Sora's PoV
I walked to school quickly, and got there nearly ten minutes before first hour bell. Not so good; Plenty of time for an interrogation. I wasn't too worried though. I knew dozens of ways to avoid people, right down to the time I ate lunch on the roof of the gym to avoid some guy who thought I'd been trying to pick up his girl. I wouldn't need anything that extreme today, though. I hoped.
I slipped into the library, and sat down at a table in the back, near poetry. There were walls on two sides, and shelves on a third, hiding it from the door. I was effectively hidden from most of the room; someone would have to be practically on top of me to find me if I was quiet. I pulled out my sketchbook and a charcoal pencil from my backpack. I had plenty of time until my first class; students at our school choose one free hour, supposedly for lunch, but I had picked first period.
It wasn't until the beginning-of-class bell rang that I noticed what it was I had been drawing. It was a rather smudgy sketch of myself, perched in a tree growing out of the ocean, which swarmed with piranha fish. I snickered. The sound was very loud in the now empty library, and that alone made me relax. This was why I picked a first period free hour. I wasn't the only one who did, but most of the others who had it used the time to sleep late. I loved the library in the early morning, silent except for the turning of pages, with warm golden light streaming in through the small window into my corner. I was startled out of my calm when light footsteps sounded behind one "wall" of my sanctuary.
I think if I hadn't already been resting my chin in my hand, my jaw would have dropped when Riku rounded the corner. I quickly looked back at my book, turned a page, and began sketching quickly. I knew what I was doing, and I think he knew it too. I was doing everything I could think of to avoid meeting his eyes. While I drew, I tried beaming a telepathic message at him; go away, you feel like leaving me alone. I have enough problems today.
"Hey." He said sitting down. Damn. This was not my day. I looked up, briefly. What I saw in his face was relaxing; no anger or disgust, only kindness and a respect that surprised me a bit. I found myself smiling back, just a bit. He broke the silence. "What did you mean, yesterday, 'as you see'?" He asked. I looked at him, startlement surely scrawled across my features.
"You mean that was you?" I asked, before I could bite the question back. Then I caught my tongue between my teeth, trying not to sound like even more of an idiot.
"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked, as though it were obvious. Then he waved a hand, dismissing the subject. "You painted me in chains." He prompted a many emotions in his voice. Anger, pride, a trace of hurt…. Why did I hear longing? "Why?" he demanded. I parried immediately.
"Why what?" I asked, unrepentant, challenging. I was stalling, and we both knew it, but oddly enough, he seemed disinclined to press the issue. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, and the motion caught my eye for a moment, silver silk over golden skin… I banished the thought fiercely.
"Why didn't you sign your name?" He asked, all previous emotion banished from his voice by a will stronger than mine, and I knew my own 'calm' was a killing rage by comparison.
"Why do you care?" I challenged, damning myself for the childish hurt that slipped through. His own words were as cool as before.
"I want to understand." Though the words lacked emotion, there was a determination in them that I found myself respecting. That, however, did not show in my voice when I retorted.
"What kind of strait guy paints in the art contest? Let alone other hot guys?" Riku only gazed calmly at me, though I think the corner of his mouth twitched at the complement.
"Obviously one does." He replied no humor in his voice, but a suspicious glint in his emerald eyes. I couldn't quite restrain an answering chuckle.
"About as strait as a hula-hoop." I muttered, and I don't think he heard me, because he just looked at me, even confusion beautiful on his angelic features. I answered him with a smile, slightly bitter and wholly ironic. If he hadn't heard me, I sure as hell wasn't going to repeat it.
Riku's PoV
E-mail had cleared up a lot of things, (I guessed) but I still wanted to talk to Sora in person. I finally found him during first period, in a small niche in between two bookcases in the back of the library. Normally, I would be sleeping; I had first hour lunch, same as Sora. I spoke with him briefly, and got no answers, but he seemed edgy. He reminded me of a rabbit cornered by a hawk: trapped. His last comment startled me, though. I wasn't shocked- just a bit surprised that he would state it so boldly. I just looked at him, not sure how to respond, while he smiled, ironic and as weary as I have ever seen anyone. Then he went back to sketching and I pulled out my homework. It could have waited till fourth hour; both Sora and I have Mr. Decasmo, whose class is effectively a study hall. He gives homework almost every night, but it never matters if you listen to his lectures or not. However, I wanted to stay with Sora, and I felt I needed an excuse. I had meant what I said; I really did want to understand, not just the painting, but the artist. Neither of us spoke for the rest of the hour. But when I rose to leave, he raised one hand in a tentative wave. I waved back, and as we parted ways for second hour classes, I looked at him, watching until the crowd blocked my view. The really odd thing, Is I saw him do the same, out of the corner of his eye. Around fourth hour, I noticed a couple of people giggling and pointing. That wouldn't even have been worth noting if they had been pointing at me; but they were looking at the front of the room, and I sit in the back. I followed one of the fingers with my eyes to where Sora sat, head bent over his sketchbook, completely ignoring everyone. Sudden realization hit me and I choked back a curse. I apparently wasn't the only one who had found out ShadowSky's identity. The second realization pushed the first right out of my mind for a moment. He looked stunning today, and much older. I hadn't realized before because my eyes had been on his face, but he was dressed much like vampire Sora—different shirt, but the choker and pants were the same. A loose black long sleeve shirt made his skin look lighter, and his hair almost red, and his eyes glowed blue in his face. He looked delicious. That was where I firmly yanked my mind out of a downward slide into the gutter. I blushed; glad, for once, of my seat in the back of the room, where no one could see me. I didn't swing that way….did I? More immediate problems reclaimed my attention. The teacher continued to drone on, oblivious, while one of the boys spoke to Sora. I was too far away to make out words, but the tone was clearly nasty. Sora replied cheerfully enough, though, and then finished with his trademark grin. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed the bitterness laced through his 'cheer'. Then the real trouble started; Mr. Decasmo left the room, and a second bully joined the first. He snatched up the sketchbook and looked at whatever Sora had been drawing, then laughed, cruelly/ before I realized it I was out of my seat, barely restraining myself from hitting the boy. I snatched the sketchbook and flicked a glance over the pages, recognizing the beginning of a pencil sketch of me. Persuading myself that violence was not the best answer with odds four to one against me, (the bullies' friends had shown up) I pretended to be scornful. I looked at the bully as though he were a complete moron.
"Why are you wasting your time?" I asked dismissively, carefully not looking at Sora.
The older boy replied, "Loser thinks he's an artist. Thinks he's better than us." I laughed, derisively, lapsing into the cadence of someone for whom English is only one of the languages they speak.
"Just because some punk kid thinks it, doesn't make it true." I said. Now I was really not looking at Sora. The bullies grumbled for a moment, then stalked back to their corner, probably to insult the "fags" some more. Now I dared to look at Sora. He had a smile on his face that chilled my blood and made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
"I'm going to kill you." Sora declared, calmly, still smiling. I beat a hasty retreat. I looked for Sora again at lunch, but it was only after I gave up that I found him. By now the rumors had really started to circulate, and between the people shouting taunts and the people camping in my favorite hiding spots, I was getting fairly desperate for place to hide. In the end I climbed up on the gym roof. There was a depression in the middle that hid people quite nicely, and the rain gutter on one side of the building was pretty climbable. I didn't, however, expect anyone else to be there. Sora was sitting in the middle of the depression, calmly eating lunch.
"Uh… mind if I join you?" I asked, a tad shyly. Sora glared at me for a moment, then went back to the book he was reading. I took this for assent and sat down. About halfway through my lunch, I paused, watching him. Did he have any notion of how striking he was? His tousled hair was just a shade darker than fresh cinnamon, and his eyes glittered like fire-polished glass. I realized something then that I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I was attracted to him. I searched my feelings on that, and found them decidedly mixed. On the one hand, I was definitely uneasy about thinking about another guy like that. But on the other hand, I really liked the feeling. That in itself worried me a bit. I forced it from my mind. It didn't matter; nothing would ever happen between us. Despite his jokes to the contrary, I was certain Sora was strait. Unlike myself, it appeared. The thought made me smile slightly. I'd never been normal before--- why should I start now? I pushed the thought away, but not before it brought me full circle. What was I, then? Resolutely, I forced the thought from my mind, but it kept circling back, like a broken c.d. player that only plays one song. Finally I gave up, and just lost myself in memorizing Sora as he looked today. If he found out the way my thoughts were straying, it might be my last good look for a long time.
Again, thanks for reading. Reviews would be very nice. The next chapter will probably not get posted until I get at least one review. Did I mention I really like reviews? I would like to know I'm not talking to ghosts.
This chapter and the next were origionally written as one, but I decided it was I bit long, so I split it and wrote some extra in. Sorry it's so short; the next one is longer.
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Dyslexic Angel