Beni-Chuu's Note(s):
Disclaimer: Square Enix owns Square Enix—not me. I hope you get that checked in the next ten years, though, because it'll be mine. –insert evil cackle-
At least, that's what's on my To Do List Before I Die.
Plus, I don't own the lyrics of "You're Crashing, But You're No Wave" by Fall Out Boy.
HELP WANTED: I need a beta reader who has plenty of time to not be stressed over some pages worth of chapters. Please, and thank you. Just email me through or leave a review with your email so I may contact you for further information.
Warning(s): This contains strong language and suggestive themes. Slight or maybe more than slight indications of shounen-ai may also pop out of nowhere.
Thanks: To those who review. Or at least glance at this for a moment, or two.
End.
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Thriller
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"I can never be like you! I can't be happy—I can't pretend all the time!"
That night…if I had been a little bit more considerate…and had realized what you meant by those words…would you still be alive now?
-
"Oh, look!"
His head only inclined a little higher from his bowl of cereal. The flakes were soggy already, just swimming in the milk. He pushed the bowl away, placing the spoon beside it.
"Another one—colleges are sure scouting you out, honey!"
Hadn't she said that before already? He only stared her down with his sea-blue eyes, taking the large envelope from her hands. The envelope was crisp, nothing too special. They were all the same to him anyway. So he ripped that one up as well.
Each strip, each stroke of the hand, another tear fell from his mother's eyes. But he didn't care.
Sora just couldn't care anymore.
-
Don't you get it? Mom… Dad… Anybody?
-
No one quite understood when he began to change. Maybe it was the start of high school. Everyone is apprehensive and anxious during that time in his or her life, right?
That's what all the adults said—even his parents said it themselves. And they thought he couldn't hear them, their concealed whispers in groups.
Well, it was going to happen sooner or later, right?
That's what all his friends were saying as they drifted from him. He was like a disease—back away or you might catch it as well. There was no surprises or secrets about him.
"Did you hear?"
"Man, I can't believe it…"
"I even heard he tried to kill himself after the funeral."
"Whoa, is he crazy? He needs a fucking therapist or something!"
"Heard he already has one."
"And?"
"…They can't even help him."
What a bunch of fake losers who don't even have the balls to say such things to his face. All they do is smile and wave, a little pity here and there. It made him almost want to puke. It was sickening. They were sickening.
Of course he was going to change sooner or later, right?
-
"I'm not invincible, you know. I have the right to change, too."
"Who said anybody had the right to do anything—even live?"
-
His appearance used to fool everybody. The awkward posture, the cheery smile, perked cheeks, spiky hair that would never be tamed by a comb—it just fooled them all. And Sora was glad it did. It had been easier that way, to hide behind his cinnamon bangs. The smile could conceal one or two tearful frowns along the way. A crest-fallen face was never something acceptable or usual to manifest his façade.
Until that day, when someone did find out.
-
"You're acting as if that's a bad thing, you know, to live."
"And what if I am?"
-
"Hey, Sora!"
That voice—Sora knew it all too well. And he purposely walked faster than needed down the corridor.
"Sora! I know you can hear me!"
He did, and he didn't. He hadn't been quite himself lately—not in the sense everyone is thinking, but his mind hadn't been stable.
"Sora, I'm going to chase you down!"
No, his thoughts only blocked the droning from the teachers, the half-hearted scolding from his parents, the chattering in-between classes. What was worth to pay attention these days for a sophomore?
"Sora, dude!"
A flash of gold and black obscured Sora's vision, and he felt his esophagus had been ripped from his body. He tried to pry the scrawny arm that trapped his throat, only to have the grip tighten.
"What…the…HELL?" Sora gasped between breaths.
The person let go, allowing Sora to at least catch his breath, glaring at his attacker. Said attacker had spiky blond hair curved to one direction. Wearing a black shirt with a white skull on the center and dark, ripped jeans Roxas lifted the corner of his lips into what was supposed to be a smile.
Sora saw right through him and his actions. "If you have something you want to talk about to me just say it to my face."
Roxas shrugged. "Yep, Kairi and the others said you'd be nasty like this."
"And what else have they been gossiping about behind my back?"
Roxas was taken aback. Sora guessed no one was still not accustomed to his "venomous tongue." Sora chuckled to himself on how he thought of such a title for his new attitude. "You…you don't have to be so—"
"Impolite? Sarcastic?" Sora interjected. "Or maybe this is the real me and I didn't want to be another fake conformist like the rest of the world?" Sora inclined his whole entire body so as to not be facing his one good friend. "Huh, Roxas, tell me how you feel about this…change in personality?"
"Sora, I'm—no—we're all worried about you."
"You think I haven't noticed?" He had—it was only because it was natural to notice these kinds of things sometimes. Those who couldn't tell were either denying it to lighten the burden of guilt or were just too ignorant to even notice.
The other boy took one step closer, cautiously as if he didn't even know what kind of territory he was stepping upon. "You're being such a whiny bitch, too!"
"Ha, thanks for the compliment." He began to walk away. He didn't need this, and neither did Roxas.
A small part of the brunette felt guilty. Maybe just this much, but that was it. Their friendship had practically ended the beginning of the new school year. It was around the time when she and him had been together and were already starting to drift apart. Typical was what Sora had first thought of it. Everything was typical to him at the time—there's always a time to start to not care about the people who used to excite a room. It gets too boring after awhile.
Roxas called after Sora for quite some time until he too gave up. Without turning back over his shoulders, Sora marched on.
"You know, I hope you know that he's hurting too, along with the rest of us!"
At that, Sora did spin around, but Roxas had already taken off to run towards the opposite direction. Sora was left with a befuddled feeling deep in the pit of his stomach.
Or was that his heart just exploding and sinking in his ribcage?
-
"So you want to die?"
"…Perhaps, if I find the convenient time and place to do that."
"…"
"Do you think I'm crazy?"
"Would it matter if I did?"
"Funny, I never heard a response like that before."
-
He didn't know when it started, the stupid, giddy feelings that suddenly erupted inside him. Maybe it only came with the package called hormones. Nothing had changed about Riku—boy with slightly long white hair and serious turquoise eyes. Sora was the one who changed.
Walking around the school was hard while the brunette tried to avoid Riku. He had to blend in with the rest of the crowd yet he still stood out. The quiet whispering, the quick glances over his direction, he noticed all. And he thought Riku was one of them as well.
Something else had bothered Sora whenever he passed Riku's line-of-vision; he had felt like this since they met.
Riku somehow knew. He knew everything.
-
"Huh?"
"Usually people would shun a person who considers suicidal thoughts normal, unless they can relate. Are you suicidal?"
"…No."
"Hmm, a long pause, but I guess that could be a good answer for someone who wants to live."
"You're changing the subject."
"…"
"Do you want to die? And why is it funny that it'd matter if I thought you were crazy?"
-
It was stupid how they met. It was last year, in the cafeteria located at the far end of the school.
Sora had neatly placed his tray next to his group of friends, ready to munch of the greasy foods called "lunch," when someone had bumped into his elbow.
The opened milk carton that was beside his hand tipped over with the reflex, milk spilling over the elbow-bumper person's jeans.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I—" Sora quickly grabbed some napkins from someone's offering hand and began wiping away the mess.
"Just leave it. They're already ruined so you're just wasting yours and my goddamned time." The voice was rich with both maturity and apathy. Nothing Sora had ever heard, and yet it sounded something he was already used to.
Only then did Sora notice Riku's deep eyes. They weren't quite blue or weren't quite green either. It was just a mixture of the two, swirled into orbs that seemed to see through the soul, Sora's soul.
What soul? was what popped into the brunette's mind.
"Oh…" Sora's hand fell back to his side.
Riku inclined his head to the side, looking down at the younger boy. There seemed to be nothing but a scowl marking his features.
A shiver ran down Sora's spine. What was this boy doing to him?
Abruptly, Riku leaned down, being six-one while Sora only a mere five-nine, close enough that his words left a burning breath upon Sora's ear. "Don't fuck with me ever again."
Sora's cheeks burned. He slowly closed his eyes, hoping to disappear.
That was that. Riku walked off to the opposite of the room, milk splattered over his jeans.
Sora had only realized last week that Riku had never worn those jeans after that incident
He hates me, Sora though. He really hates me.
-
"Not sane?"
"Shut up and answer the question."
"Questions, to be more specific."
"Answer me."
"Man, you're fucking impatient."
"Naminé…when have you ever cussed?"
-
Maybe hate was just a strong word. Maybe Sora was only exaggerating. After all, Riku had talked a little to him after coming back to school from a two-day absence.
"Sorry to hear about that one girl."
It wasn't like the other people's remarks whenever they came up to him. No remorse laced his words to sugarcoat the real meaning behind what he really wanted to say. No pity in his voice.
Only a flat apology that didn't even sound like an apology. It was a statement, maybe a sentence he was forced to say since Sora was now the "poor student everyone else has to comfort."
At least Riku didn't feel obligated to say it, but either way, Sora still felt a sting from his words. Was this what his friends felt when his "venomous tongue" flicked at their way?
Today, however, Sora never felt such strong emotions since that happened until he was cornered by his upperclassmen in the library.
-
"Now you're changing the subject…"
"Are you acting like this because we've broken up?"
"Sora, this has nothing to do with our past with each other. I'm over it. I get it. You didn't even like me."
"That's not true!"
"…Don't give me that stupid look. You know I hate it. You still do know, don't you?"
-
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Riku's demand was sudden and surprised Sora to the fullest.
"Excuse me, but I don't know what you're talking about." There it was, his shield that he had to put around him so as to not let others see his weaknesses, his flaws. "I'm only here because I'm looking for a book."
"Drop the excuses, Sora."
Sora froze, his eyes widened. The book that he took from the shelf before Riku trapped him between the wall and his body was pressed against his chest. His hands were trembling, or they felt like it to him.
This was the first time Riku actually acknowledged his first name, let alone acknowledge his whole existence for more than a minute.
The older boy came forward, until only a few inches remained for the space between them. The proximity almost suffocated Sora, but he dare not look away from Riku's piercing eyes.
Riku placed his hands on the wall, on the opposite sides of Sora's head. "You're hiding it, I know you are."
Sora kept quiet. He waited, but nothing came to mind in a way to escape. He was really trapped.
"Since day one, I've noticed how you crumbled into this state. I think everyone's noticed. They just don't want to admit that the naïve boy whose happiness never seemed to deter collapse into…this."
"What's 'this'?" Sora spat. Every second with this guy was making Sora seethe. "I don't know the fuck you're talking about. Now excuse me," Sora added. "I need to get going home—"
That's when Sora was slammed right back against the wall. He yelped in agony, but clamped his teeth before the cry escaped his lips. He wouldn't let Riku see him like this. He wouldn't let him in.
Riku's eyes narrowed, his grip around Sora's arms tightened. "You've been pissing me off lately with that stupid self-pitying of yours." Sora managed to not wince as much as he wanted to. "It's been pissing off everyone, especially me."
"So? What does that have to do with—?"
The older boy's fingers had pierced deep enough to finally make Sora break. However, his eyes began to soften as he spoke. "I can see right through you…all I ever see these days is pain…sorrow…guilt…"
Sora shook his head, shaking under Riku's grip.
No, this wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening. Not now, not ever!
"You would never understand…" whimpered Sora, fighting back the tears. "You would never know what kind of things—the pains—I had to go through after she… after she…"
"You can't even say it yourself, Sora, so how can you even understand?"
Until now, maybe Riku was right, thought Sora. Maybe I don't even understand what had happened over a year ago. That night…
-
"Naminé, I'm sorry."
"Sora…"
"So please, tell me. Are you planning to kill yourself?"
"Heh, you've figured me all out. What a smart kid."
"You have definitely changed, Nami…"
"SHUT UP! I'm sick of everyone's bullshit! I'm not that stupid, sheltered, naïve Christian-freak I've been molded into since birth! I'm not like you, Sora! I can never be like you! I can't be happy—I can't pretend all the time!"
-
She then suddenly collapsed to her knees, choking and coughing and holding onto her stomach for dear life. For her dear life.
She removed her hand from her lips, and gasped. I froze. "Blood?"
Blood between her fingers and on her palm was something we both weren't expecting. At least, that was what I was hoping for. Now that I look back at it, maybe it was only the latter.
-
"NO!"
Sora finally unlatched himself from Riku's grasp. The book plummeted as Sora's feet stomped between the mazes of bookshelves. Even if he had ran all the way out and from the double metal doors, he couldn't escape. The sounds of Riku's shoes clomping the ground in rhythm of his own two feet told him.
He knew that all too well.
Therefore he stopped, realizing that his surroundings were familiar. The swing set with the lonely, squeaky swings, the various other playground equipment plastered on multiple parts of the area. The flowers that were just randomly placed in the center with the benches on the side were something he could easily recognized a mile away.
He was at the park not too far from the library where Naminé and he had once shared fond memories.
"I'm going to jump farther than you!"
It had only been a competition between the two on who could jump the farthest from the swings. A simple, cliché thing you did whenever you were at the park. It was something they always did, before it happened.
The memory, like a stitch coming undone, pained him so, pinched at the soul. The brunette collapsed down to his knees, leaning forward. Bile rose in his throat as he recalled the swirling memories that came crashing down like waves. His fingers curled around the blades of grass.
"Sora…"
The said boy tensed at the voice. This wasn't how everything was supposed to happen, he told himself. At least, that's what he was hoping for.
"But wishing is for the weak and of the too hopeful."
"Sora, everyone can see your pain, you know." It was then Sora felt soft arms embrace around his shoulders, holding to a grip that he couldn't surpass. Lips by his ear whispered something or was it just hot air passing through his eardrums?
"I can see your pain… And it hurts me." His voice was quieter than usual.
But his words were still piercing my ears, my heart, my whole body…
-
Then it happened.
Naminé fell to her side, and not only her body dropped, but the bottle of sleeping pills she took fell from her person.
I didn't know what to do but drop to my knees as well. Her arm with the bloody hand was the closest body part to me. I probed a hand to her shoulder, shaking it. It felt distinctively cold compared to her warm room...
-
"And even if you were to hide that pain away someplace so no one else can see the ugliness, the hurt… If you were to leave it alone, it becomes heavy…so heavy…not even you can hold it."
Riku's body pressed against Sora's back was not making the situation any comfortable, but Sora didn't complain, didn't retort, didn't snap at the older boy.
Because he knew he didn't—couldn't want Riku off of him.
He was right…every word… Was the truth that hard to listen to, Riku? 'Cause it seems to be difficult for me.
-
"Okay, Naminé, quite playing around!" I thought this was just some stupid joke to get back at me. After all, I thought I had broken her heart. But I knew…
"So please, tell me. Are you planning to kill yourself?"
Oh. My. God.
-
"Sora, never forget…"
"I want to" is what I want to say. "I didn't mean to" was going to be my apology. But my mouth was dry from spit and my brain worked faster than my mouth at the moment. So I only cried, tears plopping onto my knuckles that grasped the ground.
I turned around in Riku's hold, still hesitate if I really wanted someone to see me like this.
"Sora…" His voice was pleading. His eyes didn't contain an ounce of pity, and that scared the other boy.
It was then his lips landed on mine.
-
"NAMINÉ! GET UP!" I screamed. The house was empty. How stupid were her parents to leave to church and leaving their only child at home? Did they know? Hadn't they noticed?
Then again, had I noticed it?
"SHUT UP! I'm sick of everyone's bullshit! I'm not that stupid, sheltered, naïve Christian girl I've been molded since birth! I'm not like you, Sora! I can never be like you! I can't be happy—I can't pretend all the time!"
And there had been my warning. I should have seen it, should have stopped her. But I couldn't.
-
His lips let Sora's go, only to say, "Don't forget her. Don't forget yourself."
How hard was it to say the words that I truly wanted to say since then, since the beginning?
-
I failed as both a boyfriend and a friend to her for the longest of times. I never realized it, but tears were brimming my eyes. My entire body was trembling with grief.
I scooted closer to the limp body. Picking her up from her lying position, I wrapped my small arms around her body. Even with her pressed against my chest, my heart beating against her body, it wouldn't warm her up.
I held her tightly. It was all I could do… All I could ever do for her.
-
"Sora…?"
Sora quickly stumbled forward to Riku's chest, burying his tear-covered face into Riku's dark hoodie. He felt the warmth he used to feel around Naminé, only this time it felt more real, more alive.
"I didn't mean for her to kill herself! I wanted to save her too! But…" Sora choked, clutching Riku's waist tighter. "I was scared!" The tears didn't stop there, and the confessions didn't, either. "I thought I had it all figured it… To think because she—she wouldn't be contemplating about things like…like…"
But no one had to have Sora finish his sentence. Suicide isn't something someone can talk about so easily if they have ever had to experience something like that. Besides, friends don't commit suicide. They just don't.
Right?
Sora cried harder. However, his arms wrapped around Riku's waist faltered to his sides. "…I can't, Riku… I can't be this, or anything."
And that was that. Sora composed himself long enough to get to his feet simultaneously as Riku and walk, brushing Riku's shoulders. The slight touch brought a sizzling sensation throughout his nervous system. Despite that, nothing was going to stop his constant stride for home.
Although, the hand that gripped his wrist had other ideas.
"Do you really think you've solved anything yet, huh?" exclaimed Riku in an abrasive tone.
Sora bit his lip, using the back of his hand to wipe away stray tears. "Let go." His voice was shaky from the crying which didn't help him with the effect he was going for. "Just let go, Riku."
"No." The response was cold, full of power. Sora didn't have to glance over his shoulder to notice the smoldering turquoise eyes glaring holes into his back.
"You're being a dumbass if you really believe that you have everything under control. How passive are you? You can't solve everything by yourself—that's fucking selfish. Aren't there people who care about you—about how you're handling all this?"
Sora stood still for a moment, almost not breathing. Then, a silent "If anyone cared, I wouldn't be like this, right?" came out from his parted lips.
With that, Riku shut his mouth, for no words came out, only he callously wrenched Sora's wrist from his clutch.
"Fuck you," Riku spat. He turned around, trudging along the pavement, hands in pockets. "Fuck you." His footsteps disappeared along with the sun that began to drift towards the horizon, Sora noticed.
The clouds were defined in an orange hue that reflected the new tears forming in Sora's blue eyes.
Why…? he thought. Why did Riku kiss me? Why did he come after me when no one else has? And why, for God knows why, does my chest hurt so badly?
-
The walk home was a long one for the brunette, at least, that's what he thought. He could barely see behind his blurry eyes. When he arrived home—the normal house that looked like everyone else's in the neighborhood—he was bombed with too many questions, they gave him a headache.
"Where were you? It's almost five o'clock—you should have been back thirty minutes ago. Where's the book you had to get? Honey, what's wrong with your eyes—they're red—what's wrong? Why don't you tell me anymore!"
He slammed the bedroom door on his mother's face. Everything was meaningless, regardless if he confessed all of it to her.
The door banged against his back, vibrating from the weight of his mother's fists.
As if he could tell her that it was his fault that Naminé's parents don't attend church meetings any more, or that he didn't go to her funeral because he couldn't stand the sight of some lifeless corpse that had used to be his friend.
Or at least, he thought she was a friend… Was she?
All this and more swirled in his mind, adding to the confusion of his chaotic headache that almost made him slam his head against the wall. The thought, though, made a small smile seep into Sora's sweating face.
The stereo on top of his dresser was cranked up to the loudest it could get, drowning his mother's constant, harsh shrieking behind the door.
"…to the nines
In the mirror he practices all his lines
To his closing argument twelve hearts beat in favor
I'm guessing that he read the morning paper
The headline reads, "the man hangs", but the jury doesn't"
Maybe Sora could find the pills she took inside the bathroom. He began searching in the bathroom connected to his room, throwing and discarding laundry he forgot to put out for his mother and other toiletries. The medicine cabinet with the mirror door flung open, condiments flying this way and that.
"Case open, case shut,
But you could pay to close it like a casket
Baby boy can't lift his headache head
Isn't it tragic?"
There, there it was. It wasn't the bottle of slipping pills he was looking for, but it was better.
Much better.
"He glances at his peers sitting seven to twelve stacked
On one to six the gallery is hushed
Boys in three pieces dream of grandstanding and bravado
The city sleeps in a cell notwithstanding what we all know
Hang on a rope or bated breath
Whichever you prefer
A bottle of aspirin Sora had to use when he was in some sport at school—was it baseball? He couldn't remember, since it was so long ago, so of course he had forgotten it was even in the cabinet.
And it was more convenient than having to search for some sleeping pills that probably weren't even present in the house.
"You're being a dumbass if you really believe that you have everything under control. How passive are you?"
Sora briefly thought about Riku's words, and laughed to himself. Who knew if he could have everything under control—even he himself didn't know what he was doing.
The comatose laugh that had escaped from his chapped lips told him as much.
He dumped at least three, having the cautious, still scared, part of him still be attentive, into his opened palm. They weren't enough. In fact, he felt more alert.
So he took another three—four, maybe.
It didn't do the trick. Five more. Plus two, just because he felt like it.
"…shut,
But you could pay to close it like a casket
Baby boy can't lift his headache head
Isn't it tragic?"
Drowsiness succumbed him for a brief period, but he could still pop at least a couple more into his dry mouth. His stomach had been rumbling some time ago, except it was worse around this time. Instead, it gurgled and flipped over too many times for him. His knees buckled, his palms sweat, yet he felt so alive at that moment.
This, he thought, this was what Naminé felt like when she took her own life, right, God? Right?
And if there was a God to hear his thoughts, then there was certainly a God who watched the teenager corrode forward, coughing and hacking out spit mixed with vomit onto the bathroom rug.
"Fresh pressed suit and tie
Unimpressed birds sing and die
Can talk my way out of anything
The foreman reads the verdict
'In the above entitled actions we find the defendant…'
Guilty…Guilty…Guilty…Guilty…"
God must have watched with care as the boy tumbled to the tiled floor, trembling vigorously as the music blared on from the other room. The Heavenly Father must have heard the door being banged opened, following a frantic mother stumbling into the bathroom, freezing at the sight of the boy—her only son—having foam spurting from his mouth, eyes rolled into his head.
The CD started to skip, repeating the chorus continuously, nonstop scratching from the stereo.
Our Father Who Art In Heaven most definitely heard the heart-wrenching scream that was subsequent to the scenes unfolding before their very own eyes.
"…Baby boy can't lift his headache head
Isn't it tragic?"
-
To be continued…
-
Beni-Chuu's Farewell(s):
Ah, well. That was interesting to write. To be more specific, I think this was quite difficult to type up—too many references had to be used to get this right. If I'm even close enough, but still…
I just wanted to apologize for whatever terrible grammar structure that may have appeared in this chapter. Like I've said in advance, a beta reader is highly needed.
So, again, for those interested, please leave a review saying so, or leave your email so I can contact you more conveniently if you wish so.
Ah, yes, meant to tell you all that this is just the first part. Heh.
End.
"And everyone's looking for relief
A bidding war for an old flame's grief
The cause, the kid, the course, the charm, and the curse
Not a word that could make you comprehend
Too well dressed for the witness stand
The press prays for whichever headline's worse"