Sorry for taking a while to update. I've been watching Naruto and Bleach like mad. I've even got myself ANOTHER fanfiction going (I'm going to go mad with all these fanfics going on at the same time). Hope you enjoy. Thank you all for staying with this irregular fic this long! I'm starting to close it up (finally). The next chapter might be the last.
Do The Misfits tour in the UK?
Did I mention Edward Elric is from Fullmetal Alchemist? Because he is.
Is it just me, or did the narrative change drastically in this chapter?
CHAPTER TEN
The weeks pass like the lingering smell of pine days after Christmas. It's wonderful, and its good, but you know in the back of your mind it won't last forever.
It doesn't.
Isn't it strange, how you can go on and on about your misfortunes and the horrible times you've had, but when it comes time to talk about the good things, words fall short? Either that or you get tired of talking about it. If Juliette were telling this story this would no doubt be where she would put something cynical about human nature. Maybe, 'humans are always searching for ways to redeem themselves for their sins, that they perpetually cling to the pain as if that's all they deserve,' or 'humans are masochistic by nature,' or even 'people are looking for excitement, even if the excitement is shrouded by pain and suffering.' Juliette's very shrewd that way. She's also very opinionated that way.
I suppose I know her very well by now.
I grow to respect her, over this time. She's got amazing memory—when she puts in the effort to pay attention in the first place—and she's very passionate. She wants to make a different in this 'sedated society' and open people's eyes to the suffering 'enveloping our world from the inside.' Maybe I respect her because I know I can never be like her.
My mantra has always been to mind my own business. I am the most important person; no one matters more than I do to myself. If people are dying around the world, this has little to do with me. And anyway, how am I supposed to help? I'm not going to be a doctor, and I'm not going to become some sort of activist that pours blood on women in fur coats (I hid my own fur coat deep into my closet because of Juliette). I don't have that kind of conviction, or that kind of bravery. It takes courage to stick your neck out for what you believe in.
I also want to live a long life. Juliette pointed this out to me, and I can't deny it. Look at the long list of people who tried to change the world. Most of them have either been assassinated, or they corrupted by power. It's like signing your own death warrant.
The days with Padriac seem be to heaven-sent. He's very demure, not very passionate about anything, and funny. How Padriac and Juliette got along at all, I had no idea. But they did, and they invited me to shows with them.
I remember distinctly one specific show. He took me to see The Misfits (a punk band whose CD he let me borrow a week before the show itself so I could acquaint myself with the music) where we met up with Juliette, Kristen, and a couple of their friends. Juliette and I talked a bit, but I could see Kristen was definitely ready to move away from me. I knew she didn't like me, and I was glad Juliette disregarded that fact, in spite of Kristen being her best friend. Anyway, Juliette and Kristen strayed off (no doubt to try their luck in the insane moshpit or crowd surfing), so I stayed with Padriac most of the time. During the three opening bands we loitered on the side bars (I wouldn't have drunk anything but Padriac offered me some, and what was I going to do, refuse? He'd think I was some sort of loser who didn't drink alcohol. Personally, I hated the stuff he gave me, and I drank that one cup in small sips), but during The Misfits themselves, we shoved ourselves closer to the stage.
And he held me. He put his arms around me from behind and held me the whole hour they played. Even if they weren't as good as on the CD (Padriac told me later that they hadn't played with anything near their original lineup), I was in heaven. Padriac, my dream man, was holding me. When Juliette came to say goodbye (nursing what looked like a sprained wrist, a bloody nose and a happy grin) I was so high up in the clouds I could barely force my mouth to speak.
He was sweet. I fell more in love with him every day. I assumed he felt the same.
I grow to like Peter more and more as well. It's probably his naiveté that gets to people, but he's so carefree about things that you can't help but love him. He's passionate and headstrong, almost as much as Juliette, but in a completely different way. He cuts class with Padriac, but not to join the crowds of smokers, or the junkies, but to go play in the playground three blocks away. I would have joined him, but I didn't want my friends asking where I had been.
It's not like I could tell them I had been with the faggot (their newest nickname for Peter).
Which brings me to about a two months and a half after that first show.
"Pix," a girlish whine reaches my ears, which snaps me out my of Edward Elric fantasy (it doesn't count as being unfaithful because he's not real!).
"Yeah?" I ask sluggishly—but in a very cool way, if you know what I mean—and I look over at Holly. We're over at Brenda's house, giving each other makeovers. I'm playing around with Hannah's eyes (this girl at the last show Padriac had taken me to had had an interesting idea with her makeup and I wanted to test it out. I told Hannah I wanted to make her look like Frankenstein's Bride), and Holly is doing Brenda's hair.
"I heard this rumor. I didn't want to believe it, I mean Amanda—yeah, that slut—likes to gossip her ass off as if she knows anything . . . but . . . you have been acting a little off lately. I mean, what was with that hair last week?" Peter had asked me the week before why I never wore pigtails. And he annoyed me until I agreed to wear them.
Bad decision, apparently.
"I wanted to try something different," I reply airily. "What's this rumor, then?"
"Well," Holly puts on her most scandalized face, and pauses in her task to face me. "She told me that you've been seen hanging around with that Punky Punk crowd. I don't know how she would even know, you know?" I can tell she's going to go on, but suddenly, I feel a spurt of courage. Is Juliette rubbing off on me?
"I am hanging out with them," I answer easily, and I don't look at Holly as I continue to lay the eyeliner on Hannah heavily. The silence weighs heavily on the four of us and there's only so much one people can ignore. I finally look up at Holly, only to see not only her, but Brenda and Hannah, too, staring at me as if I grew another head. Possibly a third head.
Would you kiss your third head if it were, say, Edward Elric? Juliette-type questions occur to me when they are most unwelcome, which is more proof I am hanging out with her too much.
"No way, Pix. No fucking way." But Edward is really hot, and I don't see the—oh, she's not talking about that, is she?
"What's so bad about it? I've got a boyfriend that loves me, friends that I like . . . really, Holly. What's wrong with that?" I'm standing up, and I'm towering over her, hands on my hips and a stubborn expression on my face.
"What? We aren't good enough for you? We accept your weird quirks, and you have the nerve to tell us we're not good enough for you? And what boyfriend?" Holly looks about ready to implode, and I think it would be awfully hard to wipe the guts off my—TOO MUCH TIME WITH JULIETTE!
"You guys are great, too!" I quickly pip up, beginning to regret my sudden outburst. I should have denied it, damn it. Now I've shot the rest of my life to hell.
"What boyfriend, Pix?"
I hesitate. Should I deny it, and pretend I meant something else . . .?
No. A strong voice in the back of mind steps up. No, it keeps saying. I've noticed that its voice has gotten louder and louder lately. Ever since Juliette—no, ever since Peter. By now it's deafening.
"Padriac." Firm, Pix, firmly. "Padriac is my boyfriend."
More scandalized gasps, more whispered cries of denial.
"Poor, darling," Holly coos as she approaches and wraps her arm around my shoulder. "It's okay. All you need a little bit of perspective, that's all!"
"No, I don't!" I cry, pushing her arm away, savagely. Her expression looks surprised, and hurt, but I don't care. I'm tired of trying to hide.
"Look, Pix, I refuse to accept this. I know you. I know that if you were in your right mind you wouldn't even look twice at that loser." Holly's face has gotten hard, and soft at the same time, like it does at times when she's trying to help by being strict. "You have to break up with him. Look at what he's done! He's destroying our friendship, without even trying! We always agreed friends before boys, remember?"
She looks almost sad. I'd almost forgotten that these girls were my friends. They would be selfish and snobby and rich and absolutely irritating at times, but they were my friends. They were the complete opposites of Juliette, Peter and the others. It would feel too much like betrayal to leave them hanging like old leaves. That's something the old me might have done, that weak, sniveling Pix. Not this new me.
Even if it broke my heard to pieces, I would break it off with Padriac. We could always be friends, after all.
I nod to Holly, and we forget all about our makeover. Instead we sit in the middle of Brenda's (king sized) bed, like we used to years ago, and we gossip. I don't think they notice I don't try very hard. My heart just isn't into it.
LINE
I call Padriac the next day. "I have to talk to you." I hope that my voice warns him somehow of what's to come. I image the horrible scene that's waiting for me. Will he cry? Will he be strong and just make his face turn to stone? Will he understand, and agree to be just friends? I have no idea. Even knowing him so well, I don't know.
We meet up under the bridge that is almost exactly between our homes (we made this discovery one day and that became a common meeting place. Sometimes we invited Peter, or Juliette, or Kristen, or the others along).
He swaggers closer, and my heart beats faster just at the sight of him. I feel pleasantly pathetic . . . at least until I remember what I have to do.
He grins as soon as he sees me. "I've got something to tell you, too."
I want to stall before I do the inevitable, so I agree to let him go first. He looks amused, so it must be good news. I want him to be happy before I break his heart.
"Pix . . . you are such a stupid fucking whore."
I am so badass. CLIFFHANGER! Don't worry, I won't make you wait long. The next chapter will be up LATEST next week. I might have ended the story in this chapter, but I wanted to update. So here you go.
Review PLEASE.
