Breaking
Do you memorize theatrical lines
that seem to lead them in
Play the role with the good girl heart
oh the tangled web within
Who was it that lead you on
that made you want to hurt me so
Who are you out to forget
who's forgot you long ago
-by Anberlin
Breaking
It wasn't raining but he felt as though a storm was raging in his mind to conflict the brilliance of the night that had quickly settled over him and his mourning. The stars when he had last seen them were shining brilliantly, and he could only feel resentful, empty, jealous. Stars would always be the same. Infinite in number and easy to find.
He had no place to go. At home the KND would be waiting at his front door, maybe even in his living room ready and willing to ambush him as he took his first step in. He couldn't even call to tell his father he wouldn't be home, not for dinner, not for breakfast, not tomorrow, maybe not ever.
He had Kuki's gift stored unopened in his pocket and a drink clutched in his hand. He didn't have to pay for the drink, all he had done was go up to the man behind the bar and ask for a root beer and he had handed it to the Aussie. "Free of charge."
The root beer tasted a little strange, bitter, nasty. It made him gag but still a drink was a drink, and a free drink at that.
A free drink, and a free place to hide. The air around him was dark, punctuated only by brightly colored lasers and glow stick jewelry, and heavy with the wreak of smoke and sweat as bodies "convulsed" to the loud thrashing and crashing of heavily synthesized computerized pop songs.
No one would ever be able to find him, there amongst the throng of hormonal teenagers. Nor would anyone ever think to look. As uncomfortable as he was, and as filled with disgust, he knew, there, seated at his small vacant table he was invisible.
And the number of bottles grew. He spun number five half full with his finger tips, amazed at how it reflected and refracted the flashing lights. His head was light, and all he could think about was how much fun Kuki would be having.
He could see her dancing, spinning out on the dance floor looking more graceful than any of the people jerking and bobbing out in the haze. She would be smiling, possibly singing along . . . maybe she would see him . . . he could see the glimmer in her eye . . . the one she got when they were ten whenever he walked in on her tea parties . . . that sweet mischievous glimmer . . .
His heart began to ache, and he watched the already hazy details begin to blur as he imagined the warmth of her hand . . . she would reach out to him. She would ask him to dance . . .
How he wished he could go back in time. There was so much time he has wasted, pretending he didn't want to be with her . . .
The half empty bottle dropped from his fingers, now empty, and he ignored it as it rolled off the table and shattered on the floor.
He wondered where she was. He wondered if he could stop her. Could he take her with him? Would she come? For some reason despite the answers that kept flooding him mind, he was suddenly filled with both hope and despair.
Why had he ever said no to her offers? Why hadn't he told her, why hadn't he tried sooner? What if he had? What if they had run away together, before his birthday? Had he known all along that this was going to happen?
He wondered if she had made it to the hospital. Should he have walked her home?
Had it been worth it?
Had hurting her been worth this?
Someone beside him ran their thumb over a flint wheel, and in his mind he could feel the pull. The small flame drew his attention and he turned.
Shadowed eyes and a glowstick halo held the small flame to the end of a cigarette. He watched it take, and grow as black lips sucked in fire, and inhaled smoke over gleaming white teeth.
If he snapped his fingers, if he blinked, he could light that face on fire. He could burn down the entire bar.
His visions swam, eyes following the embers as the wielder sat down in the empty chair besides him. The hand withdrew, and for a second the embers were obscured by smoke.
"Who is it you are out to forget?" Murmured the gray exhale. Behind it was a girl and a pair of eyes gray and glinting like gunmetal. "I've been watching you, five beers down, you're drowning something."
"Is root beer" He automatically slurred, but was not at all convinced that it was the truth any longer "'nd whots it ta you teenager? Shouldn't you be off . . . off doin' . . . w'oteva it is you do!"
He wanted nothing more then to throw fire into her look of smug amusement. "Whots so funneh? Huh? Spill it or ah'll make ya!"
"I know what you are." Wally froze, time froze, his heart froze, and suddenly he was all too aware of her eyes upon him. He was all too aware of their long gone amusement. "I know you are a teenager, just like me, just like all of us here. I know you are fresh to the number thirteen, as fresh as they come. Young blood . . ."
She took another drag of her cigarette, and the pull of the tiny embers seemed to drag time into sluggish motion. His heart began to murmur a whisper of a beat, and everything around him, seemed to start to turning.
" . . . I know you don't cry. You're a tough guy, but lately things have changed . . . you've experience many losses . . . " Another drag, and his head was feeling light. "I also know that you are different, and if you stay here . . . if you stay here there is more for you to fear then what already ails you."
"My name is Kiden Nixon, and I am here to help."
Authors Note: I am sorry it has taken me so long to update. I honestly did not mean for that to happen. I also apologize for any OOC-ness.
Flames are welcome. And if you look up Kiden Nixon on wikipedia you will see that she is actually based on a pre-existing x-men character.