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Emily's Funeral

The one thing Christian remembers clearly about the funeral is that it was raining. It wasn't pouring buckets but the sky was drizzling and cloudy enough to give the feel that even the earth was mourning Emily's passing.

He was one of two people that showed. The only other was the priest who he had to restrain from blessing the casket. Emily would surely rise from hell and destroy the world if the holy rites had taken place.

He can't recall what the priest was saying during the burial, but he knows he was staring at the casket and wondering why the hell no one else was there.

He can remember her face, it's sharp and clear in his mind and it bites into his brain like a pet ferret into its owner's arm, and god damn it hurts so much he just wants to go and join her in that desolate hole in the ground.

And why was no one at her funeral?
It's a nice wedding, isn't it? Not exactly normal, but they aren't very normal either. I hear the groom insisted on the blue roses, something about them matching the table cloths. Though that's usually the bride's job...she pitched a fit about getting married at all, I heard. Said it was just a waste of time and money.

Oh, she said 'I do' anyway. Figures.

Danny's never been one to go back on a promise.

revamped 1st entry

He’s standing on a bridge, his lithe form doused in the pouring rain. His hair, which is probably just as messy when it’s dry, clings close to his face, accentuating the black and white contrast. He is as pale as the moonlight that flickers through the clouds. He has the brightest eyes she’s ever seen, a mesh of blue and green that seems to flow and swim around itself. They are huge; open wide, but incredibly dead. He is just staring at the river under the bridge, watching the raging flow of the tumbling water. She doesn’t know what is going to happen, what this stranger, clad in all black, is going to do.

“Hey!” she calls, waving. His head lifts, mangy hair flicking drops of water off him. He turns his head to Danny, staring at her with those piercing, aquamarine eyes. He blinks before raising a hand to where his ear must be. His hands are short but bony, somehow elegant in their skeleton-like appearance. He looks to be entirely bone, wide hips jutting out against his leather pants.

“What are you doing out here?” she yells. He shakes his head, more water droplets cascading down him, and motions with his hand that he still can’t hear her. She sighs before jogging over to where he was standing.

Up close he looks much different.

Those eyes, which had appeared dead from a distance, are alive and flickering with determination, with a challenge. Danny isn’t sure why he seems so confrontational, but she supposes that she is that sort of person too. His skin, which granted is pale, is also marred with scars that can only be obtained by acne. He is undeniably effeminate. His clothes cling close to his skinny form though, betraying his lack of breasts. He blinks once, water pouring off his eyelashes. They stand like that for a while, watching each other.

"Are you okay?” she asks, still yelling over the pounding rain. Danny notices his cheeks are flushed, bright red. At her question he glances away, pursing his bright red lips. Is he wearing lipstick? He has to be. Maybe it is blush too, though it should have worn off with all the rain. She puts her hand to his cheek. He flinches a bit but doesn’t move. Danny almost flinches too, due to the feverish heat that is consuming his face. It gets warmer under her palm, threatening to engulf them both. His eyes suddenly grow hazy, half closing until he faints completely, toppling onto her. His leather clothing sticks to her, fishnets feeling odd and sticky against her skin freckled skin. He’s light though, and she feels a pang of guilt that she hates to admit at the thought of leaving him there. She hoists his wraith-like form and carries him bridal style, making a bee-line for the closest bar. He looks to be a singer, or a stripper based on the part of town, and Benjamin will have no trouble taking him in for the night until he gets better. He snuggles closer to Danny, murmuring something against her bosom. His voice is high, a tenor, but also cracked and rough. She leans her head closer to his to hear him.

“Emily…” he mumbles into her, and she feels an even deeper stab at her heart, almost willing to pray that it’s not the Emily that she knew. Not her Emily. She wants to drop him onto the sidewalk, run for the hills because her heart is hammering against her chest and throat and for an instant she can’t see because it hurts too much. The wound’s too new and fresh and this man she hasn’t known for more than five minutes just sprinkled a bunch of sodium chloride into her bleeding cut.

She carries him to Benjamin despite his unintentional cruelty.

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Danny watches him with her suspicious sapphire eyes as he moves about the stage. The club has been closed down, he tells her as he paces back and forth, his footsteps resounding awkwardly through the empty room. She doesn't see why he's bothered by it. Months ago he got gigs elsewhere and left the Spider Shack for better performance spaces. Suddenly, he rounds on her, drawing her close and wrapping his arms around her desperately and clinging. his body is warm, she notes, not cold like his intellect and heart. Maybe it means his heart is warming, thawing and she will be the one to see it, HER. Not anyone else, not even Yoshima. And sharply she realizes why Heir's so upset. this is where Emily saw him, this club is where they first made mad love together, this is where she was the night before she died. And now it's over, closed. The book's been shut, Emily's finally finished.

And Danny can only thank god Emily finally let Heir go.

-owari-

"Danny!" Heir cries, tripping over his own two feet as he races towards the redhead. He can't lose her now, not when she's right in front of him with her back turned, he can't let her go. Even if he has to e by her side as only a friend and nothing more he can't give up. She's beautiful and elegant and like a damn fallen angel or star or some shit like that, he thinks, because she just kept on fucking glowing where all this shit came down and SHE'S the one, the real one, he realizes. Danny is, not Emily.

Emily, that goddess, was never THE one.

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Rambling

“Is your name actually Danny?”

“Is yours Heir?” she bites back, leaning over the railing and staring into the tumultuous river, trying to lose herself in its depths. Heir stands next to her, leaning back against the railing and refusing the dark chains that were slowly pulling Danny in. He knows better, because it doesn’t matter what kind of escape he searches for; they all end in the same thing. Ever since Emily had died it had been useless; drugs, sex, even the nighttime which he had worshiped doesn’t provide him the comfort she had. And now Danny is digging her claws deeper in him like he is with her, trying to find salvation in him and the river which can easily rip her life away. He frowns, reaching for a cigarette and lighting as quickly as he could.

Maybe this will kill him fast enough.

“Of course it isn’t. Why would I share something like that with the world?” he says around his cigarette. Danny glances back at him, scowling at the smoking plumes coming from his mouth. “I’m not an idiot. I’m a singer and a slut but I’m not an idiot by any means.” And that has him ranting and raving like an insane genius, the cigarette bobbing against his lips. Danny listens halfheartedly, knowing that this is how they both deal with their problems. Yelling and exclaiming and rambling aimlessly until they’ve gotten their release. It’s the closest thing to Emily that they have now. So Danny doesn’t stop him as he starts pacing on the small patch of grungy sidewalk next to the cars that will knock him over the side into those beautiful blue redeeming depth if they should so much as feint the wrong direction.

“But you never answered,” he finally finishes, look at her expectantly. She shrugs.

“I’m not an idiot.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence that clings to them before Heir moves closer to her again.

“What is your name?” he presses and Danny suddenly knows that he means her whole, true name and not the one that Emily called her by or Emily knew her by and she finds it impossibly unfair that he has his secrets yet she doesn’t, they’ve all been laid out for him to dissect and play with.

“My name’s just Danny. I’m not a liar. You’re a liar,” she combats him, turning to shove him back. He easily gives to her touch, taking care not to fall over the railing, and latches onto her arm, twisting it so it almost snaps. All he gets for his actions is a grimace, but it’s more than he gave Danny and they both know he’s won this fight again. This silent fight that’s always won in one simple movement, a moment of weakness by one of them.

“I’ll ask you not to call me that anymore,” he informs her, tugging her a bit closer to his own lanky form. She growls even though it’s useless but doesn’t try to wrestle her arm back because he’ll snap it, he’s capable of doing it, and Danny doesn’t really want to land herself in the hospital for another broken bone that his fault again. “Don’t call me a liar.”

And it’s only the thought of the sterile stench that mixes with piss and dead people that keeps her from presses his buttons and landing in the ER.

God, she hates him.

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College is hardly what I expected. Honestly, it's a bit more stimulating than high school, but I certainly prefer my english teacher's easy way of conversing and teaching. Still, it's a necessary part of life if I want my head to keep on being attached to my shoulders But my teacher is decent and it looks to be halfway interesting.

Perhaps I'm talking like a stuck-up bastard right now. Yeah, I am.

Still, if not for the need to stay alive I'd pursue the other career. The one where I would play football professionally. Sometimes I want to laugh it up in my mother's face by getting onto the team. Too bad I haven't hijacked my cousin's training regime yet. I'll do it soon. And I'll practice three times as hard, damn it. I don't care if the whole fucking world is against me if I can show to my mother that it's possible.

I guess my heart will always be in football but my halfassed talent shall forever reside in writing. Wouldn't it be sweet if I could exchange the two?

Hardly. Here I am now, having some demented conversation with myself and publishing it for the whole world to skip over as they look for something decent to read.

I won't give up my talent though, since I've been told I have it. I like making people cry with what I write. I want to make people feel all the pain my characters do. Not me, because that's just the bland pain of some jackass who complains half his life. Kinda boring there. Not that my characters don't complain, Anton does more than his fair share, but they have the right.

Wow, can I ramble even more than this?

Certainly. I'm just going to go find the duck tape now. I have class to attend to.

Chapter One-It's Not a Name

“What’s your name?” the redhead yells over the blaring music of the karaoke bar. I smile thinly before gesturing that she needs to talk louder so I can understand her. Not that I don’t understand, but it’s taking me some time to think of a response.

After all, I’ve got quite a few names to pick from.

“What’s your name?” she belts, leaning closer to me from across the table. She almost knocks over a half-empty bottle of beer as she does so but I make a quick save. I smirk lazily back at her, my eyes half-lidded.

“Name? You can call me Heir.”


One Year Earlier



“This is the last time you’re coercing me into something like this, Emily,” Danni snaps playfully at me as I motion for her to follow me into the small karaoke joint I found just a few months ago. She’s shaking her head mock-sadly. If she really didn’t want to come, though, she wouldn’t have.

“C’mon, cheer up! It’s my birthday; have fun for my sake, would cha?” I reply, laughing. It’s crowded in the tiny place. The flashing strobe and neon lights aren’t making it any easier to find a spot to sit, but I know the management reserved a table for me. Not because it’s my birthday, oh no.

It’s because I said that the famous Danni Eytinge, hottest actress to hit Hollywood, was coming with. Not to mention whatever the heck they have over in Europe. Probably Asia too…

“Hey, wait up a second! Haha, you guys still walk as fast as freaks!” Gabriel comments, striding up to us. I really don’t see how our fast pace is a problem; the man’s a giant. Especially compared to me. I could ride on the bloke’s shoulders but, hell, Danni could carry me too if she wanted. I guide our little trio over the reserved booth, not a bit surprised it’s all decked out with confetti and balloons and a huge card that says ‘Reserved; for DANNI EYTINGE and Co.’. Danni throws the card a distasteful glance before placing it under the table discreetly.

Did I ever say Danni hates her publicity? It’s not like I’m going to restrain from abusing it, though.

“You just had to tell them I was coming, didn’t you?” she hisses, all humor long gone. I shrug as I slide into the dimly lit booth, directing my attention at the stage where a couple is singing a lovey-dovey duet badly. She sighs loudly and I know she’s tossing Gabriel a look that reads ‘I can’t believe her sometimes’.

Heck, I can’t believe myself sometimes. But the management was about to drop me and her name just slipped out. Oops.

“Let's get on with this. What do you guys want to sing?” I ask, returning my full attention to them (though, really, it never left. I’m just good at directing my eye line elsewhere). My friends roll their eyes in unison before reaching for the list of songs.

A new songs going, some hip hop one, and it’s just as bad as the other. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with these places, but then I get on stage and it comes back to me. So I’ll be patient.

“Oh whoa, they have ‘Hallelujah’! I should sing that, shouldn’t I?” Gabriel pipes up. Danni and I both nod furiously. The last time he sang that was in high school and it made our hearts stop. He has such a gorgeous voice…I used to be jealous. He had everything I wanted, a lean body, deep voice, incredible talent and intelligence.

I got over it somewhere along the line.

“They really don’t have anything good, do they?” Danni comments heatedly. I know she’s lying. She’s enjoying the song selection and I can see her fidget as she anticipates going up there. For so long she’s been the star of everything. I’ve always admired her, never been jealous.

Unfortunately, I am going to steal the show tonight. I don’t like bringing her down any, damaging that beautiful ego she has, but I’m going to do it. My lovely redhead will probably be shocked by the end of it.

Gabriel might, but he likely saw this coming.

“Tch…I guess I’ll sing ‘Pressure’,” she admits. I smirk behind my song list. She loves that song.
I happily put my menu-like folder back on the table.

“I’ll be doing ‘Who I Am Hates Who I’ve Been’.” Two pairs of eyes, gold and almost black, snap to me.

“…That’s a guy song.”

“I know. I can sing it fine.”

We pass the rest of the time waiting to go up by ordering food and drinks. Danni’s people watching, mocking the majority of them with her eyes and glaring at anyone who dares exclaim who she is to the crowd. Gabriel is up first, silencing the rambunctious joint effectively. He has the voice of an angel, no doubt. Danni follows.

Everyone knows who she is, there’s no way anyone could miss that flaming red hair and piercing gold eyes that just dare you to say something stupid. She makes a mockery of everyone and thing. She has always carried a sense of superiority and egoism that I don’t think anyone minds. She’s gorgeous, talented, the women of anyone’s dreams—and she knows it.

The crowd’s really sobered up now, with her using that godly voice in such a way. I smile fondly at her as she sings. She doesn’t know how happy she makes me when she does this. It pains me to know that I’m about to show her up (because I am).

Danni steps off the stage just as confidently. I stride on, smirking at everyone in the crowd and nod that it’s okay to start the music. Some murmurs are starting up but everyone’s still to shell-shocked to break out into their own loud conversations again.

“I watched the proverbial sunrise coming up over the Pacific and…you might think I’m loosing my mind…

“But I…

“Will Shy…

“Away from the specifics…”
I can’t help but glance at my old friends as I sing. Gabriel looks satisfied, pleased, and it figures he knew I had this in me. Danni is just gawking at me, mouth open. I almost laugh right then; she’s never looked so stupid and, well, human before.

But the important part of the song’s coming up and I have to get this point across. This is my way of doing things. Gabriel might understand, Danni never will. If she knew why I was singing this song she’d probably punch me until my face was a swollen mass of purple and black spots.

Yet that’s not why she doesn’t know.

“Cause I don’t want you to know where I am…

“Cause then you’ll see my heart…

“In the saddest state it’s ever been…”



Present Day



I’d really hoped never to see her again. In person, that is. I’d seen her plenty on the television and in the newspaper. It was kind of hard to miss a celebrity like that, especially when she was parading around looking for her lost friend.

Here she was though. Eying me critically, trying to figure out why I looked the way I did. I couldn’t blame her. I must’ve looked just like Emily from so long ago. Her best friend who had suddenly disappeared the day after her birthday without saying anything about why. It had to have hurt Danni greatly. Surely some part of her hated Emily for what she had done.

She probably hated me in that moment as well. I knew I looked like a male version of Emily, an ambiguous male at that.

We met; Danni and I, at the same karaoke bar that Emily had celebrated her birthday at. Exactly a year later.

I had really never, ever wanted to see her again.

Drabble

Eh, shounen-ai warning. One-sided SenaHiru. Don't like, don't read.

Sena knew it was wrong, he really did. He knew that, in the end, it was supposed to be simple. They even had their paths laid out for them to follow. Everything was made to end happily, perfectly.

So why had he strayed from that perfect path? He could have had the best life possible, no bumps in the road (well, apart from the few losses in football, but that was simply part of life), and so could Hiruma. So could Mamori and Suzuna.

After all, he’d have to be blind if he couldn’t see where everything was going. The looks Mamori tossed Hiruma when he wasn’t looking…and the way Suzuna seemed all to eager to hang out with Sena alone. In a few weeks Mamori would ask Hiruma out. He would, naturally, say yes. And then everyone would be murmuring, whispering that ‘they always knew it was going to happen’ because, well…it just seemed like it was supposed to. Then Suzuna would ask Sena out. What would he say? ‘No’? Ha, as if. He’d accept graciously, going with her dutifully on dates, take her shopping wherever she wanted to go. He’d play the part of the perfect boyfriend.

Even if he had no interest in being her boyfriend. He’d long ago gotten used to the thought of admiring Hiruma from afar. Sneaking glances while the quarterback changed in the locker room with everyone else. Even though he knew it was wrong, his mind never ceased to scream that fact at him, he couldn’t stop. He knew it was wrong to enjoy the contact that was made when the captain handed the ball off to him, or when he included him on some important decision. But anytime it happened a surge of pride and happiness welled up inside him and he had to remember to squash it back down.

Because things weren’t supposed to go that way. Hiruma was supposed to date Mamori; Sena was supposed to date Suzuna. There wasn’t supposed to, allowed to be Hiruma and Sena.

And that was tearing him up inside.

I'm Back

Hi~! This is an old account...I deleted all my older posts...sorry everybody, but I kinda wanted a fresh start. In a sense. I guess I kept this account because now whenever I log in I'll remember who I was. But I don't want any newcomers to know! Haha *sticks tongue out* Actually, I'm planning to use this as my writing space. So, I suppose I should post some stories, ne?

First off...a little writing exercise I did for my character Heir. He's the boy by the bridge...it's in first person, of the character Danny, who's a girl.


~*~*~*~*~

I remember the first time I saw him. He was standing on a bridge, his lithe form doused in the pouring rain. His hair, which was probably just as messy when it was dry, clung close to his face, accentuating the black and white contrast. He was as pale as the moonlight that was flickering through the clouds that night. He had the brightest eyes I’d ever seen, a mesh of blue and green that seemed to flow and swim around itself. They were huge; open wide, but incredibly dead. He was just staring at the river under the bridge, watching the raging flow of the tumbling water. I didn’t know what was going to happen, what this stranger, clad in all black, was going to do.

“Hey!” I called, waving. His head lifted, mangy hair flicking drops of water off him. He turned his head to me, staring at me with those piercing, aquamarine eyes. He blinked before raising a hand to where his ear must’ve been. His hands…were short but bony, somehow elegant in their skeleton-like appearance. He looked to be entirely bone, wide hips jutting out against his leather pants.

“What are you doing out here?” I yelled. He shook his head, more water droplets cascading down him, and motioned with his hand that he still couldn’t hear me. I sighed before jogging over to where he was standing.

Up close he looked much different.

Those eyes, which had appeared dead from a distance, were alive and flickering with determination, with a challenge. I wasn’t sure why he seemed so confrontational, but I suppose I was that sort of person too. His skin, which granted was pale, was also marred with scars that could only have been obtained by acne. He was undeniably effeminate. His clothes clung close to his skinny form though, betraying his lack of breasts. He blinked once, water pouring off his eyelashes. We stood like that for a while, watching each other.

"Are you okay?” I asked, still yelling over the pounding rain. I noticed his cheeks were flushed, bright red. At my question he glanced away, pursing his bright red lips. Was he wearing lipstick? He had to be. Maybe that was blush too, though it should have worn off with all the rain. I put my hand to his cheek. He flinched a bit but didn’t move. I almost flinched to, due to the feverish heat that was consuming his face. I noticed it getting warmer. His eyes suddenly grew hazy, half closing until he fainted completely, toppling onto me. His leather clothing clung to me, fishnets feeling odd and sticky against my skin. He was light though, and I knew I couldn’t leave him out here. I hoisted his wraith-like form and carried him bridal style, making a bee-line for the closest karaoke bar. He looked to be a singer, or a stripper based on this part of town, and Benjamin would have no trouble taking him in for the night until he got better. He snuggled closer to me, murmuring something. His voice was high, a tenor for sure, but also cracked and rough. I leant my head closer to his to hear him.

“…Em…Emily…”