A/N: The Collective Mind claims that it's all your fault, so don't bother. Whatever it is, don't bother. I've been getting drunk lately and strung out and generally been contemplating putting everyone out of their misery (and then promptly suffering from a mood swing like no other and everything's suddenly sunshine and puppies). Seriously, though – what good is life when you hate home, you hate school, and you secretly want to kill all your friends? AND THE INTERNET AND MUSIC AND VIDEO GAMES (not even yaoi!!! O_o) AREN'T HELPING!? You get over it, that's what. Or you get drunk, which is what I've been doing. I found out that I write poetry when I'm drunk. Hm. This is too long as it is. Anyway, Omi's pretty much... completely lost it. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take over the Matrix. I know it's here, somewhere.
Such Great Heights
By Some Drunk Chick (Ayanagami)
~
That frankly would not fly
You'll hear the shrill highs
And the lowest lows
With the windows down
When this guiding you home
-Such Great Heights, Sixth Verse, by Postal Service
~
Omi walked through the front door with his shoulders sagging and a very, very angry look on his face. Yohji sprang up from the couch, eyes wide and a question flying into the air before the Goth was able to recalibrate himself in his new surroundings.
"What the hell happened to you?"
Omi glared.
Yohji made a face, but managed to keep quiet, waiting.
Omi kept glaring.
Yohji twitched a little.
Omi glared some more.
Yohji shifted his eyes, a little uncomfortable.
Omi stopped glaring, or maybe failed in his glaring, when tears began to well up in his eyes. In a choked voice, he managed to get out, "I made out with Ken in a Janitor's closet."
"Into public places, now are you?" Yohji retorted before he could get a grip of himself. Omi sobbed and ran past him, whining something like 'I hate you and I hate my life!' followed shortly by a long stream of not very believable cuss-words, being poorly and half-heartedly said. None were directed at a particular person other than life in general. And Ken.
Yohji was left standing between the stairs and the front door, with a 'I really fucked up this time' look etched across his face. He coughed, then called, a little tentatively, "I'm sorry..."
Omi screamed and the taller blond heard a thunk, probably something heavy coming into contact with the wall, come from the Goth boy's room. Then it was quiet.
"... Guess I better think up an excuse for Omi tomorrow for school..."
*
He really wanted... to die. Just curl up into a little tiny ball like a hamster and kick the bucket. Omi figured he'd kick it pretty hard. Then he figured he'd screw that up, too. Maybe he'd kick the bucket so hard he'd dent it. Ruin it for all the other bucket-kickers. What the hell was he doing thinking of the bucket as an actual object? Maybe his brain was addled... If it was, he'd find a way to blame Ken for it.
After all, it was Ken's fault that the entire thing happened, right? Being clumsy and all... well, maybe that was genetics' fault... and why the hell was Ken so clumsy if he was a soccer player? Probably wasn't a very good one. Which was why the coach had made Ken come over to help Omi with the soccer ball... which Omi kicked into Ken's head... Come to think of it, why was Omi's first reaction usually violence? Eh, he'd blame it on Ken, too.
The more he thought about all the things he could blame Ken for, the better he felt. On the inside, that is.
Because, on the outside, he had just fallen off his bed, resulting in a loud thunking noise and a nasty headache. He blamed that on Ken, too.
Getting to his feet and staggering over to the computer, Omi hoped Nagi was online.
He booted up the computer and logged on immediately, homing in on Nagi's screen name like administrators on students doing bad things.
Bombay: Ahhhh!!!!
PerpetualDark: I take it the Janitor found you.
Bombay: ...... YOU told him where to find us, didn't you!!??
PerpetualDark: Yup... What's up?
Bombay: Me... Ken... I... He...
Omi paused to sputter for a long moment, not quite sure how to explain what had happened.
PerpetualDark: Stop sputtering and spit it out. Or, I could guess.
Bombay: I just know that you'd get it right, too, with your luck.
PerpetualDark: Who said anything about luck?
Bombay: O_o''
PerpetualDark: So, I'm just going to assume that you and Ken got it on.
Having been caught, Omi took advantage of the situation and started... venting.
Bombay: AAAAARRRGH! _''' I can't believe this! I can't BELIEVE that I would actually start making out with that stupid Jock!
PerpetualDark: That stupid jock you happen to think is really good looking...
Bombay: Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid freaking Jock from hell trying to take advantage of me in the dark and shut UP, Nagi!
Omi scowled fiercely at the screen.
Bombay: You're supposed to be my best friend – what the hell is this? It's like mutiny!
PerpetualDark: One, I -am- your best friend – best friends are generally supposed to get on one's nerves, be brutally honest and know one inside out. Two – stop making that face, Omi, and, three, it's actually a conspiracy, not a mutiny.
Omi stopped making 'that face,' instead scowling again.
Bombay: _'
PerpetualDark: I don't see why you're so flustered about this – besides the obvious reasons that it's you we're talking about, here – because I can see you like him.
Bombay: Do not. -_-'
PerpetualDark: Say that to my face.
Bombay: :says it to Nagi's face: DO NOT!
PerpetualDark: You're such a bad liar. ~_~
Bombay: .... Go to hell!
Omi logged off, frustrated, and with a new thought to mull over as he turned the computer off. While that didn't solve anything, he had to wonder if he really did like Ken.
No.
There! All settled! Heh, heh... but now he was going to go take a cold shower.
(O_o')
*
(This is where everything gets pretty much weird. And Omi goes crazy! ^_^''')
Just so you know, daytime television was daytime television for a reason. Omi didn't have a specific reason... at least, not one that didn't sound like variations of 'because it sucks,' but he did have a theory, involving eccentric housewives, a vast conspiracy, and soccer fanatics.
Damn the soccer fanatics.
While on the subject... Omi decided that while soccer players might not have the complete 'shit-for-brains' thing going on with them, they had a certain 'brainless' quality about their person. Particularly a certain moose singing soccer player, who made everything go from bad to worse when he was around – seriously, though, every time he was around Ken, crazy things happened. From the fight in the coffee shop to making out in the closet. But, it was all Ken's fault, anyway.
Omi, for his part, had stayed home today, refusing to be anywhere near the school if it was the last thing he managed not to do. Yohji informed him this was silly, then left for work, leaving Omi to the mercy of the aforementioned daytime television. He watched from his position against the wall, shunning the couch because he could and it was something to do. A part of him was slightly worried about this, though the rest of him accepted it fairly easy, and even took part in the shunning.
Anyway, back to the TV. He'd done some channel surfing, trying hard not to think of school, or, more specifically, a certain person who was most likely in school, and found that nothing was interesting. Big whoop. Neither Yohji nor him watched much TV, so it wasn't like they had cable. And, it was a theory of Omi's that if, in thirteen channels, you couldn't find something interesting, then it wasn't likely you could find anything interesting in one hundred and thirteen channels.
The Spanish channel was rather amusing, since he could actually understand a few words in the bad soap opera that played out before him. He entertained himself for ten minutes or so making up absurd plotlines and reasons why that girl was yelling at that boy, and why that woman was crying in the middle of the cafe, or even why one of the character's rooms looked like a kindergartener's classroom. However, the pastime soon became boring, if not downright sad, and he changed the station again. But there was nothing on!
Omi let his mind wander as the TV went on obliviously, spitting out commercial after commercial; about cars, cereal, cleaners and cell phones, images flickering chaotically on the screen. Omi wasn't paying attention as a ferret bit the guy on the screen – he was in his own little world by that time. Of course, his world was run by his logic....
Maybe I should start home schooling... He wondered, unconsciously chewing on his thumbnail. Hell, maybe I should drop out – I'm eighteen; I don't have to go to school anymore. Not like I really need it, anyway – after all, I write computer programs; I support myself perfectly fine. In fact, maybe I should just stop leaving the house completely. Yeah, that's it, just make Yohji do my junk food shopping for me, and I'll never have to have any human contact again for the rest of my life – that'll work. Everyone's against me, anyway... Even Yohji, the bastard! How the hell did he meet Ken, anyway?! I bet he was at a strip club or something. But what would Ken be doing at a strip club? Hell, why are there strips clubs in the first place, anyway? Omi started racking his brain to produce answers to these questions – actually, he was trying to make up reasons behind his half crazed logic... and it wasn't helping that he was starting to rock back and forth.
It went on like this for a while, with Omi ranting on and on about everyone being against him and the meaning of strip clubs and somehow making it all Ken's fault all while trying really hard not to remember how the Jock smelled, or tasted, or felt, or sounded, or....
Omi screamed and jumped up, eyes blazing and brain addled. "I hate my life!" He shrieked to no one in particular, clutching his hair and tugging on it like a lifeline. Mind frazzled and nerves screwed to hell, he ran to the door, swung it open, and screamed for the entire neighborhood to hear, "I fucking HATE MY LIFE!!!!"
A delinquent on the other side of the street lifted his head as he sat on the curb, and answered back, "So do I."
*
Omi found himself at an impasse throughout that day. First, he had nothing to do. Second, anything he thought of doing involved going outside. Last, he hated people and wished the sky would rain acid and make them all melt away. Now, he could play video games, but he just couldn't concentrate and killing people mindlessly needed a great deal of thought and effort, so he checked that off his list. He played his music loud, and that made him slightly happy, but he needed something to do. (Me too – I can play my music loud, but I still need something to occupy my hands with. Otherwise I start rocking back and forth....)
His brain kicked in sometime near the afternoon. He was in front of the fridge, trying to blow up its contents with his eyes, and not entirely successful, when he just happened to glance at the microwave, and remember, in passing, what a friend had told him once. Something about raw eggs and microwaves not mixing. Blinking, he snatched up an egg and wandered over to the seemingly innocent kitchen appliance. With a great lack of ceremony, the Gothic boy placed the egg in the center of the thing, then turned it on high for a minute. A strange, giddy feeling filled his stomach, along with an odd sensation of nervousness – without really being able to explain it, the blond crawled under the table and sort of just sat there, facing the rest of the kitchen. His feeling of unease grew to downright anxiety and he began to twiddle his fingers, wondering what was supposed to ha-
There was a great, yet soft, thwoping noise, like a muffled semi-boom, as the microwave door was flung open and cooked egg pieces flew everywhere, splattering the floor and walls. Omi screamed, at first startled, then he began to laugh with a glittering look in his eyes. He really shouldn't be left alone anymore.
*
A few hours and a sample of everything the kitchen had to offer later, Yohji walked through the door, completely tired and not ready for the sight that greeted him in the kitchen. There... was food everywhere. Everywhere. It was caked onto the cupboards, smeared over the floor and it clung to the walls like parasites. The reason for the mess was grinning at nothing in particular, situated under the table as he had been for the duration of the explosion spree. Yohji gulped and backed out of the room, fumbling mentally to remember Nagi's phone number and trying not to be noticed by his mentally disturbed roommate.
*
"You walked in on him like this?" The pale, silent boy asked Yohji, eyes on the Goth under the table. Yohji grunted nervously in affirmation, also staring at crazy Omi. Nagi was quiet, watching the scene before him with a blank look on his face.
"So... uh... do you know what's wrong with him?"
"Yeah." Nagi said, simply, and turned to walk towards the door. Yohji ran to catch up with him.
"Hey! Wait, where are you going?"
"I'll be back, don't worry. Don't talk to him."
*
Well, Nagi came back, and that made him not a liar. However, something about his blank face gave Yohji a bad feeling, and the blond man inched away from the kitchen, a sudden knowledge that something bad was going to happen...
He heard Nagi's voice, but not his words. Something akin to a strangled cat sound came from the kitchen, followed closely by Nagi coming bolting from the room and out the door into the outside world. Omi followed mindlessly, eyes flashing in a crazed blood lust as he screamed, "I AM NOT IN LOVE, YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"
Yohji blinked, wide eyed. Omi was in love? It hit him, then – Omi was in love with Ken.
He sure had a weird way of showing it, though.
Yohji winced as he heard Omi unleash a bloodcurdling scream.
A very weird way of showing it.
*
Omi didn't get far.
Nagi had walked into that kitchen with a plan – sure, it was an oddly cruel one, but a plan nonetheless. Well, anyway, it wasn't like he was going to risk his life running through town with a not-in-his-right-mind-Omi chasing after him. So, when he ran out the door, it was definitely a part of his plan...
He dodged to the side and watched as Omi scrambled out the door and staggered right into a surprised Ken. If he didn't value his life, he might have snickered.
*
He froze as he recognized the chest he just ran into – he started trembling when he recognized the scent, and when he finally looked up, he was ready to run up to his room and commit suicide. Yup. Ken was somehow located on his lawn, thanks to no small part by Nagi, and, yup, he was currently touching his obse- er... the jock. He yelped and leapt back, his gaze inexplicably locked with Ken's – he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.
Omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod, omigodomigodomigodomigod!!!!!!!!!! Was all his brain could think of. Priceless, really.
Then, with a burst of will, he bolted back into the house, up the stairs, and locked himself in his room, right and secure. "I.... I am going to fucking kill Nagi!" He declared to himself as he sat against his door, heart pounding like something else. He started shivering as he noticed the absence of warmth where his chest had touched Ken's...
Tears started sliding down his cheeks. He had never been so embarrassed in his life... and all by one person. He just wanted to die. Sink down and die. For once, he didn't dilute these thoughts with crazy logic – instead, he just felt his skin grow cold and his insides ache. His muscles felt weak and his brain practically dead from exhaustion. He hung his head in despair, the feel of his tears against his hot cheeks odd as he sunk deeper and deeper. He didn't see much of a point to anything, now. He couldn't even reason out his feelings, this time, only that it was how he felt. He knew it was stupid, and childish, but his feelings were what they were.
That's just how it was.
*
Yohji poked his head out the door to blink owlishly at Nagi, who looked at Ken, then acknowledged the blond man's presence.
"Has Omi been replaced by a banshee?" He asked, referring to all the screaming the boy had been doing lately.
Nagi shook his head and lead Ken inside.
*
They're out there, waiting for me to come out... Omi thought to himself, eyes narrowed and anger growing. His tears had finally dried on his cheeks; he wasn't quite so upset now... but... he was becoming unhinged. But I won't come out... Oh, no, they won't win. I'll stay RIGHT HERE for the REST OF MY LIFE if I have to. I will somehow never get hungry again, never have to go to the bathroom, and I'll never have to sleep. I will remain vigilant right here, and never talk to anyone ever again. I don't have to. They can't make me. None of this is real – we're in the Matrix, and they're Agents. Or maybe they're aliens and they've decided to abduct me or experiment on me...
He was startled out of his thoughts at the sound of a knock on the door at his back. He jumped a bit, then froze. The aliens are trying to get me!
"Omi?" It was Nagi.
What do you want, Alien? Omi said in his head. He was very aware of the fact that aliens had the ability to read minds.
"Omi, I know you can hear me." Nagi persisted.
Same to you, extraterrestrial bastard. He practically muttered in his brain. Then something occurred to him; if the aliens couldn't get to him, then they might look for another victim... The whole world was in danger! He scrambled up and looked around frantically... looking for a weapon. He heard someone mutter on the other side of the door, "What the hell is he doing?"
His suspicions were confirmed when Nagi replied, "He's probably looking for something he can save Earth with."
"W-what?"
He could almost see Nagi shrugging nonchalantly. "Right now, his brain is saying to him that we're a threat to him and the rest of the world – maybe we're mutants, or vampires, or aliens or government spies from the underworld." Nagi added, "Omi thinks lawyers are Satan's right hand."
"....um... then... what do we do?"
"Bust through the door and be very careful. Omi might have found something lethal."
Someone sighed. It was probably Ken, Omi realized and he caught sight of the window. Well, if he couldn't kill the alien bastards now, he could at least warn someone who could help. But then he paused on his first step. What if whoever he warned was an alien, too? No! He'd be able to tell. He dashed over to the window and flung it open; he was halfway out when arms wrapped around him and began pulling him back. He panicked and tried to kick out, but his legs were already tucked against his attackers body – it was Ken – Nagi was much smaller.
"No! I can't let you alien bastards take me alive! You'll never take over the world! You can't have me! AHHH!" Omi thrashed around as much as he could, but it was all in vain – Ken held Omi tightly and securely. And Omi wasn't at all happy about it. "You aliens think you can do anything! That no one will stop you! Well, I promise you that I'll stop you, no matter what! And even if you kill me... someone else will discover you! It's only a matter of time, you'll never take earth. All those abductions of stupid farmers are worth nothing. Not all humans are that dumb. Some are dumber! We'll nuke you bastards – I bet we have lasers and junk like that that the government isn't telling us cause they know that you want the information. It's because of YOU that the government lies to us. THERE IS AN AREA 51! I know it! They can't hide it forever, not with you here. I'll uncover you for what you really are an-"
"Oh my God... Shut UP." Ken covered his mouth with his hand and they tumbled onto Omi's bed, Ken landing on top. The blond glowered and continued in his endeavor to escape. Didn't get him anywhere, though.
Vaguely, Omi heard Nagi's voice – he made out the words 'keep' and 'restrained' but that about summed it up. Then he heard Ken protest, saying, "What the hell do you expect me to do?"
Nagi replied with, "You're not stupid." Omi pondered for a moment if Ken's blatant stupidity was only a ruse, to disguise his alien nature... Since he didn't hear the voice of his supposed 'friend', he assumed he had left the room. Probably to go brainwash some random innocent bystander into becoming a minion of their Cult of the Underworld. The Goth thought absentmindedly to himself, still trying to get free. A small part of him realized it was useless, but the rest of him went on in the futile struggle – he was especially vehement on account that Ken had his hand over his mouth. Eventually, though, his seemingly insanely endless energy ran out and his jerks were becoming weaker, until, finally, his body went limp, and he lay, tired, in Ken's arms.
"Are you done?" Ken asked, one eyebrow raised.
Since Ken didn't lift his hand so he could respond, Omi settled for a hateful glare and a halfhearted jerk of his body. No, he certainly was not done. Ken sighed and removed his hand, draping his arm across Omi's chest.
"You're psycho." Ken deadpanned. It was almost as if it were merely a passing observation.
"Look who's talking, Mr. Alien." Omi pointed out resentfully – both at being called psycho, and at being restrained.
"I'm not an alien."
"That's what they all say."
"..." Ken thought for a moment, then closed his eyes. "You know, in all the time I've known you, you have never made any sense. Not in what you say, not in was you do – nothing. You've been neurotic ever since I met you in the coffee shop, and you haven't detoured from that path once. Not once. From screaming at me because I said you smelled nice, to shoving whip cream in my mouth, to giving me a concussion with a soccer ball, to avoiding me like the plague for no reason, and then making out with me in a janitors closet, and now you're back to thinking I'm the antichrist or something." Ken paused, opening his eyes, and looked down at Omi, who was watching him cautiously. "Despite all that, I like you. Even when you're stark raving mad, I like you."
"This is just another alien ploy!" Omi blurted out, "You can't fool me!"
Ken shrugged, then smirked, pulling Omi up and covering the blonde's mouth with his own. They parted, Omi's eyes slightly glazed as Ken said, "Can't pull anything past you." He looked as if we were deliberating something, with a thoughtful expression slapped across his face. He glanced back down at Omi, and the smile found it's way back to his lips again. "The Collective Mind of the Galactic Domination Committee thinks I should kiss you again. The Collective Mind likes it."
And Ken did just that.
End Notes: I hope you didn't expect much from me – after all, I DID warn you that I was drunk. Whatever. And I have no idea if Ken's music preference is even going to be mentioned. I'm stopping this story in a few chapters. I think I have the last chorus, and then it's kaput.
I just want to take this moment to thank everyone who's slipped a review to me. My life has no meaning, and a simple little review isn't going to make me realize, all of a sudden, that I'm worth something. But it helps delude myself for a while, and distracts me. Anyway – thanks for your time and patience. I am not worthy. ('Sides, I'm working on a million other things as well... which is why it always takes so long (that and I lack motivation of any kind...o_o)) Also, check out my Bio for an address to a forum I'm on. No, it's not cause you read my stuff. It's cause I promised I'd advertise everywhere possible. Be warned, though – I'm a mod there.
Til next time... somewhere in 2005... (hopefully sooner)
-Aya (Hey anyone got some alcohol?)