Loathing, Chapter 1
A/N: This is a story about Near being the new kid at Wammy's House. It is not really canon. There will be one-sided N/M and M/M in this story.
What is this feeling, so sudden and new?
I felt the moment I laid eyes on you.
My pulse is rushing.
My head is reeling
My face is flushing.
What is this feeling? Fervid as a flame, does it have a name? Yes... Yes
Loathing! Unadulterated loathing!
For your face,
Your voice,
Your clothing!
Let's just say- I loathe it all!
Every little trait how ever small,
Makes my very flesh begin to crawl
With simple utter loathing!
There's a strange exhilaration.
In such total detestation. It's so pure, so strong!
Though I do admit, it came on fast,
Still I do believe that it can last.
And I will be loathing, loathing you my whole life long.
"What is this feeling" sung by Elphaba and Glinda the Goodwitch from the musical Wicked.
The old man smiled as he parked the car on the cobbled street, his eyes resting on the wrought-iron gate as it swung ominously in the rain-pattered wind. The boy had fallen asleep, the powdery locks of his pale tresses shining dimly in the poor light that draped across him from the streetlamp.
"Wake up, child." The man prodded gently. The boy, pale as the purity of freshly fallen snow, blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. He stared at the ghostly reflection in the car's window before firmly gripping the passenger's door handle and releasing it to gravity. When the door had swung but half its course, the boy touched his feet to the damp ground, shivering from in the foreign air.
"Is this the orphanage, Mr. Ruvie?" came the quiet voice, uncertain and nearly atrophied.
"Yes, son." Replied the man, opening the heavy lock on the gate before ushering the child into the warmth and pain of his new life.
.
.
.
"Near." The name sounded foreign on his tongue. He licked his lips and repeated it but his brain wouldn't quite wrap around the idea. It wasn't enough to strip him from his home, his language, his country, his…his family…but they had to take away the only thing he had left in his life? His name?
"I'm sorry." The old man softened visibly," I know this is hard for you. So many losses and changes in such a short amount of time…it's emotionally and physically taxing. You'll get a few weeks for mourning and adjusting before we try to integrate you into life here at Wammy's. For now, why don't we just get some food into your belly and find a nice bed for you to rest in?"
Nate River, no, Near, nodded, "Thank you, Mr. Ruvie."
"Please, call me Roger."
Roger led Near to large kitchen and began to gather some nourishing leftovers for the frail boy. The soup was strange to him, and quite bland, but it was warm so he ate as much as he could. It was, at least, better than the plane food. When he was finished, Roger led him through a winding hallway and up a flight of stairs. They reached a room at the end of a corridor and Roger opened it, revealing a dozen or so beds, nearly each filled with a sleeping boy.
"Shh, this is the boy's room, you may claim any unoccupied bed you wish but be careful not to disturb the others."
Near felt the door close behind him and as soon as the click sounded, several heads popped up from their beds.
"Hey look! A new kid!"
"What's your name?"
"Where are you from?"
"Do you speak English?"
It was hard to see the expressions in the darkness, even after Near's eyes adjusted. He was tired and all he really wanted to do was go to sleep.
"Damnit, I was trying to sleep, sons of bitches. Just shut up and leave the kid alone, will you?"
A body untangled itself from a bed and stretched up. Even in the shadows, Near could sense the annoyance resonating from the figure.
The boy extended his hand to Near, who hesitantly took it and was pulled towards the beds. The stranger pushed him gently into the empty bed besides his own before speaking.
"All right, here's a bed, now sleep, kay? If I get woken up one more time I'm going to raise a bloody fucking hell of a bitch fit, ya hear? So dontcha get these bastards riled up anymore tonight. They can fawn over you in the morning."
A sudden turn on the knob and the room fell into complete silence as the old man reopened the door, light flooding in slightly from the hallway. Near looked at the boy standing across from him and almost fell backwards into the bed. Before him was an utterly feminine creature, blond hair and unforgiving eyes sparkling wickedly in the half-light.
"Go to sleep boys! Leave Near alone. If I hear that any of you were pulling any of your usual pranks, it'll be a week on toilet scrubbing duty. Yes, I'm talking to you, Mello. Now, good night!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever the fuck you say, Roger." Huffed the blond before he flung himself down on his small bed. Roger had neglected to give him nightclothes, so Near simply crawled into the space of bed and covered himself in the clean sheets and comforter.
The pain, the confusion, all of it was simply too maddening to truly just deal with so the boy tried to keep his mind blank as lay awake in bed. He wished his thoughts away but they kept returning to the same ugly pattern they always did when he was left alone to do himself in. He'd never see his parents again. His adult sister wanted nothing to do with his life. He was living in a foreign country with a fake name at an orphanage for assumed geniuses. A few tears escaped his eyes as he soundlessly cried into the pillow, wondering what his new life would be like. As his thoughts drifted back to the police reports, though, he couldn't help but whimper at the thoughts of what had happened to his family.
"Ah shit. Damn newbie. Matt, Adam, Steamer! Get your asses over here."
The soft rustling of sheets came and Near felt a dip in the mattress, then another and another. He was prodded until he shifted up in the small bed and several pairs of arms engulfed him. Shocked by the sudden contact, the boy went stiff.
"Look, it's your first night here so we'll let you get it all out, but we don't allow our feelings to get in the way of anything here, you got it? So learn to suck it up and take things like a man. Everyone's got a story. Everyone's got pain. Learn to live with it because no one gives a fuck. If I see you crying after tonight, we're going to beat the living pulp out of you."
The voice was harsh, condescending, and utterly uncomforting. Yet, the several pairs of arms around his waist tightened in soft embraces. They seemed to say it's not as bad as it seems, we'll help you be strong. Cold words and light touches. Perhaps it was the only way they could allow themselves to be friendly towards him. Perhaps it was the only way they managed to keep their own sanities amidst the trauma and turmoil of their situations. Perhaps they were as confused and scared as he was.
Whatever the reason, when the bodies finally pulled away and returned to their beds, the pale child was able to fall into the comfort of a dreamless sleep.
A/N: I've never read a story where the orphans were all put in the same room, but that's how it is in this one. Top floor is all the boys, bottom floor is all the girls. Well I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter. Thank you for reading! :)