*~* ToK-KoK Centre *~*
-
I where got?Originally posted by starblue:i also.. must be reno talk rubbish again.
-
Originally posted by starblue:
That time, it's her turn catching no sotong ball
me also me also... tomolo got test. still crap until so late. die liao...
tata!!
after tomolo i will be back. muahaha... stay tuned folks...
man, rainee jie will be so shocked when she sees the crap box when she logs in again. 
-
Anyone knows what lemon refers to in online "stories"?
-
thx for the info on gemini's..maybe you can understand me better now..gd nightey..Originally posted by starblue:me also me also... tomolo got test. still crap until so late. die liao...
tata!!
after tomolo i will be back. muahaha... stay tuned folks...
man, rainee jie will be so shocked when she sees the crap box when she logs in again. -
I'm off to surf other sites liao...
tata! i'll be back in a jiffy!
-
wad online stories??Originally posted by seow:Anyone knows what lemon refers to in online "stories"? -
i dun believe you are gemini. it's hard to believe anything really. anything a 16/f says....Originally posted by stellazio:thx for the info on gemini's..maybe you can understand me better now..gd nightey.. -
Originally posted by seow:Anyone knows what lemon refers to in online "stories"?
-
judging by theOriginally posted by seow:Anyone knows what lemon refers to in online "stories"? face, i presume u are reading stories of erotic nature correct? -
Not me, i just got to know about this "special meaning" from a fansite of my comic series.Originally posted by alexkusu:judging by the face, i presume u are reading stories of erotic nature correct?
Why jump to this conclusion?
Anyway, got a good story to recommend, will post here, it uses characters from the comic but only has a few similarities compared to the "original" plot.
Its written by a fan. and the story is called "dancing in the rain". -
Dancing in the Rain by Maiden of the Moon at http://chrnocrusade.kuroi-hoshi.org
Part one, and its rather long.
And through her death, she taught him how to live...... (CxR)
Drama
PG-13
AU
Complete
Dancing in the Rain
X
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get to eat your fill but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed . . .
X
Prologue
X
There was only one word for her: odd. Even stranger, he had to admit, than himself; which was an accomplishment to say the least. She was the school mystery, the school joke, the school’s “black sheep”. He knew this, and he’d only been there a few hours. But really, it wasn’t all that surprising—his abundant knowledge, anyway. She was always the center of attention. . . and never for very good reasons.
How could she not be? She wore her hair—in all of its bright blonde glory—in the corniest pigtails on the back of her head, never even bothering to catch all of her tresses up in those black rubber bands. On her chest ticked a pocket watch, strung upon a cord and hanging like a gem from her throat. Her clothes were completely bizarre—random scraps thrown together to make the day’s outfit. In all of the years her peers had known her, they’d never once seen her wear a brand name. In fact, if they’d asked her to list a few, she probably couldn’t have told them.
But she could have told them were to find a pair of sparkly black boxer shorts, Indian scarves, or a silk kimono-style top. Not that anyone bothered to ask. (Why would they want to talk to her?)
Of course, as if that wasnÂ’t enough, she had this other weird trait. . . weirder than the rest, actually. She stood up for the geeks.
Not even stood up for—she was their FRIEND! Each one of them—from that overly-shy albino chick to the freaky German foreign exchange student.
Yes, “odd” was the only word for her.
And yet, for all of the warnings and threats about this girl, this “Rosette Christopher,” that he had heard upon moving into the district, his friends had not use the word once. “Odd” seemed to be too nice of an adjective for the teens at Magdalene High.
“Slut” was the word of choice when it came to Rosette.
Which, for all intents and purposes, Chrono Moriyama did not understand. She didn’t look like a slut. . . she didn’t act like one, either. And even if she were, he doubted she’d have anyone to. . . er. . . fool around with, seeing as how everyone (except the losers) avoided her. It wasn’t that hard to do, really—just listen for the jingling of the keychains on her 30 pound backpack. (Which people actually did. . . then parted like the Red Sea whenever they heard her coming.)
It was at a moment like that, in the cafeteria, when Chrono first saw her. Aion, his only friend since kindergarten, pointed her out—not that he needed to. She really did stick out like a sore thumb. Silently, he watched his fellow classmates point and whisper behind their hands as she passed— dressed in what appeared to be an anime-style sailor fuku— her knee socks crisp and her legendary pocket watch ticking merrily away on her bosom. If she noticed the others’ smirks and snickers she did not acknowledge them, only waved cheerfully to a small girl with white hair and rosy eyes sitting at a nearby table.
“See? What’d I tell ya?” Aion murmured under his breath, fixing his glasses and taking another bite of his ice cream sandwich; shaking the smaller boy to get his attention. “What a slut. . .”
Chrono gave a start, tearing his gaze away from her (she having been the first person he’d looked at all day—he’d kept his eyes glued determinedly to the ground for the previous 5 hours) and glancing back down at his trembling knees. School made him nervous. . . so many people, screaming and yelling. Stressful homework and tests. . . And then, there was the fact that he’d been bullied constantly since the age of four. . . damn genetics. Why couldn’t he have been born with normal traits, instead of red eyes, purple hair, and pointed ears? And why did everyone have to make fun of him for . . . for. . . The hand he was using to grip a small black bag tightened. “Why is it that everyone keeps calling her that?” he then asked in a quiet voice, as if afraid to be heard. In some ways, he was; Aion wasn’t the best buddy a boy could ask for, after all. He’d gone home with his fair share of Aion-related bruises. . .
The junior beside him snorted, tossing his long, silvery ponytail over his shoulder. “Good question, brother—” As part of the theatre club, Aion was known for being a little over dramatic. A prime example of this was his way of referring to his fellow group members, even those who always volunteered to be on stage crew (and then hid in the corner behind a curtain during performances). Like Chrono. “—and it is because th—”
However, before he could finish, Aion was cut off by some girl named Eliza—a true slut, it should be mentioned, if her v-neck and mini were any indicator—throwing her arms around his shoulders and dragging him off to make out. Probably in the gap between the lockers down the blue hallway, like everyone else. But, regardless of where they went, it didn’t change the fact that he was gone within moments; leaving the purple-locked teen all alone in the massive lunch room.
Chrono whimpered very softly, shifting to the very edge of his seat and curling his arms around his body, trying to take up as little space as possible. For he had found—during his many years as the ‘victim’ of his old school—that the smaller you feel, the smaller you are. And the smaller you are, the smaller the chances you’ll have of a foot being jammed into your stomach. Or other places. . .
And so Chrono sat there, feeling tiny and keeping his eyes on what was left of his mid-day meal. The parts Aion hadn’t snarfed, anyway, which wasn’t a lot. . . just his apple core. His stomach growled loudly, but all the boy could do was sigh. ‘Yup,’ he thought tartly, ‘I can see I’ll feel right at home, here. Everything’s the same as it was at Holy Order Missionary Academy. . . same cliques, same gossip, same empty stomach—’ A sudden fork of lightning illuminated a nearby window, startling him and giving him a reason to stare out the dark glass for a moment. ‘And oh, look. It’s raining. Wonderful. Juuust wonderful. I can hardly wait to walk home.’
Blowing out his cheeks, the boy allowed his head to drop; hanging limply against his chest. . . never feeling the pair of bright blue eyes piercing the back of his neck.
X
He could no longer feel it: the empty rumbling of his belly or the icy rain splattering against the crown of his head. Nor could he detect the sopping weight of his clothes or his knapsack anymore. Even the roughness of his back against the school’s brick wall became a strange sort of nothingness to his five senses—nonexistent to him.
No, the only thing he felt at that moment was fear.
Fear that he was going to get hurt. Fear that he was going to have to lie to his mom. Fear that he was going to end up in the councilor’s office. Fear that things were going to be just like always. ‘First day of school,’ he mused sourly, holding his pack between himself and the two sneering seniors. ‘And I’m already the target. Why? Why is it ALWAYS me? What did I do to them? What am I doing wrong? I haven’t even DONE anything yet!’
“Hey,” one began— a stout boy with a chipped front tooth—, “what you got in that sack, kid?” He pointed towards the small, dark tote slung around Chrono’s shoulder. Panic welled up in his gut.
“N-nothing,” he stumbled loudly, shifting so that the rest of his body hid the bag. The other boys snickered slightly, eyeing his white knuckles with interest. “Please move, I gotta go.”
“Go?” the second repeated, holding out an arm and stopping his underclassman in his tracks. “Go where? Not without paying the fine, kid. Didcha know its freshman kill day? You gotta pay the executioner’s tax.”
“B-but I’m not—!” Chrono tried vainly to protest, cursing his small stature. “I’m a junior! I’m just—!”
Both burst instantly into peals of laughter. “You?” the teen wearing glasses chortled, doubling over. “Kid, lying is only gonna make things worse . . . !”
. . . He was toast. Oh yeah, toast with jam. Rather, toast in a jam. Ha ha. ‘Someone, please shoot me now.’ . . . Then again, be careful what you wish for—it might come true. This was the sort of scene, after all. And it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had pulled a weapon out on him. . . probably wouldn’t be the last, either.
But (half of him even dared to say “luckily”) for the time being, it looked as if fists would be the main tool. . . if the curled ones in his line of vision provided any sort of hint. Taking note from earlier—but similar—sessions like this, Chrono knew he should try to relax his body; realized that things would only hurt more if he were tense. But it was getting harder and harder to control his feelings. . . his heartbeat. . .
“I don’t have any money,” he professed honestly, staring at the cement-covered earth. Pools of rainwater were collecting near his filthy loafers, as well as seeping through the worn leather and into his socks. He wished fleetingly that they were still water-repellent, like the glossy tennis shoes of his ever-approaching harassers’ were. It’d be easier to run without an ocean weighing him down. . .
“We’re not interested in money,” the first smirked, slowly reaching out a hand. “We want. . . what’s in that black bag of yours. What is it? School books? Homework? Supplies? Pot? It’s like a grab bag. . . only it’s free!” Flinching when the overly-warm fingers brushed his cheek, Chrono tried his best to pull away.
“No!” he yelped, sinking lower to the ground; sliding down the wall. “No, it’s mine—leave me alone!”
“We won’t hurt you, just hand over your—!”
“NO! Go away!”
“Shut up, yo—!”
“Didn’t you hear him, Billy?” a cool voice from their right said, nonchalant and innocent. “He said to mind your own business. Well, not in so many words, but that was the gist of it, right? Isn’t that what you heard, Kevin?”
Both boys froze, turning on dimes to face the speaker. It was her—Rosette—arms crossed and leaning smartly against the side of the building; head tilted and lips pulled back in a dark smile. Her water-heavy dress flapped weakly in the harsh spring wind, thick hair sticking to the sides of her pale face.
“You—!” the one with the chipped tooth, Billy, snarled, backing instantly away from Chrono and moving as if to attack the girl. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing!”
“I should ask you the same thing,” Rosette replied calmly, eyes as gray and seemingly endless as the sky. But that was only the clouds’ reflection. “After all, if someone were to report this, you’d be suspended for a month. Stealing the new kid’s stuff? Even I think that’s low.”
“YOU think something’s low?” the other, Kevin, snapped, removing his spectacles and wiping them off on his sleeve. It didn’t help much, in this weather. “That’s funny. And here I thought what you do was considered the lowest. Oh, I’m sorry, I meant you GO the lowest.”
Both boys snickered like this was incredibly funny (which it really wasnÂ’t). Rosette simply rolled her eyes, as if amused by something unsaid, before exchanging a glance with Chrono. Or trying to, anyway. He was too busy attempting to figure out what in GodÂ’s name was going on.
“Look,” she finally cut them off, examining her fingernails— and revealing a huge rash on her arm as she did so. “I don’t want this little meeting to be an unpleasant one, boys. So just leave the kid alone, right?”
Billy snorted, taking an ambling step forward. “Aww, it’s Saint Slut, defender of the weak and maltreated. Tell me, Rosette, how bad do I need to be to receive your full punishment—spanking and all? Or aren’t you strong enough to do it yourself anymore? I’ll help.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but blanched when her face hardened; fingers curling to form fists.
TheyÂ’d struck a nerve.
“. . . I’m going to count to ten as fast as I possibly can,” the girl murmured dangerously, eyebrows giving a slight twitch. “And when I’m done, you’re going to feel something up your ass—but not the something you’d like. Got it? One—”
But before she could even reach two, they were gone.
Silence fell—a silence broken originally by the heavy pounding of the rain on the sidewalk. Then, eventually, by a gentle shuffling. . . and soon Chrono noticed a pair of cowboy boots coming closer, stopping in front of his loafers. Pulling his gaze from their feet, the boy glanced upwards—into the ocean-deep eyes of Rosette Christopher.
“Are you okay?” she asked, head tilted in concern as she held out a hand. Why she did this, he wasn’t entirely sure. After all, he wasn’t on the ground or anything—just close to it. Maybe she was offering to help him carry his bags. Either way, he ignored the gesture.
“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, glancing the opposite direction. “And thanks, but you didn’t have to do that.”The girl paused, an entertained sort of smirk clawing at her mouth. “Oh, really?” she chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting out a hip. “You were gonna take ‘em on a ride, hmm? It’d be duck soup for you, huh?”
“. . . ?” Shooting the senior—who was at least five inches taller than himself—a exasperatedly perplexed look, he scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s slang,” she informed without a hint of embarrassment or shame. “From the ‘20s. But don’t change the subject—it’s rude.”
“Using language normal people can’t understand is what’s rude,” Chrono snapped, the tension his day had caused bubbling to the surface. And, in his blind annoyance, he couldn’t help but snarl: “No wonder people think you’re nuts!”
The words bounced bitterly off the building and into the darkening afternoon.
Rosette blinked.
“. . . Nuts, huh?” she echoed, more thoughtful than anything. “Well, it’s an improvement from slut, in any case. Not as good as that one they had been using for a while. . . what was it again. . . ? Oh, yeah— that I’m an unattractive, egotistical insect not even worthy of being stepped on.” Her grin widened, toothy and full of good humor. “Seriously, do people these days need hobbies or what?”
“. . .” Chrono—despite his phobia of meeting people’s eyes— stared at her for a long moment, not caring if his mouth was hanging open. “You hear all of that?” he breathed, bewildered. “And just. . . just let them say it?”
“Well, not all of it,” Rosette admitted, stretching languidly and leaning against the wall beside the boy. “But most of it, sure. Why bother trying to stop them? It’d take too much effort, and honestly, I don’t care enough.”
A particularly frigid droplet of water connected with the tip of his sensitive ear, making the junior jolt uncomfortably. It was then that he noticed how drastically the girl had punctured his personal bubble, and took a few steps to the side to accommodate for that; fixing the straps of his two bags as he did so. “Why don’t you?” he muttered coldly, squinting off into the distance. Twenty yards away, the chain-link fence that marked the edge of the school’s property jangled, shivering in the wind. “How can you not care what they have to say?”
She considered for a minute, staring down at Chrono with a half-frown. “How can you?”
He stiffened.
“I saw you at lunch today, you know,” she continued, fixing her gaze on the horizon, “acting all small and stupid. Why do you do that? Why don’t you look up and see what’s around you? You looked about as awful as you probably felt.” Sighing and shaking her head, she tilted her chin towards the sky. “Look. I know what they say. They all probably told you to avoid me like the plague before you even stepped through the front doors, am I right?”
He nodded weakly, feeling slightly foolish. Though only slightly. Rosette snorted.
“Yeah, I figured as much. They told you that if you hang out with me you’ll be a loser and a freak, huh? Horsefeathers. You know who the real losers are? Them. Because they’re not being true to themselves. Just look at them, and you’ll see it in their eyes. Haven’t you noticed how they all look the same? It’s like walking through a hallway of Barbies and Kens! Everybody is afraid to stand out, to do what they really want to do. . . everyone but me. And so that makes me an idiot.” Another dry snicker fell from her lips; lips, he noticed, that looked like they’d never seen so much as a touch of lipstick. “Well, I’d rather be an idiot that be miserable. Because being miserable would mean having regrets—and you can’t have any regrets. Not even tiny ones. So if I feel like wearing a skirt in the winter or purple shorts with a lime green top, that’s what I’ll wear. If I feel like hanging out with people who like me for me, and not because my hair curls a certain way, then that’s who I’ll hang out with. And if I want another cookie, I’ll eat another cookie, dammit! That sort of thing.”
Chrono made a soft sound in the back of his throat, unsure of how he felt about that little speech. “You’re crazy,” he grunted, though without much conviction. Either way, Rosette didn’t seem to take offence.
“I could be,” she admitted easily, sticking out her tongue and catching a drop of rain. “There’s a fine line between genius and insanity, you know. But I’m happy. You, on the other hand—” she cast him a sideways glance, “—look anything but.”
Touché.
Having climbed off of her soapbox, Rosette blew out her cheeks and pushed off of the wall, beginning to saunter away through the mist—when, before even he knew he was doing it, Chrono opened his mouth to speak.
“Do you?”
She paused, twisting her head to watch him from over her shoulder, hands fisting the straps of her bag. “Do I what?”
“Have any,” Chrono inquired almost soundlessly, refusing to meet her stare. His toes curled restlessly in his old loafers. “Have any regrets.”
“. . .” A cryptic, sad smile quirked her lips. “One.” He waited for her to expand for a moment, but it soon became clear that the subject wasn’t one she desired to discuss with a virtual stranger. A small wave of disappointed curiosity washed over his soul, but he ignored it; keeping silent until, once more, she made to leave.
“What’s your name?”
Again, she stopped; this time more bewildered than anything else. In fact, she spun around completely to face him, eyebrows arched and an expression of mild irritation on her face. “You know it,” she retorted, sounding a bit flat, fiddling with the pocket watch on her chest. “Why are you asking?”
The boy moved his shoulders uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot. “I dunno. . .” he mumbled. “It seemed like. . . the polite thing to do, I guess. I mean, I hadn’t really met you before. . . this. . . and. . .” Chrono trailed off, holding out a hand without turning to face her. “So. . . My name is Chrono. Chrono Moriyama.”
Rosette faltered, honestly and genuinely shocked. Then—with a warm beam that pulled even his eyes off of the ground—she placed her palm over his own and gave them a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rosette. Rosette Christopher.”
A beat of silence. And then she began to laugh.
Chrono, unable to tear his eyes away from her face, watched her until her giggles had dissolved into a delicate cough, then disappeared all together. What the heck was so hilarious about an introduction. . . ?
“Sorry. . .” the girl snickered, wiping a tear from her eye as she pulled her hand away. “I just. . . have never gotten to do that before. I was even thinking ‘hey, that was fun’! Then I realized how pathetic that sounded and . . . well, it was funny.”
He gawked at her. “You’ve never been asked for your name?”
She made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a snort. “Well, most people figure they know who I am, you see, without ever getting to know me.” Chrono didn’t miss the meaningful look she shot him. But as quickly as her graveness had come, it left—making way for another enigmatic smile. “Thank you for the new experience. In return, I’d like to give you one equally as fun.”
Warning bells instantly began ringing in the shorter one’s head, his ruby orbs widening with horror. ‘Good lord—! Maybe she IS a—a—!’ “Uh,no—no,it’sokay,” he began to squeak reassuringly, backing up against the wall as Rosette took a step foreword, boots making a burbling sound. “Really,youdon’thaveto—uh—itwasnothing—goaway—!”
“Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket!” she lightly reprimanded, grabbing him firmly by the sleeve of his red windbreaker and forcefully yanking him onto the parking lot; sloshing through the rivers that raced for grates and gutters. Rain pounded down more forcibly here than it did near the building, where roof tiles had weakened sections of the storm. Yes, in the empty parking lot—surrounded by pine trees, stores, the sidewalk, and the busy main road— the heavens were free to dump as much water as they desired without so much as an umbrella to help keep anyone dry.
“Why not! Why can’t I be a wet blanket—whatever the hell that means?” he groused, trying everything in his power (apart from yelling “rape”) to get out of there. He even dragged his soles against the ground, like they did on TV shows (of course, that had only resulted in him slipping in the puddles and on the slick tar, landing on his rear. And even that didn’t stop her). “I’m soaked and I’m only going to get wetter—!”
“Because,” she cut off, stopping beneath a glowing flood light and tossing their bags to the side, “life’s not worth living if you don’t try new things!”
With that, she grabbed his stiff hands and gave a pull—
Swinging them into a waltz.
A waltz.
“. . .” Chrono blinked, moving instinctively along with Rosette as they twirled around the lamppost, then beside the sidewalk, then near the front doors, and finally back to the middle of the parking lot. She dipped him jokingly, apparently enjoying the baffled expression on his face. “. . . We’re dancing,” he finally managed to splutter dryly, his braid slapping against his back as they begin to whirl again, repeating the moves they’d just preformed.
“Well, yeah,” Rosette replied in a very “duh” voice, allowing him to slowly take the lead—without his even realizing it. “What did you think we were doing? Skydiving?”
A flush lit up the boy’s cheeks. He didn’t want to say what he’d thought she’d wanted to do. . . “I—I guess I just didn’t—you know. . .”
She sniggered. “I know. But I thought you might enjoy it, since you like dancing and all.”
“—!” He stopped abruptly, growing very stiff. The girl stumbled as he did so, having been unprepared for the sudden stop. “How—?”
Rosette cocked her head; as if surprised he didn’t know she knew. “Well, those are dancing shoes, right? In the small black bag? The nice kind, too, for ballroom stuff. I saw the patch sewn onto the side. Anyway, I figured you’d want to try a new kind of dance floor.”
Chrono’s tight face didn’t soften. “I could just be carrying them around for. . . for someone else,” he ground out, pulling away from the senior. He instantly felt twice as cold as before. “Or I could be forced to be going to lessons.”
He was answered with a very exasperated stare. “Yeah, right,” she sighed, sounding bored; placing her fists on her sides. “I’m not stupid. Come on: One, you don’t know anyone here besides Aion—who, quite frankly, is a jerk and I don’t see why you hang out with him—and I happen to know he hates dancing. He refused to try out for the musical last year because of it, and then pouted for three months. Two, if you were being forced into lessons, then you would have happily handed over the bag in the hopes that Billy would have taken the shoes, thus giving you an excuse not to go to lessons or to quit or whatever.” Flipping her flooded tresses over her shoulder, Rosette missed the look of impressed horror on Chrono’s face. “Why are you trying to hide it, anyway? There’s no shame in dancing. You’re good at it.”
Again, the boy began to tremble, shifting jerkily. “Because,” he hissed, turning away from her. “Because peopl—. . . just because.”
Rosette’s mouth curved downward. “Because people tease you?” she filled in for him, crossing her arms angrily over her chest. “I bet they call you gay and stuff, too, huh? Because ‘straight guys are too manly to dance’? God, what a load of bullshit. I mean, you’re not gay, right?”
He nodded once, face flaming. WHY was he having this conversation with a girl he barely knew? Why was he standing out in the rain with her at all?
“There ya go,” Rosette finished flippantly. “You know you’re not gay. It’s a stupid stereotype anyway— Ever seen the movie Shall We Dance?”
Again, he shook his head—but this time, he slowly turned to face her. Why was he still standing there? Why wasn’t he running? He wanted to run. . . but he wanted to listen, too. Why? Why?
“Oh. Well, then, you can come over to my house and watch it some time. It’s a ‘chick flick,’ but it’s surprisingly good. It’s the only one me and Joshua—oh, he’s my little brother, by the way—anyway, it’s the only chick flick Joshua and I like, since we’re kinda into that occult stuff, so I think you’ll like it.”
How that was relevant, he didn’t even bother trying to figure out. What was the point? Either way the words: “Um. . . okay. . .” fell from his lips. Whether or not he was agreeing to the potential activity he wasn’t sure, but it was the only thing he could think of saying.
“So, anyway,” she winked, continuing, “Ignore what those idiots say. You gotta be yourself—otherwise, who else will? If you wanna dance, then dance. Don’t hide it.”
Don’t hide it. The casual comment rung through his ears like a curse. And, just like that, rage burst into life within him. How could she? How COULD she! How could she be so casual about something she didn’t understand? Didn’t she think he’d TRIED? Oh, what did she know, anyway! She wasn’t the one born into this discriminated body! She wasn’t the one tortured by bullies; beaten up with liters of soda on the playgrounds! She wasn’t the one who’d moved all from state to state all of her life, only to find out the hard way that everyone’s the same—close minded and stereotypical! Heck, even the girls in his dance classes had called him names! How could she compare their problems? And besides—
“Is that what you did?” he heard himself asking icily before he could stop the question from spilling. “Is that how you got your nickname?”
“. . .” Rosette’s face seemed to turn into shocked stone for a moment; her eyes glazing over. Chrono knew that had been below the belt—and he already felt guilty—but he had to get that “subtle” reason out there. The reason he continued to hide within himself. Who wanted to be called stuff like ‘ballerina boy’, or, in her case, ‘slut’, all of their lives?
Within seconds, the perky girl he’d danced with returned, placing another strand of dripping hair behind her ear with a wide grin. “Yes, well. . . there’s a reason for that nickname. But not, I believe, the reason you think.” She hesitated for a moment, staring at the coffeehouse across the road and then towards the park. The swings jostled a bit in the breeze. And Chrono waited for her to embellish, knowing, somehow, that she would.
“You’ve heard of STDs before, right?” she asked unexpectedly, turning swiftly to face him— a strange sort of solemnity in her eyes. He nodded, staring blankly. “Yes, of course you have. . . well, there are some that you can get other ways. . .”
Rosette clucked her tongue distractedly, lacing her fingers behind her back. “You see, I’ve got the human immunodeficiency virus.”
Upon processing his incomprehensive expression, she laughed and tried again, a smile still on her face.
“I’m HIV positive.”
X
X
X
“Yesterday is a memory
Tomorrow is a dream
Today is the reality
. . . Make the most of it.”
–Unknown
X -
Part 2.
X
Dancing in the Rain
X
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that youÂ’ll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance—
I hope you dance, I hope you dance!
X
X
Step One:
Learning the Moves
X
He ran.
“I’ve had it all of my life. Actually, before my life, even. . . So no, I’m not a slut. I’ve never done that—that’s not how I got HIV. There are other ways to transmit it, you know, besides sex.” Her voice rang in his ears, drowning out the rushing of hot blood through his veins and the echo of his own wet panting.
“I got it from my mom. Well, technically, I guess I got it from my dad. He got a tattoo as a joke, once, with these bad needles. . . and then he passed it to my mom without knowing, who gave it to me.”
A puddle of water exploded, sending an infinite number of dirty droplets flying into the air as he rushed down the sidewalk; flying across a busy intersection without once slowing down. Car horns screamed at him, following him down the road lined with baby maples and into the entrance to his vast subdivsion.
“It can be transmitted through the umbilical cord and breast milk—betcha didn’t know that!” A laugh. But it quickly died. “. . . My parents passed away last year. But my brother and I have a great new home with our aunt and uncle. I really meant it, Chrono, you should come over some time. We’ve got a new PS2 and I’m sick of getting my ass kicked by Joshua.”
The black sky flashed white; a streak of lightening tearing through the clouds, briefly illuminating the dozens upon dozens of identical, little tan houses. Thunder rumbled over the crisp, green lawns, sending shivers up his legs.
“ You could meet Az and Satella, too—you’d really like them! . . . Well, maybe not Satella, she can be a bit of a pill, but I guess she means well.”
BANG!
He threw open the front door to his house without restraint, bolting inside and allowing the screen door to flap squeakily in the screaming winds. A startled female voice called from the direction of the warm, glowing kitchen—the only light still on in the house. “Chrono? Chrono, honey, is that you? Why’re you so late? Did you get held back by teachers? I told them they could call me for any forms—honey, wha—?”
His mother poked her head out from around the corner, catching only a quick wisp of purple as her son scrambled up the stairs, leaving a trail of school supplies, water, shoes, and socks as he went.
She reached out, as if to touch him again. He pulled away. A falter, a frown; her blue eyes narrowing in concern. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself when you slipped—?”
He was still running. Running down the narrow hallway of the second floor, bashing into the forest-green walls as they came, ricocheting off until he managed to fall into the bathroom; shutting the door behind him with a loud snap.
Without pausing to think, he began tearing off his clothes—throwing them wildly wherever he could. His shirt connected with the frilly-curtained window, his pants slid down the gold-guild mirror, his boxers landed on the toilet with a wet flop. A choked whimper managed to squirm its way through his tightly closed lips, mixing with the harshness of his breathing.
“. . . Don’t.” His voice sounded strange, even to him—lower in pitch than normal, and more gruff, too.
She blinked, taken aback. “Huh? Don’t what?”
SHHHHNK—! The shower curtains seemed to squeal abnormally loudly, taunting him as he roughly twisted the shower knob, not caring if the water was hot or cold. Reaching blindly to his left, he snagged a light blue lufa; scrubbing soap into it with such a savage forcefulness that his eyes began to water, blinking away bubbles that leaped underneath his eyelids.
“. . . don’t touch me.”
And then he began to scrub— raking the worthless ball of cloth so vigorously against his flesh that it quickly became pink, rubbed raw. But he didn’t stop; couldn’t stop. He continued for what felt like hours, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, falling lamely against the cold tile wall; disgusted and trying his best not to touch his own skin.
Silence. Her mouth hung open slightly, fingers still extended. “What the— Chrono, what are you blabbering about? It’s not like I’m going to hurt y—!”
Sliding down the moist, slippery plastic, Chrono collapsed: unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. Hot streams of water and steam poured over him, curling the strands of violet hair that had escaped his unfurling braid.
“I said, don’t touch me! Leave me alone!” He spun away, scooping up his bag. Then he ran—ran faster than he had ever run before, trying to escape this. . . this thing.
Crystal clear liquid, smoldering to the touch, rippled around his toes and bare limbs, quickly slipping down the drain. Little water tornados spouted beside him as the water level inside the shower tub lessened, each drop carrying away a speck of the rain. . . of her. . . of her touch. . .
Of her sickness.
“Chrono—wait, you’ll catch your death! Let me give you a ride!” she called after him, her voice cutting through the storm. “Stop!” But he didn’t listen.
He wasnÂ’t listening, still. He simply pressed his head to his knees and cried.
X
The drama club convened after schools on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays without fail. Come hell or high water, the handful of actors, actresses, stagehands, and directors met in the tiny auditorium before the raggedy gold-velvet curtains, ready to discuss things like their upcoming performances, or how to get a few fractions of the football team’s funding in their own pockets. Today’s meet was no different. Aion— in all of his drama king glory— stood front and center, blathering seriously about this week’s pressing matter: the fact that they were to be beginning a new play shortly, and that they still needed a soprano, a computer geek, and someone who could pirouette. Everyone listened attentively.
Well, almost everyone.
Chrono was too busy hiding behind the second pair of curtains (as always); fixing the spike tape as quietly as he could, hoping no one would notice him. Of course, his wish was never granted. . . A teacher meandered past a few moments later, pausing to kindly question if he needed help or if he wanted to break and go chat with the others, but he quickly shook his head no; body rigid until sheÂ’d gone.
How much longer until he could go home? Glancing towards his watch, the teen groaned. Still had another two hours. . . Aion would probably make him stay longer, too, if rehearsals ran overtime. Heaven forbid the actors actually do any of the crewÂ’s work. WouldnÂ’t want to ruin their nails, or anything. . .
“. . .” The boy sighed, head dropping miserably. That was unfair of him to say. . . he was being spiteful. Or his bad mood was talking for him. . . Why he was in such a bad mood, though, he was unsure. Aion had been pretty nice, lately. . . he’d even lent him a dollar to buy a bag of chips after gym class today. And the other students had been leaving him alone. Mostly. So what was—?
Heh. That was a stupid question. He was in a bad mood because he felt like he was being watched! It had been like this for days—ever since. . .
Ever since. . .
Oh, screw it. He was probably just imagining things.
Blowing out his cheeks, Chrono let his eyes linger on the curtain that separated himself from Aion and his peers. What play were they doing this time, anyway? Moon Over the Brewery had been their last project, starring Aion as Randolph and some freshman girl named Rizelle as Amanda. It had been a good show, but the adult directors insisted that this next play have a cast larger than four people for reasons relating to “equality,” “fairness,” and “justice”. And if that was the case. . . ‘. . . Maybe I. . .’
“. . . pth.” He snorted before returning to work, ripping off another strip of tape with his teeth. ‘Yeah, right.’
“—nd finally, I’d like to remind you all that no soda is allowed on stage or in the auditorium, so whoever it is that is leaving crushed cans under the seats, stop it or else.” Aion growled slightly, though on his face he undoubtedly wore a smile. “I’d hate to see anyone. . . punished.” A few whispers rose from the seats, like the hiss of an oncoming, smoke-belching train, but they died quickly away when the undisputed theater-ruler cleared his throat. “Well, that’s the end of all of the unpleasant topics.” Chrono didn’t need to be able to see his sometimes-friend in order to know that he tilted his head at that moment, positively beaming. “Please grab a copy of Grease at the door, and we can begin the audition process. It’s going to be fun!”
‘I’m sure it will be,’ the violet haired junior thought flatly, swallowing the snarl that threatened to slip between his pursed lips. ‘Two hours of listening to tone-deaf, rhythm-killing primadonas who can’t stand the fact that they have no talent.’ “Please. . .” he heard himself mutter darkly, tossing the tape blindly towards the wall, “somebody kill me now. . .”
Smack!
The teen gave a slight jolt of surprise, spinning around in horror when he heard the roll connect with skin—someone’s hand? Yes. . . And there was a voice with that hand.
“Kill you now? Where would the fun in that be?”
It felt as if someone had just dumped a whole sack of ice cubes down his back. Eyes widening and breath hitching in his throat, Chrono began to subconsciously inch away—towards the nearby curtain. “Wh—what are you doing here!”
Rosette— today dressed in sparkly boxer shorts, fishnet stockings, and an Invader Zim t-shirt— cocked her head, planting her empty fist on her jutted hip. “How rude,” she sniffed, tossing the roll of tape carelessly in her other hand. “You know, this is my school, too.” As she flickered her hair over her shoulder, the single earring she wore glimmered in the dim light—a long strand of silver bells which tinkled merrily whenever she moved.
“But you’re not part of the drama club!” he hissed, all but cowering behind a nearby couch—a prop from a play done a few years back. “Shouldn’t you be on the bus home or something?”
“Nah, it’s a beautiful day. I felt like walking. But first. . .” Spinning once, she clasped her fingers behind her back; smiling brightly. “First, I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been following you, you know. For the past few days. . . and I’m interested to know why haven’t you made a stand, yet.”
Chrono floundered for a second, his expression unreadable. She had been— ? Well, at least that explained something. . . “What do you mean?” he finally inquired, a cold note in his tone as he slunk further and further into the shadows. “I have nothing to make a stand about!”
“You’re still being pushed around and wimpy,” Rosette pointed out, lowering her voice a bit when she noticed a teacher glaring in her direction. “Seriously. Why haven’t you started talking to anyone new, or stuck up for yourself? You’re still letting that Aion eat your lunch, and I saw you give your wallet to some idiots who cornered you by the vending machines. Oh, which reminds me.” Reaching into her school bag, she pulled out his previously stolen, black leather billfold—lobbing it gently towards him. “You might want to keep a better hold on it,” she teased, winking. “I’m not gonna be your bodyguard forever.”
Despite her jokes and kind gesture, his hard face didn’t soften. “Thanks,” he said shortly, stuffing the wallet into his back pocket; trying to keep the humiliated red tinge off of his face. “But you can stop it, now, Rosette. I don’t need your help—and I certainly don’t need to stalking me! I’m fine!”
“You don’t look fine,” the senior snorted, starting to look mildly annoyed. “You were just standing back here moping. Why don’t you try out for the play? I heard they needed some male dancers, and you’ve got a good voice, too.”
“I’m not interested.” Turning around, he began to stalk in the opposite direction, trembling from head to foot. ‘Please, please, please go away!’
But though Rosette was many things, telepathic was not one of them. She followed closely behind, dodging and jumping over stray ropes and cords and props, most definitely irritated now. “Not interested? How can you NOT be interested? You just said this is drama club, didn’t you? Go do something dramatic!”
“I’m perfectly happy with stage crew!” Chrono bit back, though his voice was strained and cracking. Cursing himself for letting pointless dreams and unobtainable goals get the better of him, he stopped and whirled around—very careful not to touch her in the slightest. “Leave me alone—or I’ll contact the office and tell them you’ve been harassing me!”
“. . .” Silence. Big blue eyes blinked down at him, wide in shock as they took in his icy air, his narrowed gaze, his fisted fingers—
And then she began laughing. No, she wasn’t laughing— she was in hysterics. In fact, her guffaws were so loud and overwhelming that she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound; supporting herself against a nearby pole. “Y—y—you?” the girl giggled in a strangled pitch, having a hard time breathing. Chrono blushed, furious at her response to his threats. Well, who wouldn’t be? “Yeah RIGHT!” Gasping and hiccuping, wiping tears from her eyes, Rosette slowly managed to straighten again, smirking wildly. “You don’t have the guts, Chrono. If you did, you wouldn’t be running away like you are.”
His insult meter, which was getting dangerously high rather fast, nearly exploded. “Running away!” he repeated sourly, clearly resentful. “I am NOT running away—from anything!”
“Horsefeathers!” Rosette’s face had indisputably become darker, even without the help of the shadows that grew unchecked backstage. “Just look at what you’re doing right now!”
“I—uh—. . .!” An angry wrinkle puckered his forehead; justifiably aggravated when he noticed the knowingly superior expression on the girl’s face. “This doesn’t count! Don’t look at me like that!”
“Oh?” Her grin had become rather exasperated. “Then what exactly does count, Chrono? Look at you—you’re practically against the w—!” At that moment, his back slammed into the cool cement blocks that made up the wall. A snort. “All right, I take that back. You ARE against the wall. And why? Because I might touch you? Are you that frightened of me. . . or of life in general?”
Chrono’s ruby pools flashed, bottom lip sticking out slightly in a curling pout. His fingers groped blindly against the cold concrete, desperately snatching a spare curtain and tugging it close; managing to hide the lower half of his body. “I’m not afraid of life—or of. . . of. . .”
A beat. Then:
“. . . Oh.” Her eyes widened slightly in understanding, though they did not regain any warmth. “Oh, I see. You’re one of them.”
‘. . . Them?’ The boy frowned, actually taking a step forward when Rosette turned to leave. “What? I’m a what? What’s a them?”
“You should know.” She laughed humorlessly, dragging her feet to a gradual halt. “A them. One of those dumb saps who gives up without ever trying. An idiot who’s terrified of what they don’t know or understand. Like, say, being themselves. Or HIV. Which, I might add, cannot be transmitted through casual touching—so you can stop treating me like some sort of plague, now.”
A stab of guilt pierced him to the core when she spoke, his insides shriveling as an emotionless glance was cast his way from over her shoulder. “It really is a pity. . .” she murmured thoughtfully, giving him a leisurely once-over. “I had hoped that you would be. . . different.”
Again, she began to leave. And, once more, he opened his mouth to stop her. Why? Why did he keep doing that? He did it in the rain, and here. . . why? “Different?” he blurted, sounding offended, dropping the black cloth and walking closer, agitated curiosity in his eyes. “Different how?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Rosette shrugged listlessly, not even bothering to pause this time. “Just different. You have so much to give, Chrono. Why are you keeping it all to yourself?”
“Because no one wants anything to do with it!”
She froze, just within the doorway, absolutely silent. In truth, the only sound was that of Chrono’s heavy breathing—even the nearby auditions had fallen away.
He didn’t know what kind of nerve she had hit—why she frustrated him so! Perhaps it was her apathetic tone or the way she just sort of assumed she knew everything. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, like she was for some reason better. Or. . . because he knew, on some level, that she had a point. . . Whatever the reason, she irked him—but in a way that made him need to make her understand. Help her comprehend his rationalization for. . . well, everything.
“You don’t understand,” he finally managed to whisper, panting; sweat pouring down his face as the result of nerves and fear and frustration and grief. “You don’t understand what it’s like to have people label you without giving you a chance! You don’t understand what it’s like to be left out just because you look different! You don’t know what it’s like to have to make up stories for bruises, or say that you’re just extra hungry at lunch, in order to keep it from your mom that bullies are after you every day! You don’t. . . you don’t know me at all, Rosette! How can you judge me, too? Here you are, preaching, without once pausing to get to know ME! What if I don’t like to act? What if I like just spending time by myself? What if I like the way I am!”
“. . .” She turned around slowly, her earring tingling sweetly through the foreboding quiet. Chrono swallowed, eyes swimming with unreleased tears. “If you liked the way you were. . .” she replied carefully, taking three long strides towards him, “you wouldn’t look so miserable. You wouldn’t be so defensive. You wouldn’t keep going on like you were. I can see it in your eyes, Chrono. . . But. . . you’re right,” the senior admitted softly, gazing off into space, “I don’t know you. I don’t know your story, or what you’ve gone through. I don’t know what your dreams are, or your darkest fears. But I’m not blind. I can see what’s right in front of me. And honestly, I see a pathetic, self-pitying crybaby with a bucket load of talent he’s just letting rot because he’s too chicken to try!” Her face had grown stern, and when he glanced into it to signify his dislike at being called ‘pathetic,’ he found no hint of sympathy there.
So he looked away, glaring at the ground.
And after a moment, she sighed—sounding a bit weary. “Listen. . .” she bit her bottom lip, not quite catching his eyes. “I understand. I probably understand more than anyone else here. Perhaps you forget who you’re talking to, but I’m the Queen Freak, remember? We’re actually two peas in a pod, you and I. The only difference between us is that I choose to make something of myself. Hell, if they all hate me anyway, why bother trying to impress? You, though, are all tangled up in what’s ‘cool’ and what’s ‘not’—trying too hard to fit in with a bunch of people who wouldn’t even like you anyway.” Chrono glowered, unable to meet her gaze when she stared down her nose at him, crossing her arms. “Your problem is that you’ve given up on everything—your hopes, your dreams, and just yourself in general. And that’s gonna come back and bite you in the ass someday. And, no offence or anything, I don’t mean to make this a contest—but I think my fate is a bit worse than yours is, and I’m managing just fine. Take it from me, kid: life can be as wonderful as you want it. But you have to want it.”
Have to want it. Chrono blinked. Of course he wanted to have a good life, but. . . but. . . what about. . .
The only difference between us is that I choose to make something of myself.
He wanted to make something of himself, too—it was just that. . . that. . .
Hell, if they all hate me anyway, why bother trying to impress?
He wasnÂ’t trying to impress anyone! . . . Was he. . . ?
Confusion settled in upon him like a foggy night, blanketing his mind and ensnaring his senses. The doors behind his eyes closed suddenly, locking his thoughts within; allowing them to whirl pointlessly in endless circles. Why was he questioning himself so suddenly? Everything he knew? Why should he listen to her—the sick girl who everyone thought was crazy? Well, everyone who was anyone, anyway. Why did she have to sound so. . . wise? And. . . and. . . He frowned deeply. How? How could she possibly connect with him, know what he was going through—which it honestly sounded like she did—without being melancholy? How could she be so. . . happy?
He didnÂ’t understand any of this.
“. . .” As if deciding she had nothing more to say, Rosette suddenly spun around on her heel. But before she began to walk away, she giggled. It sounded out of place, in their current conversation—but he was by now feeling so down that he welcomed the sound. “Sorry, that was a little deep, wasn’t it? I tend to prattle, sometimes. . .”
“N— no, it’s. . . all right,” Chrono grunted, fiddling with his t-shirt’s hem and turning to leave as well. But before he did. . . “Uh. . . Rosette?”
She shot him another glance over her shoulder. “Yes?”
A lump wedged itself in his throat, bitter and full of fear. “. . . never mind.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly, but when she spoke again she sounded just as cheery. “Oh. Well then, I’ll see you later.”
He didn’t even bother protesting the latter part of her sentence. Because truthfully, somewhere deep inside, he wanted to see her again—the strange, perky, oddball who everyone hated. Who everyone feared. Who, somehow, had made him want to step out of the sidelines. . . and onto the dance floor.
Who was Rosette Christopher, really? How could she be so. . . strong?
Chrono wanted to find out.
. . . As did the owner of a pair of shrewd, dark eyes, hidden in the gap between the two main curtains.
X
X
“Time only seems to matter when it’s running out.”
–Peter Strup
X -
X
Step Two:
Finding a Partner
X
Aion was quiet the next day. Very quiet. Too quiet. Chrono fidgeted nervously on the hard cafeteria bench, careful to keep his eyes on anything but his friend. It was never a good omen, after all, AionÂ’s silence. He rarely ever kept his mouth shut, what with being one of those animated theatre types. But not today. . .
The violet haired boy squirmed a second time, trying his best to bite back a whimper. Perhaps this unusual hush was the explanation behind his knotted stomach; the slippery moistness of his palms. . . ? Though Chrono lacked a lot, good instinct was something he had in abundance—and that instinct was currently telling him to high-tail it out of there.
Which was something he simply couldnÂ’t do. A stunt like that would only prove to tick Aion off even more. Besides, who said Aion was angry at him? It could have been something Genai had done, or maybe Shader had accidentally given him the wrong answers to his homework. Or that Eliza-girl had thrown another jealous tantrum. Really, it could had been any one of those things. . . he shouldnÂ’t be scared.
Right. . . ?
Trying vainly to swallow the sour lump forming in his throat, Chrono chanced a glance to his left— towards the opposite table, one of the many on the other side of the lunchroom. “. . . !” All color immediately drained from his cheeks; wanting to look quickly away but unable to find the will to do so. For it was Rosette’s table he was now watching—the occupants laughing and having fun. The girl everybody loved to hate was today dressed in baggy jeans that reached her knees, a blue-cloth kimono top, and black, finger-less gloves with ribbons that laced up her arms. Ribbons that were currently being yanked at, since she was playfully bickering with the German foreign exchange student: a tall, busty girl with a love for precious stones and the color yellow. It appeared they were wrestling over who got the last snickerdoodle cookie. Meanwhile, the petite albino people always snickered at was snickering herself, over a sarcastic comment made by a boy with blue eyes and blonde hair. ‘He must be Rosette’s kid brother.’ The resemblance was indisputable.
. . . And his longing to join them was undeniable. Surprising, yes—when he realized how much he wished to join the four in their little corner of the universe, he almost gasped— but undeniable all the same. His eyes lingered on their happiness. . .
Until Rosette glanced his way. Chrono stiffened, feeling utterly stupid; tearing his eyes away from the sight. But not before she had a chance to smile and wave for him to come over.
“Chrono. . .”
The junior gave a jolt, head whipping involuntarily around to stare at the speaker. It appeared that Aion had gotten over whatever it was that was bothering him. . . or at least his contemplation of things concerning the event and/or person. Still, Chrono could feel icy trepidation clawing at his insides as he replied: “Y—yes. . . ?”
“Meet me in front of the school before you go home tonight, brother,” the silver-haired teen murmured smoothly, avoiding eye contact as he bit thoughtfully into his friend’s peanut butter sandwich. “There is something I must discuss with you. . .”
Chrono gulped silently, hands twisting underneath the table. He was dead.
X
It was raining again, as it often did in the springtime. Not storming, like a few days ago—only a little drizzle, the kind the frizzled hair and moistened outfits. Droplets the size the morning dew collected on and clung to the building walls, rain gutters, lawn; creating mud and slime and stickiness on the concrete. An oozing redness, too, was quickly appearing on the pavement; mixing with the gunk to create a puddle of sludge.
It was a concoction that didnÂ’t taste very good. Chrono could tell you that first hand.
“—!” the violet locked boy choked, eyes wide and glassy, collapsing upon his knees; winded. Blood slipped sluggishly down his chin, already wet with saliva and rain. Oh, the movie-cliché-ness of it all was enough to make him want to laugh. But he couldn’t find the oxygen to do anything more than cough.
“Ah—Chrono, Chrono, Chrono. . .” Aion lamented lazily, crouching before his panting friend with a sick little smile on his face. Beside him, Genai and Viede, two of Aion’s theatre lackeys (though they seemed more like the wrestling type, body-build wise), cracked their knuckles, sneering in not-so-secret delight. They’d never liked Chrono much to begin with. . . “When will you learn, brother? Why do you keep forcing me to punish you, so?” Clucking his tongue disapprovingly, the taller teen reached out a manicured hand and tilted Chrono’s chin upwards, admiring the bruises blossoming on his grime-caked cheeks. A little spatter of maroon was smeared over the bridge of his nose— identical to the substance staining the corners of his mouth. Aion sighed laboriously, shaking his head and releasing his hold on Chrono, allowing the junior to push himself painfully to his feet. “I truly hate doing this to you, you know. But how else will I get it through your head? If you’re to be seen with me, you mustn’t make me look like a fool by hanging out with TRASH!”
“Omph—!” the smaller boy quivered and released a strangled dry heave, barely able to keep himself from crumpling as Genai kneed him painfully in the gut; the assault quickly followed by an attack from Viede. It felt as if his hair was going to be yanked from his skull; ripped out strand by strand. . .! A grimace forming on his face, Chrono prepared himself for a jaw-shattering punch—
“What the HELL is going on here!”
“!” The grip on his braid loosened, allowing him to drop limply to the ground; convulsing. Blood seeped from his body from unseen wounds, staining the nearby gravel red. But that. . . that was unimportant. Pain, too, didn’t matter. He had to see. . . was it really. . . ? After much trying, Chrono managed to peal open his swelling eyes. . . fixing them on the girl who now stood, furious, at the opening of the shallow alleyway.
“R. . . Ros. . . ette. . .” the boy hacked out, trying to ignore the sensations speaking caused: like knives were carving up the inside of his throat. “Go. . . !”
“Ah, it’s Rosette Chistopher. . .” Aion purred delightedly, cutting off Chrono by stepping deliberately on his already scarred hand. “How marvelous it is to finally meet you face to face! I’ve heard so very much about you. . .”
“I’m sure,” Rosette growled, blue eyes flashing. She had a motorcycle helmet underneath one arm, and a scowl on her face—one that masterfully hid the confusion she felt. “But that doesn’t answer my question, asshole. What the fuck are you doing to Chrono?”
The boy shrugged, coming to a casual stop before the seething senior. “Nothing. Simply punishing him . . . because of you, actually.”
“. . . ?” She stiffened, the hair on the back of her neck practically standing on end as her free hand tightened to form a fist. Behind them, Chrono started sliding up the wall, attempting to find his wobbly footing. Genai kicked his feet out from under him. “What—!”
“You see,” Aion continued, nonchalantly reaching out to brush a strand of curling hair from Rosette’s eyes (needless to say, she batted the hand away none too gently), “I just can’t let him be seen with sluts like yourself. It’s not good for my reputation. You’ll understand all about crumbling reputations, I presume.” And he began to reach back. . . as if winding up to take a swing at her.
Something within him snapped.
“Don’t. . . touch h. . . her.”
“—!” The pale-locked teen froze, blinking in surprise upon processing the icy harshness in the spat words. “What was that . . . ?” he inquired lightly, turning on his heel towards Chrono—who was, once more, working himself to a stand. But this time, when Genai tried to knock him back down, Chrono kicked him instead. Which, considering the countless years of training his legs had undergone for dance purposes, was saying something. In fact, after seeing the expression on his friend’s face, Viede simply backed away; white with shock.
“I said, don’t touch her—! Leave her alone, and don’t call her a slut!” the ruby eyed boy roared, leaning heavily against the bricks to keep his balance. But his face held no hint of anything more than white-hot rage. “She’s not!”
“Oh. . . ? Isn’t she, now?” Aion chuckled, taking a step away from Rosette; sauntering towards his growling peer. “How amusing! You seemed to think she was last week.”
Chrono winced, avoiding Rosette’s gaze. Not that it mattered—she seemed to be in a strange sort of shock, staring blankly as they conversed. “I— I didn’t know her then. A—and. . . argh, I don’t know! You told me she was, so I pretended to believe I thought so, too! And you know what, Aion? That’s all I’ve ever done! I’ve just—just agreed! And I’m sick—sick of it!” Giving himself a slight push, the boy managed to stand tall—breathing hard and looking sickly, but tall. “I’m SICK of it!”
What in God’s name was he doing? He had no idea. He had absolutely no idea—he might as well have just asked to be murdered. But at the same time. . . at the same time. . .
“Hell, if they all hate me anyway, why bother trying to impress?”
He hadn’t been. He hadn’t— . . . he. . . didn’t. He didn’t want to waste the time anymore, trying to be something he wasn’t.
“Your problem is that you’ve given up on everything—your hopes, your dreams, and just yourself in general.”
He didnÂ’t want to cry anymore, to lie anymore. To lay there in that metaphorical ditch and surrender.
“I can see what’s right in front of me. And honestly, I see a pathetic, self-pitying crybaby with a bucket load of talent he’s just letting rot because he’s too chicken to try!”
He was tired of cowering in the shadows.
“Take it from me, kid: life can be as wonderful as you want it.”
He wanted the sun.
“Are you, now. . . ? Sick, huh?”
Chrono gave a small jolt, so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Aion— who was now eye to eye with him, holding him up by the scruff of his neck. “I don’t know if I like your attitude, brother. Perhaps you need to be taught another lesson. . . ?” With his free hand, he slowly raised a little black bag, dangling it tauntingly before the battered boy. A very familiar little black bag. . . Aion sneered as a look of horrified recognition shot across Chrono’s face. . .
And then started when the teen sneered right back. “You can take them,” the smaller of the pair spat, eyes narrowed. “There’s more to dancing then shoes, idiot. I don’t need them—just like I don’t need you!”
“Chrono, you’re going too far!” Rosette suddenly cried, as if waking from a trance. Slipping slightly on a bit of slick tar, she began to rush forward, throwing her helmet aside. “You don’t need to give that bastard anything!”
“You stay out of this, slut!” Aion hissed, snapping his malevolent glare upon her; swinging the tote around to—
CRACK!
Chrono wheezed, needing air; his feet finally retouching the ground as he lowered his fist, watching a surprised Aion topple to the sidewalk; nose quite obviously broken. “I warned you. . .” the junior huffed, voice cracking; eyes flashing. “I warned you. . . not to call her that!”
“. . .”
The sound of scuffling cowboy boots came to a timid stop. “. . . C— Chrono. . . ?”
He glanced up, smiling weakly as his eyes met her own—startled and full of bewilderment. “That. . .” he confessed softly, “felt good.”
She beamed. . . And then dropped beside him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close to stem his flow of tears. Yes: huge, crystalline crocodile tears had begun cascading down his cheeks without his notice; before he could stop them— catching on his lashes and dribbling down his chin.
“I. . . I’m sorry, Rosette. . .” Chrono hissed, burying his face in her stomach and holding her tightly, unsure why he was crying but knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop if he tried. “I’m s—so sorry— ! You were right. . . you were right all along!” A bitter laugh fell from his lips; a laugh that turned into a sob, his eyes clamping shut and emotions on overload. “I’m scared. . . ! I didn’t want to admit it: I’m scared of. . . everything. But I wasn’t always! I used to. . . I’ve tried before. . . but. . . this always happens. . .”
“What always happens?” Rosette questioned softly, her cheek pressed tenderly to the crown of his head. Her very presence was soothing. He hiccuped.
“T—this. . .” he repeated, pulling back enough to indicate what was left of the scene. Not much. . . Genai and Viede had collected Aion and split while they weren’t looking—leaving only puddles of blood and mud in their wake. Not a single remaining knapsack or bag. . . It looked as if Chrono was going to have to buy more school supplies again. But for some reason, he didn’t really care at the moment. “The bullying. . . the teasing. . . the. . . the everything. . .”
“But why?” the girl pressed, sounding torn between sympathy and exasperation. Touching his cheek, she wordlessly asked him to look at her. He did so, their noses barely an inch apart. “Why do you let it?”
“I don’t!” Chrono sniffled, sadness and frustration continuing to spill silently down his face. “At least, I didn’t. . . I tried to fight it for so long, Rosette—I did! But it kept happening and I. . . I. . . it’s because I’m such a freak.”
She did a double take, hands tightening around him. “What?”
“I am. . .” he nodded earnestly, trying to keep his nose from running but failing miserably. Rosette didn’t seem to mind, though—all of her attention was committed to his words. “Look at me! I’m short, pointy-eared, red eyed. . . and I have naturally purple hair! Who has naturally purple hair? And then. . . I’ve moved so often. . . and dancing. . . and. . . and. . . I just am,” he finished lamely, a pathetic grin on his face.
Rosette, however, wasn’t in the mood to return the look. She glowered instead. “Bushwa!”
“. . . ?”
“That’s bullshit!” she clarified, her own expression softening upon processing the perplexed expression painted upon his black-and-blue face. “You are NOT a freak! Who cares what you look like? What you enjoy? What they think? They obviously don’t know you, and that’s their problem.” Her brow crinkling, she touched his cheek a second time, pressing their foreheads together. “But Chrono,” she murmured— almost desperately, “you can’t expect anyone to like you until you like yourself. Do you?”
“. . .” Did he? For the first time in his life, Chrono asked himself that very question. A stupid question, really. And yet. . . ‘Do I?’ He thought for a moment. . . then snorted.
The answer was clear—so clear it was almost funny. Pathetic, but funny. And as he started to laugh, he began to cry, one more, as well— trembling terribly from head to foot. “No!” he wailed, chuckles transforming into snivels and then back into giggles. “No, I hate myself—! But. . . but Rosette. . .” Touching her pocket watch with the tip of his finger and allowing himself to relax with the thrum of each rhythmic tick, he stared deep into her ocean-blue pools.
“But you have to want it.”
“I. . . I want change. I want a different life. . . I finally want it. I want it! I really, really do!”
“. . .” She grinned, closing one hand around his own so that they both held her pendant. “Then change things.”
Silence. ChronoÂ’s eyes widened slightly; thinking, planning, praying, nodding. Then he stood: suddenly not tired, or sore, or blubbering. Instead he felt quite calm. . . and ready to take action. Oblivious to the throbbing of his limbs and his state of appearance, the teen marched back into the school, down the halls, through the auditorium doors. . .
And right up to the drama teacher.
She blinked in surprise upon seeing him, seemingly horrified. “Chrono, dear, are you all ri—?”
“I want to audition.”
Again, she faltered. “P—pardon?”
“I want to audition,” Chrono repeated, fists clenched at his side. “I know I’m late but. . . please?”
“. . .” The woman smiled gently at him. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear those words from you.” Handing him the script that had been attached to her clipboard and taking a seat in the audience, she waited patiently for Chrono to find his way on stage. “Please read the monologue on page 56, and then do the first half of the dance routine we discussed in class.”
So he did. Bleeding and wet and hurting and torn, he recited the lines and danced his heart out, feeling the rest of the world fall away. The feeling of which was a strange one to describe: a warmth, deep within him, that seemed to buzz and tickle and grow. Was it. . . happiness? No, it was more then that. But then, what. . . ? Oh, not that the name of the sensation was of any importance—it was how it made him feel that was. And hr felt wonderful! He was free. . . ! He was flying. . . !
Then he was done. And when he was, the teacher wasn’t the only one applauding. Rosette was, too—leaning casually against the doorframe with a huge beam on her face.
And he grinned back.
X
“He actually said that?”
Chrono nodded, albeit a bit shyly, as the basement rec room exploded with laughter—teenage giggles bouncing off of the vanilla walls and over-stuffed couches. “He threatened me, and then tried to bribe me back with my shoes.”
“God, that’s pathetic!” Joshua guffawed, shaking his head while looking through a collection of kareoke CDs, trying to choose a song to make Azmaria perform. (In an earlier game of truth or dare she had admitted to believing that she could sing anything—though she looked quite ashamed with her “egotistical self” when she shared this. Regardless, now they were forced to test her. And they planned to have fun doing so.) “Seriously—you can buy shoes. Ya can’t buy pride.”
“Amen!” Rosette cheered, dancing back from the “mini bar” (a random collection of different shaped goblets and non-alcoholic drinks) in a black tank top and—well, they could only be described as ‘genie pants’: sheer, poofy, teal colored gauze that hung loosely from her hips; barely hiding her dark panties from view. (Chrono had only just recently managed to quell his blush. Everyone else had been fine— apparently not having even noticed her apparel. Or they were just used to it. Probably the latter.) She jingled when she walked, wearing that bell earring again; serving everyone grape juice in wine glasses. Oh yes, they were the upper crust, all right. . .
“Psh,” Satella snorted, taking her tumbler with a sneer and a toss of her hair, “not even Welches. . .”
The blonde snarled. “Up yours, German toad!”
“At least I can sing better than one!”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing. . .” the taller woman replied breezily, crossing her legs and allowing her already short skirt to hike up another few inches. She grinned toothily, taking a long pull of her drink. “I just think it’s obvious who the better singer is. . . right, Chrono-baby?” A mischievous finger brushed his shoulder.
Chrono smiled tensely, scooting edgily away from the purring German. Rosette had been right—her heart was in the right place. But her hands? They generally weren’t. “Er. . . eh heh. . . right. . .”
Rosette glowered, hopping over the back of the small couch and squeezing herself forcefully between them. “Don’t let her bully you, Chrono!”
“I wasn’t bullying him!” Satella pouted, glancing away with a sigh. “I was simply offering to show him what a REAL woman is like. . .”
“What the— (the blonde twitched)— I’m ALL real!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Rosette, calm down!” the violet-haired boy laughed, nervously holding up his hands. Azmaria, who sat—almost as timidly (though much more relaxed), beside Joshua on the second couch— rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Rosette,” she agreed—casting her boyfriend a mildly worried glance when he began cackling evilly, heading towards the kareoke machine. “Breathe—!”
“Yeah!” Okay, she wasn’t listening. “I’m all real!”
Satella stood, a hand on her hip. “Prove it!”
“—?” The senior faltered, straightening as well. “Wha—? How? Shall I strip or something!” she spat sarcastically, reaching for the hem of her shirt. (“!” Chrono had to duck away for a moment, grabbing a tissue for his bloody nose.)
But the battle was unexpectedly interrupted by the melodic tunes of. . .
Good lord.
“NO!” Az yelped, jumping to her feet; flaming red and glaring at Joshua. He smiled innocently back, handing her a microphone. “No way!”
“Ah, but you said—”
“I don’t care what I said!”
“We do! We do!” Yes, in less than half a second, both Rosette and Satella had forgotten what they were arguing about—instead deciding to join forces, ready to be entertained. It could be reasonably assumed that one (or both) had stashed a tape recorder somewhere. . . Blackmail was good. “Go Azzy! Go Azzy!”
“But—!” The albino glanced helplessly towards Chrono, her last hope. “Tell them—!”
Chrono couldn’t help but grin. “Sorry. . . I’m with them on this.”
She pouted.
“All right, babe, I’m gonna restart the song,” Joshua informed her in a soothing voice, mischief twinkling in his dark blue eyes. Oh, he was unquestionably Rosette’s little brother. . . “And then you’re going to sing for us. Okay? After that you can make someone else do the work.”
“. . . okay. . .”
If anyone’s heart bled when they heard her whimper, they managed to hide it well. “Good girl!”
And so, with a deep sigh, Azmaria brought the mike to her lips—and sang.
“I’m too sexy for my shirt—please God— too sexy for my shirt—I’m begging— So sexy it hurts— kill me now . . ”
“Woo! GO AZ!” the blonde chortled, starting a very exuberant ‘wave’ (which turned out to be more of a ‘ripple’ than anything, considering there were only four listeners present. And Joshua was too busy watching Azmaria ‘shake her little tush on the catwalk’.). “Go Azma—!”
A cough. Which rapidly became a series of coughs— muffled behind a hand and a napkin. Chrono tensed slightly, casting the girl a concerned look. She smiled in returned, scratching a rash on her arm before taking a sip of juice. “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered, eyes returning to Azmaria. “I’m fine—everyone coughs!”
“Did you take your medicine today?” Joshua murmured, most of his attention still on his girlfriend but a worried note in his voice nonetheless. Rosette smacked the back of his head. “Ow!”
“Did you take yours?”
“Hey— I’m only sickly, not sick.”
“Why you—!”
“Is everything all right down here?”
All five teens stopped mid sentence, twisting to face the stairwell and the stern-looking woman in glasses who stood there: holding a box of pizza and wearing a tight frown. Az flushed fusha, hiding the microphone behind her back and turning off the television set before the lyrics were noticed by Bible-thumping Kate Remington.
“No, Auntie, everything’s jake,” Rosette bubbled rather forcibly, eyes narrowing when she noticed her caretaker’s gaze on Chrono. She obviously didn’t like the idea of him being there (a fact she’d made quite apparent when he showed up that day.). . . though honestly, she should have been more worried about Joshua and his “too-sexy” of a girlfriend.
It’s not like. . . you know. . . Rosette and Chrono were. . . “We were just goofing off. Thanks for the food!”
“Mmm. You’re welcome,” the woman replied rather stiffly, her high-heels clacking loudly as she set the pizza on a fold out table; crossing her arms and pursing her lips. “Your Uncle Ewan and I are going out . . . we’ll be back at midnight, and I expect the house to be clean and empty of all but two teens before we return. Understand? Good. Oh, and Rosette, did you take your—?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Rosette fumed, clambering over the edge of the couch in an attempt to reach the pizza before anyone else. (She failed.) “You think I’d have this if I didn’t?” She jabbed thoughtlessly towards her rash before calming down and winking at her aunt. “You two have a good time—and behave. I know how animalistic you can be when you think no one’s watching. . .”
Both of the Christopher siblings made claws with their fingers, slashing wildly and laughing as KateÂ’s face grew cherry red. To say she left quickly would be an understatement.
“Now then!” Satella clapped her hands, regaining her usual bossy tone. “I think we’ve tortured Azzy long enough. Let’s torment someone new!” A chorus of ‘not it’s reverberated through the basement, accompanied by quickly raised hands. And for all of his dancing reflexes, Chrono was simply unable to beat them.
“Mwahaha— Chrono’s up next!” Rosette cackled, snatching the CDs away from her brother and beginning to paw through them, chewing happily on her slice of pizza. “This should be fun. . . !”
“Rosette! Stop being evil!” Chrono demanded, dodging a well-tossed pillow. “I mean it!”
“But I want to see him do Barbie Girl. . .” Joshua sighed in mock sorrow, laughing when the pillow was redirected towards himself. “Kidding, kidding! What I really want to see is you doing one of the songs you’re gonna sing during the musical—MR. STAR.”
The ruby eyed boy blushed, twiddling his thumbs modestly. “I’m not really the star. . .”
“You’re DANNY! How is that NOT the star?” Az pointed out with a giggle, tugging playfully on the end of his purple plait. “The only one with more lines than you is Sandy.”
“Speaking of which. . .” the blonde chirped, brandishing a new CD with a cry of triumph, “here is the Grease karaoke CD! I’d love to hear Summer Nights.”
“But that’s a duet! I can’t do it by myself!” Chrono protested, stumbling when he was pushed off the couch and forced to take the mike. “Who would sing it with me?”
All eyes turned to Rosette.
She blanched. “What—? No! You guys know I don’t sing!”
The albino shrugged, kicking her out of her seat as well. “You suggested it. It seems fair to me!”
“But—!”
“C’mon, sis,” Joshua grinned, popping the music into the machine, “we all know you wanna do it with Chrono.”
“. . .”
“. . .”
The blonde boy blinked in confusion as everyone looked away, trying not to laugh. It took a fair amount of effort— their faces slowly turned purple. “What? What’d I say? Wait— hey! You’re all sick! SICK!”
“No, we’re teenagers.”
“Hmph,” Satella finally managed to snort, running her fingers through her long auburn locks with an air of superiority. “Well, I guess this is just Rosette’s way of surrendering. We all knew she wasn’t classy enough to carry a tune, anyway. But no worries—I’ll sing it with you, Chrono-honey. . .” Getting to her feet with a sway of her hips, the foreign exchange student threw her arms around Chrono’s neck; pulling him close and rubbing their cheeks together. “Rosette can just scurry on back to her chair. . .”
Rosette’s azure pools flashed red, swatting at the shooing hand Satella brandished in her direction. “RRRRRRRRRR. . . !”
“Er— uh—” the junior squirmed, uncomfortable with how close he was being pressed to. . . certain places. . . But not as uncomfortable as Rosette appeared to be. Her snarling had yet to cease.
“LET GO OF HIM, YOU RUBE! I’m singing! Get off!”
“Aww. . .” The young woman faked a pout, skimming her lips teasingly close to Chrono’s ear. “Oh well . . she’s so much fun to taunt. Don’t you think so, Chrono-sweetie?”
Chrono chuckled— sounding strained— as he tugged himself free. “Er. . . sure. . .”
“Rrrr—C’mon, Chrono!” Rosette roared, kicking the kareoke machine until the correct music began blasting (and nearly causing Chrono’s braid to stand on end). “Ready?”
“I can’t hear y—!”
“SING!”
“Uh— Summer lovin’ had me a blast. . .?” the boy tried rather squeakily, mildly confused as to what he was supposed to be doing. (Though, in his defense, he’d never been invited to do kareoke before and hadn’t been completely prepared for the . . . state of mind, per say. . . it entailed.) Joshua sighed, rolling his eyes as he hopped up and grabbed another microphone, muttering something under his breath about first-timers. Ooo, Chrono had backup (and he appeared to be thankful for it). . . unfair! Azmaria tittered, leaping to join Rosette when the older girl beckoned.
Satella just yawned— trying to hide her amusement.
“Summer lovin’ happened so fast!” the blonde sang back, batting her eyelashes wistfully with a very phony swooning-gesture. “Oh, Azzy, help me, he’s too much MAN for me to handle. . .”
Chrono—though already embarrassed— had enough sense to be mockingly insulted. So he stuck out his tongue—and— and. . . He blinked, freezing momentarily. Before he knew it. . . he was playfully punching Rosette in the arm. Honestly, the action surprised him more than the senior. Yes, without realizing it, he’d grown comfortable with her. . . and (to an extent) everybody else.
He had friends.
Rosette grinned, winking. . . before “angrily” pulling him into a very “vicious” chokehold. One that he managed to break free from by poking her ticklish sides. “Owowowow—! Met a girl crazy for me— or just crazy!”
“Gee, thanks! Met a boy, cute as can be— compared to—!”
Joshua leapt forward, pushing the two teens (who were leaning dangerously close to the other) apart, covering his big sister’s mouth with a nervous chuckle. “Let’s keep this PG, big sister.”
“Ooo, all together now!” Azmaria squealed, grabbing Satella’s wrist and tugging her before the machine as well. “Summer sun, something’s begun but, ah, oh those summer night!”
“Break it down!” Rosette cried, grabbing as many hands as she could and forcing whoever was within a ten foot radius to twist and spin with her—everyone screeching the rest of the lyrics as loud and poorly as they could; unable to breathe by the end of the song.
They were too busy laughing.
X
It was like walking into a pharmacy.
“Woah. . .” Chrono gaped, open-mouthed, at the rows of differently colored bottles and twist-top containers that lined the papered walls of the Remington’s brightly colored kitchen. A kitchen that smelt like blueberries— which was funny, since the theme suggested that apples be the fruit of choice. “You have to take all of this?”
Rosette chuckled, sweeping her arms down the white marble counters; pulling out random plastic jars that clattered cheerfully when touched. The junior frowned curiously, attempting to read a label but finding the names of the medications incredibly difficult to pronounce. “No, they’re not all mine,” she assured happily, popping a few capsules into her mouth before snapping the lid of the jar shut, selecting another. “Maybe half are. The others are for Joshy— he gets ill easily. And he’s allergic to practically everything!”
Chrono laughed at her exaggerated “irritation,” but his good humor quickly slipped away. “. . . Are you feeling all right, then?” The blonde tilted her head in surprise, apparently pleased to hear her friend’s concerned tone. Well, she did like attention. “I mean. . . you don’t usually take medicine unless. . . ”
“I feel great today,” she smiled, carelessly rolling an empty bottle of something called Agenerase towards the trash can. It fell into the white basket with a soft thud. Two points! “I only take these to keep from getting sick. Prophylaxis, I think is the correct term for doing that. Anyway, I have to because. . . er, well. . .” Rosette scratched her head, eyes on Chrono’s bewildered— but rather interested— face. “I’m not very good at explaining it; it mostly flies right over my head when the doctors try to help me understand. But basically, when the number of a certain kind of white blood cell in your body— CD4 cells— become less than 200, you have to start taking drugs to keep diseases from attacking.”
“. . . Oh.”
The senior giggled, bopping her friend nonchalantly over the head. “Don’t sweat it. Like I said: I don’t get most of it either. Now c’mon, we’re late meeting the others at the park!”
“Um—Isn’t it a park for little kids?” Chrono asked lightly as they stepped out into the messy garage, Rosette locking the kitchen door behind them.
“Yeah, so?” she shrugged, fiddling with the knob to make sure it was sealed. Yep. “Your point?”
“. . . That was my point, actually.”
“Well, it wasn’t a very good one!” she bubbled, tipping back her cowgirl hat and picking up her motorcycle helmet, jamming it onto her head; tossing Chrono a matching red one. He stared at it for a moment. . .
And then at the bike it went with. “—NO.”
“Aw, don’t be such a wet blanket! Let’s get a wiggle on!” Rosette squealed, throwing her hip hugger covered legs over the seat and clutching the handlebars lovingly. It was nearly impossible to see her face through the dark visor, but a smirk was definitely detectable in her tone. Starting the beast with a flick of her wrist, she cackled evilly— loud screeches and roars rumbled through their ears, the motor howling to life. “Mwahaha, vroom vroom!”
“Rosette, NO!” Chrono wailed, though he followed her yanking arms obediently when she reached out and grabbed him. “I don’t think YOU on a bike like this is a good ide—!”
She (of course) wasn’t listening. (It didn’t really come as much of a shock to him that she wasn’t.) “Hold on!”
He did— screaming for his life as the motorcycle shot out of the garage like a bullet, burning rubber all the way down the busy main road.
X
“You know what’s amazing to me?”
“No. . . what?”
Rosette smiled at the bright blue sky, eyes fluttering shut as the blustery day continued to swirl around them; hot sun pounding down on the field of long, green grasses and gently slopping hills. The nearby trees rustled softly, birds twittering. “What’s amazing to me. . .” she murmured softly, taking a deep breath of the fresh air, “is how everything is always changing. . . and yet, stays constantly the same.”
Chrono frowned lightly, blinking up at the girl. “I. . . don’t understand.”
“Hmm—I could tell.” She giggled at his perplexed expression; one hand lightly combing through his unbound locks and the other supporting her weight as she leaned back; smoothing her fingers over the head that rested in her lap. “But that’s all right, I didn’t expect you to. It’s strange, really. . . how wisdom comes and goes. If you can call my thinking wise, that is. . . I don’t know. People say that kids are dumb; don’t understand. . . but I think we just perceive things in a different way. Not all ways the right way, but. . . not always wrong.”
The boy grinned faintly, tilting his chin so that their eyes locked. “. . . I’d like to understand.”
Another breeze whipped through, ruffling the long pink dress and black, fringed vest Rosette wore. For a moment Chrono swore he saw her shiver—though it was well over 80 degrees outside and she had on long sleeves— but he made the mistake of blinking before he asked if she felt all right. She looked fine by the time his eyes were focused again. . . and he’d be smacked if he asked, now. Still. . .
“Well,” she began after a silent moment, golden hair fluttering in the wind, “It’s like. . . like the sky. Or the sedge, or trees.” Waving her arms wildly, she allowed her fingertips to skim the dancing grasses which rippled like water in the sunlight. “They’re always the same, no matter what mood they’re in. It can be stormy or sunny or snowy or blustery, but the sky is still the sky. It hasn’t changed what it is—only masked itself. Beneath the clouds, it’s as blue as ever. The same with wildlife. They can grow and change color and loose parts of themselves as the seasons demand, but they’re still the same, deep inside. You don’t go up to an oak and call it a maple just because its leaves are gone for the winter.” Rosette beamed rather feebly, eyes on something that no one else could see— hiding among the ice-cream clouds on the horizon. “It’s the same with people. No matter what they try to be, or how they try to disguise themselves. . . a person’s nature is always the same.”
“. . . What if they try to change?” Chrono inquired softly, maroon pools half lidded against the bright sun; concentrating on the feel of her fingers in his long tresses. “What if they’re something bad and they want to be something good? Try to be something good?”
“If they’re smart enough to want to be good and can pull through with their attempts to be so, then their nature was really good from the start, wasn’t it?” she reasoned. “But, by the same token. . .”
He considered this for a moment. “I’d like to believe there is good in everybody.”
“There probably is,” Rosette shrugged, sighing with a silent sneeze, “but some people have too much badness in them and snuff out the light.”
“That’s depressing.”
She laughed: a loud, brash— and yet, airy, tinkling— sort of sound. He rather liked it. . . his sardonically quirked lips pulled up a bit more. “If you want a rainbow, you’re going to have to put up with some rain,” the girl quoted, amused. “There has to be sad stuff if you’re ever to know what happiness is. The same thing goes with good and evil. But why are you worrying about it?” she asked, glancing down at the face resting against her thighs with a cheerful grin. “Though you constantly try to deny it, you’ve always been the way you’re acting now: sarcastic and stupid. . . but sweet and kind, too. A little wimpy, maybe. . . but charming nonetheless.”
“. . . I don’t know whether to be insulted or not,” Chrono chuckled; though his cheeks were already a shade of bright pink.
Rosette snickered, but had soon resorted to looking serious. “Chrono has always been Chrono,” she said firmly, giving his hair a gentle tug in emphasis. “You have just never shown that until now.”
He smiled warmly; hands lacing on his stomach as he pondered this, red orbs drifting shut.
. . . And then a thought struck him. “Has Rosette?”
The young woman, who had drifted off into her own world of thought during the momentary silence, gave a tiny start. “Hm? Have I what?”
“Has Rosette always been Rosette?” he questioned, listening to the shifting of the never-ending grass. “Or have you tried to hide your true self before?”
“. . .” One eye peaked open— just in time to see a pale brow, crinkled in sadness and remorse, forcibly flattened with an over exaggerated beam. “I have,” she admitted quietly. “I used to try to fit in. I used to try to befriend the gossips and back-stabbers at school. . . until I got tired of their bullshit. And I realized, as I stood there in the school bathroom, crying, that I didn’t need them. . . I didn’t have time for it. Heh—I don’t know why a revelation like that hit me so hard right then, but. . . it did.” A grunt of mild mirth. “That’s another weird thing about wisdom, I suppose: it strikes when you least expect it.” She laughed again, though the sound wasn’t quite as joyful as before. “. . . After school that day I went out. . . I don’t know why, wanted to cheer myself up with a smoothie or something, I guess— when I saw this pocket watch on display in a store. So I bought it and wear it. . . to remind myself of what I learned.” Her fingers left his locks for a brief moment, brushing her necklace as if to confirm that it was still there. It was, shimmering brightly in the afternoon sun. A beat of silence. And then a snort. “You know, it’s funny,” she murmured, beginning to smooth his hair once more. “People always assume that I wear my pocket watch because I’m dying. You know, to tick down my remaining minutes alive. I guess that’s sort of true. . . but at the same time, it’s not. I mean, it’s not like I’m special. They’re dying, too. We’ve all got a limited time to live, to dream, to fly. Idiots. . . they think they’re exempted because they’re young and healthy. But death doesn’t play favorites: just because I know why I’m going to die, doesn’t mean . . .” she trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath before locking gazes with the junior. “You understand, right? We’re all in the same bo—. . . the same. . . ?”
Her voice fell away once again, but this time, for a different reason. Chrono had reached out— gingerly placing his hands on her cheeks, pulling himself up. . . and brushed their lips together.
He could feel her swallow harshly, shock and horror painted on her face. The clock on her chest ticked loudly in their ears.
“C—Chrono. . . ?” she managed to stutter after a whole minute of harsh panting, stiff under his fingertips. Were those tears welling in her eyes—? Eyes suddenly angry and cold. “Chrono, you idiot! What’re you— don’t—!”
He smiled weakly; just as nervous and scared—but determination shone in his gaze. As did something else. . . “Well,” he whispered— echoing her own words with a strange sort of calmness, “I’d rather be an idiot that be miserable. And. . . I. . . I. . . we only have a limited time, right?”
Rosette, cheeks on fire, stumbled franticly: clearly as poorly versed as he in matters like this. “But Chrono, I’m— you shouldn’t—! D—don’t kiss me!” she choked, rapidly blinking; trying to clear her swimming vision. “Just don’t!”
“. . . But. . . Rosette. . .” the boy breathed, their faces still near; coiling her sunny locks around his fingers. “If I don’t kiss you, I’ll regret it. . . and you can’t have any regrets. . . not even tiny ones.” Tenderly tightening his hands in her tresses, he pierced her with a fervent stare. “Do you, Rosette? Do you have any regrets?”
“. . .” She beamed— watery and snuffling, but beamed nonetheless— their noses brushing as she gave a small, jerky shake. “No. . .” the blonde giggled silently, blue pools shining; bright. “No, I don’t. . . !”
And when Chrono kissed her again. . . she kissed him deeply back.
X
“Time is a wheel in constant motion, always moving us along. Tell me— who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone?”
–I Hope You Dance; Sons of the Desert (Lee Ann Womack)
X -
X
Dancing in the Rain
X
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that youÂ’ll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance. . .
X
X
Step Three:
Remember—The Show Must Go On
X
Rosette had lied.
X
“What’s amazing to me is how everything is always changing. . . and yet, stays constantly the same.”
The words had been echoing through his head for days now, cryptic and confusing. Chrono frowned pensively, staring out the cracked bus window; cupping his chin in his hands. What was it about her declaration that bugged him? It seemed straightforward enough. . . or, rather, she had explained herself afterwards. And yet. . . there was something left unsaid. He could feel it deep inside.
Everything changes— but still remains consistent. What had she been trying to tell him? It sounded as if she were supporting the idea of destiny, or fate. But that didn’t seem like an idea that never-say-die Rosette would succumb to.
“. . .” He snorted to himself as the bus rolled to a stop; standing with a wobble and fighting his way to the front. Maybe he was over thinking this. . . Besides, he had much more important things to worry about, right now. Taking a deep breath, he hopped down the steep steps and out the plastic sliding door—
And nearly ran smack into—speak of the devil—
“Whoa—!” Chrono spluttered, rearing back in surprise and nearly smacking into the leaving bus. Fortunately he managed to catch himself in time, tottering rather dangerously on the curb; pinwheeling arms snatched by Rosette. “Rosette, what’re you doing here—!”
She blinked at him, arching an eyebrow. “What do you think?” she inquired dryly, sweeping a hand down her body to show off her clothes: a long black skirt and matching sleeveless top with a black and silver shawl that sparkled like the night sky. It was quite elegant for her tastes. . . though, of course, she had not removed her pocket watch. “I’m here to see a play on its opening night, obviously! I even put on makeup—and you know how much I hate the stuff.”
The boy gasped in mock horror, but was genuinely surprised to see that there was a touch of glitter to her cheeks, a dab of eye shadow on her lids. True, she’d decided to be “different” with the powder and imitate the Egyptians, but still— “Good Lord! I hadn’t realized the apocalypse had come!”
Rosette glowered playfully. And though he knew he fully deserved the punch on the shoulder he received, Chrono couldn’t resist snagging her wrist in the process. “Hey, be nice to me! Or when stage fright causes me to throw up, I’ll do it in your dire. . .” His pouting tone trailed off, however; nerves spiking when the senior’s laughter suddenly became a coughing fit— one so powerful that she nearly doubled over, having difficulty breathing. A sheen of sweat bubbled to the surface of her skin, forehead a pale magenta that contrasted the rest of her ivory body. Frantic anxiety crashed over the junior like a wave. “Rosette. . . ?” he murmured, supporting her with a shoulder. “Rosette—! Are you okay?”
“—ine. . .” Dismissively waving the hand that had been clenching her waist, Rosette tugged her arm from his hold. “I—I’m fine. . . !” she managed to wheeze after a moment, clearing her throat a few times in the process.
“You are not,” the dancer frowned, suddenly quite aware of the crisp breezes blowing through; bringing the dark evening clouds with them. God, how long had she been standing out here in the cold? “You can barely breathe! And you look ill— let’s go call your aunt and uncle.”
“No!” Rosette rolled her eyes, straightening with an indignant air. Within seconds she appeared to have recovered; for all the world looking as normal as could be. But Chrono could clearly see the unhealthy pink tinge that clung to her cheeks like rouge. “Really, Chrono, I feel great. Just a few cramps. . . but you know how tha—actually, no, I hope you DON’T know how that is.” The girl winked when his face flushed, grabbing his hand; exuberantly tugging him down the school sidewalk. “Now, c’mon—I got here early to help you with your makeup. I’ve always wanted to beautify a star! And you made me wait (stupid mass transit), so you owe me! Hahahaha— I bet you’d look cute in lipstick!”
“B—but Rosette—!” he helplessly floundered, allowing the girl to yank him into the building; trying to ignore how clammy her palm felt. “Waaaaait!”
X
X
No matter how muddled and foggy the rest of the night became, that fact he knew for sure. She had said that things don’t change, didn’t she? Don’t change unless they’re supposed to. But if that were true, then why—? Why did. . . ?
He didnÂ’t need the rain. He only wanted the rainbow.
X
“It’s funny,” Chrono groaned, maroon pools nearly swirling with fear as he pressed his forehead to the cool makeup tables, “how one moment can change your life forever.” He smiled in spite of himself when he heard Rosette giggle, even over the hustle and bustle of backstage. Well, she was right next to him, after all; trying to find a way to squeeze more foundation onto his face (she liked playing with the foam application pads)— but somehow he knew he’d be able to pick up that laugh anywhere. “I’m seriously,” he continued gravely, trying to sound as pathetic as possible. “I’m going to get out there and make a fool of myself. And then— then I’ll just die. This night will ruin my entire existence.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” the girl chuckled, conceding defeat and putting the extra makeup away. Besides, if the director saw her playing with the tubes and colors again, she’d get in trouble. “You’re being plenty dramatic back here— I think you’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say,” Chrono whimpered, straightening in his chair; staring coldly at his reflection in the mirrors lining the walls. The image looked as if it were taunting him in the flickering glow of the makeup lights. “You’re not going out there to face the critics! It’s. . . it’s . . .” He fished around for the proper word for a moment, casting Rosette a pleading glance. “Uh. . . ?”
“Scary?”
“Exactly!”
She sniggered again, throwing her arms around the boy’s neck and resting her chin against the crown of his head. He blushed, hands covering her own. “Don’t worry, it’ll be jake!” she cheered encouragingly, beaming. The long, stringy edges of her shawl tickled his nose when she leaned closer, whispering softly in his ear. “You know. . . people used to ask me if I was afraid of dying. And you know what I’d always tell them? I’d honestly tell them no—it’s what comes before that which frightens me. Dying is easy—it’s living that’s scary.”
Making a cheerful noise in the back of her throat, she kissed his temple. “So be happy that there are things around that scare you. It means you’re still alive.”
“. . .” Chrono stared up at her, an odd shimmer in his eyes. “You’re too wise for your own good.”
“I know I am.” Rumpling his hair “for good luck”, Rosette headed for the door. “Now, I have to go to the bathroom, then I’m going to go find my seat. Azzy, Satella, Joshua and I will all be out there cheering! And afterwards, we’re going to get ice cream—so don’t take too long changing after curtain call, got it?”
“Aye aye, captain,” he joked, still rosy cheeked. But the happy bubble in his stomach nearly popped as he watched her go— fumbling in the halls, looking disorientated for a second, before eventually hiking off in the wrong direction. ‘What is she—?’ He was about to stand and correct her when she turned on her heel (apparently a bit embarrassed) and began once more, only this time going the right way.
She waved and stuck out her tongue when she passed.
Something wasn’t right. . . But what could he do about it? He was stuck back here. And the others wouldn’t think of coming back h— . . . but maybe, instead. . .
Nabbing a cell phone from the Tech Manager—a hyperactive sophomore named Shader— Chrono quickly dialed up Azmaria. Had he less on his mind, he may have spent a few minutes wondering why anyone would want the Hello Kitty theme song as their cell ring. As it were, he was too busy chanting silently, worry boiling in his veins.
“—ick up, pick up, pi—!”
Finally, a click. “Hello?”
He nearly sighed in relief. “Az! Thank God your cell is on!”
“Chrono?” The speaker on the other end sounded justifiably surprised.“Is that you? What are you doing, calling? Aren’t you backst—?”
There wasn’t time for this. “I am, but Az, this is important. Rosette—is she okay?”
A pause. “W—what? Well, I don’t know; she’s not here right now. But she did seem to have a slight fever a few days ago.”
“. . .”
Chrono could almost see Az’s face, scrunched in bewilderment. “Chrono? Chrono, are you still there? Look, you shouldn’t worry— Rosette knows her limits. If she’s feeling bad, she’s sure to get herself to the hospital.”
“I . . . I don’t know. . .” The junior sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.“Just— could you please keep an eye on her for me? When I last saw her she. . . and I— I’m just concerned.”
There was another short pause, followed by a soothing note. “Of course I will— I always do,” Azmaria reassured gently. “And I promise, at the first warning signs, I’ll make her see a doctor.”
Chrono grinned, feeling as if fifty pounds had been lifted off each shoulder. “Thanks, Az.”
“You’re welcome! Now, go break a— Oh! Rosette, there you are! Heh— heh. . ” Azmaria clearly gulped; a sound that didn’t quite manage to cover up the chatter of a new voice, one that crackled slightly due to reception.
“What’s with the laugh? You sound guilty. . . should I be worried?”
“Uh. . . no?”
His smile widened, taking on a slightly sarcastic quirk. “Statements don’t end in question marks, Az.”
“Oh, leave me alone!”
“Hey!”
“Erk— not you!”
“I know, just kidding. But who are you talking to? The show’s about to start!” The clattering sounds of a battle tumbled out of the cell, signifying a war for the phone. “Azzy has to go now—(It seemed Rosette had won)—she needs to watch my boyfriend kick ass onstage.”
“?—!” the actor managed to muffle a sharp intake of air by stuffing three fingers into his mouth. What was that—? B—boyfr—?
A cackle of amusement filled his ears, one that warmed his heart. “So ciao, whoever you are!”
“Roset—!”
Bzzzzzzzzz.
“. . .” Chrono, though still stunned stupid, couldn’t help but beam at the receiver; tossing it back to Shader with a casual thanks when the drama teacher started screaming for places. It was time for the show to begin.
And for some reason, he no longer felt nervous.
X
The boy bit painfully down on his lower lip, curling his arms around his legs. The hard plastic of the green chairs ground into his sore body, frigid as the night outside. And his face— it was wet. Ichy and red, strands of loose violet hair clinging to his cheeks. When had that happened? How much time had passed? His fingers brushed. . .
No, he wouldnÂ’t look at it.
Because if he did. . . if he did, that would mean. . .
X
It was five minutes after intermission. Things had gone well up to this point. The actors were finally beginning to relax, completely submerged in their world of make-believe. Audience members were laughing and smiling, enjoying the performance. Aion was handing out programs with a scowl on his face. All was right with the world.
Tranquility shattered with a scream.
The sound came out of no where— a horrible, screeching wail that filled the entire auditorium with sound. All of the actors and actresses on stage nearly leapt out of their skins in shock. What on Earth could have happened to make a grown woman shriek like a banshee—?
“Oh my God. . .” He heard the girl playing Rizzo choke, her dark eyes wide with terror—staring at something over his shoulder. “Oh my God, what happened?” The orchestra members, hidden in the pit, began to whisper to each other; hissing like snakes. A different person screamed. What the—!
Unable to take the suspense anymore, Chrono whirled around. No one was paying attention to the play, anyway. ‘What ha—?’
The sight nearly winded him. Instead, he blanched; an invisible hand squeezing his heart so hard he felt it was going to burst. It probably already had. For, lying on the dirty carpet in the middle of the aisle, was none other than— “Rosette!”
She was pale, still, chest barely moving underneath her top. A trickle of blood was seeping out from where her head had connected with the floor; saliva and sweat mixing beside her partially opened mouth. Even her lips looked wrong— slowly turning blue.
“Rosette!” The junior was off the stage before he’d even realized he’d jumped— pushing frightened students’ siblings and parents out of his way as he moved. ‘They shouldn’t be crowding around her; they were going to squish her—!’ “God dammit, move!” he grunted, fighting the last few feet towards the unconscious girl, collapsing as soon as he reached her. Azmaria was beside him in a heartbeat.
“Chrono!” she sobbed, frenzied tears sparkling in her pink eyes. Wringing hands shifted in front of her chest. “C—Chrono! Thank God. . . Satella—she’s calling 911.”
He didn’t respond. Rather, he grabbed Rosette’s hand. It was so cold. . . ! But—but her eyes were—?
“I’m so sorry!” Az was blubbering, removing her cap and hugging it to her bosom. “She told me she needed to go to the bathroom! And she wouldn’t let me come with because she wanted me to tell her what she missed! She was gone so long, I was just getting up to go find her— she stumbled in and. . . and. . . !”
“—ngh. . .” Rosette groaned abruptly, eliciting a gasp from the pressing ring of observers. They seemed to be gradually backing away, though, thank God. Joshua’s doing, it appeared. “What. . . what happen—?” She broke off, hacking loudly into her hand, trying to sit up. But Chrono’s fingers prevented that.
“Relax, Rosette, you just fainted,” he soothed, ignoring the annoyed glare she shot him. “Satella’s getting help—you need to go to the hospital.”
The blonde seemed to have some sort of sarcastic retort regarding this announcement, but was unable to un-stick the words lodged in her throat. So instead she allowed herself to be pushed back, lightly closing her eyes again, concentrating on her breathing; one hand clutching her head.
Her grip tightened around his, trembling.
X
“Chrono. . .”
He looked up quickly at the sudden sound, not caring who saw his tears. Tightening his hold on the corners of the thin blue blanket a nurse had provided, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “M—Mrs. Remington. . .”
Kate frowned sadly down at the child in the seat, both annoyed and grateful that he hadn’t allowed himself to be forced home like the other children. “What are you still doing here, child?” she inquired softly, carefully sitting on the very edge of the chair beside him.
Chrono gulped a second time, chin quivering. “I— I have to be here. . .” he stated firmly, staring off into the white, white distance of the waiting room. “When she gets out. . . we’re all going for ice cream. . .”
“. . .” The woman crumbled; throwing her arms around the boy and holding him close.
X
“An ambulance is outside!”
The words echoed endlessly through the room, passed from grandparent to child to parent as if no one had ever seen one before. Chrono found himself growing increasingly annoyed, having to bite his own tongue to keep from screaming at the throng. There was girl here; a hurt one—and all they cared about was some stupid car?
Rosette slowly pealed her eyes open once more; blue pools glassy as her body gave an involuntary spasm. “Ch— r. . . ono. . . ?” she groaned, voice cracking; searching to find his gaze with her own. It took her longer than it should have. “What’s. . . going on—?”
He smoothed a bit of loose hair from her face. “We’re taking you to the hospital. They’ll help you feel better.”
She seemed to be on the verge of saying: ‘I feel fine,’ but cut herself off with a moan, seizing again. “. . . I don’t want to go,” the senior murmured instead, ignoring the others and instead talking directly to the boy. “The hos. . . pital. . . scares me. . .”
Chrono grinned slightly, forcing a cheerful note into his tone. “Well, be happy that there are things around that scare you. It means you’re still alive.”
A snort, lips twitching upwards in pained amusement. “You. . . are a smart-ass, my. . . friend. . .”
“Boyfriend,” he corrected quietly. Her smile widened a bit more, but transformed into a grimace as she began to shiver.
“Rosette—!”
At that moment, two men burst through the drove, yelling angrily about suffocating patients. Between them was a large yellow board, covered in Velcro straps. Chrono was pushed rather harshly to the side as they neared, almost knocking over Azmaria in the process. But they were caught in the nick of time by Satella and Joshua—both waiting as close to Rosette as possible, white as ghosts.
“She. . . is going to be all right. . . isn’t she?” Az questioned softly, sounding frightened. Nobody replied. Joshua simply hugged her when she started crying.
X
Ewan Remington soundlessly watched his wife cuddle the small boy; her aching eyes detectable even from the front desk. ‘What if’s and ‘why didn’t’s danced through his head like some sort of sick ballet; casting wary glances down the bleached halls.
There was someone walking down them, coming closer.
X
Chrono wasn’t sure how he ended up with Rosette in the ambulance— in fact, everything was beginning to blend together in his mind; jumbled and out of order. All he knew was that there was a lot of pushing from the other three, and insistent words from Joshua directed towards the workers. But it really didn’t matter.
All that mattered was keeping Rosette awake through any means possible. Because if she closed her eyes. . . he wasnÂ’t sure if she would open them again. Surprisingly, she didnÂ’t seem to mind his plans. On the contrary, she appeared to be worried about the same thing.
“On the. . . plus side,” she was saying in a tiny voice; reedy and strained— but playful nonetheless. “We get a. . . free ride. . . And it’s fast. I— like fast. . .”
“I know,” he chuckled, overly jolly. “I’ve ridden on your motorcycle before, remember? Though I have to know— who in their right mind would give you a bike like that?”
“Mmm. . .” Rosette didn’t reply for a moment, too busy taking shallow breaths. “M. . . my uncle did. Remington. . . birthday. Kate was furi. . . ous. . . ” The girl giggled for a moment before wrinkling her nose. “. . . You know, it figures. . . The one night— I make my. . .self look pretty. . .”
The junior cocked his head in mild bewilderment. “What are you talking about? You’re always pretty.”
She beamed.
Just then someone slammed on the breaks. Chrono lurched forward with a yelp, placing a hand on the cool metal wall for support. The workers didn’t need any time to balance themselves, though—they were racing through the truck like well-trained athletes, undoing some of the straps holding Rosette and re-snapping others. The backdoor was kicked open, nearly smashing into a team of stern looking physicians and nurses.
Honestly, the boy had no idea what to do. Stand there in the ambulance? Join the adults? Leave? He hesitated; stomach churning as he watched needles and tubes being jammed into the blondeÂ’s thin arms, empty syringes filling with blood.
Rosette made a strange sound in the back of her throat, one barely audible over the urgent call from doctor to doctor, her fingers jerking like they were feeling for something. Something not there. “Chro—no. . . ?”
He was out of the truck and by her side in a flash. Her face brightened at the sight of him, though remained clammy and feverish and nervous all the same. “I’m here. . . And I’ll stay here, if you want me to.”
“. . . please. . .”
X
Within seconds, Kate had noticed the approaching figure, too. Her embrace around Chrono subconsciously tightened, causing the boy to glance up as well. His iron grip loosened slightly, brow crinkling.
It was a doctor.
X
“—ppears to be experiencing symptoms of pneumocysits jiroveci pneumonia, toxoplasma gondii, and cryptosporidiosis. Chances of meningitis.”
“CD4 cells are drastically below 100! When was her last check-up?”
“— rents? Then call her aunt and uncle!”
Rosette sighed airily, gaze locked on the dark ceiling, the voices of the hospital workers outside the door reverberating off the walls. “Irritating. . . isn’t it. . . ?”
Chrono couldn’t manage a grin anymore, not even for her: instead he shifted guiltily on the chair he’d pulled up beside her bed. In truth, those doctors shouldn’t have been outside at all. They should’ve been in here—curing her. But she had refused to accept their help until she’d had a chance to talk with him alone. A demand they’d been forced to comply with considering she’d turned 18 a few weeks before.
The girl twisted her head a fraction of an inch, confused by his silence. The many machines she’d been hooked up to hummed and beeped, glowing in the dim gloom. “What’s wrong. . . ?”
“I. . .” He subtly scrubbed his eyes, trying to clear his blurry vision. “I don’t know, exactly. . .” Leaning forward, he closed his fist around her own; trying not to touch any of the cords connected to her. It was as if he didn’t acknowledge them, then maybe—maybe they weren’t really there. “It’s just— being here. . . makes me wonder what will happen next.”
“That’s easy. . .” she joked softly. “First, they’ll. . . take more stupid tests. Then I— I’ll get poked more. . .”
“That’s not what I meant!” Chrono interrupted with a forceful shake of his head, unable to stop a single tear from slipping down his cheek. “I. . .” Rosette blinked at him with half-lidded, navy pools. “I. . . I mean us,” he admitted softly, staring determinedly down at their clasped hands. “Seeing all this. . . it makes me wonder how much time we’ll have together. Even i— after you get out, tonight. How much . . . ?” A second droplet of water splattered against their joined fingers, heat trickling down to warm the gaps between their skin.
“. . .” She stared pityingly up into his clouded maroon orbs. “Chrono. . .” Rosette whispered, forcing him to connect their gazes. “On the. . . bedside table. . .”
He titled his head slightly before glancing over. And he instantly knew what she was going to say. “Rosette, no. That’s yours!”
“I’m. . . gi—giving it. . . to you,” she murmured, a small grin playing on her face. “Take it.”
Chrono felt both a strange dryness and an acidic bile fighting their way up his throat as he reached out, gingerly lifting the pocket watch from its resting place on the wooden surface. It clattered and shimmered through the shadows, turning round and round upon itself for a few seconds. He knew couldn’t take just holding it, but couldn’t bring himself to put it in his pocket. So instead he clipped it around his neck, just like Rosette; allowing his free hand to clench it tightly, drinking in the warmth that clung to its gold-painted metal. The senior’s smile widened laboriously at the sight, eyes fluttering shut. “N—now. . .” Rosette breathed, her fingers loosening around his own, “we have. . . all the time together. . . in the world. . .”
She fell silent.
“Rosette. . . ?”
The machines began making bizarre noises.
“Rosette—!”
Her hand fell from his all together.
“Rosette!” The boy bolted to his feet, yanking the door to the dark room open and nearly running into a pack of M.D.s. They looked down their noses at him, clearly unmoved by his disheveled appearance. But that meant nothing— “Something’s wrong!”
They didnÂ’t need telling twice; pushing him down the hall to join his friends in the waiting room.
X
“W. . . well. . . ?” Kate swallowed harshly. He could feel it through her tender hold.
The doctor fingered his clipboard for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. But the sympathetic glitter in his doe brown eyes was obvious, even from a distance. “. . . I’m sorry to inform you,” he began quietly, casting a sorrowful glance to each person in turn, “that Rosette Christopher passed away this morning at 2:34 AM.”
ChonoÂ’s insides turned to ice. Then to fire. Then he had no insides at all. And he cried. Cried as he had never cried before.
WasnÂ’t it funny; he mused pathetically, all too aware of both Mr. and Mrs. RemingtonÂ’s muffled sobs; how one moment can change your life forever.
X
“The second hand is moving. Ticking away time that will never return.”
–Chrno Crusade Volume 4; Rosette (Daisuke Moriyama)
X -
X
Dancing in the Rain
X
Dance!
I hope you dance— I hope you dance!
I hope you dance. . .
I hope you dance.
X
Epilogue
X
It was raining. Icy and hard and continuously falling from the woven blanket that served as the heavens. The kind of day that most dreaded—wet and cold. Birds huddled in hidden nests, dogs cowered beneath porches, kids and adults remained dry beside their television sets. Or computers. Or kitchen tables, where they could be heard to be playing cards or board games. In any case, they didn’t dare set foot outside— nor even consider the idea of visiting a cemetery.
So he was alone.
But that was all right. In all honestly, he preferred it that way—generally waiting until the storms hit to visit. Why wouldn’t he? It was cooler. There were fewer families.
. . . And, most importantly, the rain reminded him of her.
Chrono smiled a bit, head tilted towards the gray sky; savoring the feel of the many droplets seeping through his suit. Taking a deep breath of the moist air, he simply allowed himself to be for a few moments: listening to the song of the wind in the cypresses and aspen trees; the rush of cars on the nearby road; the pitter-patter of water on graves made from marble and granite.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
He gave a small start, lashes springing open. But he didn’t need to turn to know who was speaking. “Hello, Azzy,” Chrono greeted pleasantly, though his gaze remained locked on the horizon. “Sneaky as always, I see.”
“Not sneaky. Just quiet.” Azmaria grinned for him, even though she knew he wasn’t looking. Hands tightening on her slick umbrella, the young woman took a few careful steps forward, trying not to ruin her black velvet dress. The mushy grass squelched softly wherever she tread; joining her friend in front of the gravestone.
“. . . It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years,” the man beside her whispered when her feet became as silent as the rest of the burial grounds, his fingers clenching a bouquet of lilies and orchids. Fingers that she could see were trembling— a sight which never failed to frighten her. So in an attempt to lighten the mood, Az pushed a pale lock of hair behind her ear and retorted: “Not when I look at you.”
It was true, in a sense; he had changed quite a bit since she’d died. Change happened when time passed, after all—and so much of it had. The rest of high school flew by. College had come and gone, too: bringing the modification everyone had expected. And not just mental metamorphoses, either—both he and Azmaria had finally sprouted during their four years away from home. Though Azzy was still considered petit, Chrono had shot up over a yard, his round features angling as he went from “thin” to “toned”. He was quite the handsome man, and the constant workouts he had on Broadway only proved to help his physique. Woman wanted him, now.
He only wanted one woman.
So he chuckled politely at the opera singer’s friendly gibe, but otherwise didn’t comment. Instead he crouched low, placing the flowers in front of the slate-colored tombstone. His eyes landed upon the memorial’s carved name and stuck there, hands darting to clench the pocket watch that rested upon his collarbone. “. . . I thought I saw her, yesterday.”
Az inhaled sharply, sympathetically biting her bottom lip.
“It was funny,” Chrono murmured, more to himself that anyone else. “I was just walking along the beach. . . I could have sworn I heard her laughing. I turned around. . . and standing barefoot in the water. . . just— just splashing around like she hadn’t a care. But when I blinked. . .” He chuckled dejectedly, lowering his face as he stood. “. . . I see her everywhere, in anything beautiful. And when I don’t see her, I can feel her. Like the wind. . . always there, always smiling. You know what I mean? ”
There was minute of silence broken only by the splatter of perception.
“. . . Chrono,” the young woman hesitated, swallowing back emotion. Her hand fell to rest upon his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Chrono, honey, it’s been so long. She’d have wanted you to move on—to find someone new. You know that, don’t you?”
“Strangely enough, I do,” he admitted in gloomy thoughtfulness, his palm covering her own. The golden wedding band upon Azmaria’s ring finger felt icy underneath his already wet flesh. “That’s why she didn’t want me to kiss her. I don’t think she wanted me to. . . to get attached, so to speak. But you know, be that as it may, I would have rather had her tell me that . . . that she. . .” His voice trailed off, hitching in his throat.
The singer offered him a rueful sort of smile. “. . . You really loved her, didn’t you?”
“Love,” he corrected quietly. “I love her still.”
Her heart broke for him. “And I know she loved you, Chrono,” Az insisted, voice barely audible over the pounding of rain against her umbrella. “I know she did! You know she did! Rosette was just never one to spell things out.”
“That’s true,” the dancer snorted, a glitter of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “In fact, there’s something that she said to me that I’m still trying to figure out. It was. . . both very straightforward, and yet, perplexing. She told me that even though everything changes. . . things that are meant to be always remain the same, no matter what.” For the first time that day, Chrono turned to look at Azmaria, curiosity in his gaze. “What do you think she was trying to tell me?”
“—!” Azzy blinked blankly back for a moment— before her lips tugged upwards in an unexpected beam, laughter bubbling in her throat. “That certainly sounds like Rosette!” She shook her head, tears sparkling on her lashes. “She could never just speak plainly, could she? But at least you got your answer. . .”
The young man faltered, genuinely baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you get it?” Azmaria pressed, downright delighted. “She was telling you how she felt! That was her way of confessing that she’d loved you, forever. . . no matter what happened to her. Things that are meant to be—like your feelings for one another— never change. Even though events, like her death, would inevitably come to pass.” The woman stuck out her tongue, biting it lightly as she tittered. “Of course she wouldn’t say it straight out, it was way too corny for her; but she had to let you know somehow.”
“. . .” Chrono stood there for a moment, feeling rather stupid— before a tiny smirk managed to claw its way onto his face, a flush dusting his cheeks. Reaching out, he lightly whapped the headstone before him. “Rosette,” he said in a strangled whisper; a wetness clinging to his face that he knew he couldn’t blame on the weather, “you idiot.”
“She was, wasn’t she?” Az agreed, beaming as she soundlessly cried. “But she was certainly a loveable one.”
“Amen.”
They both stood there for a few fleeting eternities; submerged in private musings as they stared at the dripping stone marker. A songbird, mildly ruffled by the wetness of the day, twittered once or twice. Biting breezes whipped through. A car honked in the distance.
“. . . You’re coming tonight, right?” Azmaria finally murmured, casting him a glance. “To the memorial dinner, I mean. Kate and Ewan are out of town on business, so it’ll just be us—you and me and Joshua and Satella. Her plane got in this morning. All you need to bring is a potluck dish. You know all we do is goof off and sing kareoke, anyway.”
“I know,” Chrono assured with a grin, fists stuffed in his pockets. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss it. . . provided you don’t let your husband bake anything. Do you know how long I was out with food poisoning last year? From jello?”
“Excuse me,” Az cried in mock outrage, lightly punching her friend’s side, “but Joshua is a fantastic cook! . . . compared to Kate.”
The dancer laughed, winking to show he was only joking anyway. “Granted. I’ll see you at 7.”
Seven? But that was hours away. . . Azmaria frowned slightly, offering her hand. “You could come with me now, if you want. Joshua would be happy to see you—he hasn’t since last Christmas. And Satella—”
He shook his head carefully, tenderly pushing her fingers aside. “There’s something I still need to do.”
“. . . I understand.” The singer bowed her head for a moment, then, pressing a feathery kiss to her friend’s cheek, turned around; starting slowly for her car. But before she’d gotten too far, she paused, casting Chrono one last glance over her shoulder. “You know,” she started gingerly, “I— I have this friend. Her name is Magdalene. I really think you’d like her. . . and. . . if you’re ready to try. . .”
Chrono didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes on the clouds once again. Then he sighed. “. . . Maybe. I— . . . maybe.”
Az nodded, knowing it was best not to press the subject. And though it both saddened and irritated her to see her “big brother” hang on to a memory, she had to admit—she understood why. Rosette had been the first one to truly accept him, after all. . . and her. Rosette had been the first to truly accept her, too. She could still remember the day she had met her “big sister:” grinning toothily, offering to share her lunch and seat after a hoard of bullies had confiscated Azzy’s own. Rosette had meant more to the two of them than to anyone else, while alive. And even now. . . even now, Azmaria wanted her back. Just as much as Chrono did. But she knew it wasn’t healthy for them to live like that.
And it would just piss Rosette off, quite frankly.
So she had to try. She had to make Chrono try, as well. And Joshua, and Satella. Progress had been slow, but worth it. One day at a time. That was all they could do—take things one day at a time, and leave no room for regrets. It was a plan that was working so far. . . she prayed it would continue to do so. “Well, then. . .” she smiled, delicately closing her eyes as she walked away, “I’ll see you later.”
Then she was gone.
He watched her go. Watched her until her presence in the graveyard could only be proven by the footprints in the mud. Chrono silently blew out his cheeks, dragging a hand over his face. “I guess it’s just you and me, now. . .” he muttered with a note of good humor in his tone, fingers draped over the cool, smooth rock of the tombstone. Squatting down a second time, he rested his forehead against her engraved name. “I miss you,” he declared softly, as if reminding it. The fragrant scent of the snowy flowers tickled his nose. “I miss you so much. . . and I confess, I don’t want to let you go any more then I already have. Though I know that, if you were here right now, you’d hit me for being so stubborn.” He snorted, rustling his short violet hair. “. . . I will, you know. Move on. Eventually. And if I find someone new, Rosette, I promise—for your sake, because I know it’s what you want— that I’ll try to love her as much as I love you. And to be happy. I swear that I will. Though. . . what would really make me happy would be to see you again.”
A fluttering sort of air gust swirled through. Chrono felt his mouth quirk upwards. “I know, Rosette. I know that no matter how much I want to, I’ll have to wait. And I will. Regardless. . . that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because, well, there’s something that I never got around to saying. Honestly, I never thought of it before—but I should have said it every day since the moment I met you.” He swallowed, pausing to press a soft kiss to the top of the headstone.
“. . . Thank you. Thank you, Rosette, for being there. For helping me. For teaching me how to live. For— for everything.” Standing, he offered the grave a watery beam. “This one is for you.”
Raising his arms as a calming peace flooded him, Chrono bowed to an invisible partner: a beautiful girl with honey blonde hair and a dress of pure white. A girl that he could see quite clearly in his mind’s eye. She curtsied in return, placing weightless fingers upon his own with a grin. Music began to play from somewhere, anywhere, nowhere— a classical waltz that he knew from classes, but had learnt from someone special. He took a deep breath. . .
And he danced. Danced until the rain became a rainbow, and his tears became a smile.
X
X
“Please enjoy time carefully—
Without turning your back to the past.
ItÂ’ll be nice if, someday, I can smile again and be with you.
Time goes by. . .”
–Time Goes By; Every Little Thing
X
For more information on HIV, AIDS, and their prevention, please visit hivinsite.ucsf.edu/InSite; thewellproject.org; and other related sites. -
Enjoy reading.
Heheheh.... -
bo lang liao..
-
wah ...5.15am fren call.. ask me see one of my fren off at airport..kns..y ddnt tell me earlier.
i bought xmas card frm 24hour supermarket n brought packet of tissue along. Drive like a lunatic.. about 90km/hr...not only that..i was eatin yoghurt with two hands while using my legs to steer
Wen reach airport, she cried...1st time I see her cry..cos she is like Ice Queen.. actually no one expect me to come..so my presence make her so touched and wen i pulled out the tissue, she started crying 
Btw, she is korean..can say one of the prettiest korean females in my uni
aiyo..6.52am now.. -
20 pages increase -
I jus realised hor.. my crapbox start on 27 Oct and end 7 Nov... bout 10 days nia..this one start 7 Nov..maybe end 17-18 Nov?
jus wondered hor..crap box life expentancy that much meh? feel so short lived. But I think AA mushy gang crapbox more lihai. -
how long is theirs?Originally posted by alexkusu:I jus realised hor.. my crapbox start on 27 Oct and end 7 Nov... bout 10 days nia..this one start 7 Nov..maybe end 17-18 Nov?
jus wondered hor..crap box life expentancy that much meh? feel so short lived. But I think AA mushy gang crapbox more lihai.
more ppl there ma...we shud get more ppl to join
after this, let starblue start the new crapbox le... -
heh..i must be too free...i went check AA one.. start 28 Oct..now bout 1830post..so will close down soon.. so total lifespan around 10days
so i come out with a formula:
C-box life expectancy=10 (+,- 3)
I shall call it "Alex C-box Theory"
knn..i feel overwhelm by my genius
-
Originally posted by alexkusu:
heh..i must be too free...i went check AA one.. start 28 Oct..now bout 1830post..so will close down soon.. so total lifespan around 10days
so i come out with a formula:
[b]C-box life expectancy=10 (+,- 3)
I shall call it "Alex C-box Theory"
knn..i feel overwhelm by my genius[/b]
shud get Nobel prize hor? -
Originally posted by alexkusu:
I call it the Alexurum.
heh..i must be too free...i went check AA one.. start 28 Oct..now bout 1830post..so will close down soon.. so total lifespan around 10days
so i come out with a formula:
[b]C-box life expectancy=10 (+,- 3)
I shall call it "Alex C-box Theory"
knn..i feel overwhelm by my genius[/b] -
good morning