[A/N] Greetings and salutations, my beautiful readers!
Wow, it's been a while since an update, huh? Sorry about that! I've been working on other project's and haven't been in the best of places mentally, so it's been really hard to write. I hope you can forgive me! And that this chapter suffices. It's...darker, than all the others. This is how the fun begins. Don't worry, this story won't be super gorey or gross, just a bit...darker, in the tone.
Hope you enjoy!
Warning: Multiple deaths - drowning, accidental, shooting. Slightly Graphic. Blood. Darker themes. Mentioned gang activity. Hinted homophobia.
He's fifteen when he first meets her.
He doesn't know who she is yet, but he likes her. Blonde hair, teal eyes, an air of light and warmth and nature about her. She gives him a smile and a polite curtsey, and turns her back to go walk into the crowd. There's a mysterious regality in the way she carries herself, one that no simple farm girl should have. His own mother, a duchess, can't compare. And his interest soon turns into some sort of infatuation. His brothers always teased him about how easy it was to sway his heart.
Before he can reach out to her, run after her and ask her name, she's swallowed by the crowd. They never meet; the farm girl is gone forever. He wonders what her voice sounds like, where she came from, what he could call her. An unattainable beauty, he guesses, one that was never meant to be trapped in a cage wrapped in luxury.
And he straightens his back. Goes to his brothers. Doesn't tell them about that farm girl who unknowingly holds his heart, which is made of soft rose gold and cotton and delicate silks.
He never does.
He's fifteen when he dies for the first time.
He remembers feeling water rush into his mouth. His horse stomps it's hooves down on his arms and the burning pain keeps his mouth wide open in a silent scream. There's blood. It's all he can see. And he knows he'll be dead by the time he's found. There's so much pain. It's blinding. Has he ever been able to see? Everything is red and green and brown and he starts to wonder if he's finally seeing the world because it's right above him. He can barely make it out but he sees the sky. There's birds and trees and hooves.
God, they hurt so much.
His lungs feel ready to burst. They burn like they've been set on fire. Black dances on the edges of his vision and dear Lord have mercy on his soul. Was this the punishment he was warned about, for kissing the stable boy? No, surely it couldn't be... No one could be so cruel as to do this to him, just out of innocent love.
Just as everything disappears and his mind goes blank, he can swear arms grab him and drag him up. And he swears someone is calling to him. "Regulus! Wake up! Please!"
He wakes up somewhere unfamiliar.
No. He doesn't wake up. She wakes up.
Things come rushing back to her as she sits on the floor of some little house and doodles on a napkin with a crayon. She had died. She - a he, at the time. The thought of being a boy doesn't gross her out, unlike some girls her age - had taken her horse out for a ride. It had gotten spooked by a hunter's gunshot while she was drinking from a freshwater spring. It knocked her in and pinned her down...
She ignores the tears dripping down her face. Her chubby, uncoordinated fingers grab a blue crayon and flip the napkin over. She doesn't even think as she draws; who she had been, the spring she had died in, a beautiful smile framed by gold hair. It all comes from the crayon and her mind and why did she have to die? Why did she have to remember?
Her parents never bring up the suddenly haunted look they find in their 5 year old's eyes when they check on her that afternoon. Or her sudden fear of horses and water.
She grows up.
She gets the privilege of being older than she had been. Her seventeenth birthday rolls around and all of her friends drag her to a party the night before. She doesn't know who it's for, but it's in the middle of the night that someone she definitely knows walks in. But she looks different.
Once long hair now just above her shoulders, curlier and more dirty blonde, eyes more on the green side, her skin is paler and her build isn't as strong. Yet she's still gorgeous, recognizable. This time, she doesn't wait. She pulls the mystery girl aside and into a small corner, one no one would overhear them in. Big eyes look at her, almost scared, and she breathes for what feels like the first time. "I like your skirt." She starts clumsily, mortified when her lips stupidly add "Poodles are nice." But it make Her laugh.
She actually gets a name this time. Arwen. She doubts that's wait the farm girl's name was, but she takes it in stride. It's so, so lovely.
Arwen and her grow to be close quickly. Maybe a little closer than she ever expected. She doesn't even know how it happens, but she finds herself and Arwen alone in the house, in her room, lips locked in a kiss and all over each other. They never go farther than making out, but it's exhilarating all the same, and she finds herself completely lost in every tiny kiss and every little touch her friend - her girlfriend, gives her.
She dies in her beloved's arms.
It all happened too quickly.
Her parents had finally given her her dad's old motorcycle. She had already been taught how to handle it. She was cautious. They trusted her enough to let her go out and take it for a spin. Of course, her first stop is Arwen's place. They could go grab a malt and maybe hide in that big hedge maze that the local park had just gotten installed to kiss in one of the dead ends so no one finds them.
The girl squeals in excitement, and clings to her waist as they zoom to the shop. Arwen had just hopped off when she realized she didn't bring her wallet. She had been too excited, she had left it at home. When she tells her girlfriend this, Arwen rolls her eyes and she instantly starts the bike back up to go get it. Her place wasn't too far anyway, it wouldn't take lo-
A searing pain tore through her whole body. She felt herself get violently thrown from her bike, heard Arwen's screams, the screech of tires and the close smell of burning rubber.
She can't breathe. She's drowning. His horse is stomping on his arms. He can't swim up. He can't fill his lungs with air. He has no doubt that it would taste so sweet, if he could just... Her own screams are gargled, she spits up something metallic and warm. It dribbles down her chin, gathers in her mouth, and more comes down her throat or comes up faster than she can get rid of it. Is this the true world? All he can see is the sky. Birds and trees. He feels like he's always been blind despite having sight. Why does everything seem so unfocused? One eye...it wasn't blinking...
Someone scoops her up. She can practically feel all her bones move around inside her like shattered glass. A soft, sweet voice is shouting at her. Arwen. "...y! Ray! Oh God, oh my God! Please, say something; Rachel? Don't worry, sweetie, you'll be okay! We're gonna get a malt and...and we'll fight over the flavor and... you'll be fine. Just stay awake for me..."
She sounded so sad...
Normally, she couldn't refuse her Arwen anything. She's was a total sap when it came to her beloved girlfriend. But now, drowning from the inside, in her own blood... She can barely lift her better arm up to caress Arwen's cheek, trying to say "I'm sorry," before her arm falls and she succumbs to the pain.
Her third life is nothing special.
When she wakes up again, she's a girl once more. A pathetic thing who looks ready to keel over; sunken eyes, ashen skin, scraggly and greasy black-brown hair, and an almost skeletal appearance. It's entirely possible for a baby to push her over. She knows that she's suffering, but does nothing about it. What's there to do? Her two past lives have haunted her from the moment she was born.
Regulus. Rachel. What's her name again? She barely remembers. Ra... Ri... Ry... She thinks it's River, but... Oh, whatever. No one uses it anyways.
It's during this time she learns something important. Well, two things important. 1: If you look pitiful enough, even adults will bend to your will. 2: Sometimes being a not-so-good person gets you all you want. There's no good adults to steer her in the right direction. No one wants to take her in, even with how she looks, and she accepts it. Who needs people anyway?
Surprisingly, she ages up into adulthood in this life.
She still doesn't remember her name. Regulus and Rachel are all she'll ever be. They're her. Good versions of her. Ones who actually did things with their lives, that had good futures in front of them. And here she is. In the back alleys, being hired by gangs, never getting a formal education and already twenty two. And it makes her feel like shit.
This name she's carved out for herself, as the ever so mysterious No Name. She hates it. She hates the filthy money she helps people get, that she gets herself. She hates the blood on her hands. She hates this stupid, useless life. But she's too much of a coward to do anything. She gets taken out by a boss of another gang she helped rob and accepts the searing of pain in her skull with a lifeless smile.
She never even got to meet her beautiful princess again. But, she guesses that she was never meant to. Not like this.
He thinks he can finally be happy.
Raivis wakes up as a baby. And he knows his name is Raivis, because two older boys are addressing him with the name as the hover over him. It feels much better than No Name.
"What are we gonna do with Raivis?" The blonde boy hisses to the other, over his crib, "What if he's... You know. Like us? He's not safe here, Tor..."
'Tor' pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, Eduard. We're barely teenagers. How are we going to support ourselves and a baby? Running away in itself would be difficult enough... What if he starts to cry? Or gets hungry? Or moves too much? It's way too risky!"
"And you want to leave out little cousin for mom and dad to get to?" Eduard snaps, "What about the Water Incident, Toris? Or when they almost put me in a coma? They're batshit insane! And Tino offered to keep us in his apartment already; he's taken care of babies. He can help us so much!"
Toris' eyes harden, and his fist clenches. He sighs. When he looks down at Raivis, he's surprised to see the little baby staring him in the eyes. Finally, he gives it up. "Alright."
His family is all he has.
He grows up in Tino's apartment. In his care. Tino is pretty much his parent, while Toris and Eduard are his big brothers. He loves them all dearly. He doesn't want this life too end. Not too soon. And he hopes that his heart can keep beating until it comes to a natural stop.
Life hates him.
He feels dead, yet he's breathing, and his heartbeat mocks him from inside his chest. He moves the food around on his plate, taking a bite of the cardboard-like stuff when he feels eyes bore into the back of his head. Why was he here? Why wasn't he with Toris, and Eduard? They had legal guardianship of him! But, no, he was trapped in an old and rotting orphanage with an awful caretaker and three other children.
He could recognize one easily. The farm girl. Arwen. The one he never met. Erika. But, instead of a thrill, he felt pure hatred. He didn't know why. Maybe because life had decided to force them together after its failure to do so last time? If that was the case, he hated life. He hated himself. He hated Erika. Hated this stupid orphanage and that awful lady and dear God he wanted to go home...
But life couldn't be fair, huh? Not to Regulus. Not to Rachel. Not to No Name. Not to Raivis. And it certainly wouldn't be to any incarnation that was sure to follow him.
And, with that thought, his torn-up, fabric heart gave away to pure hatred.