Title: Being Alive
Author: Erin (The Elfmaniac)
Rating: T, For Action's Mouth
Pairings: None.
Summary: Action figures out what being alive really means, behind the smoke and mirrors.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Jets, or any of West Side Story (as much as I wished I did..). Leonard Bernstein does, as does Stephen Sondheim.
I don't own 'Being Alive'-- another Sondheim endeavor.
Special Thanks: REED..because.
Jack, for making me do this when bored.
And..er..I guess that's about it?
AC, for telling me to do this one, first.
Oh..the centered and bolded stuff is the song. Onto the story.
Oh, and..this is during West Side Story. Means Riff's still alive. Deal.
Stop!
What do you get?
Action was sick of everyone telling him that he needed someone in his life. He had the Jets! He had his best friends, he had a family that would be loyal with him to the end. He didn't need some dumb broad telling him what to do, on top of Krupke, parents, and..well..the Jets.
He rubbed his eyes a little bit, laughing darkly to himself.
Someone to hold you too close,
Someone to hurt you too deep,
Someone to sit in your chair,
To ruin your sleep.
How the hell did Ice deal with Velma everyday?
She was a fucking leech to him, clinging onto some part of his body at all times. Not only did she freaking squeeze him like a serpent, but she criticized him at every waking moment. Although Ice didn't show emotion well, Action saw the lines of hurt on his face, though he didn't respond when Velma asked what was buggin' him. He just shook his head and swore it was nothing, before going on to tell them to go to Doc's store, or something.
Why would anyone subject themselves to torture?
Someone to need you too much,
Someone to know you too well,
Someone to pull you up short,
And put you through hell.
He wasn't sure he wanted anyone dependant on him, anyways. I mean..what good could come of someone wanting you to do things for them? Action was a hearty believer of every man for himself. He considered himself to be his own best friend, in any case.
Action didn't want someone else that was around him all the time, that wasn't part of the Jets. He shook his head with a shudder, rubbing his eyes, swallowing hard. He laughed bitterly to himself, straightening out, lacing his hands behind his head.
He didn't want someone to know him enough to bug him about how he didn't really like that, how he should be eating this and that and, God, make it stop, please.
Action..well, he didn't want some fucking broad running his life, either. Telling him exactly what to do, how to do it..shit. No.
That'd be worse than hell itstelf.
Someone you have to let in,
Someone whose feelings you spare,
Someone who, like it or not,
Will want you to share
A little, a lot.
He blinked a bit, again, trying to block out the streetlights buzzing on. Action had this time to think, while the Jets were probably having a heart attack about where he was, thinking the Sharks got him or something like that.
He let his shoulders fall as he considered what it would be like to care for someone else, utterly repulsed by the thought. It tasted sour in his mouth, nearly to the point that he felt like throwing up all over the floor. Action scoffed, shaking his head to himself.
Never, ever.
He wouldn't let anyone in, either. He was Action! He was strong, firm, head-strong, stubborn. He never, ever submitted his feelings to anyone but himself. He never would tell anyone if he was sad or angry or anything..anything..
Someone to crowd you with love,
Someone to force you to care,
Someone to make you come through,
Who'll always be there,
As frightened as you
Of being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive.
Someone to smother him?
Why the hell would he want someone to act like Riff or Ice's chick? A dumbass broad to come over like she owned him. Like he was her slave, and then..well..to hold onto him like he was some life preserver. Action was no one's but his own. No one's..ever.
And what if he did get a girl?
He'd have to soften up for them, so he wasn't some fucking stone to them, a useless piece of stone.
His lip curled into a sneer.
Action..Action was never scared, anyways. Why would he ever need anyone?
He didn't..that's why.
He didn't need them..
Somebody, hold me too close,
Somebody, hurt me too deep,
Somebody, sit in my chair
And ruin my sleep
And make me aware
Of being alive,
Being alive.
But what do I want?
Action groaned. He was just going in circles now, and he didn't know how long he'd have to himself. He didn't know what it would be like, anyways..why did he hate it?
He whirled around, smacking his head into the wooden bench, trying to find some sort of clarity. Something that would clear the muddled mess of his mind.
Did he really want a dumb broad?
Action wasn't so sure as he had been ten seconds ago. Well. He was less sure of not wanting one, anyways..the more he thought about, the more appealing it seemed..
"No, no, no.."
Somebody, need me too much,
Somebody, know me too well,
Somebody, pull me up short
And put me through hell
And give me support
For being alive,
Make me alive.
Why was he so worried about it anyways?
How bad would it really be to have someone around? Why would it be so horrible?
No..Action..no..
It wouldn't be bad, that's what. It wouldn't be bad to have someone to confide in, when everything else was falling to shit. It wouldn't be bad to have someone give you a good smack when you needed it, but show you the tenderness you needed when everyone else needed a smack.
Action leant his head against the wood again, groaning tiredly. This was going to take forever.
Make me confused,
Mock me with praise,
Let me be used,
Vary my days.
But alone is alone, not alive.
Action was drowning in his own thoughts by now. Yes, no, yes, no, yes..no..yes..
Yes..
He looked up, eyes glittering. They burned with tears, but he willed himself not to. The last thing he needed was someone coming around and seeing Action, the Action, all confused and frustrated to the point where he was really willing to submit to tears.
He was already confused enough without someone in his life, but..it seemed more appealing.
Someone to come around and laugh at things he thought were cool. Like landing a nice punch across someone's face..
He could see a girl laughing at him, then taaking him from his saddened phase just as quickly as it came. Using him for their own gain, too.
Action rubbed at his cheeks, trying to get the wetness away.
He wasn't sure the way he was living, alone, grumpy..was even really..alive..
He wasn't sharing his life with anyone, anyways! How was that really life?
Somebody, crowd me with love,
Somebody, force me to care,
Somebody, make me come through,
I'll always be there,
As frightened as you,
To help us survive
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive!
"Yes!"
Someone, anyone!
Someone..that's what he wanted. He didn't want to be a freak anymore, all alone and finding his only source of comfort bashing someone's face in.
Action sprung to his feet, still wiping at his face, taking in a gasp of the cool air.
Someone to make him be alive, someone to be there with him, someone he coud help, too..Yes, yes!
That's what he needed.
He wanted a dumb broad.
He wanted one.
..well..not a dumb broad, but, anyways.
Action wanted a girl. Someone. Anyone. To love..to..be alive with.
"Whatcha yelling 'yes' about?" asked another Jet, stalking down the street. It was Riff, with his eyebrow raised and minus his girlfriend.
"Nothin'," Action said thickly, sniffing a bit.
Shit..shit..
"Whatcha cryin' about?" Riff asked in mildly interested tones, not trying to be..well..not trying to be Riff about it.
"Nothin'."
"Oh. Okay. Come on, Action..let's go."
Riff made a broad gesture with his hand, Action following after.
His lips curled again, but not into a sneer or smirk.
Into a genuine smile.
The first in a while.
That's it.
Read and review, please.
