IAuthor's note:/I No, I do not own any of the characters in this
songfic. Even though I would like to. Very much. Mm. Tala. Kai. -drool-
br
Anyway, the song used in this fic is Eleanor Rigby, by the Beatles. All
hails to them, and credit to their lyrics. br
bP.S:/b Flames are welcome. Just don't singe me because I actually gave
Tala feelings. Oh my! Oh, and by the way- this is not a shounen-ai, yaoi
fic, all Tala wants is a friend. And note, he was not, was NOT in love with
Kai. Ok? Ok. Ja ne, enjoy. br br
Clouds drifted slowly across the sky, taking their lazy travels with ease, uncaring. Wisps of cotton-like material grazed above the earth, a soft grey in colour, growing thicker. Trees lined with dewdrops in the morning air, grass dancing in the morning breezes, rubies adorning cowslips, sparkling sprites admiring the morning's work.
bIAh, look at all the lonely people/I/b
Inside, away from the misted morning that the residents of the house were so very used to, things were not as peaceful.
bIAh, look at all the lonely people/I/b
A gasp was heard suddenly, and a boy, thin, sat up in his bed with a start. The room was quiet, dimly lit, with four beds lining the wall. The one who had awoken slept near the window, and then came a silver-haired boy, a blonde, and finally one with an overly large nose, and dark blue/black hair. Tala, as he was known, let tumbles of scarlet hair collapse over his face, growing red and blotchy from the shock of the nightmare. Dark eyes, which never held any emotion, were narrowed in sadness. Reliving his past was no walk in the park, and Tala now began to realise the cold in the small room. Arms wrapped around his bare chest, the grey blankets only thin, barely enough to protect them from the mosquitos. But he had learnt to get used to all that. He was, after all, a soldier.
bIEleanor Rigby, picks up the rice in the church
where her wedding has been
Lives in a dream/I/b
Tala frowned to himself. Beyblading was his life, and Voltaire was like a Father to him. A small smirk etched across his ashen face. Father? Heck, no. More like a slave driver. He pondered for a moment, ruminating over his thoughts. No. He had no Father. He didn't need a Father. And he didn't need friends, either. Now, he glanced over to his teammates with a frown. A hand came to his cheek, and rubbed vigorously. He didn't want to be seen as a weak little boy who cried. He never cried. Not even when he was little, and he and Kai were friends. Tala shook his head suddenly. That had all ended when Kai abandoned him. When he ran away. The redhead bit his lip, looking down at quivering hands.
bIWaits at the window
Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for? /I/b
The Training Facilities in the Abbey had been the only thing he had known. He had never known true friendship. Until, of course, he had met Voltaire's grandson. The slate-haired boy had been almost lively, friendly, caring. Tala hadn't known what that was, back then, he wasn't sure if he knew what it was now.
bIAll the lonely people
Where do they all come from? /I/b
Tala furiously gripped his head, squeezing with thin fingers, trying to get the memories away. He had been trained to forget the past: to be a ruthless killer. to be an unstoppable Beyblader. Tala shivered slightly, thoughts drifting back again. It was just like being a test-tube baby; only, he wasn't born in a test-tube, only developed in a mind-boggling scientific jar. That made him strong. That was the only thing that made him strong. The boy looked up, dark eyes reflecting off the mirror on the wall opposite him. He wasn't strong. Look at him. Crying, like a baby. He wasn't strong at all.
bIAh, all the lonely people
Where do they all belong? /I/b
"Tala?" A sleepy voice said from the bed next to him. The smaller boy, Bryan, with thin silver hair that shaped his round head, stared at him from his now upright position. Tala cursed inwardly, knowing that he would look as if he had been crying. Bryan frowned, and repeated the other's name again. This time Tala looked around with a snap, eyes narrowed.
"What?" His voice was sharp, yet soft, as not to wake the other occupants of the room. Both Bryan's brows flew up in an instant, but then his impassive façade was once returned. Only, a sarcastic smile was left.
"You're. crying?" Bryan asked, almost a little too loud, with the tone of laughter in his voice. Never had he seen the Captain cry, and never did he want to. That was just. sad.
bIFather McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that
no one will hear
No one comes near/I/b
Talas threw back his bed linen, moving swiftly out from the bed. Socks on his feet, black pants on his legs, he shot a glance out the window, turning his back to Bryan.
"None of your business. Go back to sleep." His voice, still soft, was still harsh, and said as an order. Bryan shook his head, grunting disgustedly, and lay back into his thin bed. Tala frowned, head hanging. A soldier doesn't cry. A soldier doesn't cry over lost friends, lost mothers, lost fathers.
bILook at him working
Darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care? /I/b
What should he care? He shouldn't care. That just. wasn't his nature. Tala looked up, dark eyes examining the window in front of him. A small spider sat on it's lonesome, resting silently on its web, waiting for a credulous fly to get caught in its trap. Tala frowned down on it. Why couldn't he be like a spider? Strong, without feeling, without worry. The boy rethought, suddenly. No. the Spider would have feelings, would worry. It would starve, if it didn't catch a fly. And he would starve, if he stayed alone.
bIAll the lonely people
Where do they all come from? /I/b
Tala turned his gaze away from the spider, its ubiquitous presence causing him to somewhat get the jitters. Flecks of gold, crimson and orange began to flee across the sky, reflecting in impassive dark eyes as they stared out. Tala turned quietly away from the window, walking with silent footsteps passed the other beds, opening the creaky door, and making his way towards the still, morning world.
bIAh, look at all the lonely people/I/b
When the bitter pangs of sharp biting cold air struck him, Tala didn't notice it. Not a shiver, as he ventured out, chest bare, with goose bumps already beginning to rise on his arms and neck. Taking slow strides, yet trying to get as far away from the tall house as quickly as possible, Tala made his way towards the lake. It had been there from the beginning, and it had always caught his attention. Every time he had stepped off that Bus, his eyes always landed on the lake; stretching vast, half hidden by the trees, solitary.
bIEleanor Rigby, died in the church and was buried
alone with her name
Nobody came/I/b
As Tala came upon the lake, the water rippling ever so slightly as soft zephyrs brushed against it, all his troubles seemed to dissipate. He sat there now, against the edge of the reeds, his face expressionless, his hair a tangled mess, and simply watching dragonflies skip across the water. Life. A miserable term, but a term indeed. So shallow, so unforgiving, so lonely. How he would give to have a friend, someone to confide in, and someone to tell his nightmares to.
bIFather McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as
he walks from the grave
No one was saved/I/b
Tala stared out onto the water, deep in thought. His expression began to brighten with every passing moment, as his thoughts were lifted, the weight releasing off his heavy heart. Who cared if he was able to be. warm? Who cared about winning? He would give up that any day, if only to have a friend, a father, a mother. Who cared about the Demolition Boys? He knew he didn't, and he knew no one else did either. That was when the sound of boots against the earth caught his attention. Ears twitched, and he tilted his head back slightly. There stood Voltaire; a strange sight in the light. The man looked like a large, well-fed spider; his cloak trailing regally behind him, long grey hair creating a banner of mist around him. He stared hard at the boy near the lake, and began to walk towards him- that same aura around him that had been swimming in Tala's brain for half of his life. The crimson haired boy watched the older man with unwavering eyes. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't going to let the man talk him into coming back to the house. Ever.
"Back to the house, Tala. Your team mates are worried about you." The old man spoke, his voice a slight slur, yet he was obviously quite high on himself. Tala stared at him for a moment, and all that he had been thinking seemed to wash away in the lake. A soldier's instincts took over his body at the command, and despite his conscience screaming not to obey, the tall, slim and pale Tala, rose to his feet, and followed after Voltaire as he led him back to the house, caught in the old man's web of lies.
A soldier. To always obey. To be forever alone. To be forever fighting.
bIAll the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong? /I/b
Clouds drifted slowly across the sky, taking their lazy travels with ease, uncaring. Wisps of cotton-like material grazed above the earth, a soft grey in colour, growing thicker. Trees lined with dewdrops in the morning air, grass dancing in the morning breezes, rubies adorning cowslips, sparkling sprites admiring the morning's work.
bIAh, look at all the lonely people/I/b
Inside, away from the misted morning that the residents of the house were so very used to, things were not as peaceful.
bIAh, look at all the lonely people/I/b
A gasp was heard suddenly, and a boy, thin, sat up in his bed with a start. The room was quiet, dimly lit, with four beds lining the wall. The one who had awoken slept near the window, and then came a silver-haired boy, a blonde, and finally one with an overly large nose, and dark blue/black hair. Tala, as he was known, let tumbles of scarlet hair collapse over his face, growing red and blotchy from the shock of the nightmare. Dark eyes, which never held any emotion, were narrowed in sadness. Reliving his past was no walk in the park, and Tala now began to realise the cold in the small room. Arms wrapped around his bare chest, the grey blankets only thin, barely enough to protect them from the mosquitos. But he had learnt to get used to all that. He was, after all, a soldier.
bIEleanor Rigby, picks up the rice in the church
where her wedding has been
Lives in a dream/I/b
Tala frowned to himself. Beyblading was his life, and Voltaire was like a Father to him. A small smirk etched across his ashen face. Father? Heck, no. More like a slave driver. He pondered for a moment, ruminating over his thoughts. No. He had no Father. He didn't need a Father. And he didn't need friends, either. Now, he glanced over to his teammates with a frown. A hand came to his cheek, and rubbed vigorously. He didn't want to be seen as a weak little boy who cried. He never cried. Not even when he was little, and he and Kai were friends. Tala shook his head suddenly. That had all ended when Kai abandoned him. When he ran away. The redhead bit his lip, looking down at quivering hands.
bIWaits at the window
Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for? /I/b
The Training Facilities in the Abbey had been the only thing he had known. He had never known true friendship. Until, of course, he had met Voltaire's grandson. The slate-haired boy had been almost lively, friendly, caring. Tala hadn't known what that was, back then, he wasn't sure if he knew what it was now.
bIAll the lonely people
Where do they all come from? /I/b
Tala furiously gripped his head, squeezing with thin fingers, trying to get the memories away. He had been trained to forget the past: to be a ruthless killer. to be an unstoppable Beyblader. Tala shivered slightly, thoughts drifting back again. It was just like being a test-tube baby; only, he wasn't born in a test-tube, only developed in a mind-boggling scientific jar. That made him strong. That was the only thing that made him strong. The boy looked up, dark eyes reflecting off the mirror on the wall opposite him. He wasn't strong. Look at him. Crying, like a baby. He wasn't strong at all.
bIAh, all the lonely people
Where do they all belong? /I/b
"Tala?" A sleepy voice said from the bed next to him. The smaller boy, Bryan, with thin silver hair that shaped his round head, stared at him from his now upright position. Tala cursed inwardly, knowing that he would look as if he had been crying. Bryan frowned, and repeated the other's name again. This time Tala looked around with a snap, eyes narrowed.
"What?" His voice was sharp, yet soft, as not to wake the other occupants of the room. Both Bryan's brows flew up in an instant, but then his impassive façade was once returned. Only, a sarcastic smile was left.
"You're. crying?" Bryan asked, almost a little too loud, with the tone of laughter in his voice. Never had he seen the Captain cry, and never did he want to. That was just. sad.
bIFather McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that
no one will hear
No one comes near/I/b
Talas threw back his bed linen, moving swiftly out from the bed. Socks on his feet, black pants on his legs, he shot a glance out the window, turning his back to Bryan.
"None of your business. Go back to sleep." His voice, still soft, was still harsh, and said as an order. Bryan shook his head, grunting disgustedly, and lay back into his thin bed. Tala frowned, head hanging. A soldier doesn't cry. A soldier doesn't cry over lost friends, lost mothers, lost fathers.
bILook at him working
Darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care? /I/b
What should he care? He shouldn't care. That just. wasn't his nature. Tala looked up, dark eyes examining the window in front of him. A small spider sat on it's lonesome, resting silently on its web, waiting for a credulous fly to get caught in its trap. Tala frowned down on it. Why couldn't he be like a spider? Strong, without feeling, without worry. The boy rethought, suddenly. No. the Spider would have feelings, would worry. It would starve, if it didn't catch a fly. And he would starve, if he stayed alone.
bIAll the lonely people
Where do they all come from? /I/b
Tala turned his gaze away from the spider, its ubiquitous presence causing him to somewhat get the jitters. Flecks of gold, crimson and orange began to flee across the sky, reflecting in impassive dark eyes as they stared out. Tala turned quietly away from the window, walking with silent footsteps passed the other beds, opening the creaky door, and making his way towards the still, morning world.
bIAh, look at all the lonely people/I/b
When the bitter pangs of sharp biting cold air struck him, Tala didn't notice it. Not a shiver, as he ventured out, chest bare, with goose bumps already beginning to rise on his arms and neck. Taking slow strides, yet trying to get as far away from the tall house as quickly as possible, Tala made his way towards the lake. It had been there from the beginning, and it had always caught his attention. Every time he had stepped off that Bus, his eyes always landed on the lake; stretching vast, half hidden by the trees, solitary.
bIEleanor Rigby, died in the church and was buried
alone with her name
Nobody came/I/b
As Tala came upon the lake, the water rippling ever so slightly as soft zephyrs brushed against it, all his troubles seemed to dissipate. He sat there now, against the edge of the reeds, his face expressionless, his hair a tangled mess, and simply watching dragonflies skip across the water. Life. A miserable term, but a term indeed. So shallow, so unforgiving, so lonely. How he would give to have a friend, someone to confide in, and someone to tell his nightmares to.
bIFather McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as
he walks from the grave
No one was saved/I/b
Tala stared out onto the water, deep in thought. His expression began to brighten with every passing moment, as his thoughts were lifted, the weight releasing off his heavy heart. Who cared if he was able to be. warm? Who cared about winning? He would give up that any day, if only to have a friend, a father, a mother. Who cared about the Demolition Boys? He knew he didn't, and he knew no one else did either. That was when the sound of boots against the earth caught his attention. Ears twitched, and he tilted his head back slightly. There stood Voltaire; a strange sight in the light. The man looked like a large, well-fed spider; his cloak trailing regally behind him, long grey hair creating a banner of mist around him. He stared hard at the boy near the lake, and began to walk towards him- that same aura around him that had been swimming in Tala's brain for half of his life. The crimson haired boy watched the older man with unwavering eyes. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't going to let the man talk him into coming back to the house. Ever.
"Back to the house, Tala. Your team mates are worried about you." The old man spoke, his voice a slight slur, yet he was obviously quite high on himself. Tala stared at him for a moment, and all that he had been thinking seemed to wash away in the lake. A soldier's instincts took over his body at the command, and despite his conscience screaming not to obey, the tall, slim and pale Tala, rose to his feet, and followed after Voltaire as he led him back to the house, caught in the old man's web of lies.
A soldier. To always obey. To be forever alone. To be forever fighting.
bIAll the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong? /I/b