Insomnia
By The Eternity Dragon
Disclaimer: …..o..0;
Chapter five
Concrete of Futility
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"Don't you think you're a bit passive aggressive Tyson?" Hillary asked in a matter of fact way, eyeing her blue haired friend surreptitiously from the corner of her vision.
"Passive aggressive?" Max and Kenny said in bemused astonishment, "Tyson?" Daichi said loudly, looking at Hillary as though she was a crazy person holding a gun, "What are you kidding?"
Hillary gave one of her long suffering looks and went back to finely chopping up the cucumber, the metal blade slicing aggressively through the crisp flesh and landing on the wooden surface with a muffled 'G-thunk'.
"Well," she said huffily sticking her nose haughtily in the air, "I think you're passive aggressive at least."
"Hillary," Tyson answered, taking his baseball cap from his head and chucking it dispassionately on the floor of the dojo, "compared with you, every things passive aggressive."
The boys snickered and the brown haired girl wheeled round, knife clutched menacingly in one hand as she advanced forebodingly forwards, "Don't you start that with me!" she snapped, cheeks flushing crimson, "You've just been unusually…motivated recently that's all, I'm worried perhaps you're suppressing something you shouldn't be."
"Wait, let me get this straight Hill," Tyson's mouth was curling up gently at the corners, "you're telling me off for working now? Is that right?"
"That's not what I mean at all!"
She made an exasperated sound and turned back to the cucumber, hacking viciously at it with the knife, until a mangled mess of serrated vegetable slid gloopily onto a blue and white china plate.
"Eww," said Daichi, "I'm not eating that."
"Shut up!" Hillary snapped, whisking the mulch into the rest of the food before the others could see it properly, "You'll eat it whether you like it or not….and you better like it!"
"I always wonder how it is all of her cooking always ends up tasting the same." The world champion remarked pulling a large dish from one of the side cupboards and helping Max and Kenny set the table whilst Daichi danced around the kitchen making noises such as "That looks gross!" or "I'm hungry!" and "Can we eat now?"
By the time the food was actually set on the table and they had sat down to eat Hillary had worked herself up into a state of what Tyson and Max liked to call 'abnormal paranoia' and was snapping at people for breathing too loudly, or for not eating fast enough or even eating too slowly.
"Do you think they'd ever make mustard flavoured ice cream?" Max asked after they had all eaten, all sitting around the table as much water as possible drinking water (apart from Hillary who seemed to be immune from her own cooking and did not find it the least too spicy whatsoever that you very much!).
This statement was followed by a universal "Yuck!" to which the cornflower blue eyed boy laughed and said "Why the hell not? You never know until you've tried it."
"No thank you," replied Kenny, readjusting his glasses on his brown nestle of hair, "that's one experience I'd rather not have."
"Tyson," Hillary said, looking at the champion, how was pushing the last of his serrated mulch around him plate with a rather detached expression surfacing in the depths of his dark blue eyes, "are there any experience you wish you'd rather not have?"
Tyson looked up and raised both of his brows, "I'm sorry Hill," he said quietly, "I wasn't listening, what did you say?"
Hillary's mouth became so compressed it almost disappeared and she flared her nostrils, whisking the china away from her blue haired friend and stomping off noisily into the kitchen where the others could hear her exclaiming things like, "Stupid idiot!" and "Complete moron!" and even a few, "Why me?".
"What's wrong with her?" asked Max, blinking his cornflower blue eyes and looking amused and alarmed at the same time.
"That time of the month again?"
"With her," Tyson muttered getting up to fetch his baseball cap, "it's always that time of the month."
"I heard that!" snarled Hillary, clumping in from the kitchen; sleeves rolled up past her elbows, skin spattered with sloppy soap suds.
"Do you have a fight with the dishwasher and lose?" Daichi asked cheekily as Hillary made a lunge for him and found herself restrained by all three of, Max, Tyson and Kenny, whilst the diminutive red head skittered outside jumping around singing at the top of his voice, "And I didn't like the food either!"
"Someday," she snarled, grabbing Tyson by the wrist and shooing the others outside into the courtyard with such a fiercely wolfish expression she looked liable to sprout fangs if they didn't immediately comply.
"I'm going to make that kid pay." She chuckled sinisterly to herself and thrust the washing up towel ferociously into Tyson's face.
The youth looked at her with a mixture of alarm and disorientation, intermingling by the dark descent of his brows over his eyes.
"My god something really is wrong with you." He muttered; taking a plate gingerly from her and tentatively began to dry it.
"No, not like that, jeez you can't even do this properly can you!" she grabbed the china away from him and began to feverantly scrub it in a demonstration of how drying should be done 'properly'.
Tyson leant against the wooden counter top watching her for a moment, thick dark lashes descending over indigo irises; a pained expression twisting its way across his good natured mouth.
"Do you think I'm moronic Hillary?" he asked trying to sound casual, turning his head to look out of the kitchen window so as not to catch her eye.
She'd slowed down her feverish drying he noticed, and looked at him with soft penetrating brown eyes, her mouth softening slightly at the corners.
"He said that to you didn't he?"
For a moment Tyson felt his heart beat erratically in his chest, and a familiar feeling of hot denial pour slowly down his spine, he checked his face, kept it composed and then turned and said, "Who said what?"
Hillary set the drying cloth down, opened up one of the numerous cupboards and placed put away the china with a gentle 'chink-el' onto the wooden surface.
"He said it," she repeated quietly, she had her back turned to him he noticed, her shoulder where hunched slightly and her lower back was abnormally ridged.
"You saw him at that godforsaken place, and he said that to you."
He watched as she shook her head, back still facing him, and wondered at the tight, aggravated expression that was now winding its way about her face.
"That asshole." She said the last part so vehemently the syllables seemed to linger in her mouth casting an acidic unpleasant thick glutinous layer of poison over both of them.
"Hillary please!"
"Please what?"
"Just don't…it doesn't help."
She slammed both of her fists violently against the counter top, in a way that must have surely bruised the tender flesh of her palms but she didn't cry out in pain; her back was so rigid now it seemed to tremble from the agony of it's position.
"How can you stand there, looking like that-saying things like that?" she asked softly, her voice cynically incredulous, "How can you defend him after everything that he put you through?"
"I'm not-" he began, feeling the familiar sinking feeling of acute sickness plummeting like a stone through the bowels of his gut.
"Yes you are," she stressed the 's's like a snake, soft, low and sinuous.
"You always do Tyson, you always, always, always defend him, even when he's slapped you in the face and then laughed at you. You always stand up for him, you always find some excuse to forgive him or look at it in a different light."
"I'm not trying-" he began again, but there was no stopping her now, he felt his knuckles clench and unclench periodically by his sides as something seemed to pulse against his temple.
"What does it take?" she continued, acting as though he had never spoken,
"What can I say to make it clear to you? What can I do to make you stop thinking about that-…" she snarled softly beneath her breath, "That utter bastard."
"Hillary," Tyson wasn't too sure whether he was consoling himself or consoling her when he reached out and touched her gently on the shoulder, her muscles were so tense they felt solid beneath his fingers as she suddenly, in one fluid motion, span round and slapped him hard across his face.
There was a silence as a resounding 'Crack!' flushed through the air, Tyson could feel her finger marks burning their way into his skin, and he looked up at her, totally stunned at what she had just done. But only to find her looking down at her hands with a horrified expression, eyes brimming with tears that were slowly spooling down her cheeks, "You stupid, stupid jerk," the words were soft and quavering, catching in her throat as they slipped out of her trembling lips, "look what you made me do."
And then she began to cry, noiselessly, eyes scrunched up, tightly closed, palms pressed against her face, elbows tucked in tight against her body. It was weird- no, it was bizarre, how one moment she went from a towering tigress in a foaming rage, to a helpless young woman with a heart that over ruled her head.
"Hey, hey," Tyson said, feeling every bit as gauche and blundering as a bull in a china shop, as he put both arms around her and rubbed his nose against the brim of her head.
"It's okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"You stupid," she replied thickly, her mouth buried in the crook of his neck, "you stupid, stupid, stupid. Why are you apologising to me? What have you done wrong? It's him, it's him and his bloody enigma-oh God I wish- I wish you had never met him!"
Tyson didn't say anything at this, he stood there gently rocking her back and forth, wondering how many times in the past month he had wished that exact thing over and over and over again.
The sunlight came streaming in through the widow, casting a spooled light of illumination on the flagstone floor, dancing amongst the pots and pans and creating rainbows in the soap suds.
"But I did meet him Hillary- but I don't care anymore, I swear to you I don't. I couldn't care less for Kai Hiwatari, to me, he's just another person converting oxygen to carbon dioxide."
She pushed away from him at this, dark brown chocolate eyes fixing into deep bottomless Prussian irises, there was something in his expression she didn't recognise, some care free element that had resided in his face had vanished. His eyes were wide and honest, but eerily, dispassionate…devoid of light, something, no someone had stolen that from him she felt. His blithe expression, his smile, his radiance, it was gone, utterly, wholly, completely.
She found herself thinking again, like she had over the countless months, weeks and days after he had eventually owned up and told her, after the endless arguments, the prying, and the demanding to know, having to know, wanting to know to the point of obsession. She wanted him to smile again, like he used to, the carefree, happy Tyson of so many yesterdays ago.
"You were always a bad liar Tyson," she remarked, moving to the fridge and opening up the freezer draw, "and as I say, once a bad liar, always a bad liar." She extracted a bag a frozen peas and handed them to him, sliding open the cutlery drawer and fishing around for some spoons.
"What's this for?" Tyson asked looking at the peas with some distaste, they were not his favourite vegetable by far- even with Max's magic mustard solution.
"Your face," she replied rubbing her eyes and fishing an ice cream tub from the bottom draw.
"Uh-oh," the world champion remarked, holding the pea pack to his cheek, "Ben and Jerry's now I really know you think the world is going to fall in on itself."
"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted, handing him a spoon and pushing the brown hair from her eyes and marching into the dining room, "I'm just emotionally unstable that's all. That time of the month you know."
Tyson grinned at her retreating back and stuck the spoon in his mouth, "Story of your life," he muttered.
"I heard that." Hillary snapped back.
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"Tyson!" Hiro yelled up the stairs at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am in the morning, the blue eyed youth pulled the pillow further over his head and buried himself deep into the nether regions of his bed.
"Ty-y-y-yson I need to talk to you, get out of bed!"
"I'm sleeping!" came the muffled reply, he scrunched his eyes tightly closed and willed himself back to sleep, then he heard the clatter of footsteps outside his door, heard the handle click back and then someone stride across the room, grab him by the foot and jerk him out of bed.
He landed with a heavy thump on the top of his head, "Shit!" he exclaimed loudly, rubbing his scalp and blinking tears of pain from his eyes, "I'm not ten Hiro, you can't do that to me anymore."
His brother gave him an 'I'm-older-I'll-do-what-I-want' look, "It was either me, or grandpa." he concluded coolly.
"Point taken," his little brother conceded, "I'll take you."
He stood up, the world spun and slid slowly out of focus again, "Christ!" he felt the heavy weight of his brothers hands push him back down onto the bed.
"You're really not a morning person are you?"
"Did you just come up here to point out my incurable weaknesses, or is there some logical point to all of this."
"Such as?"
Tyson sent him a 'piss-off' look that made Hiro throw back his head and laugh, the half light of dawn filtered in through the closed blinds casting shadows over both of their faces, long fingers of darkness traversing their way in the corners of the room, creeping over the bed clothes and the bed with malignant digits.
Somewhere the birds were singing the morning chorus, and the hum of automobiles sent vibrations through the concrete of the main road outside the dojo.
"Get dressed, go down stairs, there's something I think you'll want to hear."
He ruffled his hair a little and let himself out, Tyson sat on the edge of the bed a moment longer, eyes fixed on the slightly a-jar door, mouth turned into an unyielding expression of what one could perhaps describe as continuance. As in to wake up to yet another day that seemed utterly, intolerably pointless, monotony laid upon foundations of monotony, strung together with solid concrete of futility and packed together with the perspiration of denial of reality.
' "God you are stupid aren't you?"
He said it so pleasantly, leaning back on his hands, beautiful and angelic in the falling light, his hair dark and light at the same time, his eyes still narrowed and his alluring mouth moving into a smile that seemed to send thousands of shards of ice through Tyson's heart.'
Isn't it enough to hear it once he thought, as the words rang through his mind, the image imprinting itself upon his brain, every morning, every night it came back to the same thing, the same words, the same feeling.
"Idiot," he muttered to himself, pressing his fingers ardently against his mouth, and then realised he was doing it again. His hands dropped like hot coals, heart racing, blood pumping in his ears.
If there is something I could forget…he thought standing up, his limbs seeming unable to hold him steady, would I forget that?
Numbly he lead himself out into the darkened corridor, "Hey, little dude, hurry up okay? We got breakfast all ready down here! So get your kester into gear and step it up a notch- you dig!"
"I dig!" Tyson called back, closing the bathroom door behind him, he turned on the shower, and slipped off his clothes as the hot vapour weaved through the air, condensing on the mirror, and slipping in clear, crystal globules of water down the silvered pane.
He gave a slight moan of tenderness as the hot water hit his skin, sending wave upon wave of neurons simultaneous messages of both pain and pleasure.
The one thing that's keeping me sane, he thought, is also driving me slowly mad.
He let the hot rivulets of water slide sensually over his mouth, and parted his lips slightly so the warmth could beat against the hot flesh of his tongue, and just remembered.
That time when you kissed me Kai, and I told you I loved you, and then the very next day you laughed at me and told me love was nothing but pheromones and endorphins released by the brain to give us the delusion of love. You told me it wasn't real and you laughed at me again for believing you so easily, you told me that you never wanted to see me again. Kai-if you had never come back, maybe I would have- with time, forgotten about you, but now, that you're here, I don't- I can't stop thinking about you, and about…
Tyson let his head rest against the glass panel and let the water gush down his back, winding its way down his legs and arms until it spiralled about his feet and plunged down into the drain.
Perhaps he was going insane he decided, his fingertips raked down the smooth surface, feeling the water drip from the tips of his digits, sensing with his skin rather then his eyes.
I can't stop thinking about the fact you told me you loved me too.
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The tall red head youth sat in a dark chair in the lobby with a cell phone pressed against his ear, his eyes were reflective silvery grey, cold like ice as they flickered from the floor to the ceiling. A slightly savage expression was working its way across the corners of his mouth as he pressed the disconnect button on the mobile, watched as the luminescent glow cast unnatural shadows across his face and then stood for a moment in total darkness.
"If he ever forgives me for this," he muttered in a voice so low and inauspicious it could hardly be heard, "it will be a god damned f miracle."
He stalked across the dark marble floor and pushed open the adjacent door, a monitor beeped, and the constant pulse of the neural receiver sent rhythmic light flashes across the room.
A youth sat on the bed, dressed in a dark polar neck jumper and black cargo's, his tilted eyes inviting mouth pulled into a guarded façade, dark dual coloured hair attractively ruffled, the needle from a drip inserted into the vein of his left arm.
"Well?" he asked quietly, the red haired youth said nothing, but bit hard down on his bottom lip as he silently handed over he mobile.
There was a pause as the lavender eyed youth looked at it, his eyes narrowed for a second, he looked up sharply at his companion who offered no excuse but turned his head to the side in apparent distress.
The silence spiralled unbearably for a few moments, and then in one violent meticulous movement the lavender eyed youth sent the mobile hurtling across the room where it smashed into the silvered surface of a mirror. Tearing slabs of jagged pieces to the floor in a serrated mess of broken ends, a pool of broken silvered solid.
For a moment the youths face looked savage with anger as his eyes looked at the broken fragments, and compared them to his own, shattered, ruined and unreservedly worthless life.
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Okay- yeah, another update…I quite like this one I think oooh, Tala you dreadful person you said a very ghastly word.
Tala: It's censored- I feel let down by that, you're ruining my… "Bad boy" persona. I knew you couldn't pull it off.
Me: You think? I have a lot of problems with that word, I hardly ever ever ever ever…X 100,000,000 use it…ever. just so you know. ;)
Tala: You wuss.
Me:::blushes:
Anyway, this chapter at least has-what I think is TyKa content in it? Apparently this fic…does not have enough of it, which means – something along the lines of not having 'actual TyKa' content- which to be honest I'm rather bemused about.
(btw TyKa- don't you just love that shortening? XD Tyka, Tyka::sings it to the addictive teddy bear picnic song…you know what I'm talking about right? (; )
Tala:::eyetwitches: please stop…
Me: TyKa lalalala TyKa, TyKa dumdedum…
Tala:holds sign up for voluntary drinking arsenic:
Me: Hey!
Yes, so thank you for reading, and thank you for the review and everything else that makes me go squee! When I read your comments XD
Love the Eternity Dragon and Murray
p.s check out my devart account if you want to see some illustrations of this fic- hopefully I should be able to upload some onto my site soon.
