Prologue
[Just had the random idea while watching a Beyblade episode... Tora-kun says it would be yayish for it to be somewhat fluffy with slight pairings but...
nya! I don't know! Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.]
In the depths of France, past the beautiful architectural splendor of the old-fashioned buildings, a single-mansion seemed to stand out more as dark thundering clouds slowly trailed across the sky; casting deep shadows. Yet even past the property's gates, through the grand double-doors and even through the corridors, a door remained closed and locked from the inside. Everything seemed normal with exception of a single teenaged boy sitting alone in his room. He sat on the large inside windowsill, looking out the window as the rain started pattering on the window lightly then started striking with more force. He slowly raised a hand, resting his fingertips on the windowpane as it started to feel colder as the rain streaked down on it relentlessly. He did not jump as the rolling crack of thunder sounded outside, even sending vibrations through the glass and into his hand. It did not bother him.
He pulled his knees up to his pajama-clad chest, his hand still remaining on the window as he saw his reflection on the glass as lightning lit up his darkened room. He normally did not prefer having his room dark while he was still awake. The light was more inviting than having looming shadows in almost every corner but this time, it did not matter to him. He looked out the window sadly, his eyes narrowing only slightly as more lightning danced in spidery patterns across the bottoms of the clouds. He did not care for the thunder that threatened to crack the windows with its pure looming roars, nor even for the lightning that had the soul purpose to do what it pleased; whether it was dancing across the sky or striking down onto the surface of the ground. The boy let out a slow sigh and continued to look out the window, resting his head on the frame.
Oliver. Everyone knew the multi-talented French beyblader who was also a skillful chef, surprising due to how young he really was. He viewed everything as artistic, things with beauty and finesse. Whether it was beyblading, catering, the preserved art in the museums and even the rain itself... but not this time. His eyes held a sorrowful darkness in them as his once cheery personality during the day was cloaked with misery. He shifted his gaze to one of the framed pictures in front of him; a group picture of the Majestics that was taken not too long ago. Enrique, the blond Italian boy that just wanted to have a good time, had his hand behind Johnny's head made 'bunny ears' behind the red-head's hair. That photograph made Oliver smile slightly as he remembered Johnny's reaction when he had saw what the other teenager had done. Robert looked dignified as always, his face remaining slightly emotionless but not quite a frown either.
He moved his violet gaze across numerous pictures of his closest friends, remembering the times when Johnny had lost to the game of chess several times against Robert and he never ever had the last word. Oliver rested his head on his knees, some of his lime green hair shadowing some parts of his face as he silently looked over at the farthest picture on the corner of the little ledge; his frown returning.
"How long has it been..." He said to himself quietly.
He sat for a moment longer, hesitant to even move but reached over, picking up the fragile frame of the picture. He sat back down, holding the picture with both hands as he looked down at it. His fingers tightened their grasp around the edges as his hands started to shake slightly, a sob caught in his throat. Crystalline tears started to gather at the edges of his eyes as he continued to look at the photograph of a family portrait. His father and mother were standing in the back and a younger Oliver in the front with...
"Why..." He said softly, silent tears sliding down his face and dripping onto the glass cover.
He ducked his head down, his tears falling more freely as he refused to make his crying heard by others. Again, lightning flashed outside, illuminating his room almost fully then the light died off.
Oliver lifted his head, looking at the ceiling and the tears continued to fall. "I had made a promise to myself... As long as I am part of the Majestics, I will never cry... We represent something... I cannot be the first one to ruin it..."
He looked back down at the picture, seeing the reflection of the rain sliding down the windows on the glass. For so many years, he kept this feeling of grief hidden away with a lock and key, vowing never to show it to anyone. Every time it rained, he felt a heart-wrenching sadness take over and it was not something that he could help. There was a reason... a reason that he had told no one outside of his direct family. The best thing he had decided to do was keep it a secret, which no one could take the business as his or her own. Since he was a younger child, he had cried when it rained; sometimes for a while and sometimes even a day as he locked himself in his room. No one questioned and he gave no answers; the perfect silent agreement among his family.
"Why did you not tell me..." Oliver seemed to be asking the picture, his eyes welling up with tears once more. "Why did you wait until the very end... The last time before..."
He choked back another sob and hugged the picture against his chest, resting his head on his knees as he cried silently. He trembled slightly, continuing to ask the photograph why; only getting an answer of the torrents of rain from outside. There he sat, the infamous Oliver of Paris, curled up on the inside ledge of his window as he continued to keep the secret that had been eating away at him for many years; still continuing. Oliver, the one who had been seen as optimistic celebrity that had captured the attention of many. He was now by himself in his bedroom where no one could see the sadness that had filled his eyes. No one would see his tears.
The rain started to lighten up slightly and Oliver continued to silently cry himself to sleep, not letting go of the precious picture that he kept as close to his heart as possible. He only allowed his dreams to comfort him, as those were the only things that truly understood how he felt.
[Whoo... That was fun but short... Of course, prologues are short and I'll try to get the first chapter up within the next few days...]
[Just had the random idea while watching a Beyblade episode... Tora-kun says it would be yayish for it to be somewhat fluffy with slight pairings but...
nya! I don't know! Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.]
In the depths of France, past the beautiful architectural splendor of the old-fashioned buildings, a single-mansion seemed to stand out more as dark thundering clouds slowly trailed across the sky; casting deep shadows. Yet even past the property's gates, through the grand double-doors and even through the corridors, a door remained closed and locked from the inside. Everything seemed normal with exception of a single teenaged boy sitting alone in his room. He sat on the large inside windowsill, looking out the window as the rain started pattering on the window lightly then started striking with more force. He slowly raised a hand, resting his fingertips on the windowpane as it started to feel colder as the rain streaked down on it relentlessly. He did not jump as the rolling crack of thunder sounded outside, even sending vibrations through the glass and into his hand. It did not bother him.
He pulled his knees up to his pajama-clad chest, his hand still remaining on the window as he saw his reflection on the glass as lightning lit up his darkened room. He normally did not prefer having his room dark while he was still awake. The light was more inviting than having looming shadows in almost every corner but this time, it did not matter to him. He looked out the window sadly, his eyes narrowing only slightly as more lightning danced in spidery patterns across the bottoms of the clouds. He did not care for the thunder that threatened to crack the windows with its pure looming roars, nor even for the lightning that had the soul purpose to do what it pleased; whether it was dancing across the sky or striking down onto the surface of the ground. The boy let out a slow sigh and continued to look out the window, resting his head on the frame.
Oliver. Everyone knew the multi-talented French beyblader who was also a skillful chef, surprising due to how young he really was. He viewed everything as artistic, things with beauty and finesse. Whether it was beyblading, catering, the preserved art in the museums and even the rain itself... but not this time. His eyes held a sorrowful darkness in them as his once cheery personality during the day was cloaked with misery. He shifted his gaze to one of the framed pictures in front of him; a group picture of the Majestics that was taken not too long ago. Enrique, the blond Italian boy that just wanted to have a good time, had his hand behind Johnny's head made 'bunny ears' behind the red-head's hair. That photograph made Oliver smile slightly as he remembered Johnny's reaction when he had saw what the other teenager had done. Robert looked dignified as always, his face remaining slightly emotionless but not quite a frown either.
He moved his violet gaze across numerous pictures of his closest friends, remembering the times when Johnny had lost to the game of chess several times against Robert and he never ever had the last word. Oliver rested his head on his knees, some of his lime green hair shadowing some parts of his face as he silently looked over at the farthest picture on the corner of the little ledge; his frown returning.
"How long has it been..." He said to himself quietly.
He sat for a moment longer, hesitant to even move but reached over, picking up the fragile frame of the picture. He sat back down, holding the picture with both hands as he looked down at it. His fingers tightened their grasp around the edges as his hands started to shake slightly, a sob caught in his throat. Crystalline tears started to gather at the edges of his eyes as he continued to look at the photograph of a family portrait. His father and mother were standing in the back and a younger Oliver in the front with...
"Why..." He said softly, silent tears sliding down his face and dripping onto the glass cover.
He ducked his head down, his tears falling more freely as he refused to make his crying heard by others. Again, lightning flashed outside, illuminating his room almost fully then the light died off.
Oliver lifted his head, looking at the ceiling and the tears continued to fall. "I had made a promise to myself... As long as I am part of the Majestics, I will never cry... We represent something... I cannot be the first one to ruin it..."
He looked back down at the picture, seeing the reflection of the rain sliding down the windows on the glass. For so many years, he kept this feeling of grief hidden away with a lock and key, vowing never to show it to anyone. Every time it rained, he felt a heart-wrenching sadness take over and it was not something that he could help. There was a reason... a reason that he had told no one outside of his direct family. The best thing he had decided to do was keep it a secret, which no one could take the business as his or her own. Since he was a younger child, he had cried when it rained; sometimes for a while and sometimes even a day as he locked himself in his room. No one questioned and he gave no answers; the perfect silent agreement among his family.
"Why did you not tell me..." Oliver seemed to be asking the picture, his eyes welling up with tears once more. "Why did you wait until the very end... The last time before..."
He choked back another sob and hugged the picture against his chest, resting his head on his knees as he cried silently. He trembled slightly, continuing to ask the photograph why; only getting an answer of the torrents of rain from outside. There he sat, the infamous Oliver of Paris, curled up on the inside ledge of his window as he continued to keep the secret that had been eating away at him for many years; still continuing. Oliver, the one who had been seen as optimistic celebrity that had captured the attention of many. He was now by himself in his bedroom where no one could see the sadness that had filled his eyes. No one would see his tears.
The rain started to lighten up slightly and Oliver continued to silently cry himself to sleep, not letting go of the precious picture that he kept as close to his heart as possible. He only allowed his dreams to comfort him, as those were the only things that truly understood how he felt.
[Whoo... That was fun but short... Of course, prologues are short and I'll try to get the first chapter up within the next few days...]
