Avaritia Ch. 1

Jun 27, 2006 16:42

So I started a new fanfic.  I don't know why, but I guess I missed writing them.  I should have learned my lesson about chapter fics, but I didn't.  May this be a lesson to me, Melinda, the ultimate procrastinator.  Hopefully, one of these days I'll realize what a moron I am and I'll stick to one-shots.

Title: Avaritia
Author: Locked (
hijklock)
Completion: 1/?
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: Rish
Pairing: Roxas x Sora and one-sided Riku x Sora
Description: The leech effect: to remain close to someone with something you desperately seek in yourself in hopes of it rubbing off.  However, at times this can create the opposite effect.  [AU]
Notes: Everything within this first chapter has a purpose towards the story.  Can you find the meaning, boys and girls?  :O

This chapter's angst-tastic, so if you don't dig that sort of thing, steer clear of this fic.  As with everything though, it'll all clear up.  There's a little ray of sunshine keeping the story together.  Afterall, pure angst is plotless and dull, right?

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When you're young, everything seems so big.  The whole world is unconquered and complicated.  It stretches for miles, longing to be explored.  When you're young, the world is one big adventure just waiting for you to embark on.

As you age, things seem smaller.  The world isn't so big, and there really was never any adventure just beyond the front porch.  Everything is tangible and not so mysterious.  The imagination slowly dies, and the thrill of life leaves completely.

In the time between being young and being old, you search for yourself.  Looking high and low, everywhere and anywhere for the you that you know you are.  Looking for the you that you want to be.

The imagination has not yet left you.

Let's play pretend...

***

Roxas gazed into the mirror, hating what he saw.  It was not the physical characteristics that made him want to scream, but what he saw within the reflection.  It disgusted him.  Everything was hidden behind those pair of eyes.  Emptiness, loneliness, and every other pitiable feeling resided in the cerulean.  He quickly turned away, unable to look any longer.

"Look in the mirror.  You have to."

He shot a dark look of refusal to Sora, who stood beside him with his arms casually crossed.  This was hardly helping, although Sora had insisted that it would.

"Roxas," Sora warned.

Roxas turned his head sharply towards the mirror, glaring at his reflection.  "This is so pointless."

"No, it's not."  Sora placed a hand on his shoulder, motioning to the image before them.  "What do you see?"

"There's nothing there."

Sora drew his eyebrows together, frustrated.  "There's something," he insisted.

Roxas seemed to doubt that, "Yeah right.”

"I'm serious!"

"What then?" he snapped.  "A nobody who should just fucking die?"

"No," Sora turned his attention to the mirror.  He replaced his previous frustration with patience.  "I see a great guy who can't see that for himself."

"Don't bullshit me, Sora."

He sighed softly, gripping Roxas's shoulder a little tighter.  "I'm not," he told him sincerely.

Roxas frowned and looked back into the mirror, attempting to see what Sora saw.  There was no fairy tale good guy staring back at him, ready to bring about happy endings.  Instead there was a cold young man full of self-loathing and self-doubt.

“Compliment yourself.”

Roxas gave his reflection a dirty look, "On what?"

"Start with something physical.  You only have to find one thing that you like."

He shifted awkwardly, finding this to be the stupidest thing that Sora had ever come up with.  "Why?"

"Just do it."

He was silent for a moment, taking in his image once more. "I like...the color of my hair."

Sora smiled approvingly beside him.  That was a small step, but eventually it would work.  He did not doubt Roxas at all.  "Just keep reminding yourself that there's something you like about yourself."

"My hair color?"

Sora deflated under the incredulous look, but nodded.  "I know it seems stupid, but if you compliment yourself on something different everyday and focus on that one thing, it makes you feel a lot better."

Roxas watched him through the mirror, both unconvinced and annoyed by Sora's game.  "Where do you come up with this shit?"

"I heard it works," he answered quietly.

"It doesn't."

Sora shook his head, "But you don't know that!"

"It doesn't work, Sora.  Just forget your stupid idea."  Roxas turned on his heel and walked briskly down the stairs, leaving his friend bewildered in his wake.

***

The bell rang, signaling to the students that they could leave their last class of the day.  The teenage population made their escape out of the doors, pouring into the hallways to meet up with their friends.   Even the teachers looked relieved as they turned to their computers to finish the last of their work.

For Sora, this looked like it was only the beginning of another headache.

"Mr. Takeda," his teacher started seriously.

"Sir?" he raised his head to meet the man's gaze, fidgeting uncomfortably at the thought of being in trouble.

"I wanted to talk to you about your grade in my class."  The weary old man swiveled in his chair to face his monitor.   With a few clicks, he had access to all of the grades in the class.  "You're failing."

Sora lowered his eyes to the floor, awaiting the inevitable.

"You're a good kid and I know you mean well, but I have reason to believe that you're not even trying anymore."  There was a pause that was meant for Sora to speak, but it went to waste.   His teacher continued, "I want to know why.  I understand that you've always had a bit of trouble in math, but not only are your test grades reflecting that, you're not even doing your homework anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Sighing, the man shook his head.  "Tell me, do you want to pass my class?"

Sora nodded slowly, bringing his eyes respectfully back to his teacher.  "Of course I do, sir."

"Then I suggest you work harder.  I don't want to have to inform your parents of this, and I'm sure that you don't want me to do that either."   Watching the boy nod again, he went on, "If you need to, work with someone.  You have plenty of friends and I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help you.   I would hate to see you fail."  He stacked a few papers absently before waving his hand, "Keep that in mind and I'll see you on Monday."

"Thank you."  Sora stood and left the room, a quiet sigh of distress passing through him.

Lately, it had been hard for him to focus in class.  It seemed like with everything he tried to do, something in the back of his head told him that he was wrong and should just give up.   As he made his way to his locker, he found himself wishing that he knew what his problem was.

"Sora, there you are!"

He glanced to his left in time to watch his best friend jog up to him, "Hey, Riku."

Riku pushed his long hair out of his face and shot the shorter boy a puzzled look.  "So where were you this morning? I waited outside as long as I could."

"I went to Roxas's house to try and get him to come to school.  I came late, sorry."  He grabbed his coat and bag out of his locker and turned to give Riku a short smile.  Riku did not look like he accepted that excuse at all.  "What?"

"Why do you even bother with that kid?  He's got too many problems to come to school."

"No, he doesn't," Sora instantly defended.  "Roxas is just going through some stuff right now."

"I know what you're trying to do, Sora, and you can't always play the hero," he ignored Sora's attempted protest, "Because not everyone can be fixed.   Sooner or later he's going to take you down with him."

Sora narrowed his eyes.  "Roxas can fix himself, he just needs some help."

"Don't get involved."

"He's my friend, Riku!  I can't just stand by and let him do that!"

Riku closed his eyes, his jaw set.  "This kind of thing can be contagious, Sora."

Sora looked offended in return.  "You don't think I can handle myself, do you?"   He let out an indignant huff, "I hate to break the news to you, but I can.  I don't need you to always hover over my shoulder."

"I know you can handle yourself," Riku snapped.  "I just don't trust Roxas."

"Well I do," was the heated response.  "He just lost his dad, so someone has to be around to help him out.   That's fine if you don't want to be the one to do it, but I want to help.  It's my job!"

"You're not obligated to help him out."

Sora was done arguing with Riku.  He turned and quickly left the hallway, leaving his locker wide open and his best friend alone to sulk.   He hardly cared, although it took Herculean effort to not turn around and offer some sort of apology out of habit.

Anxiety started to rise within him, causing him to slow down as he neared the front doors. What if helping Roxas was a bad plan? Drawing his eyebrows together, he halted. Maybe it was just another one of his stupid ideas.

No, he told himself. No, Roxas needs someone to help him out. I can do that.

***

“Roxas, I’m going out. Will you be all right on your own?”

Inhaling deeply, Roxas waved a dismissive hand to his mother. His eyes were locked on the television screen, although the device was not on.

“Okay,” the woman offered him a cool smile. “I’ll be back late tonight, so don’t expect me.”

He waited until he heard the door close before he shut his eyes. His mother just wanted to get away from him and he knew that. She was unable to handle him in his state of depression.

Roxas believed that through her sunny disposition, his mother was secretly depressed too. But ever the parent that she was, she bravely endured her own pain for the sake of her only son. In truth, this only hurt him more. He believed that with all of her emotions compressed inside of her, she would eventually snap and when she did, it would be entirely his fault.

He hated himself.

If he could put up a strong front, his mother would seek his comfort and would not hold everything inside. At least, he thought as much.

“A real man can confess his true feelings. Don’t ever forget that.”

He had forgotten.

As though he were made of lead, he forced himself to stand and go up the stairs. It was far too early for him to be going to bed, but he suddenly felt fatigued. Sleep felt like a good idea.

Before he made it to his room, he stopped in the hallway to face the mirror. He studied himself long and hard as he wove his fingers through his hair. The golden color caught the light from outside, giving him an almost ethereal look.

Compliment yourself.

“I really like the color of my hair.”

It was a small step, but eventually it would work.
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