Disclaimer: Not mine for the last time in this story.
Chapter Eleven: Final Curtain Call
Kip ran over the night's schedule and relished Bloo's pallor when he mentioned "Teenage Suicide". Mac sat stoically beside him and only twitched at the name. The producer had to restrain himself from laughing insanely at his charge's face. Finally, he'd have everything he always dreamed of; money, money, and more money, plus no brat to protect.
Bloo's hand brushed Mac's and his creator blushed slightly but swiftly moved his hand away. Heart pounding in his ears, he curbed his disappointment and glanced outside, beyond the velvet curtains. He'd only have to worry about Mac's feelings if this plan worked. If it didn't, he didn't have to worry about anything at all.
Meanwhile, backstage, Coco laid dozens of eggs full of knock out gas and eliminated all guards both behind and in front of the stage. Once the gas dissipated, the four snatched their uniforms (excepting Wilt, who couldn't find a single one that fit and finally had to settle for a cap). Anxious but pleased the first part of their plan had gone off without a hitch; they waited for the show to start. Unfortunately, they hadn't worked out a way to rescue Bloo before "Teenage Suicide", but at least they outnumbered Kip six to one. He had probably only planned on Mac's objection, not all of them. And, if worst came worst, they'd stolen Kip's real gun and replaced it with one that went "bang" with a cheap flag.
Frankie crossed her fingers and glanced over her shoulder. They'd be safe- unless either Kip had checked his gun or the guards escaped their locked confinement. They really couldn't afford any mishaps…Bloo's and Mac's lives depended on it.
…
Grinning broadly, he pulled Bloo aside for one last "pep" talk. Behind his customary sunglasses, his azure eyes flashed defiance and blind hatred. Little did he suspect the night carried more surprises. Bloo had no intention of singing "Teenage Suicide" or any other song from his repertoire. It might skew the rest's plans, but he preferred this method. He'd been dying for years to tell him exactly what he thought of him. If he couldn't beat him to death, he'd beat him at his own game.
"I'll finally be rid of you," Kip snarled and Bloo refrained from smirking narrowly. Oh, how sweet revenge would be. The words danced around in his mind and settled into their familiar patterns. His new song wouldn't be a hit, but he didn't care. He didn't care it didn't have a refrain or any notable tune currently. It was just a cover.
"No longer will I have to suffer with feeding you and letting you sleep and-"
Bloo began to tune him out, though the smirk crossed his face finally. If he added 'changing your diaper', he'd laugh outright. The way Kip was bitching, he was raising a baby instead of a celebrity. You'd think I was asking for the moon, yeesh.
If Kip noticed, he gave no response at all. Instead, pacing wildly, he lunged at the food table and proceeded to stuff his face. Bloo gazed longingly at the donuts, and then reminded himself steely what happened when he ate before a show. He had no intention of projectile vomiting again, so he'd just glare. Besides, he could eat all he wanted upon his return to Foster's. That was…if he lived that long.
Though he had a great deal of confidence in Mac, Frankie, and the others, he couldn't help doubt them slightly. What if the gun had been switched again? What if the guards hadn't been locked up properly? What if he was suddenly attacked by a bout of nerves and fainted, leaving him an easy target?
"Are you listening to me or are you imagining your creator making out with you?" he sneered, yanking him up by the collar. Bloo karate chopped his arms and landed neatly on the floor. Brushing his collar off, he muttered one last thing before turning towards the stage.
"It's a good thing you're going to jail soon or I might just kick your ass now."
…
Finishing a sugary sweet love song about absolutely no one, he launched into "Unrequited Symphony" and felt Mac's eyes on him. Sure, there were a thousand others there, but he only felt his. They seared into him and by rout, he continued the song. He stood near the stage; Frankie placed a hand on his shoulder and they both smiled at him. The heat rose in Bloo's cheeks.
"How are we doing tonight?" Bloo called and the crowd screamed obligingly. Whipping the microphone wire around, he paced cutely and then stopped, smirking. In the beginning, he'd hammed it up. This was his last concert and if he weren't worried to death about everything else, he might be tempted to do it again.
He listened to them shriek before asking a few more typical questions. Smiling good-naturedly, he plopped down on the edge and swung his legs over the side. He might as well oblige the crowd one last time. After all, after this, he planned to spend a day sleeping (if not a week) and then the rest of his time eating, playing video games, and trying to win Mac over. At the thought, his stomach flopped.
Someone (an idiot, but a fan nonetheless) requested "Unrequited Symphony". Others soon followed suit and he proceeded to sing it again, glancing towards Mac. The chestnut haired boy smiled weakly back and gave him the thumbs up. Anxious again, his voice wavered minutely. He wished he could kiss him again…
"If I may sing a never before heard song-" he started, but the crowd drowned him out. Kip's scorn rained freely on his back and he smirked again. This was his final curtain call and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
…
"'Never been heard song'?" Frankie murmured, frowning. "I thought he was supposed to sing 'Teenage Suicide'?"
"I sure hope he knows what he's doing," Mac muttered, glancing upwards. During "Unrequited Symphony", he'd had to search through his bag to hide his scarlet face. He recalled Bloo's kiss in startlingly clarity and had suddenly, unexplainably wished he were on stage again. Though he constantly assured himself it was thanks to the unexpectedness of the kiss, he longed to relive it. He'd extend it and…
Frankie nudged Mac in the ribs and, returning to reality, he blinked. Bloo was skating on extremely thin ice. Like before, he hoped he knew what he was doing, because otherwise, he was going to get himself killed.
…
"When I look into your eyes
All I see are the lies
You promised me fame and fortune
What a naïve sucker, you'd croon
"I shoulda known it was too good to be true
And now I'm saying goodbye to you
"You didn't think I'd get this smart
Lying for you has become an art
You hire people to protect yourself
All you care about is you and your wealth
"You didn't care what I wanted
Or whose memories haunted
You used and abused me
And now, dear Kip, you're history
"You thought I'd put up with your shit?
I tried to contact Mac, you threw a fit
You beat me down physically
And threatened me emotionally
"I'm sick of you and your abuse
I've heard of greed, but you have no excuse
I'll never forget the foodless days
Or you and your conniving ways
"I won't sing 'Teenage Suicide' now or ever
Fame may be fleeting, but cruelness lasts forever
I'm sick of your shit
I quit."
Perhaps the first time in rock history- a crowd fell utterly silent. Many didn't know what to make of it. Bloo trembled in rage before turning to his producer, thunderstruck and stepping unconsciously onstage. The plan, everything else, faded from his memory. He wanted to pummel him…he wanted to make him ache…
"You bastard," Bloo spat, still in mike. He stepped closer to his adversary, still stunned. An animalistic growl ripped from Bloo's throat and he pictured him bleeding from every orifice. Distantly, as though from another town, he heard Mac scream "No!" and Frankie call his name. He ignored them both.
"Aren't you glad I didn't sing 'Teenage Suicide'? Look at them. They'd see you murder me in cold blood and my creator. That's right, folks, my creator. I'm not human. I'm an imaginary friend and I've spent the last four years terrified my asshole producer would kill my creator.
"He beat me every day and starved me until I collapsed. He wouldn't let me sleep and planned months of concerts on top of each other. I told him I wanted to commit suicide and he was worried it would affect the sales. He doesn't and has never given a shit about me."
Fury quaked Kip and he pulled out his gun; he fully intended to silence him once and for all for revealing him. Mac, without thinking, jumped up on stage and stood in front of him with his arms outstretched. He offered no explanation but his body language communicated himself beyond doubt. He would protect his imaginary friend with his life if necessary.
"(That's the-)" Coco started, but when Kip fired, she stopped dead.
The crowd stared, disbelieving, at the "bang" poster ere Kip flung it at a random fan. It struck her in the head and she fell backwards into her friend. He then launched himself at Bloo and struck wherever he could reach. Bloo, ecstatic he could finally legitimately beat the shit out of Kip, attacked savagely.
"(Call the cops!)" Coco called, but Mac, still on stage and blinking, sprung forth to separate the two. Frankie followed suit.
Kip pummeled Bloo in the face, but Bloo kneed him hard in the groin. In too much pain to attack, Kip stared as Bloo punched, kicked, yanked, and ripped into him. One fully expected him to look up at Mac with fangs dripping in blood.
"Bloo, stop!" Mac cried, grabbing his imaginary friend and tugging him away by his elbows. Bloo struggled madly, kicking and striking out at even his beloved creator, but Mac's kiss on his cheek froze him completely.
Frankie scowled at Kip and opened her mouth to tell him off, but Eduardo, cowering in fear of Bloo, pointed a trembling paw. Blood trickled down his broken nose, his eyes were swollen shut, and everything else was badly bruised. If Mac hadn't pulled him off when he had, there was a distinct possibility that in a few minutes, he might have killed him. All shuddered and Mac unconsciously wrapped his arms tighter around Bloo. He was all that stood between him and the brink of insanity.
Staring at the two uncertainly and Kip's form, Frankie murmured, "So…who's coming home with me?"
…
It'd been two weeks since the 'incident' as everyone called it and at long last, Bloo was all caught up on sleep and food. Mr. Herriman was heard complaining that he never knew rock stars could eat a foster home out completely. Even so, he never said an unpleasant word about his return. In fact, though it irked him when he occasionally forgot old rules, he never erupted at him quite as badly as he did everyone else.
Kip was arrested two hours after the concert. Though he pleaded innocence, no one believed him. On his trial, he was assailed by rotten vegetables and the occasional R.D. doll. He was convicted on two accounts of attempted murder, child abuse (Bloo, in his human form, technically counted as a child), child neglect, and mistreatment of animals (for when Bloo was Deo in his blob form). Let's just say the guys in prison didn't take too kindly to him, either...
Mac had graciously given him some time to himself for a while to sort out any other business. Despite stopping by Foster's everyday at three like he always did, he avoided Bloo. He'd waited until he figured out his feelings before confronting him. Besides, Bloo'd had a difficult four years.
He found him outside staring at the unicorns. Soundlessly, he placed a hand on his shoulder and he half turned in his direction. Bloo opened his mouth to speak, but Mac shut it for him. Smiling sweetly, he wrapped his arms around him and kissed his cheek.
"I love you too, Bloo…and the symphony's not 'unrequited'."
Running his fingers through his hair, they made sweet music, no longer nowhere, but everywhere.
Fin
…
The last set of replies to reviews…sad, isn't it?
And happy birthday, Rakal! Heh.
I thought I'd thank everyone for reviewing- Rakal, Ryu, kcbs (and yes, Bloo has a human form like he does in Sunrise, Sunset- I stated it in the first chapter when I called him "humanoid" or human-like), Alleycat-2006, MisterBlue, and lucyrocks73. Thanks for liking my lyrics, everyone, and please read Sunrise, Sunset or Stranded. Thanks.
Until we meet again…