Quicken
By: Junsui Kegasu
A/N: I'm in a really good mood right now…figured I'd start working on this…even though this has a bunch of angst.
Disclaimer: Own nothing. I don't even own the money I make until after the Boston trip…
We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas! We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year! Good tidings to you and all of your kin -
"This is really, really, really, really stupid, yeah."
- Good tidings to Christmas and a happy new year!
I can't find any way possible to disagree. If the sound system wasn't conveniently hidden from our view (when they did this, I've no clue) I think I wouldn't mind Deidara finding some way – seemingly impossible – to burn the damn thing to little bits and pieces. I think I've mentioned my particular hatred for holidays. At least they aren't making us preach about the birth of Jesus or something.
"Oi, kid! Have you found anything yet, yeah?"
It was kind of mean to Gaa-chan, but Deidara couldn't stand the carols any more and had the hyperactive ("Christmas! Yay! Nii-chan's coming!") teen go and try to find wherever the evil device was located…
"Found what?"
…Until he turned into Shukaku. This violent side of Gaara can be stubborn as a horse, and since he doesn't remember his 'mission,' he has no motivation to complete it. Deidara sighs loudly and gives up, flopping onto Gaara's bed because it's much easier to do so upon than his or mine.
"Can I borrow your CD player, yeah?"
"Are you planning on burning it?"
I can't help a snort at that. Shukaku doesn't like people. Usually, he has his music on by now, blocking out everything (and he obviously is getting close to that, judging by the way he just brought a hand to his temple to massage it) and I haven't really interacted with him much. To put it bluntly, I'm a little afraid. Because he doesn't remember people unless all four personalities see that person constantly, and Shukaku is the most recessive one, he isn't afraid to hurt any of us.
I don't think he realizes we're in a shrink.
"No, I don't, yeah." A scowl has decided to grace the blonde's lips, almost making it look like he's pouting. "I just really hate Christmas music, yeah."
I might be able to predict the outcome to this. Shukaku, as violent and angry as he is, is rather selfish. He's getting close to grabbing the CD player and blasting his brain out with Slipknot. Deidara wants the same CD player to relieve himself of the torment that is Christmas music. Silence greets me, and I place my bet on "no."
"Whatever."
I'm almost surprised. Almost. This isn't over yet; with Shukaku, "whatever" can mean a wide variety of things. The most obvious one would be yes, as the general meaning of "whatever" when it's used like this is "whatever you want" but one can never really tell. He could be saying "whatever; not my problem" to Deidara's hatred of Christmas music or "whatever; that was a stupid question" that he couldn't use the media device.
Deidara picks A. He thanks Shukaku and slams the headphones onto his head, clicking the power button. I frown; something's wrong…I can feel it. Deidara's ears are about as sensitive as mine and Shukaku likes to blast music. I want to warn him before the music comes on. Also, does he even like metal? Well, he might not be aware of what's in there. The personality of last night (before I fell asleep) was Bokaira; it might be Evanescence or something-
"ACK!" –or it's definitely Shukaku's music. "What is this shit, yeah?" he proclaims, angrily throwing the headphones around his shoulders. I don't see how Gaara isn't deaf; I can hear the music as clearly as if the foam coverings were against the shells of my ears and not slung around Deidara's shoulders. I'm gonna snap! I'm gonna snap! I'm gonna snap! I'm gonna snap! Gonna snap! Gonna snap!
He jams the off button. "Got anything else, yeah?" His only response is a shrug. "I hate metal worse than I hate Christmas music, yeah. At least you can burn the sheet music for Christmas music around Christmas, yeah, because people always play it on the piano. CDs don't burn; just melt, and melting isn't cool, yeah."
"Would you shut up?"
Another snort. Deidara can get a little carried away when he rants, and Shukaku is probably rather agitated by the belabored use of "yeah" in his sentences. I'm really going to figure out if his sister does it, too, and then shoot his parents when I get out of here. Or maybe not - they'll stick me back in here for anger management or something.
I never hated Christmas music (I actually kind of enjoyed listening to the radio around the holiday season) but right now, I'm about ready to blow out an artery with the metal. Now there's some version of "White Christmas" playing, but we don't have to dream. The entire building is white, perhaps just to satisfy a childish urge to have a white Christmas. Ha, ha. I made a joke. I should just stop sleeping altogether.
Well, technically, I barely slept last night. Right now, it's only seven thirty in the morning. They've been playing the Christmas music since seven. I think they're assuming we'll all be at breakfast by now. Shukaku is probably the reason Gaara's so thin (I like to think it's not his dad) because he hates eating. Perhaps it's just the cafeteria food, but Gaa-chan still devours that sludge. Deidara decided he wasn't hungry, I guess, because he's not out there.
There's a good side to Circle today – no Circle. Since it's Christmas, it's a visiting block. I don't have anyone coming (my parents were the only ones on the block who worked on Christmas once I didn't believe in Santa Clause anymore) but I don't have to worry about listening to Iruka preach for three hours, either. Plus, perhaps I can understand a little more about my ever-enigmatic roommates. Curiosity killed the cat, they say, but humans are much smarter.
At least my thoughts aren't the only thing echoing in the silence today. No words are exchanged, but Shukaku is now working valiantly to find the speaker and pound it into the ground and Deidara decided to put up with the metal. I think I'm beginning to like the sound of headphone leakage. When I'm in my room, I'm very grateful when it replaces Silence. Like right now. I can't think in Silence; it's too loud.
To our utter horror, the walk down the hall is filled with the same "jolly" music emanating from our room. Deidara groans loudly and plugs his ears with his fingers, scowling darkly. I won't take such drastic measures, but I will sigh in annoyance. That will do. Leave the dramatics for Deidara, Shukaku, Sasuke, and Naruto. Hopefully, in Circle, they'll tone it down. Wait, what am I thinking? There's to be talking going on; they'll turn it up, if anything.
Wonderful.
The first thing I take in from the Circle room is the continuing music, Kankurou, Deidara's sister, and the decorations. This is what I expected, so this is what I see. After a slight moment, I notice Itachi, mostly from Sasuke's "humph" of displeasure. It takes me a long, long while after that (in a sense of seconds) to realize the other thing. I'm still concentrating on the music, thinking of which corner I should occupy as long as I don't have anyone to visit.
"Sasori?"
That voice is ominously familiar, far too familiar. It's something I wasn't expecting, something out of my plan of Perfection. Something I don't really want to deal with, but I know that I have to. I have to once I get out of here. I can't just move out on my own, but I don't want to deal with it, I don't want to deal with it. I'm not perfect enough - not yet. Not yet.
Mom.
"Sasori, darling, come here!" She's waving me over. It would be imperfect, rude, unbecoming of me to ignore her. I have to. I need to prove I'm enough. It's so childish, but I have to. With a pace I think is suitable (not too fast; that makes me seem overeager. Not too slow; that makes me seem hesitant and unwilling) I set off in her direction, my heart pounding so hard I think my chest is going to explode. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. You were on the track team! Athletic breathing, Sasori! You can do this!
And suddenly, I can do anything. I'm five years old again, embraced in elegant, not-too-strong-but-still-there perfume, arms clothed in sweaters featuring the latest fashion, stylishly medium-length hair tickling at my cheek. I'm okay. I'm good enough.
But I'm not.
I hug her back, but there's a lump in my throat. It's not a lump that tells me I'm about to cry; it's more like a lump that's reminding me I'm to stay tear-free until I get out of this place, because tears are little imperfections being shed from your eyes.
(oh how i wish i could cry all the flaws away)
"I've missed you, dear," she murmurs, but I can feel her arms tighten around my nonexistent waist. She can tell. I'm not better. I'm not perfect. I never was; I never will be. And that is what hurts the most.
"I've missed you too, Mom," I force out after a couple seconds, willing my voice to an even, calm place. "It's a pleasant surprise to see you." I add, the hidden message that she won't understand screaming Why now and not before?
"Well, I meant to come quite a few times – oh, it's been so long," she sidetracks, brushing my hair from my eyes. It's been a while since I last cut it – since I last had the freedom to cut it. "Anyways. I've meant to come quite a few times, but you know work, dear. It doesn't wait, and to refuse to go in would be rather rude of me."
More like imperfect. Do you even know the meaning of such a word?
"Merry Christmas, Sasori." It's not merry. It really isn't. It's choking me with repetitive carols and the surprise and something out of the routine and I can't stand change. I want to run away, run away from all my problems like I used to do, but it wasn't enough, and I want to run to the bathroom and just panic and scream and cry and throw up and do anything.
I can't do that, though. It's not perfect. It's the complete opposite – it's insane. It's what they expect. I refuse to do it. Instead, I'll play the Calvin Klein family game. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Mom. Where's Dad?" A stupid question; he's working, of course. Why, doesn't every father work on Christmas day?
"Oh, he's working…putting in some overtime so when you come home-" she smoothes my hair from my forehead again; it had fallen out of place. I didn't even notice. "-We can go on a vacation to somewhere nice. I'm hoping for Australia; the weather is supposed to be gorgeous down there."
I tune out the rambling. An incentive to come home – that's all this is. Part of me wants to do it. Part of me wants to engage in such an expensive and Perfect trip with my two Perfect parents and live in my Perfect world – or at least, try to, and think that my imperfection is still the worst thing in the world. It is, but now there are other things worse, too. At least I'm not beat by my father or neglected by my uncle or shifted off from foster home to foster home.
As she stops talking, I can take the opportunity to glance around the room and see what's going on with everyone else. From Deidara and his sister, I catch a few disappointed snippets of conversation. Deidara's parents weren't there again. I wonder where they are? Does his father work on Christmas day, too? Gaa-chan has returned at the sight of his brother, every so often fading into Gaara for the sake of proving to Kankurou that he's still there, but mostly keeping the happy demeanor. There's another girl there, too, with spiky blond hair that I'm assuming to be his sister. And finally, the last one with a visitor is-
"Oh, my goodness…a-are those…but they're so deep…"
-Sasuke.
"I didn't realize the variety of people here…" Trained brown eyes are glancing around the room, settling on how small Gaara is for his age (unless she just assumes he's eleven or something) and the scars decorating his left arm, on how feminine Deidara is (unless she assumes he's a girl) and finally back to me, eyes sympathetic. I'm almost a little angry. I'm not the only one who had a problem, and mine isn't a problem. I just need to be perfect. That's my problem.
More silence passes between my mother and I, and I think she can feel it too. Finally, after minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, she announces that she needs to go to work for some overtime. I don't see why. We're not even close to debt. But I guess I had to inherit my perfectionism from somewhere. I can only hope they didn't go through something like this, because now they're just hypocritical and she never told me I did a good job. I'm not doing a good job. I'm not getting better.
And I don't want to.
Silence passes between us for a little while longer before she attempts to make this visit (oh-so-far from our home) meaningful by making small talk. I answer in short, clipped (but not rude) sentences, but I guess I find out a bunch about what's going on. Apparently, an uncle on her side of the family (he's her only brother and they don't speak to each other) is getting sued for child abuse, but that's the only randomly interesting thing going on at the moment. Except for me. I'm sure Dad's side of the family (the prestigious) knows all about Sasori's little problem, his little imperfection, and I can't ever face them again. I'm going to end up as one of those hobos who don't even remember whom their parents are.
Finally, the tension (so much worse than it is in Circle make it go away) ends when she tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her ear with a clearing of her throat and announces she needs to leave to make it to work. I nod, a lump in my throat reminding me of being five again, when Mommy and Daddy were at work all the time and the baby sitter would just sit there and watch television or talk to her friends and it was like Akasuna Sasori didn't exist. I'm enveloped by that scent again, and a little part of me hopes it stays on my clothes, so whenever I wear them, I can be five again.
I'm being stupid and I don't care.
Once she leaves, I go back to my original mission of eavesdropping, specifically on Gaara and Deidara, but come to think of it, I barely know anything about Sasuke either. I suppose I can eavesdrop on him. I figured since he hated his brother so much, there wouldn't be any conversation going on, but I can see their lips moving, so I inconspicuously move over, taking a seat in the corner by them, which is my corner anyways, so I have a good enough excuse.
For a while, it almost seems like they're talking about something interesting. Something about inheritance from their parents, but it ends up turning into Sasuke whining (without sounding like he is, of course) about how he doesn't care about the money; he just wants to get out of there. When questioned why, he won't answer. It should be obvious. He hates his brother, who looks just like him with longer hair and reddish eyes. Maybe we can be hobos together.
It grows boring quickly, so I relocate myself to within hearing range of Gaa-chan, Kankurou, and the mystery girl. Gaa-chan has gone back to Gaara again, which thrills the blonde (obviously the multiple personality stuff disturbs her) but now he's really shy. In hushed tones, they're talking about how their Christmas should go, and with a happy tone to his voice Kankurou says that "if all goes well" they'll have the first merry Christmas in a while. I don't know what that means, but I'm reminded of my uncle, getting sued for child abuse.
Before I can question family relations, I remember that initially, I really wanted to find out more about Deidara. Discreetly, I slink into an area that I can hear them clearly, picking up little bits of information that I already knew, and some new stuff.
"Why can't they come, yeah?" I'm assuming 'they' is referring to his parents. Something in me twitches at the hurt tone of his voice, and I feel bad. I didn't want my parents to come, but my mom came anyways. He wants his parents to come, but they won't.
"Because…they…just couldn't," his sister tells him, but I can tell it's a lie and Deidara can too, I think. I find a small part of my mind whisper in relief that she doesn't add "yeah" at the end of her sentences.
"They're still…upset, aren't they, yeah?" Deidara asks again, his voice darker, more sarcastic. Obviously, he too had parents who disapproved of his art. That's why he's here; he really, really doesn't want to get better.
"…A little," Mieko admits, sighing. "I keep telling them that it's really not that bad, that they kind of overreacted-"
Deidara snorts. The sound doesn't sound so good on him. "Sure, yeah. They completely overreacted to me attempting to burn down school, yeah."
"But you didn't! You got caught! You didn't have to be sent here!"
"Are you honestly regretting it, yeah?" Now Deidara really sounds sour. I feel like I'm invading on something far too personal, but at the same time, I can't pull myself away. I want to know this. Curiosity killed the cat. Well, perhaps I'm human, but maybe the part of my brain compelling me to do this is a cat. I hope it dies.
"They didn't have to go this far…and I know you hate it here. I can just tell; you want to leave really, really bad, and I think that this is too severe. Look who you're stuck with!" she exclaims, gesturing around the room. Suddenly, I wish Gaa-chan would stop acting like he's five because it's only proving her point and Sasuke should stop rubbing his scars like that, and my wrists suddenly look really, really fragile and thin. It's so damn obvious.
"They're not that bad, yeah," Deidara huffs in defense. "Perhaps I'm scared of the little one a little, yeah, but that's because I don't know what the hell he's going to do next, yeah." Inwardly, another snort of amusement leaves my throat. Deidara is really uncomfortable with Gaara's constant switching. "They're here for a reason, yeah. Something compelled them to be the way they are, yeah!"
Why do I get the strong impression that he's talking about me? Suddenly, the urge to not listen anymore overcomes me, and I think that inner cat has died, so I slink off to my corner to digest everything I just heard and think. Sasuke doesn't care about money; he just wants to get away from Itachi. That's not so emo as it usually is. I kind of feel bad for him. Deidara's parents have turned away as soon as their son turned to a darker side. It's hurting him. I don't know what to do to help either of them, and Deidara is the one I need to worry about.
He hasn't told me any of this yet, so that's a relief. I only have to worry when he tells me. It's selfish, but I don't know what to say. I really don't. I don't do well with social situations; I never have. It was a flaw that no one noticed, so I never tried to fix it. At least I can prepare myself for when the time comes, if ever. Something tells me that it might not for a long time. This is something of Deidara's past that's forbidden; something I'm not supposed to know. I do, and it feels kind of guilty.
I hate holidays.
Quicken the j u b i l e eA/N: Yeah, this is more of a filler chapter…don't hate me. Some stuff happened! The title is made to reflect sarcasm, too…since it's a holiday…more stuff next chapter. Honestly. Don't shoot me! (cowers behind her printer) Oh, also: the lyrics (I'm gonna snap, etc.) are from Slipknot's "Snap." I do not own that.