Disclaimer: Me no own the BeyBlade show! Me no own! Me no own! (It sounds
like I'm ranting stupidly, but I'm actually doing this in a singsong voice!
^_^)
Author's Note: Hello! It's been a bit, but I'm writing chapters that tend to be sort of long, and plus I'm easily distracted, I've had school-ish related stuff, and, of course, my CLS has been pretty constant lately. (For those of you who don't know what CLS is, it stands for Chronic Laziness Syndrome, and it is a devastating disease had by millions world wide. This syndrome causes the ass to get stuck to comfortable chairs, beds, couches, (etc. . . ), generally where there is food in reach or a television. In more serious cases, both.) Anyway, moving right along the happy road, I hope all of you enjoy this installment, and I would appreciate reviews if you feel so fit to send them. Happy Readings!
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Chapter: 2
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Our eyes had to adjust as we entered the club, for the place was lit with innumerable lights, each one gel covered and gleaming like a thousand artificial stars. There was a chrome railing that acted as a sort of bulwark and surrounded a vast, circular floor in the middle of the large room. Held within that circle was a sea of divergent people whose bodies moved exotically and yet they all seemed to move together, as though there were celestial strings dictating their movements.
Beyond the rail was an elevated floor that was dotted with shiny, black tables and chairs, all having somewhat of a circular nature, and off to the side, pressed against the place's dark walls, was the bar. It was a long expanse of glossy wood with black bar stools and a tall, middle-aged man stood behind the counter, his hands working like clockwork as people shouted out their orders. He seemed oblivious to the music that blared so loudly that it became oddly monotonous and, eventually, unidentifiable to the ear.
My eyes welcomed the sight of the man and the bar that he stood so comfortably behind. If it hadn't of been for Max placing a hand on my shoulder to grab my attention, my tongue very well might have jumped from my mouth and gone to order a drink without me . . . and to take it step further ('cause why not?), my liver would have been sitting at the kitchen table the next morning sipping coffee and muttering about my being a dumb ass.
"Rei, let's grab a table," Max said.
I decided that yelling over the music to say 'okay' would be a waste of time, so I simply nodded and away we went. As we strolled to a chosen table, I allowed my eyes the pleasure of drinking in the over all physicality of the people, and I was very aware of those people whose eyes seemed to be reciprocating. It was an invigorating sensation, I adored it, wallowed in it, craved it, but Max (who also caught the eyes of strangers) appeared wary of it. I guess he couldn't be blamed for it, because God only knows what kind of people were roaming about the club. Tyson, on the other hand (which is usually where you have to put the guy), was as carefree as ever, his navy eyes dancing about the club, taking in the people and the lights, bobbing his head to the beat of the unidentifiable music; he paid no heed to the eyes that roamed over him.
We each pulled out a black chair and took a seat at the table.
"This place is awesome you guys," I started, looking at my two friends. "How'd you find it?"
Max shrugged. "It was Tyson's idea."
Tyson grinned. "This kid from my acting class knew this guy who used to work here as a bouncer, and he got us in one night. The bouncer dude was friends with the bar keep, so we didn't even have to have proof of identification to drink. It was totally sweet," Tyson explained. He frowned slightly. "That was last year though. Since then I guess they've got new staff," he added.
My mind flicked back to the image of those two huge, unfriendly looking bouncers at the door. "Yeah, obviously," I agreed.
Tyson chuckled at my comment. "Okay, so what does everyone want?" He proceeded to ask the question, and with our years of experience we knew well enough that he was referring to beverages.
Max shrugged. "Just get me some water or something, Ty," he instructed.
Tyson nodded and looked to me. I bit my lip. For some very odd and absurd reason, making the decision of which drink to get was extremely important to me. Apparently somewhere inside the travesty that was my head, someone thought that it would be the last drink I would ever have, which was a notion that was WAY far off from the truth.
I was pulled out of my deliberations by the insistent sound of Tyson's snapping fingers.
"Yo, Earth to Rei, come in Rei," He said.
I shook my head and grinned sheepishly as Max rolled his eyes and Tyson raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Sorry, I spaced. Um, just bring me back a beer," I said.
Tyson nodded. "I'm on it," he replied, and away he went into the shuffling masses.
I proceeded to talk to Max. We spoke of idle topics, this and that, and whatever else came up until Tyson returned carrying two wide cups of lightly sun-kissed, amber colored, bubbling in all of it's creamy meringue crowned glory, beer! (And then water for Max).
Maybe that description sounds over the top, but at the time, nothing had EVER looked so damn good. Thus, I dub the above description both adequate and entirely appropriate for the occasion! All ye who dare to oppose the decree shall suffer at the pernicious wings of the Tootsie Pop stealing owl of DOOM! . . . Okay, I'm done now . . .
Tyson set the cups down in front of Max and I, and then he sat down and took his in hand as well. The three of us did not speak for a short period of time, because we were each sipping at our drinks, some of us more excitedly than others. It was in the midst of this abbreviate silence that I felt a foreign touch on my thigh. I continued to sip at my beverage while looking first at the hand on my leg, and then to the face that hovered above me.
"Hey," came a greeting.
I swallowed and leaned back in my chair so as to better observe this young man standing before me. He was tall with a fair collection of defined muscles, and chiseled features that sported dull blue eyes located beneath bushy eyebrows, tan skin, and high cheekbones. His hair was dark and obviously had been subjected to a fair amount of grooming and gel, as it seemed somewhat statue like on top of his head. His attire consisted of shiny leather pants, a tight black shirt, and boots.
"Hey," I said back. I chanced a glance over at Max, who didn't seem at all impressed by this new comer, and then at Tyson who seemed to be looking at something on the dance floor.
The guy smiled, his white, straight teeth flashing oddly in the colored lighting. "You want to dance?" He asked. His voice was soft, low, and held an air of arrogance to it, but what the hell did I care? Believe me, I wasn't looking to crown a Mr. Personality.
Grinning, I stood up and winked at Max before looking back to the stranger, who wasted no time in hooking an arm around my waist and dragging me out into the sea of people. Suddenly, bodies seemed to smother me, which sounds disgusting, but it felt good to me at the time. The music that had seemed like the equivalent of nothing before began to take mold and take shape into a menagerie of words and sounds that blended together to create what if formally known as a song.
His body pressed up against mine, and we began moving to the newly discovered music. We weren't dancing with simply one another, we were dancing with the crowd, in that huge mass, and I felt those celestial strings descend and grab hold of me, guiding my every motion.
The guy's hands began roaming up my spine, causing me to shiver slightly. His fingertips worked their way down again and began trifling with the bottom edge of my shirt. He wasted little time sliding his hands under the fabric and sliding them all over the lower half of my torso. I had to grin to myself, as it was just the reaction I had been hoping for, so I moved closer, spurring on his curiosity to explore of me what he could.
My arms found their way around his neck as I moved my hips generously against his. Those wandering hands traveled over my chest, stalling every now and then to memorize a certain spot that may have made me elicit a sound akin to pleasure.
Just as I began to lose myself in the sensations that I was feeling, I felt him yank away from me, and the sudden absence of his warm hands made my skin tingle from a strange sort of cold. I stared at him. He was facing the entrance with wide eyes; his body stalk still, barely even responding to the various people that bumped into him. I looked to the entranceway where I saw a young woman about my age. She was pretty with her long blonde hair that hung so gracefully around her pale, heart shaped face. I'm sure that any other time she would have looked extremely gentle and kind, but right then those light, honey colored eyes were flashing with an emotion that could only be described as unbridled rage.
My sensitive ears picked up the sound of the stranger's whisper as his lips formed the name, "Cynthia."
I gulped. It looked as though I needed to not be there anymore, because I really did not want to be anywhere near that guy when the supposed Cynthia laid into his dumb ass. Seriously, if I had known he all ready had someone, I'd never have touched him.
As I started to fade into the crowd (a brilliant escape plan if I do say so myself), the guy snapped around and grabbed my wrist tightly. The grip was strong and kind of hurt, I mean, his knuckles were turning white. I was shocked, to say the least, and didn't even try to react when he pulled me toward him and crushed his lips against mine in a bruising kiss. It didn't last long, and he disappeared into the crowd just as Cynthia got to the edge of the dance floor.
I took a deep breath and rubbed the abused skin on my wrist. It was a very strange thing that had just occurred. I can't say I knew what to make of it, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for that Cynthia girl. The guy didn't deserve a nice person like her.
Eventually, I shrugged the incident out of my mind and began dancing alone, although that didn't last long. I uh, got passed around to several different people, all with roaming hands, some with roaming lips, and even some with roaming tongues. I can't say how long I was out on the floor before I decided to go back to the table to check up on Max and Tyson.
When I had managed to shove through the relentless crowd of people and actually succeed in arriving at our table, I found that Max was the only one sitting there. I grabbed a chair and plopped down in it. He looked over at me with those blue eyes and smiled slightly. "Hey Rei," he said.
I grinned. "Hey Maxie. Where's Tyson?"
Max chuckled and pointed to the bustling dance floor. My eyes followed his finger to a spot where Tyson could be found dancing to the music . . . or at least, to the best of his ability. Tyson never was much for dancing, and I simply had to laugh too. The guy had a good heart, was a great blader, a wonderful, loyal friend, he was honest, and outspoken, and he wasn't bad to look at either, but Ty couldn't bust out a decent move to save his life. Never the less, his 'dancing' wasn't bothering anyone . . . yet, so I turned my attention back to my blonde friend, whose eyes were still trained on Tyson.
I snickered, and he looked over to me, completely oblivious to the fact that he had been staring at the navy eyed one immersed in the crowd.
"What?" Max asked, his face showing pure innocence (always a cute look on Max).
My snickering subsided, and I imagine I looked rather smug. It makes sense, because I FELT rather smug at the time. I had caught him in the act! My suspicions were proved correct! Max had a thing for Tyson, and a little voice told me to chant that very phrase out like an eight year old teasing his friend, but I forced the little voice to shoo, because that's the voice that always tells me to burn things, and burning things always gets me in to trouble, so I figured teasing Max would probably get me into trouble too. No, no hold the applause, really, it's . . . just common sense.
"Nothing Max, nothin' at all," I said. I thought I'd give Max some time to try and figure out his feelings for himself, but if things didn't pick up I had plans to step in. Anyway, if MAX didn't do something, I thought that Tyson WOULD, because I was for certain that Tyson knew about his own feelings for Max.
Max shrugged. "I think you've had too much to drink," he muttered.
I chuckled. "Nonsense, I've only had one cup, which reminds me," I stood up and flashed my ID to him, "I'm due for another."
I turned and walked to the bar to place my order. The bar keep nodded and filled a cup for me, his hands familiar with everything, his eyes ever watching, ears ever listening. He handed the cup to me, and I took it in hand, about ready to walk away, when he stopped me.
"What's your name boy?" He asked me.
"Uh . . . it's Rei, why?" I asked, sipping the cool liquid.
The bar keep used his head to motion to the table where Max sat alone. "You with that kid, Rei?" He asked me.
I thought it was a bit odd to be asked such questions, but I went along with it out of curiosity. "Yeah, he's my best friend."
The bar keep nodded to himself and turned his back to me. When he faced me again he was holding a glass of what looked like Scotch. I raised an eyebrow at him as he placed it on the counter and slid it over to me. The glass bumped against my hand, causing the liquid to ripple and slosh about.
"Tell him that the guy over there in the corner sends him this," he told me.
I looked to where the bar keep had pointed and saw an older fellow dressed completely in black, you know, the works: black pants, boots, gloves, shirt, hair, and long trench coat. A shiver went up my spine as I averted my gaze from his, as his eyes seemed terribly intense, and I had felt as though they were drilling into my skull. He reminded me of a vampire or something, I don't know, he just creeped me out. In all honesty, I didn't WANT to give Max the drink, and I didn't want that guy anywhere near Max OR me. However, it was a free drink, so I thanked the bar keep, grabbed the glass in my free hand, and moseyed over the table.
Max looked at me with a strange expression when I sat down and set both drinks on the table. "Don't you think you're going a little over board?" He asked me.
I shrugged. "Beer for me, Scotch for you," I said. I don't know what made me want to use as little words as possible, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
"Rei, I'm driving, remember?" He said.
"Don't tell me, tell HIM," I retorted, and I pointed to the creepy vampire man in the corner.
Max turned to look at the guy, and made the mistake of catching his eye. The darkly clad man flashed a large, toothy grin at Max, his dark eyes flashing, and his tongue slid out of his mouth and licked his lips as if in hunger.
Max whipped back around to face me, his eyes wider than I'd seen them in a very long time. "Please don't let him come over here," he said, though more to himself than to me.
I looked at him sympathetically. "Well, what are you doing here anyway, Max? There's a floor for dancing, so get out there and dance," I suggested.
Max looked uneasy. "Rei . . . you know how I am about crowds and things," he said softly, averting his eyes from me.
I sighed. After Max's parents passed away, he went through a lot of emotional trauma, and for a period of time he became somewhat reclusive. Afterwards, when he started to get better, he found it difficult to be back amongst a great deal of people all at once. It always made me sick to think that losing his Mom and Dad could have such long lasting, and in some cases, permanent effects on him.
"Max, how do you ever expect to get back to the way you used to be if you don't go out of your comfort zone a little?" I asked him.
Max simply nodded and looked back at me. "I know, I know," he said, making me feel a little like an old nagging mother. So, I downed my cup of beer in no time flat, and I'll be damned if THAT feeling didn't go away. My eyes flashed to the untouched glass of Scotch. "Well, are you going to drink that?" I asked.
Max rolled his eyes. "Designated driver, 'member?"
I nodded. "Right." Then, sparing Max from any further possible temptation of the alcoholic beverage, I did what any good friend would do and sacrificed my own liver for his by downing the Scotch. Yeah, could I get a Purple Heart over here?
Max rolled his eyes at me. "You know I meant it when I said that I wasn't dragging you up to your apartment, right?" he asked.
I smacked my lips. "You can just leave me on the sidewalk in front . . . someone's bound to pick me up," I said.
Max chuckled. "Speaking of which, I saw tons of people 'picking you up' out there."
What could I do really? I mean I wasn't ashamed; in fact, it had been totally what I wanted. So, I shrugged and grinned, and excused myself to go get another drink . . . or two. When I came back Max was still there, his eyes watching the massive crowd again.
"Hey Maxie," I said, as I took a sip of beer. My eyes had caught sight of a particularly lovely young lady sitting at the bar and talking cheerfully with the bar tender.
"Yeah?" He asked.
I motioned to the young woman with my preoccupied hand. "Check her out," I said.
Max did, and agreed that she was attractive, but that was all. He never seemed to have any romantic interest in any one person, but, as mentioned earlier, his eyes always seemed to find their way to Tyson.
I sighed. "Right, so uh, Tyson is still out there, huh?" I asked, making conversation.
Max smiled. "Speaking of which, I'd better get out there before he hurts himself," he replied and stood up.
I glanced at Tyson, and agreed with Max's decision, as Tyson's 'dancing' was causing people to stare. In my mind, a little cheer went up, because Max was going out there, and I was happy for him. Anyway, Max could dance, and that could only mean good things for Tyson and all of the other poor people whose eyes had become victimized.
I drank and observed happily the pair out in the crowd. It looked as though Max was a little hesitant at first, but Tyson diminished that pretty fast, and I was pleased to see that Max looked like he was having a good time. My eyes also wandered over those who passed by me. A few of them stopped to talk with me, or at least, they ACTED like that's all they were interested in but, all roaming eyes aside, some of them I liked. My head was all ready starting to feel a little fuzzy and tingly, but it was a pretty good feeling. I was getting a little tipsy, but that felt pretty good too, and I was becoming more and more loose, which also felt pleasant. Along with my drunkenness came my more flirtatious side, which no one seemed to object too.
After that my memory is a little fuzzy. I remember the stream of music and voices flowing into one another, becoming part of a vast, blurry ocean of strange, enticing sounds. I was talking to someone who kept wanting to rub my thigh under the table, and I was becoming bored with . . . uh, him or her . . . I think it could have Big Foot, and I still wouldn't remember. As I have a tendency to do, I let my somewhat skewed vision wander around. There was nothing too interesting . . . at first. At some point, my eyes landed on a location right inside the entrance.
Okay, it sounds cliché, but my vision sort of cleared up as I began to recognize the familiar, yet unfamiliar form of one, Kai Hiwatari. He captivated me, as it seemed as though he had undergone a sort of alteration. I had always thought Kai was attractive, and few would deny it to be true, but I had never thought of him in any provocative way before. When he walked in that night, my mind was NOT thinking modestly.
Kai's posture appeared darkly sanguine, his crimson eyes held a glassy look, as though they were a front for some sort of emotion that he kept hidden away behind the glass. His face was relaxed, strangely so, and his attire greatly accented a figure that I never knew Kai even had. Time seemed to stop, he turned his head, stared straight at me, and then . . . the glass broke . . .
Author's Note: Hello! It's been a bit, but I'm writing chapters that tend to be sort of long, and plus I'm easily distracted, I've had school-ish related stuff, and, of course, my CLS has been pretty constant lately. (For those of you who don't know what CLS is, it stands for Chronic Laziness Syndrome, and it is a devastating disease had by millions world wide. This syndrome causes the ass to get stuck to comfortable chairs, beds, couches, (etc. . . ), generally where there is food in reach or a television. In more serious cases, both.) Anyway, moving right along the happy road, I hope all of you enjoy this installment, and I would appreciate reviews if you feel so fit to send them. Happy Readings!
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Chapter: 2
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Our eyes had to adjust as we entered the club, for the place was lit with innumerable lights, each one gel covered and gleaming like a thousand artificial stars. There was a chrome railing that acted as a sort of bulwark and surrounded a vast, circular floor in the middle of the large room. Held within that circle was a sea of divergent people whose bodies moved exotically and yet they all seemed to move together, as though there were celestial strings dictating their movements.
Beyond the rail was an elevated floor that was dotted with shiny, black tables and chairs, all having somewhat of a circular nature, and off to the side, pressed against the place's dark walls, was the bar. It was a long expanse of glossy wood with black bar stools and a tall, middle-aged man stood behind the counter, his hands working like clockwork as people shouted out their orders. He seemed oblivious to the music that blared so loudly that it became oddly monotonous and, eventually, unidentifiable to the ear.
My eyes welcomed the sight of the man and the bar that he stood so comfortably behind. If it hadn't of been for Max placing a hand on my shoulder to grab my attention, my tongue very well might have jumped from my mouth and gone to order a drink without me . . . and to take it step further ('cause why not?), my liver would have been sitting at the kitchen table the next morning sipping coffee and muttering about my being a dumb ass.
"Rei, let's grab a table," Max said.
I decided that yelling over the music to say 'okay' would be a waste of time, so I simply nodded and away we went. As we strolled to a chosen table, I allowed my eyes the pleasure of drinking in the over all physicality of the people, and I was very aware of those people whose eyes seemed to be reciprocating. It was an invigorating sensation, I adored it, wallowed in it, craved it, but Max (who also caught the eyes of strangers) appeared wary of it. I guess he couldn't be blamed for it, because God only knows what kind of people were roaming about the club. Tyson, on the other hand (which is usually where you have to put the guy), was as carefree as ever, his navy eyes dancing about the club, taking in the people and the lights, bobbing his head to the beat of the unidentifiable music; he paid no heed to the eyes that roamed over him.
We each pulled out a black chair and took a seat at the table.
"This place is awesome you guys," I started, looking at my two friends. "How'd you find it?"
Max shrugged. "It was Tyson's idea."
Tyson grinned. "This kid from my acting class knew this guy who used to work here as a bouncer, and he got us in one night. The bouncer dude was friends with the bar keep, so we didn't even have to have proof of identification to drink. It was totally sweet," Tyson explained. He frowned slightly. "That was last year though. Since then I guess they've got new staff," he added.
My mind flicked back to the image of those two huge, unfriendly looking bouncers at the door. "Yeah, obviously," I agreed.
Tyson chuckled at my comment. "Okay, so what does everyone want?" He proceeded to ask the question, and with our years of experience we knew well enough that he was referring to beverages.
Max shrugged. "Just get me some water or something, Ty," he instructed.
Tyson nodded and looked to me. I bit my lip. For some very odd and absurd reason, making the decision of which drink to get was extremely important to me. Apparently somewhere inside the travesty that was my head, someone thought that it would be the last drink I would ever have, which was a notion that was WAY far off from the truth.
I was pulled out of my deliberations by the insistent sound of Tyson's snapping fingers.
"Yo, Earth to Rei, come in Rei," He said.
I shook my head and grinned sheepishly as Max rolled his eyes and Tyson raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Sorry, I spaced. Um, just bring me back a beer," I said.
Tyson nodded. "I'm on it," he replied, and away he went into the shuffling masses.
I proceeded to talk to Max. We spoke of idle topics, this and that, and whatever else came up until Tyson returned carrying two wide cups of lightly sun-kissed, amber colored, bubbling in all of it's creamy meringue crowned glory, beer! (And then water for Max).
Maybe that description sounds over the top, but at the time, nothing had EVER looked so damn good. Thus, I dub the above description both adequate and entirely appropriate for the occasion! All ye who dare to oppose the decree shall suffer at the pernicious wings of the Tootsie Pop stealing owl of DOOM! . . . Okay, I'm done now . . .
Tyson set the cups down in front of Max and I, and then he sat down and took his in hand as well. The three of us did not speak for a short period of time, because we were each sipping at our drinks, some of us more excitedly than others. It was in the midst of this abbreviate silence that I felt a foreign touch on my thigh. I continued to sip at my beverage while looking first at the hand on my leg, and then to the face that hovered above me.
"Hey," came a greeting.
I swallowed and leaned back in my chair so as to better observe this young man standing before me. He was tall with a fair collection of defined muscles, and chiseled features that sported dull blue eyes located beneath bushy eyebrows, tan skin, and high cheekbones. His hair was dark and obviously had been subjected to a fair amount of grooming and gel, as it seemed somewhat statue like on top of his head. His attire consisted of shiny leather pants, a tight black shirt, and boots.
"Hey," I said back. I chanced a glance over at Max, who didn't seem at all impressed by this new comer, and then at Tyson who seemed to be looking at something on the dance floor.
The guy smiled, his white, straight teeth flashing oddly in the colored lighting. "You want to dance?" He asked. His voice was soft, low, and held an air of arrogance to it, but what the hell did I care? Believe me, I wasn't looking to crown a Mr. Personality.
Grinning, I stood up and winked at Max before looking back to the stranger, who wasted no time in hooking an arm around my waist and dragging me out into the sea of people. Suddenly, bodies seemed to smother me, which sounds disgusting, but it felt good to me at the time. The music that had seemed like the equivalent of nothing before began to take mold and take shape into a menagerie of words and sounds that blended together to create what if formally known as a song.
His body pressed up against mine, and we began moving to the newly discovered music. We weren't dancing with simply one another, we were dancing with the crowd, in that huge mass, and I felt those celestial strings descend and grab hold of me, guiding my every motion.
The guy's hands began roaming up my spine, causing me to shiver slightly. His fingertips worked their way down again and began trifling with the bottom edge of my shirt. He wasted little time sliding his hands under the fabric and sliding them all over the lower half of my torso. I had to grin to myself, as it was just the reaction I had been hoping for, so I moved closer, spurring on his curiosity to explore of me what he could.
My arms found their way around his neck as I moved my hips generously against his. Those wandering hands traveled over my chest, stalling every now and then to memorize a certain spot that may have made me elicit a sound akin to pleasure.
Just as I began to lose myself in the sensations that I was feeling, I felt him yank away from me, and the sudden absence of his warm hands made my skin tingle from a strange sort of cold. I stared at him. He was facing the entrance with wide eyes; his body stalk still, barely even responding to the various people that bumped into him. I looked to the entranceway where I saw a young woman about my age. She was pretty with her long blonde hair that hung so gracefully around her pale, heart shaped face. I'm sure that any other time she would have looked extremely gentle and kind, but right then those light, honey colored eyes were flashing with an emotion that could only be described as unbridled rage.
My sensitive ears picked up the sound of the stranger's whisper as his lips formed the name, "Cynthia."
I gulped. It looked as though I needed to not be there anymore, because I really did not want to be anywhere near that guy when the supposed Cynthia laid into his dumb ass. Seriously, if I had known he all ready had someone, I'd never have touched him.
As I started to fade into the crowd (a brilliant escape plan if I do say so myself), the guy snapped around and grabbed my wrist tightly. The grip was strong and kind of hurt, I mean, his knuckles were turning white. I was shocked, to say the least, and didn't even try to react when he pulled me toward him and crushed his lips against mine in a bruising kiss. It didn't last long, and he disappeared into the crowd just as Cynthia got to the edge of the dance floor.
I took a deep breath and rubbed the abused skin on my wrist. It was a very strange thing that had just occurred. I can't say I knew what to make of it, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for that Cynthia girl. The guy didn't deserve a nice person like her.
Eventually, I shrugged the incident out of my mind and began dancing alone, although that didn't last long. I uh, got passed around to several different people, all with roaming hands, some with roaming lips, and even some with roaming tongues. I can't say how long I was out on the floor before I decided to go back to the table to check up on Max and Tyson.
When I had managed to shove through the relentless crowd of people and actually succeed in arriving at our table, I found that Max was the only one sitting there. I grabbed a chair and plopped down in it. He looked over at me with those blue eyes and smiled slightly. "Hey Rei," he said.
I grinned. "Hey Maxie. Where's Tyson?"
Max chuckled and pointed to the bustling dance floor. My eyes followed his finger to a spot where Tyson could be found dancing to the music . . . or at least, to the best of his ability. Tyson never was much for dancing, and I simply had to laugh too. The guy had a good heart, was a great blader, a wonderful, loyal friend, he was honest, and outspoken, and he wasn't bad to look at either, but Ty couldn't bust out a decent move to save his life. Never the less, his 'dancing' wasn't bothering anyone . . . yet, so I turned my attention back to my blonde friend, whose eyes were still trained on Tyson.
I snickered, and he looked over to me, completely oblivious to the fact that he had been staring at the navy eyed one immersed in the crowd.
"What?" Max asked, his face showing pure innocence (always a cute look on Max).
My snickering subsided, and I imagine I looked rather smug. It makes sense, because I FELT rather smug at the time. I had caught him in the act! My suspicions were proved correct! Max had a thing for Tyson, and a little voice told me to chant that very phrase out like an eight year old teasing his friend, but I forced the little voice to shoo, because that's the voice that always tells me to burn things, and burning things always gets me in to trouble, so I figured teasing Max would probably get me into trouble too. No, no hold the applause, really, it's . . . just common sense.
"Nothing Max, nothin' at all," I said. I thought I'd give Max some time to try and figure out his feelings for himself, but if things didn't pick up I had plans to step in. Anyway, if MAX didn't do something, I thought that Tyson WOULD, because I was for certain that Tyson knew about his own feelings for Max.
Max shrugged. "I think you've had too much to drink," he muttered.
I chuckled. "Nonsense, I've only had one cup, which reminds me," I stood up and flashed my ID to him, "I'm due for another."
I turned and walked to the bar to place my order. The bar keep nodded and filled a cup for me, his hands familiar with everything, his eyes ever watching, ears ever listening. He handed the cup to me, and I took it in hand, about ready to walk away, when he stopped me.
"What's your name boy?" He asked me.
"Uh . . . it's Rei, why?" I asked, sipping the cool liquid.
The bar keep used his head to motion to the table where Max sat alone. "You with that kid, Rei?" He asked me.
I thought it was a bit odd to be asked such questions, but I went along with it out of curiosity. "Yeah, he's my best friend."
The bar keep nodded to himself and turned his back to me. When he faced me again he was holding a glass of what looked like Scotch. I raised an eyebrow at him as he placed it on the counter and slid it over to me. The glass bumped against my hand, causing the liquid to ripple and slosh about.
"Tell him that the guy over there in the corner sends him this," he told me.
I looked to where the bar keep had pointed and saw an older fellow dressed completely in black, you know, the works: black pants, boots, gloves, shirt, hair, and long trench coat. A shiver went up my spine as I averted my gaze from his, as his eyes seemed terribly intense, and I had felt as though they were drilling into my skull. He reminded me of a vampire or something, I don't know, he just creeped me out. In all honesty, I didn't WANT to give Max the drink, and I didn't want that guy anywhere near Max OR me. However, it was a free drink, so I thanked the bar keep, grabbed the glass in my free hand, and moseyed over the table.
Max looked at me with a strange expression when I sat down and set both drinks on the table. "Don't you think you're going a little over board?" He asked me.
I shrugged. "Beer for me, Scotch for you," I said. I don't know what made me want to use as little words as possible, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
"Rei, I'm driving, remember?" He said.
"Don't tell me, tell HIM," I retorted, and I pointed to the creepy vampire man in the corner.
Max turned to look at the guy, and made the mistake of catching his eye. The darkly clad man flashed a large, toothy grin at Max, his dark eyes flashing, and his tongue slid out of his mouth and licked his lips as if in hunger.
Max whipped back around to face me, his eyes wider than I'd seen them in a very long time. "Please don't let him come over here," he said, though more to himself than to me.
I looked at him sympathetically. "Well, what are you doing here anyway, Max? There's a floor for dancing, so get out there and dance," I suggested.
Max looked uneasy. "Rei . . . you know how I am about crowds and things," he said softly, averting his eyes from me.
I sighed. After Max's parents passed away, he went through a lot of emotional trauma, and for a period of time he became somewhat reclusive. Afterwards, when he started to get better, he found it difficult to be back amongst a great deal of people all at once. It always made me sick to think that losing his Mom and Dad could have such long lasting, and in some cases, permanent effects on him.
"Max, how do you ever expect to get back to the way you used to be if you don't go out of your comfort zone a little?" I asked him.
Max simply nodded and looked back at me. "I know, I know," he said, making me feel a little like an old nagging mother. So, I downed my cup of beer in no time flat, and I'll be damned if THAT feeling didn't go away. My eyes flashed to the untouched glass of Scotch. "Well, are you going to drink that?" I asked.
Max rolled his eyes. "Designated driver, 'member?"
I nodded. "Right." Then, sparing Max from any further possible temptation of the alcoholic beverage, I did what any good friend would do and sacrificed my own liver for his by downing the Scotch. Yeah, could I get a Purple Heart over here?
Max rolled his eyes at me. "You know I meant it when I said that I wasn't dragging you up to your apartment, right?" he asked.
I smacked my lips. "You can just leave me on the sidewalk in front . . . someone's bound to pick me up," I said.
Max chuckled. "Speaking of which, I saw tons of people 'picking you up' out there."
What could I do really? I mean I wasn't ashamed; in fact, it had been totally what I wanted. So, I shrugged and grinned, and excused myself to go get another drink . . . or two. When I came back Max was still there, his eyes watching the massive crowd again.
"Hey Maxie," I said, as I took a sip of beer. My eyes had caught sight of a particularly lovely young lady sitting at the bar and talking cheerfully with the bar tender.
"Yeah?" He asked.
I motioned to the young woman with my preoccupied hand. "Check her out," I said.
Max did, and agreed that she was attractive, but that was all. He never seemed to have any romantic interest in any one person, but, as mentioned earlier, his eyes always seemed to find their way to Tyson.
I sighed. "Right, so uh, Tyson is still out there, huh?" I asked, making conversation.
Max smiled. "Speaking of which, I'd better get out there before he hurts himself," he replied and stood up.
I glanced at Tyson, and agreed with Max's decision, as Tyson's 'dancing' was causing people to stare. In my mind, a little cheer went up, because Max was going out there, and I was happy for him. Anyway, Max could dance, and that could only mean good things for Tyson and all of the other poor people whose eyes had become victimized.
I drank and observed happily the pair out in the crowd. It looked as though Max was a little hesitant at first, but Tyson diminished that pretty fast, and I was pleased to see that Max looked like he was having a good time. My eyes also wandered over those who passed by me. A few of them stopped to talk with me, or at least, they ACTED like that's all they were interested in but, all roaming eyes aside, some of them I liked. My head was all ready starting to feel a little fuzzy and tingly, but it was a pretty good feeling. I was getting a little tipsy, but that felt pretty good too, and I was becoming more and more loose, which also felt pleasant. Along with my drunkenness came my more flirtatious side, which no one seemed to object too.
After that my memory is a little fuzzy. I remember the stream of music and voices flowing into one another, becoming part of a vast, blurry ocean of strange, enticing sounds. I was talking to someone who kept wanting to rub my thigh under the table, and I was becoming bored with . . . uh, him or her . . . I think it could have Big Foot, and I still wouldn't remember. As I have a tendency to do, I let my somewhat skewed vision wander around. There was nothing too interesting . . . at first. At some point, my eyes landed on a location right inside the entrance.
Okay, it sounds cliché, but my vision sort of cleared up as I began to recognize the familiar, yet unfamiliar form of one, Kai Hiwatari. He captivated me, as it seemed as though he had undergone a sort of alteration. I had always thought Kai was attractive, and few would deny it to be true, but I had never thought of him in any provocative way before. When he walked in that night, my mind was NOT thinking modestly.
Kai's posture appeared darkly sanguine, his crimson eyes held a glassy look, as though they were a front for some sort of emotion that he kept hidden away behind the glass. His face was relaxed, strangely so, and his attire greatly accented a figure that I never knew Kai even had. Time seemed to stop, he turned his head, stared straight at me, and then . . . the glass broke . . .