by Wusai
Author's Notes: What's this? Wusai wrote a fic? Yes! xD It's a one-shot though, sorry. Spur-of-the-moment type of thing, a combination of listening to Lacuna Coil's "Heaven's a Lie" and thinking of Count D from Petshop of Horrors.
And if you're wondering, it's rated for language, as in using the F-word a lot.
Author's Notes After Revision: All right, it's mostly expanded here and there. If you've read the original and haven't read the revised version, please review or send an e-mail telling me whether you preferred the original or the revised version and why. If you reviewed already and can't seem to review again, just send an e-mail. Thanks!
Also, if you'd like to see the unrevised version, don't hesitate to e-mail me or leave a note in your review (if you do review) and your e-mail address.
Anyways, I'm quite happy with the fact that the word count's gone up from 600 to 1400. I thought it was too short. :D
Special Thanks: Lady Arianrod for reviewing, wan-kun for reviewing as well, and mostly to Nick. Nick, I used some of the words you suggested, and your suggesting of words is what really prompted me to do a revision. :D I was planning to revise it earlier, but - being the person I am - I procrastinated. Big thanks for getting me back on track!
Disclaimer: Hunter x Hunter belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, whatever.
I can hear the rain banging away on the roof of the hideout. That sound maddens me, the way it's just so steady and unchanging. Occasionally it does something weird like speed up or slow down, but it's still so . . . monotonous. Reminds me of a certain someone in the spider, ahem ahem, a couple clues being that he's our resident torturer and closet pervert.
And there he is, just sitting and reading his Trevor Brown book. What a big - no, excuse me, little - maniac. He's damn hard to follow for a start; one second, you expect him to do something, the next, you find yourself wondering why he didn't (For example, I have been resisting the urge to give him The Finger because I'm not sure if he's going to rip it off or just raise an eyebrow. And I do value that finger; it comes in quite useful when words can't express feelings.) Is it fun to confuse us? What is it with that psycho?
No, not just 'that psycho'. 'That psycho' is too generic, too mainstream, too pure compared to him, and therefore too not him. Feitan, effin' Feitan.
F. The letter describes him well. It's the first letter of both 'flying' and 'fuck' - as in, 'I don't give a flying fuck.' That's one of his favorite expressions; it really pisses me off sometimes.
F. Fiend. Yeah, that's pretty much Feitan summed up in one word, at least at first glance.
Friend. That starts with 'F', but it doesn't match him - not that he's not loyal to his comrades or anything, but it's just not him. Friend and Feitan are like . . . I don't know. I'd say black and white, but black and white always go together. Maybe more of 'village idiot' and 'town wiseman'; you never see those two around each other. Despite that, most of the Ryodan would say that I'm Feitan's 'friend' - he refers to me as an acquaintance - and I try to pretend that that's true, but friendship is a type of love, and really, I'm not in love with him.
Instead, I'm fascinated by him. If I told that to anyone, they wouldn't understand. They'd say, 'You're fascinated by him? What, are you a scientist?' Or, 'Fascinated by? Don't you mean in love with?' Funny how the only words to describe relationships are love, lust, and hate. Fascination just isn't that romantic, is it.
F . . . First. Foe. Frigid. 'Flirt' also enters my mind, but you can't get any more un-Feitan than that . . . I sigh, wondering why the hell I'm thinking about things like this.
"What?"
I almost jump in surprise; how long as he been looking at me, waiting for the stupid comments? Geez, the little bastard has a way of intimidating people with just a stare. But no, not just any stare; he has to use that stare. Why do people preach about meeting God and feeling so tiny, so invisible? Shouldn't they preach about having Feitan use that stare on them? Same effect, really. And it might just be me, but I hate the way he can read people's body language and basically read their mind. Your head isn't a safe place to keep thoughts when you're around him.
"Phinx?" He asks this in the tone of voice that clearly says, 'What the hell, are you drugged or something?' I hate it when he does that too, when he says one word but really says twenty, if you listen closely. I don't understand how people can say that Feitan is quiet.
"What? Family? Fortress? Fatal force?" The words tumble out of my mouth, the infamous stupid comment. He raises an eyebrow, presumably meaning, 'I would like to ask what the fuck is wrong with you, but that's too many words at one time.' He then resumes reading, and the way he does it is synonymous with 'I would edge away from you now, but I don't do things like that.'
"Uh . . . right. I'll be, well, somewhere else, if you . . . uh, need me," I say, muttering the last part; he doesn't look up from reading or make some notion that he heard me or not, which means, of course, 'Yes, I heard you, dumbshit, now go away.' 'Course, he wouldn't phrase it like that, would he?
I stand looking at him stupidly for a couple of seconds, then go outside. At times like these, I wonder why I'm the only member of this damned group that hears the whole of Feitan's comments. I am, right?
I look back inside, only to notice Feitan looking at me, eyebrow raised again. I suppose that means yes. Pff. I turn around.
It's freezing out here. I lean against a slick wall of the alley, breathing in that smell of water on asphalt that you get only after it rains. I'm not sure when it stopped raining - well, it still is, if you count drizzle as rain. I sigh again and punch the wall behind me. Just thinking about Feitan frustrates me in a strange way. I would like to say that I don't give a flying fuck what Feitan thinks or says, but that would be a lie. A big one. Bigger than him, at the least. But I'd like to hear, at least once, him 'ask' what I'm thinking about, just to show that he cares on some level, at least. I look back again, expecting.
But he's silent. For once.
He does that on purpose, doesn't he? I bet he can already tell what I'm thinking. Maybe that's why he never asks. He flips a page of his book nonchalantly, meaning, 'Give the dunce a cookie.'
"Oh, shut up," I mutter. Kneeling down, I trace a finger through the mud - they never did get around to paving this alley. I guess that they thought both buildings were shitty already (can't say I disagree) and that paving the alley wouldn't make either of them any nicer-looking.
I hate this relationship that I have with him. Sometimes I want to wring his neck . . . And sometimes - all right, maybe I lied. I guess I do harbor a little love for him. But just a little. I'm trying to figure out if it's the sexual 'love' or actual love love. Geez, if Feitan turns me into a fag, I swear I'll kill him -
But I know I won't.
Besides, honestly, if I had to be gay with someone, my first choice would be Feitan. I mean - that's not what I mean! What I mean is - what I mean is . . . oh, fuck it. I'll just leave it at 'I love Feitan in a non-romantic way,' or else this mind of mine will twist it into something that will make me unable to face Feitan ever again.
I wish I could feel nothing towards him more often.
But no, the feeling I have most often when it comes to Feitan is inferiority, which sometimes skips around hand-in-hand with frustration. Aren't we Spiders supposed to be cold-blooded, emotionless killers? Superiority should be a feeling we're used to, yet I never feel superior to that little torturer.
I can feel mud creeping under my fingernail. Withdrawing my finger from the mud, I look at what's there.
An F.
An F for 'Fuck you Feitan, my fascinating friend.'
end
-=-
Unrevised dates:
Date Started: June 22, 2004
Date Finished: June 22, 2004
Revised dates:
Date Started: June 25, 2004
Date Finished: June 25, 2004