-------------------------------------------------
WARNING: This is going to contain yaoi/slash. Read: Homosexuality. Between Joey and Harley. No, they don't make a good couple at all. I know that. That's sort of the point here. Anyway. If you disagree with this or really don't feel like reading about the twisted crap in this fic, then..... DON'T. I don't feel like being flamed by anti-gay people or anything.... I mean, those are your opinions and these are mine. Thanks. ^_^.;
-------------------------------------------------
Introduction of sorts: To begin with, this probably isn't going to be a typical romantic yaoi story. I mean, you've got to look at the characters involved here. You've got Joey, one of Harley's lackeys, who's been abused and who's never thought for himself. Then you've got Harley, this tough guy whose name strikes fear into the hearts of the seventh graders of John Adams High, trying to deal with the possibility that he may be falling for a boy (and a very irritating one at that). It's all very confusing for everyone, you see. Even the readers like yourself and the deranged writers like me. o_o.; (Who are greatly suffering from writer's block. I've been trying to write this for 5 or 6 months and I'm getting nowhere. Don't expect a new chapter anytime soon. Not that you'll want one.)
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Disclaimer: All characters copyright Michael Jacobs and Touchstone and.. stuff. o_o.; Except Joey's parents and stepfather... I made them up... *hugs Joey's made-up daddy, Rulik* ^_^.; But nothing else is mine. o_o.; And the working title here *points to it below* and little lyric insert thingies that will eventually appear are from the song "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by the Smashing Pumpkins. (my favorite songggg) o_O.; That's it.
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...Still Just a Rat in a Cage...
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- the world is a vampire -
Joey was running. He couldn't be sure of precisely where he was running. It was dark, and he couldn't see the street signs. He wasn't sure if he even remembered the route to where Harley lived. But maybe that didn't matter. It wasn't like he had anyone to run from now. Out of breath, he stopped, looking at the houses around him, for some kind of landmark. He looked at the name on the mailbox in the yard where he was standing. "Kiner." Well, that had worked out surprisingly well. Joey slowly walked up the driveway and to the door, where he hesitated a moment before knocking.
It wasn't Harley who answered the door, but his younger sister, T.K. Joey felt a little relieved.
"Yeah?" T.K. looked at him for a minute, then recognized him. "Oh, Joey... I guess you're here to see Harvey, right? I--"
"Who?"
"You know, my brother," she informed him.
"Oh." Joey grinned, wondering how many people knew that Harley Kiner's real name was Harvey.
"Don't call him that, by the way," T.K. said, pointing a threatening finger toward him. He nodded. "Anyway," she continued, "he's in the shower, but... well, he should be done by now. You can come in and wait for him if you want."
"Thanks." He nodded again and stepped inside, looking around the house. He'd never been inside before. Half the walls were covered in dark paneling; the other half in a strange orange, avocado, and gold-colored peacock wallpaper. The carpets were a worn, rusty red color. The furniture in the living room where he stood consisted of a torn vinyl couch (which should have matched the color of the carpet, but was just different enough to clash horribly), a large wooden bookshelf which currently housed four books, an old television with a mallet at its side, and a stool with a bag of Fritos on it. Joey concluded that no one had bothered to redecorate during the past few decades.
- sent to drain -
"Theresa, who's there?" came Harley's voice from down the hall.
"The rat," T.K. called back.
"Oh." Harley sounded disappointed.
T.K. rolled her eyes. "I'll go get him for you."
After a few minutes, she returned with her brother. "Don't worry, tips aren't necessary," she said with a grin as she left.
Harley raised an eyebrow. "So, why'd you come here, anyway?"
Joey swallowed nervously. "Well, see, when you think about it, I... I mean, it's kinda funny, right? 'Cause I'm always talkin' too much, and you've always gotta tell me to shut up and you probably hate me, so I'm guessing there's no way you'd ever--"
"I DO always have to tell you to shut up, don't I?" said Harley, cutting him off. "Now what the hell are you talking about?"
"Well, Frankie and his family are on vacation for a while, you know."
Harley waited for Joey to finish his explanation, and when he didn't, said slowly, "Yeah. I know that."
"So I couldn't go to him, and everyone else hates me, and I was hoping maybe you hate me less than everyone else, so that you could--"
"Would you just get to the point?!" Harley was already getting sick of Joey's voice.
"Can I stay with you?"
Pause. "Can you stay with me?"
Nod.
"Depends. How long?"
Shrug.
Harley sighed. "Why do you need to stay here anyway?"
Joey hesitated a second, then said simply, "..Family problems. You know."
No, Harley didn't know, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want to listen to whatever Joey's long, rambling answer would be. "All right, you can stay, but remember that I can kick you out at any time."
That got an enthusiastic response from Joey. "Thanks, Harley! You won't regret it, really! I'll do whatever you want me to, and I won't talk so much as I usually do. You won't even notice that I'm here! And that's a good thing, isn't it? Because you always say that--"
"Shut up."
-------------
Three hours and fourteen "Shut up!"s later, Harley couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to bed," he grumbled, walking back to his room. In all these years, he'd never noticed how annoying Joey was. At least now he'd get away from him until morning. He entered his room and slammed the door behind him.
"Ow, shit!" cried a voice from directly behind the door. Harley turned around as the door opened and Joey came in rubbing his nose. "Hey, Harley, you know you slammed the door on my face?" He laughed.
Harley took a deep breath. "Joey, what do you want? I told you, I'm going to bed now."
"Right! So I will too then!" He grinned a little ratty grin. "Where do you want me to sleep?"
"On the couch, in a room far away from me."
Joey looked hurt. "But I don't want to be out there by myself. It's so dark and lonely. Plus, I hate vinyl. I mean, have YOU ever slept on vinyl? It sticks to your legs."
By then, Harley was getting very close to kicking him out. "Fine, you can sleep on the floor here then." He paused. "If you planned on staying here, why didn't you pack anything?"
"I was kind of in a hurry. I didn't think about it."
"..Isn't packing for a trip sort of an essential that you don't..." he sighed. "Oh, forget it." He opened a drawer and pulled out a huge black shirt, which he tossed over to Joey. "Go ahead and change into that."
"Thanks." He stood there awkwardly, looking from the shirt to Harley. Harley looked back.
"What?"
"Well..." Joey glanced at the shirt again.
"What, you're afraid to take off your shirt and pants in front of guys?"
- secret destroyers -
Joey laughed nervously. "Well, I.. it's not that, you know... but..."
"Come on, what's wrong with you? You got something to hide?" This was just irritating him now. After all, it wasn't any different than changing in a locker room at gym, which he was sure Joey had done many times.
- hold you out to the flames -
Joey didn't answer; he just stared blankly at the trash can by the door.
"Okay, that's it. Do you have any idea how stupid you're being?" Harley suddenly grabbed Joey and pulled the long-sleeved brown shirt with white stripes over his head.
"Stop it!" said Joey's voice, muffled by the shirt which was still stuck halfway on his head. Harley got it off with one more yank on the left sleeve.
"There! My God, did you have to throw a--" He backed up, eyes widening as he looked at him. Joey had bruises all over his arms and stomach. He was looking at the floor, silent for once.
"...What the hell happened to you?" Harley asked, sounding almost concerned.
"Just... a disagreement. With my stepfather." Joey said, not looking up from the floor.
He hadn't even known Joey HAD a stepfather. "If you don't mind my saying so, that looks like a little more than a disagreement."
"No."
- and what do i get -
For once, Harley wished Joey would give a longer reply. "What did you... disagree... about?"
Joey looked up at him. "Spaghetti."
"Spaghetti?"
"Yeah. See, I'd just made enough spaghetti for myself for dinner, and then Greg came home and got all mad 'cause I hadn't left any for him, and I explained that I hadn't expected him to be home for dinner since he's always out somewhere getting drunk and that if he wanted it that bad the recipe was right there on the counter and he could make it himself, which I guess was a pretty stupid thing to say." It was a very long sentence, and his voice cracked a little as he said it.
"So he beat you up because of a plate of spaghetti?" asked Harley.
"No, not because of the spaghetti. Because of how I talked to him, I guess."
- for my pain? -
"Shit... I could understand him slapping you or something, but this is a little extreme. Doesn't your mom do anything?"
He shook his head. "She's at work all the time. Besides, she'd be too scared to do anything about it." He paused. "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway." And with that, he took off his jeans and slid on the big shirt Harley had given him. It ended a good three inches below his knees, completely covering his green plaid boxers. He sighed, and pointed to the floor. "You got a pillow and a sheet or something?"
Harley frowned. "You know, maybe you shouldn't sleep on the floor with all those bruises... I mean, it's really hard." He tapped his foot on the cold linoleum to show him. "No one could really sleep on this."
Joey blinked, surprised that Harley was acting concerned about him now. That was certainly a new development. "No, it's okay. I'm used to sleeping on hard surfaces. My mattress is old and pretty flat and hard, but I can still sleep on it. I can sleep on just about anything, actually." He forced a smile. "Oh, except for vinyl couches," he added quickly.
- betrayed desires -
"No, really. You take the bed," Harley said with a sigh as he got a spare pillow and a sheet from the closet. "I can take the floor for a night."
"But you just said how hard and uncomfortable the floor was."
Harley gave him one of those 'just shut up and leave it' looks, so he did just that.
- and a piece of the game -
------------
The next morning, Harley woke up with a backache. He glared at Joey, who was still asleep on his bed, for a moment. Then he remembered that he was the one who had insisted Joey take the bed. He grumbled to himself as he awkwardly managed to get up and trudge out to the kitchen.
Sixteen minutes later, Harley looked up from his breakfast of coffee and Oreos slathered in peanut butter to see Joey running into the kitchen and stopping at the table.
"I'm sorry!" he said.
Harley just looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "...Why?"
"I was going to get up early and make pancakes for you! I never wake up after seven, I don't know what happened, but--"
"Just forget about it," he sighed. "Here, have an Oreo."
"Thanks..." Joey took the Oreo and looked at it for a second, then set it back on the table. "Can I get you anything? Anything at all? Maybe some orange juice?"
"I don't like orange juice."
"Heheh, really? That's kind of funny, 'cause I'm allergic to it. So I guess we don't have to worry about who's going to finish the orange juice since we're not--"
"Some aspirin might be nice," he said with a little glare.
"You got it!" And he dashed off in search of a medicine cabinet.
Harley sighed again, shaking his head slowly. T.K. walked into the kitchen, staring down the hall.
"He's always that hyperactive, huh?" she said, smiling a little.
"Nearly. But he seems more... I don't know, more eager-to-please than usual."
"Isn't it obvious? He's probably trying to do everything for you as a way of paying rent."
"Yeah, I guess that'd make sense." He yawned. "Has Mom come back yet? Think she'd care that he's staying here?"
T.K. gave him one of those looks. "I don't know, what do you think?"
He paused. "I think... no."
"And I think you're right."
"Hey, hey, hey, Harley!! I got it!" Joey shouted happily as he ran into the kitchen with a bottle of pills. "And you see THAT?!" he said, slamming the poor little plastic bottle down on the counter. "Not just regular old Advil, but EXTRA STRENGTH."
"...Yeah. That's great, thanks."
-------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------
Hi there. What do you think so far?
....Damn! I loved this when I started it back in May, but my GOD it's getting so lame! And I haven't
been able to think of how to continue it since then. I mean, I have ideas for scenes later on, when
Harley's all..... and Joey has that sad 5-second flashback..... and..... yeah. x_x.; Well, anyway.
Review if you'd like. I might continue it someday. I'd like to.
--------------------------------------------
WARNING: This is going to contain yaoi/slash. Read: Homosexuality. Between Joey and Harley. No, they don't make a good couple at all. I know that. That's sort of the point here. Anyway. If you disagree with this or really don't feel like reading about the twisted crap in this fic, then..... DON'T. I don't feel like being flamed by anti-gay people or anything.... I mean, those are your opinions and these are mine. Thanks. ^_^.;
-------------------------------------------------
Introduction of sorts: To begin with, this probably isn't going to be a typical romantic yaoi story. I mean, you've got to look at the characters involved here. You've got Joey, one of Harley's lackeys, who's been abused and who's never thought for himself. Then you've got Harley, this tough guy whose name strikes fear into the hearts of the seventh graders of John Adams High, trying to deal with the possibility that he may be falling for a boy (and a very irritating one at that). It's all very confusing for everyone, you see. Even the readers like yourself and the deranged writers like me. o_o.; (Who are greatly suffering from writer's block. I've been trying to write this for 5 or 6 months and I'm getting nowhere. Don't expect a new chapter anytime soon. Not that you'll want one.)
-------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer: All characters copyright Michael Jacobs and Touchstone and.. stuff. o_o.; Except Joey's parents and stepfather... I made them up... *hugs Joey's made-up daddy, Rulik* ^_^.; But nothing else is mine. o_o.; And the working title here *points to it below* and little lyric insert thingies that will eventually appear are from the song "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by the Smashing Pumpkins. (my favorite songggg) o_O.; That's it.
-------------------------------------------------
...Still Just a Rat in a Cage...
-------------------------------------------------
- the world is a vampire -
Joey was running. He couldn't be sure of precisely where he was running. It was dark, and he couldn't see the street signs. He wasn't sure if he even remembered the route to where Harley lived. But maybe that didn't matter. It wasn't like he had anyone to run from now. Out of breath, he stopped, looking at the houses around him, for some kind of landmark. He looked at the name on the mailbox in the yard where he was standing. "Kiner." Well, that had worked out surprisingly well. Joey slowly walked up the driveway and to the door, where he hesitated a moment before knocking.
It wasn't Harley who answered the door, but his younger sister, T.K. Joey felt a little relieved.
"Yeah?" T.K. looked at him for a minute, then recognized him. "Oh, Joey... I guess you're here to see Harvey, right? I--"
"Who?"
"You know, my brother," she informed him.
"Oh." Joey grinned, wondering how many people knew that Harley Kiner's real name was Harvey.
"Don't call him that, by the way," T.K. said, pointing a threatening finger toward him. He nodded. "Anyway," she continued, "he's in the shower, but... well, he should be done by now. You can come in and wait for him if you want."
"Thanks." He nodded again and stepped inside, looking around the house. He'd never been inside before. Half the walls were covered in dark paneling; the other half in a strange orange, avocado, and gold-colored peacock wallpaper. The carpets were a worn, rusty red color. The furniture in the living room where he stood consisted of a torn vinyl couch (which should have matched the color of the carpet, but was just different enough to clash horribly), a large wooden bookshelf which currently housed four books, an old television with a mallet at its side, and a stool with a bag of Fritos on it. Joey concluded that no one had bothered to redecorate during the past few decades.
- sent to drain -
"Theresa, who's there?" came Harley's voice from down the hall.
"The rat," T.K. called back.
"Oh." Harley sounded disappointed.
T.K. rolled her eyes. "I'll go get him for you."
After a few minutes, she returned with her brother. "Don't worry, tips aren't necessary," she said with a grin as she left.
Harley raised an eyebrow. "So, why'd you come here, anyway?"
Joey swallowed nervously. "Well, see, when you think about it, I... I mean, it's kinda funny, right? 'Cause I'm always talkin' too much, and you've always gotta tell me to shut up and you probably hate me, so I'm guessing there's no way you'd ever--"
"I DO always have to tell you to shut up, don't I?" said Harley, cutting him off. "Now what the hell are you talking about?"
"Well, Frankie and his family are on vacation for a while, you know."
Harley waited for Joey to finish his explanation, and when he didn't, said slowly, "Yeah. I know that."
"So I couldn't go to him, and everyone else hates me, and I was hoping maybe you hate me less than everyone else, so that you could--"
"Would you just get to the point?!" Harley was already getting sick of Joey's voice.
"Can I stay with you?"
Pause. "Can you stay with me?"
Nod.
"Depends. How long?"
Shrug.
Harley sighed. "Why do you need to stay here anyway?"
Joey hesitated a second, then said simply, "..Family problems. You know."
No, Harley didn't know, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want to listen to whatever Joey's long, rambling answer would be. "All right, you can stay, but remember that I can kick you out at any time."
That got an enthusiastic response from Joey. "Thanks, Harley! You won't regret it, really! I'll do whatever you want me to, and I won't talk so much as I usually do. You won't even notice that I'm here! And that's a good thing, isn't it? Because you always say that--"
"Shut up."
-------------
Three hours and fourteen "Shut up!"s later, Harley couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to bed," he grumbled, walking back to his room. In all these years, he'd never noticed how annoying Joey was. At least now he'd get away from him until morning. He entered his room and slammed the door behind him.
"Ow, shit!" cried a voice from directly behind the door. Harley turned around as the door opened and Joey came in rubbing his nose. "Hey, Harley, you know you slammed the door on my face?" He laughed.
Harley took a deep breath. "Joey, what do you want? I told you, I'm going to bed now."
"Right! So I will too then!" He grinned a little ratty grin. "Where do you want me to sleep?"
"On the couch, in a room far away from me."
Joey looked hurt. "But I don't want to be out there by myself. It's so dark and lonely. Plus, I hate vinyl. I mean, have YOU ever slept on vinyl? It sticks to your legs."
By then, Harley was getting very close to kicking him out. "Fine, you can sleep on the floor here then." He paused. "If you planned on staying here, why didn't you pack anything?"
"I was kind of in a hurry. I didn't think about it."
"..Isn't packing for a trip sort of an essential that you don't..." he sighed. "Oh, forget it." He opened a drawer and pulled out a huge black shirt, which he tossed over to Joey. "Go ahead and change into that."
"Thanks." He stood there awkwardly, looking from the shirt to Harley. Harley looked back.
"What?"
"Well..." Joey glanced at the shirt again.
"What, you're afraid to take off your shirt and pants in front of guys?"
- secret destroyers -
Joey laughed nervously. "Well, I.. it's not that, you know... but..."
"Come on, what's wrong with you? You got something to hide?" This was just irritating him now. After all, it wasn't any different than changing in a locker room at gym, which he was sure Joey had done many times.
- hold you out to the flames -
Joey didn't answer; he just stared blankly at the trash can by the door.
"Okay, that's it. Do you have any idea how stupid you're being?" Harley suddenly grabbed Joey and pulled the long-sleeved brown shirt with white stripes over his head.
"Stop it!" said Joey's voice, muffled by the shirt which was still stuck halfway on his head. Harley got it off with one more yank on the left sleeve.
"There! My God, did you have to throw a--" He backed up, eyes widening as he looked at him. Joey had bruises all over his arms and stomach. He was looking at the floor, silent for once.
"...What the hell happened to you?" Harley asked, sounding almost concerned.
"Just... a disagreement. With my stepfather." Joey said, not looking up from the floor.
He hadn't even known Joey HAD a stepfather. "If you don't mind my saying so, that looks like a little more than a disagreement."
"No."
- and what do i get -
For once, Harley wished Joey would give a longer reply. "What did you... disagree... about?"
Joey looked up at him. "Spaghetti."
"Spaghetti?"
"Yeah. See, I'd just made enough spaghetti for myself for dinner, and then Greg came home and got all mad 'cause I hadn't left any for him, and I explained that I hadn't expected him to be home for dinner since he's always out somewhere getting drunk and that if he wanted it that bad the recipe was right there on the counter and he could make it himself, which I guess was a pretty stupid thing to say." It was a very long sentence, and his voice cracked a little as he said it.
"So he beat you up because of a plate of spaghetti?" asked Harley.
"No, not because of the spaghetti. Because of how I talked to him, I guess."
- for my pain? -
"Shit... I could understand him slapping you or something, but this is a little extreme. Doesn't your mom do anything?"
He shook his head. "She's at work all the time. Besides, she'd be too scared to do anything about it." He paused. "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway." And with that, he took off his jeans and slid on the big shirt Harley had given him. It ended a good three inches below his knees, completely covering his green plaid boxers. He sighed, and pointed to the floor. "You got a pillow and a sheet or something?"
Harley frowned. "You know, maybe you shouldn't sleep on the floor with all those bruises... I mean, it's really hard." He tapped his foot on the cold linoleum to show him. "No one could really sleep on this."
Joey blinked, surprised that Harley was acting concerned about him now. That was certainly a new development. "No, it's okay. I'm used to sleeping on hard surfaces. My mattress is old and pretty flat and hard, but I can still sleep on it. I can sleep on just about anything, actually." He forced a smile. "Oh, except for vinyl couches," he added quickly.
- betrayed desires -
"No, really. You take the bed," Harley said with a sigh as he got a spare pillow and a sheet from the closet. "I can take the floor for a night."
"But you just said how hard and uncomfortable the floor was."
Harley gave him one of those 'just shut up and leave it' looks, so he did just that.
- and a piece of the game -
------------
The next morning, Harley woke up with a backache. He glared at Joey, who was still asleep on his bed, for a moment. Then he remembered that he was the one who had insisted Joey take the bed. He grumbled to himself as he awkwardly managed to get up and trudge out to the kitchen.
Sixteen minutes later, Harley looked up from his breakfast of coffee and Oreos slathered in peanut butter to see Joey running into the kitchen and stopping at the table.
"I'm sorry!" he said.
Harley just looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "...Why?"
"I was going to get up early and make pancakes for you! I never wake up after seven, I don't know what happened, but--"
"Just forget about it," he sighed. "Here, have an Oreo."
"Thanks..." Joey took the Oreo and looked at it for a second, then set it back on the table. "Can I get you anything? Anything at all? Maybe some orange juice?"
"I don't like orange juice."
"Heheh, really? That's kind of funny, 'cause I'm allergic to it. So I guess we don't have to worry about who's going to finish the orange juice since we're not--"
"Some aspirin might be nice," he said with a little glare.
"You got it!" And he dashed off in search of a medicine cabinet.
Harley sighed again, shaking his head slowly. T.K. walked into the kitchen, staring down the hall.
"He's always that hyperactive, huh?" she said, smiling a little.
"Nearly. But he seems more... I don't know, more eager-to-please than usual."
"Isn't it obvious? He's probably trying to do everything for you as a way of paying rent."
"Yeah, I guess that'd make sense." He yawned. "Has Mom come back yet? Think she'd care that he's staying here?"
T.K. gave him one of those looks. "I don't know, what do you think?"
He paused. "I think... no."
"And I think you're right."
"Hey, hey, hey, Harley!! I got it!" Joey shouted happily as he ran into the kitchen with a bottle of pills. "And you see THAT?!" he said, slamming the poor little plastic bottle down on the counter. "Not just regular old Advil, but EXTRA STRENGTH."
"...Yeah. That's great, thanks."
-------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------
Hi there. What do you think so far?
....Damn! I loved this when I started it back in May, but my GOD it's getting so lame! And I haven't
been able to think of how to continue it since then. I mean, I have ideas for scenes later on, when
Harley's all..... and Joey has that sad 5-second flashback..... and..... yeah. x_x.; Well, anyway.
Review if you'd like. I might continue it someday. I'd like to.
--------------------------------------------