but wonder…did he miss her? Did he think about her, at all? Lord knew that she thought about him. He was never far from her mind, in the
waking world as well as her dreams.
There had been something about his voice that day – a hidden longing,
suppressed desire. It gave her a small
shred of hope, that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way too. The same pain, the same sadness, the same
tearing of the heart. Misery hated
being alone, and that in it of itself was strange to Serena, because she was
unhappy due to her loneliness. Still,
she had the feeling that she was in good company, whether Darien knew it or
not.
She carefully packed her books, and was relieved that she didn't have
to rush out of the door like a maniac, as in the old days. While Serena Tsukino would have been late
for her own funeral, Sean Baker was punctual to a "T." She took out her Luna pen, making the final
preparation for the day ahead, and left the apartment as Sean Baker.
Whistling a nameless tune, Sean sauntered out of the apartment, en
route to the local coffee shop. One
thing remained the same between the two personas – both hated coffee. Sean came to the coffee shop for a nice, hot
cocoa to start off the day. Maybe he
would see Darien there again; he had been hanging around that area many
mornings of late.
Sean pondered this anomaly, listening to the sounds of an awakening
city and watching the sunrise as he walked. Yes, he had been acting strange lately, very strange. It would be dangerous to approach the
subject though, because Darien had only known Sean Baker for a few weeks. Using insights gained as Serena Tsukino
would jeopardize everything he had worked for these past few months. Sean fought the urge to stop and throw a
tantrum right then and there, banging his hands and feet against the
concrete. Instead, he massaged his
temples; all of these damned paradoxes were giving him a headache. The mental image of a grown man throwing a
fit was amusing, though, and Sean couldn't resist a tiny chuckle.
"What's so funny?" asked a familiar voice.
"Hey, Darien," replied Sean, looking at his smiling companion. "I was thinking of an improv sketch I saw
recently," he said, reasoning that it wasn't too far of a stretch.
"Ah. Would you like to grab a
bite to eat before school?"
"Sure," said Sean, smiling as they entered the Coffee Shoppe. "But you're buying."
"Why would I do that?" asked Darien, arching a perfectly shaped
eyebrow. "Are you low on cash or
something?"
"Yeah, I'm seriously lacking in yen. My paycheck doesn't come by until next Friday. No more satellite until then. I'm scraping by with basic cable," quipped Sean.
"Ouch," said Darien.
"How can I help you?" asked a
tall, blonde cashier.
"One cappuccino, please," said
Darien, slapping some yen on the counter.
"I'll have a hot cocoa," said
Sean, parting with some of his own money.
"Why is it that you never drink
anything with coffee in it?" asked Darien.
"Um, sir?" interrupted the
cashier. "We haven't started the cocoa
yet. It will take a few minutes. Would you like me to bring it over to your
table?"
Sean glanced at his watch, then
nodded. "Okay."
"Great. That will be five hundred yen for the
cappuccino, and four hundred and fity yen for the cocoa. Would either of you like whipped cream?"
"Surprise me," said Sean,
smiling.
"And for you?" she asked Darien.
"No, thank you."
"Sean, I think she likes you,"
said Darien, elbowing Sean in the ribs.
"Her? She's not my type.," said Sean, pulling out a chair.
"What is your type, exactly?"
asked Darien. "I see women look at you all
the time, but you never seem to pay them any attention. That's no way to get a girlfriend."
"Well, I guess I prefer silky
black hair, hard muscles, a tight butt and deep, blue eyes I could get lost
in," said Sean, smiling, a faraway look in his eyes. "And a sense of mystery wouldn't hurt, either."
"Hn. That's kind of strange for a woman," said Darien. "I don't know that many hard bodied
females."
Sean nearly cringed. He had just described Darien, in
detail. Desperately hoping that Darien
was as oblivious as most men around him, he said, "I guess I meant that I like
women who work out."
"Well, I do know this one
girl. She lives over at the temple on
Cherry Hill. She's a real spitfire, but
a looker. If I could get her to talk to
me, maybe I could set you up."
Sean made a face, knowing exactly who Darien was talking about. "Nah. Besides, I don't see you with anyone." "Thank God," he
thought.
Darien sat in stony silence for
a minute, which worried Sean. "Sir? Your cocoa," said the cashier.
"Thanks," Sean said curtly. "Here's a tip," he said, fishing in his
pocket for some yen.
"I don't want a tip," said the
cashier, shuffling her feet. "I'd
gladly settle for your phone number."
"Trust me," mumbled Sean,
pulling out some yen. "You'd do better
with the money."
"Thanks," said the cashier, a
little hurt. She pocketed the yen and
scurried back to the register.
"Well, Darien, what's your
type? What do you look for in a woman,
I mean," Sean said, hoping to break up the awkward atmosphere.
"Me?" he asked, finally breaking
the silence. "It doesn't matter. Actually, I had a girlfriend once."
"What was she like?" asked
Sean.
"She had long, blonde hair, and
curious, blue eyes the color of the sky. She wore her hair in the strangest way, kind of like spaghetti and
meatballs. She was beautiful, though,
outside and in, and full of energy. She
just had to look at you, and you'd feel special."
Sean smiled, happy with the
flattering profile. "She sounds
good. What's her name?"
Darien gave him a Look. "I thought blondes weren't your type," he
scoffed.
"I didn't say I was interested,"
said Sean. "I just wanted to know her
name, that's all."
Darien looked at his watch, then
got up and pushed his chair in. "Well,
it's getting late. We'd better get
going."
"Right." Although Sean had a pretty good guess as to
the identity of this mystery woman, he wasn't sure if he should pry any
further.
They were quiet for a while,
their footsteps in synch on the slowly warming pavement. "I had to break up with her," Darien finally
said. Sean kept silent, wanting to hear
the rest from him. "I…don't even know
why anymore. I just had this…feeling-"
"Hey, long time no see!"
"Oh, hi, Andrew," said Sean as
breezily as possible. "Go away, you
idiot! SCRAM!" Sean's mind
screamed. But, seeing as how Andrew was
unskilled at telepathy, he stood right in front of them, not moving an inch.
"How's it going?"
"Can't complain," said Darien,
smiling weakly.
"Well," he said, looking at
where they had come from. "I finally
see where you've been getting your morning java. I knew you couldn't resist the lure of the bean."
"Shut up, Andrew," said Darien.
"Well, I'll leave you two
alone," said Sean. "You have some
catching up to do. See you at school, Darien!" With that, he turned around and
waved them off. Once his back was
turned, Sean grumbled under his breath. The urge to strangle Andrew had never been so strong.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sean headed to his locker, eager
to cram in a quick snack in between classes. He glanced at his schedule he had taped onto the inside of the locker
door. It looked like he had English
literature next period. He smiled a
little. He used to hate English, but
lately, he had really been getting into it. Especially now, that the class was doing poetry. It gave him a chance to put his thoughts
down on paper, and escape from his tumultuous emotions.
He started to walk over to his
seat, but something made him do a double take. "Darien?"
"That's Mr. Shields to you,
Baker," he said, winking. "I'm the
substitute teacher today."
"Ah."
"Now get to your seat," he
said. "You're tardy."
Sean barely resisted the urge to
stick his tongue out at his "teacher," but that was something Serena would have
done. "Class, today, we will be writing
poetry. You have the option of choosing
either a metaphor, or a cliché. You
will read your work aloud when you are finished. You may begin now."
Sean tapped his pencil on his
desk for a moment, wondering what to write about. In a random burst of inspiration, the words came out. Hastily, he scrawled on his paper.
"Time's up. We'll go in alphabetical order. Baker. You're up."
Sean cleared his throat, and
then he spoke. "I chose a
metaphor-based poem. I call this
'Breakup.'"
I
turn the knob,
To
hot, cold, lukewarm,
Step
in, watch the water,
Cascade
down my scalp,
Past
my waist,
To my
ankles,
A
flesh-colored waterfall.
My
hands pass through my hair,
Lather,
rinse, repeat,
The
bubbles fade away.
First
I scrub my back,
Making
sure to get in between
My
shoulder blades,
Then
a flash of lathered purple scrubber
Passes
over me in circular motions,
I
make sure to remember
Under
my arms,
Where
stale odors linger,
Like
repressed memories.
I
listen to the last words,
Of a
song on the bathroom radio,
Turn
off the water,
And
watch the suds
Swirling,
counter-clockwise,
A
frothy whirlpool,
Down the drain.
"That
was excellent, Baker. Now, Benning,
you're up."
Each of his classmates read
their poems one by one, but Sean honestly wasn't paying any attention. He was a bit embarrassed that he had used
something as revealing as a shower as his metaphor, and his cheeks were flushed
until the bell rang.
"Baker, could I see you for a
moment?"
Sean gulped the air nervously. Was he in trouble?
"Yes, Mr. Sheilds?" Feeling
light-headed, Sean struggled to stay standing.
"You can call me Darien
now. I won't tell."
"I'm sworn to secrecy. What's up?"
"I wrote my own poem, as a
warm-up for the lesson. I was wondering
if you would read it and tell me what you think, as a critique," said Darien,
pushing up his reading glasses a bit.
"Sure," said Sean. Darien handed him the slip of paper, and
Sean stood there for a moment, holding the poem. The room went in and out of focus, and everything began to spin.
"Sean, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine…I'm just seeing
two of you right now," he mumbled. The
twin Dariens merged into one, then split up again, this time into three. He reached into his pocket and ran his
fingers over the smooth, cold surface of the Luna Pen. It was the last thing he did before he lost
consciousness.
Serena woke up the next morning with
a start, not knowing where on earth she was. After a few moments, her vision began to clear. Her eyes took in the big screen TV, as well
as the rest of a state of the art entertainment system, complete with a VCR,
DVD and surround sound. The floors were
a polished mahogany, covered by an expensive, Turkish rug. The couch she was laying on was black
leather, and a familiar scent hung in the air.
"I was wondering when you'd wake
up, Serena."
Her eyes widened in terror, and her heart caught in her throat. Serena knew exactly where she was. Darien's apartment.