Warning(s): Yaoi. Alternate universe.
Disclaimer: Me no own.
By W.V1x3
This.Is.A.Tearjerker.Crying.Now.For.Him.
One.Past.Meet.Present.
I didn't really understand what was going on and why my daddy signed those papers. Perhaps he was just trying earnestly to get me away, but that's where the confusion intruded. My sister and brother wouldn't look at me in the eye at all. I felt the tears burn at the back of my eyelids even though they were shut. Selling, buying—it was a whole other concept I had yet to understand.
Still the days passed and pulled at the new years. And those years eventually trudged on, too. Now I'm older, and now I understand what happened. Scars can't heal when more only form in their place. Actually, scars don't heal at all. So technically, it turned into a roadway of marks overlapping more marks. So disgusting, so repulsing, yet so damn beautiful.
Was it my fault that they left before I had a chance to yell at them? I don't even think I have any anger left for them, it all flew away, whispering promises to return. But I don't think they'll return; what's gone is gone, that's what I always believe. So I'll just sit here with my knees tucked tight to my chest, and maybe hope a little. Chew on my nails until they bleed.
Nervousness is an emotion well known to me. It's like asking for some milk with those cookies. Even the small voices that balance around me, tipsy and drunk, don't even out the guilt and shame. It's overwhelming. Barefooted and alone, I scream in the silence that murdered my mother.
Signing for a job you don't even want and scripting a masterpiece that never had inspiration. The words just flow from my fingertips, concocted from the depths of a mind long lost to the swirling insanity. Sometimes I dare to wonder what could have happened had I actually shot for a chance in stardom. Would I have made it? The neck-high waters swishing this way and that don't seem to agree.
Yet out there under the sweat-drawing lights, my mind echoes to the greedy consumers. Behind the scenes, curtains wrap around unwanted haunts and overdue revenges. I guess they're happy, but I'm not. Ignore those damn human morals, just ignore them. Who cares how I feel? Definitely not those who should.
If I am old enough, will they let me go? I'm not really sure if I would leave. This is my home, no matter how head turning it is. I'm trying to find a way out. Treasures spill around me, taken for granted, yet never reaching the borders of my daymare. Memories strike up like thunderstorms and wreck havoc for as long as the year allows. I wish they'd die down; I need to get some sleep.
I want an output for this confusion. It's not exactly pain. More of an evanescent reality, making way for the more…broken creatures. Good thing I stand on the sidelines, not the frontlines. Candlelight is never nice to read by; gives me such horrible headaches. Maybe I should put away the book for the night. If I'm trying to sleep, reading isn't going to egg that on anymore than eating spicy salsa would make it rain.
Speaking of rain, I missed yesterday's bout. Makes me feel a bit annoyed with myself. After all, the only comfort I have to be angry at is myself. I love the feeling of water. I hate the feeling of being wet. Pain borders pleasure, hate borders love, and male borders female. It's all the same to the sanity freaks like me, who will, sadly, never achieve such high levels of understanding.
I believe someone's knocking at the wooden door to my "sleeping-quarters" which, oddly enough, I never use to sleep. Usually I fall asleep in someone else's. Like yesterday. And the other five days of the week. Instead of answering, I roll over onto my side, tugging my scarlet bed sheets up over my head, relishing the blanket of darkness that reigns. The door creaks open and a slant of light flickers over a small part of the floor, only to diminish as it collides with the light from the candle.
Soft footfalls tell me that they aren't going to leave me to myself any time soon. As they approach, I visibly (at least to my own self) flinch and sigh silently. More weight is added to the bed and me, being as unstable as I am, practically slide to the left a bit. A hushed, female voice whispers, "You awake?"
"Was."
Personally, the answer doesn't make very much sense. If I was awake, then I'd currently be asleep, which obviously isn't the case. Mumbling incoherently and flipping back onto my other side, I narrow my jade eyes in the shadow's direction. "What the hell do you want? They catch you and you're dead."
The nine-year-old isn't even affected by this threat. "Couldn't sleep."
"Join the club, we mail fan letters to the sandman." She giggled past stick-thin fingers. "Really, why are you here? I could be doing things so much more productive than baby-sitting nine-year-olds whom drink coffee like it's their daily milk douse." The curly-haired kid only giggled again. I gave up, licking two fingers and reaching to extinguish the candle flame.
Now basking in only the light of the candle she carried by its holder, I frowned. After a long stretch of silence, she murmured softly, "If mamma finds me here, will she be mad?"
I nodded slowly.
"Why? Mamma doesn't like you."
"Not many people here do," I replied sadly. That only seemed to drag more curiosity from here as she leaned over.
"Your make-up is fading." Her scrunched up expression clearly showed just how intrigued she was by the fact that I slept in my make-up. What? Real men wear eyeliner. It's under the Ten Commandments. Or at least my version.
"Thank you for the update," I answered dryly. "Now look, you aren't even supposed to be on this side of the theatre. Go back to bed. You're completely right. If your mom finds out you've come over here, no matter how entertaining I may be," I flashed a sarcastic smile, "you'll never live to see next Christmas."
A look of horror crossed over her features.
"Exactly. Now run along, I need my beauty sleep." With another look, the kid slid down from the bed and scurried back out of the room. I heard a whispered, "I think you're cool," before the room grew silent once more, everything falling into darkness. I smiled to myself.
Red, or purple? Maybe I'll try both.
Talented fingers quickly got to work lining the make-up. Not even glancing into the mirror strung up by a metal wire (I'm not that vain), I pulled on a slightly warm jacket and slipped out of my "sleeping quarters". To my utmost surprise, the hallways were packed and busy with bustling residents.
I see an angel, and she's looking at me!
That was quite random on my part, but you know what they say— "Neji!" The brown-haired hermaphrodite spun towards the shout. I smirked. He frowned, some mighty worrisome worry lines creasing his porcelain skin.
"The clowns were recently assigned quarters in the basement, if you might have forgotten." That was cold…
"I'm not a clown, angel, dear," I gritted out. He only smirked, mocking my earlier expression of triumph. "Why are you here anyway? Shouldn't you be enjoying a fine, winter's morning with your hundred thousand dollars up at your family's mansion?"
It wasn't a surprise, or even close to one, when he abruptly walked off. Though somehow, that was even more disturbing than any kind of piercing comeback. Yesterday night hadn't been that bad, had it? Suddenly I was doubting.
My depressing discovery of rejection was cut short when a hand firmly gripped my shoulder, and burning blue eyes slipped over my shoulder, hooking with my own. Little marks, evenly distributed, lined his cheeks, three on each, and a wide grin plastered his handsome face. Unruly blond hair graced the soft edges of his eyelashes, but he shook it away. "Hello beautiful," he purred.
I was tempted to raise an eyebrow.
"Naruto," I said, returning the greeting with a little bit of a winter's chill.
The grin tipped off of his lips in a quick blink. "Why the cold shoulder, love?" The strands of honey-gold slipped into place in front of those sparkling eyes again, and I itched to brush them back.
"You stole my angel's heart away," I answered, a small little smirk masking the pure hurt of the truth in my words.
"Oh…? Oh!" It was almost cute to see that flicker of understanding pass over his features. And I almost felt bad. But almost is an off-balance word, so really, I did feel bad, and I did think it cute to see him catch on.
"The hermaphrodite? Yeah, he's one good kisser."
"Thank you for being so fucking obvious, Naruto." Maybe that was a bit too much.
His brows creased in part confusion, part anger. "What—"
"Drop it, the conversation has just died and been buried. Tell me, what kind of flowers would look best on its grave?" Naruto clearly didn't appreciate my dry humor, but honestly, I was starting to loose all patience.
"Jeez Gaara, I didn't mean to offend you like that…"
"Too late." With one last long, even look, I left the hallway, and hurried for the front entrance, where I knew peace would come to me. Outside cold raindrops fell, bringing on a cold day, bringing on an even colder pain, biting at my heart.
Absentmindedly, I wrung my fingers to keep them warm.
Neji was pacing again, and he knew it. His cousins knew it, his uncle knew it, the entire room full of people knew it. But for some reason, he couldn't will himself to take a seat among the group, for that would only cause the tension to rise sky-high.
Now he wasn't one to argue with the word of the family, but he wouldn't just stand there and let them fulfill their wish. It was outrageous! No way in all of hell was he going to let them carry their idea out. No, no, no.
Someone politely cleared his throat, causing Neji to snap back to reality with a painful jerk. Brushing his hair over one shoulder to remove it from his view, the brunette reluctantly took a seat, knowing if this wasn't the time to act, then he wouldn't go against it. Fate had been kind to him once, given him another way out, but he didn't expect a second chance to come without a fight.
"I understand the reason that has brought us all together, and I vow to make myself clear once, and only once; if anyone other than Hyuuga Neji disagrees, please make yourself present," the tall, proud looking man said in a strong and serious voice. After a moment of heady silence, Neji holding his breath deep in his lungs, a lone person stood from her seat, lips drawn tight. He nearly fell out of his own seat at the sight of just who it was.
"Hinata?"
"I disagree as well. It is not right. My home is within that theatre, and I will not stand to see it fall." Something glittered deep in the depths of her misty eyes.
"I see. Neji, if you will," Hiashi continued, dignified as ever. His nephew stood and made quick eye contact with his cousin, before turning to face the man. "You must understand, Neji, Hinata, we have a contract."
"That does not make it all right to tear down a steady-running business," Neji interjected, causing a few people in the room to stare with obvious disdain.
Hinata faltered a bit in her air of superiority, but regained it quickly. "I completely agree with Neji. This will not be able to proceed. Please forgive me, but I am ending all alliances with the Strand Theatre."
Silence blanketed the room, interrupted as several voices rose in anger. Hiashi shushed everyone with a quick snap, Neji falling silent as well. At first, he had to admit he was quite surprised and slightly relieved Hinata was with him on this, but breaking the alliance…that was almost worse.
"What brought this decision on, may I ask, Hinata?" Hiashi questioned in a miffed tone. He had never suspected his daughter would even think of something this surprising. She nodded, bangs falling briefly into her eyes.
"I believe it is our only other option. Let us leave the theatre alone before we destroy it all together. Too many cooks ruins the stew," she murmured in a joking voice. Neji scowled. Now he wasn't with her on this one.
Pulling on an expressionless mask, Neji excused himself rather rudely and left the large room, needing to let off some steam. He loved the theatre…too much, to do…that, believe it or not.
No, he would rather be kicked from the Hyuuga family then let go of the theatre.
We rarely got any kind of audience when the streets were sheeted with ice. Lots of accidents, maybe, but not many people wanting to watch any performances by the "freaks that never sleep." I winced as the loud cry of a siren passed by just beyond my window. Drunk driving never saved anyone anything except broken bones and panicking hospital employees.
Someone knocked on my door again, and I growled slightly to myself, answering the pounding with a very negative answer to come in. Can't I just have some peace? Taking a walk didn't fulfill that; I was freezing my ass off within a span of twenty minutes.
A dark-haired, well-known teenager pushed the door open; expression blank and eyes empty as well. His black, tailored suit was anything but dressy. More of an invitation to plant a big sign on him, labeled 'RICH.' I hissed past my clenched teeth. Another interruption, dammit, leave me the hell alone. Can't you people see I'm trying to wallow in my own miseries!
"Guests."
Oh, well, then, never mind. I like guests. They're fun.
Jumping from the sill, I reached for my shirt (yes, I took it off in freezing weather), buttoned it up hastily (noting some watchful eyes), and skid past Sasuke. "Nice love bite," was murmured over my shoulder. I snickered as he paled. Oh yes, money can't hide anything. It can buy anything, but not keep it from the public eye.
And now out in the main corridor, I remembered that I had no idea who the guests were, what they wanted, and whether I would get anything out of it. I could at least welcome them to this beautiful, expensive hellhole, but that's about it. This wasn't a hotel, might I remind myself, but I guess we were selling rooms for the night. Strange. Was the rain and frozen-over roads really that bad?
The three guests stood clustered by the ticket booth, though no longer in service due to personal handling, dressed clearly, to impress. I put on a mask that fit the situation. Calm, reserved, yet so fucking excited to be of service!
"Three?" I murmured in monotone, having years of work and blistering training to know just what to do and say.
Thankfully, the mask had a positive side to it, too: obliviousness.
I missed the horrified look on the twenty-looking blond girl's face, the shocked look on the younger-looking brunette boy's face, and the equally as shocked, if not more, look on the adult man's face.
Past, meet present. Have a nice day.
LIKE?
Please, do review.
This idea didn't take very long to bloom. A lot of ideas have recently taken over. I thought Demons With White Wings would be the first to actually be posted but…oh well.
Pairings are still being debated. If you wish, you can suggest a few, and we'll talk. (GRIN) This story won't be too long. Maybe fifteen chapters, maybe more, maybe less.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, ALL.
