Fan Fiction ❯ Beneath Angel's Wings ❯ Stage 2: Seeking... ( Chapter 2 )

Proem

Despite the begging of his mind for some rest, Johan could find no sleep that night. All through the long, anxious hours he sat resting by Chris's side his gaze remained fixed upon the eyes of the enigmatic boy who lay on his sofa, shivering despite the warmth the blanket covering him provided. They gleamed like gems as rays of moonlight graced them, glittering on irises that were as blue as the purest of ice. Tiny lines, like fissures in a glacier, ran through this field of ice only to plunge downwards into black holes, delving deep into an abyss he could see no end to. Johan could not help feeling unnerved at their unnatural chill, yet at the same time, his mind raced as it dreamed of all the lives that could of fashioned something of such simple and understated- indeed, almost self-depreciating- beauty.

He shook his head at all of this though; yet every time he tried to turn away from Chris he found he couldn't. Something kept fighting its way down to his heart to pull at it each time that he tried. It seemed unreal; impossible to him…he had been with so many before, a seemingly endless line of young women and men who had come and gone in his life like the weather passing through the weeks. What could possibly make this boy any different to him? His soul shook at the very thought. It frightened him to imagine it, yet he couldn't deny the ideas passing through his mind:

There was something about him…

***

Beneath Angel's Wings - Stage Two: "Seeking…"

***

Johan peered out from behind the doorsill of the bathroom, sighing as he dried his face with a towel. Chris still slept soundlessly down the hall, not having moved an inch since last night. Thoughts of worry and fear ran through Johan's mind- the boy couldn't be that seriously hurt…could he? The wounds on his chest seemed awfully deep, like something had been stabbed through him. Holding himself steady against the sink, he shook his head. He had to be hallucinating, exaggerating, seeing shadows. Surely no one could possibly get stabbed that viciously and still live, he tried to assure himself as he dressed, it must have been pure fantasy, an illusion caused by the long hours they put in writing. Regardless though, the thought of the boy dying here, in his home, terrified him horribly. It drug up pain-filled memories, as well as a past he'd rather left forgotten in some ill-visited recess of his mind. You should never open yourself that eagerly to your potential enemies, he muttered to himself as he collected his belongings for class, much less willingly provide them with all the ammunition they needed to tear your world up.

A low growl passed between his lips, fingers digging into his palms as he clenched his fists. He would not allow himself to get this worked up over the matter, he cursed as he walked into the living room. He would not permit himself to get so tensed up after ranting at that…kid…

Johan cried out loud, pounding a fist into the wall of the room with a loud thud. He instantly stopped as he made contact though, looking over his shoulder at the sofa. The sudden outburst of frustration hadn't even budged the boy, while the pacific sight of Chris sleeping burned itself into Johan's eyes. He wanted to scream a million things at the boy, curse him for complicating what seemed so simple at first. Part of him even wanted to wring the boy's neck and demand that he leave immediately. But no matter what he couldn't make a single step in hatred or rage towards him. The serene countenance the boy possessed seemed to sooth his rage the instant his eyes made contact with him, calming him like whispered reassurances in his ear. With a simple shake of his head Johan picked both their essays from the table as he walked, patting Chris on the head as he went past, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Catch you later, kid," he whispered as he stepped through the threshold of his apartment door, then came to a stop. Johan lingered for a moment longer, then turned back into the apartment, yanking a piece of paper out of the printer as he fumbled around the desk for a pen. He could be late for class a little today, he told himself.

***

Light footsteps tapped against the linoleum floors that lined the halls of Nexus College as Johan made his way out of class. A sense of relief had passed over him in the last few hours, easing the burden he'd been carrying all night. No one had even mentioned Chris, or how he was strangely absent from his classes that day. Even more important, Johan added, no one had asked him about it. His guard slipped a little, glad to of made it through another day…

"Johan!"

He spun around wildly, jumping at the sudden shout. He knew full well that nothing good had ever come from a sentence starting like that, but turned around in any event. Jogging up behind him was Gregory, grasping a black shoulder bag as he bounded down the hall. "Hey Johan! You forgetting something now?"

Palm met forehead as Johan groaned. "Jeeze man, what are you trying to do to me? Give me a heart attack or something?"

Clambering to a halt next to Johan, Greg extended the arm carrying the bag. "Just tryin' to be friendly…" The two started walking again as Johan slung his bag back onto his shoulder. "No need to jump all over me for a simple act of courtesy, Johan. People might think you're paranoid about something. You know how folks around here get when they're suspicious."

"Yes, yes, I know that full well, alright? Just give me some warning next time you feel like playing Jaws with me…"

Greg suddenly stepped out in front of Johan, blocking the door with his arms as Johan looked around him, in search of a way through. "Look, what's with you today?" he asked, eyes fixed on Johan. "You're jumpier than a kangaroo, and been like that in every class I saw you in today…"

Feet tapped impatiently. "Look, I'm just nervous over getting all this work done for class- essays, projects, the usual crap, okay? Crunch time always makes me like this, now would you kindly get outta the way before you worsen the situation?" snapped Johan, leaning up closer to Greg. The younger boy scowled, pushing Johan back from him.

"Quit playing the tough guy, you moron." A startled jump knocked Johan back, surprised at the sudden note of aggression in Greg's voice. "I've known you since high school Johan, I'm pretty much you're closest friend, and I know when something's eating at you, so fess up. I'm not going to watch you dig yourself into another pit, `cause quite frankly I'm sick of pulling you back out anymore."

Eyes darted around nervously at the crowd milling around Johan. He had been dreading this moment all morning, and now it was staring him in the face through the eyes of Gregory Spuzowki. If it had been any other person he could just blow them off and walk away unscathed, but…Greg was right, after all. They'd known each other for years: Greg was actually the first person Johan had come out to. He felt safe speaking to him about anything that happened, but lingering feelings of déjà vu tensed Johan even in front of his own best friend. "Greg…you…have you ever heard of some kid named Chris…" Lips sputtered as he tried to enunciate the boy's strange name. "Chris Ke…Kessoku?"

Greg's eyes blinked in disbelief at the words his friend had spoken. "…Kessoku?? Did you just say what I think you did, Joey?"

"Yeah…He's pretty much a nobody on campus, he's…" Johan stopped himself suddenly, trying to arrange his words carefully. "He's been out the whole day, I haven't heard from him since we left the library last night…"

A sudden pull brought Johan face-to-face with Greg, a look of amazement on the younger boy's face. "Good lord man, you've met that…that…"

His companion's shock began to wear thin on Johan. "Am I missing something here?"

"Johan…" Greg's hands rested on Johan's shoulders, mahogany eyes wide open. "Do you have any idea as to who you met last night? Any idea at all??"

"No…" Johan sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes as he stared upwards. "What do I care? It's his business what he-"

Suddenly Johan felt his shirt pull against his back as Greg pulled him down by the collar, staring his face-to-face. "Johan. If you got yourself tangled up with that freak somehow, you'd better know who he is."

"Look…"

"Shut up and call your sorry ass in and say you have some work to deal with, something came up." Greg then added, muttering under his breath as he tossed his cell phone to Johan, "Everything that happens around here, they won't ask twice. Now come on," he continued, speaking up again, "Let's get someplace comfortable. This is going to be a long story…"

***

They sat on a balcony, outside Greg's dorm. "Ever hear of a ship called the Zarya, Johan?"

"Look, why are you asking me all of this? You know I don't pay attention to stuff like that…"

"It's his ship. `Bout a year ago, he went up the Tower and joined the fight club's orbital combat division. No one ever found out any of the details of it, and anyone who knew him either knew nothing either or kept their mouths shut."

"Probably sick of nosy bastards like you prying into everything." Johan leaned back against his chair. The warm sun beat down upon his face, a breeze catching his ponytail and making it sway as though it were part of some exotically designed grandfather clock. "So the kid joined the club. So has every other lunatic in this city, he was probably just trying to make a name for himself."

"Oh don't worry, he did that alright." Producing a notebook from under his chair, Greg pointed out clipped items from the news: drawings, photographs, and articles, all relating to the fight. "It was a beautiful ship, really, probably brand new. Called her the Sunrise for a good reason: polished steel from stem to stern; gleamed like the summer sun when she was turned the right way. Kid was probably proud of her too."

"Skip it, would you? If you dragged me up here to…"

"Cool it." Snapped Greg as he turned a page, glaring at Johan. "Anyway, the fight started normally. All bets were on Kessoku's opponent, the Cylis, commanded by Team Mekat, for good reason too: they've got a perfect record, and take apart anyone who challenges them out there. The Zarya was an incredible opponent, gave them a real run for their money. For a moment everyone thought Kessoku stood a chance of winning the thing, but…"

"But what?" Johan was now leaning intently on the arm of the chair, somewhat intrigued by the story. "Did he get them or what?"

"Be quiet and listen, alright? The Cylis opened up her arms and held the Zarya up against her, pumped lead through the whole ship. Finally she just couldn't take it anymore and shut down, and they started to let her drift away." Greg stood up slowly, his eyes focused on the ocean that beat with life on the cliffs just outside town. "The club staff gives two minutes for a ship to start back up once it shuts down. After that, the match is over." Turning to Johan, he flipped the page again, this time to a series of pencil sketches that spread across two pages. "The clock ran down to the thirty-seven second mark and then went out. Everyone panicked and tried to find the Zarya, but apparently they lost sight of her…'till she came flying up from underneath the Cylis and rammed one of its arms straight through the battleship."

A feeling of some strange, mind-clouding sickness came over Johan as his eyes fixed on the book, darting back and forth across the pages. Sketched there were images of a human figure, pulled out of proportion until it became a disturbing and frightening beast, yet still maintained enough of a human frame to be hauntingly familiar to those who had known it. Fear that had once, in some imagination of yesteryear, drilled through the mind of Victor Frankenstein as he gazed at his creation now attempted the same within Johan's mind. "What…what the hell is this thing?"

"No one knows," admitted Greg with a shrug. "All of these are sketches from descriptions given by the crew of the Cylis of what they saw near their ship at the time. Everyone conjectures that it's just an illusion, but whatever the truth is, something started tearing apart the ship, and it wasn't the Zarya. They finally managed to subdue the…whatever the hell it was, blew the Zarya's engines to pieces with a few well timed missiles right as the thing was flying towards a passenger ship that was taking off. Took the club's workers three days straight to try and pull the Zarya's wreck out of the water, and Kessoku didn't come out of a coma for nearly 6 months. Kept wanting to write him off as dead, but they kept getting letters from someone, ordered him to keep him on the machines."

"Someone he knew…family? Friends?" asked Johan, rubbing his eyes, trying to do anything to eradicate the sight of the monster he had seen. "I mean, even I've got you around to bail me out of something. Kid's gotta have someone…"

"Not a soul. He was sharing an old loft with someone, a Mr. Alexi Constantinov, but he knew nothing about the letters. Other than that, he's alone out there. Keeps it that way too, he's only been seen out in public again just recently actually, right around when he started school here. Never goes to clubs, to anyplace in town, nowhere."

"Well he nearly got killed after all…that's had to have shaken him up." Resting his face on his palm, Johan groaned. "Christ, what have I gotten myself into…"

Greg stood with a start, staring in horror at Johan. "Damnit Joey, what did you do to him? If you tried to pick him up or something like that, I swear to god I'm going to…"

"It's none of your business, got it?!" Johan's hand held tightly to the balcony rail, clenching his teeth in disgust at Greg's constant intrusiveness "We broke up two and a half years ago, alright? I don't need to know every detail of what you do anymore, and you don't need point-by-point analysis of mine. I'm still your friend, but give me my space, got it?"

Staring out at the ocean once more, Greg shook his head at Johan's furry. "Fine. I'm just trying to help you Johan. But so help me god, if you get in over your head with this kid I won't be there to bail you out again. This is far, far out of my…"

Greg turned back around to an open balcony and sighed in frustration. "Why do I even bother sometimes…"

***

Shita Tenshi No Uxingusu- Beneath Angel's Wings

***

The sunlight of early afternoon poured forth from the window, filtered by curtains before it fell upon the face of Chris Kessoku. Warmth touched against light, pale flesh; light stung gently upon the thin membranes of the eyelids to send a slow, throbbing red light down into the eyes, finally stirring the face to turn with a groan, eyes opening halfway before squinting again from the brilliance of the day. Slowly scanning around the room, his awareness slowly came back to him. So it hadn't been a dream after all, he thought, eyes picking up the red stains on the carpet where his blood had trickled down his body, the ruffled heap that his shirt lay in by the table, the seemingly endless stacks of glasses from the night before.

What had been going on that night anyway? Chris struggled to remember something, anything that had happened, but all his memories came back in a blur. He could see himself in class…the library…working here in Johan's apartment….Johan…Johan…What was all that….stuff….last night…? Millions of questions about his mysterious classmate poured through his mind in rapid-fire succession, steadily mounting until they gave him a dully-pounding headache. Slowly rising from his seat, running his fingers through his tangled heap of hair, he struggled to slow his thoughts down enough to think clearly. The young man had literally come out of nowhere, seeming kind, friendly, if something of a nuisance, to Chris. But why would he tease him like that? And then what would shake him up so badly afterwards? Nothing seemed to make any sense.

As though anything ever did, came the reply within his mind.

With cautious, testing steps he began to wander around the room as some sense of clarity began to return to him. A paper…yes, Johan had brought him to his apartment to work on a paper…their…their composition essays. A long, narrow hand lifted his glasses up to his face, the sight of his bony, slender fingers pulling the gates a little wider. Hands…he'd joked about something with Johan…brought back a memory…hands…hands…Chris tried to push his self along further, but he was striking at empty space. No matter how he tried there seemed to be a vague, indefinite void in his memories- familiar in many regards, but a familiarity that provided very little comfort.

By chance his hand brushed along the surface of a table as he drifted like a phantom through the room, knocking the small white sheet to the floor. The sudden movement knocked Chris back a step, until his eyes could confirm that it was merely a page of some sort. But…what was it? Chris knelt down, scooping the notebook page up to read-

"Chris,

I called the school and they let them know you'd be out today. I'll make sure your paper gets in on time, so don't sweat that; I'll try to get notes for you too if I can.Least I could do for you after helping me out last night.

…

…To be honest, I didn't want to go to class today. Something about last night made me sick this morning, especially seeing you out cold on the sofa. I'm just hoping you'll be ok, wake up, and see this. I know you must be pretty pissed at me for everything, so if I get back and you're gone, I'll know why. But I'd rather you stay put. I want to talk to you, Chris. I don't know why. Just stay there for right now and I'll be home this evening.

In the meantime, help yourself to my place. There's some food left in the kitchen if you get hungry, and some drinks…I think.

I'll see you later.

-Johan"

The note drifted to the floor, falling from Chris's grasp as he stepped backwards, amazed. Nothing in the way Johan acted or spoke seemed to tell of someone who would apologize, at least not as sincerely as the words clearly written on the page. And yet here he was, staring at this artifact in the wake of some event he couldn't remember, eyes moving from word to word and feeling nothing less than the most absolute pity. Why would he run away, Chris wondered to himself. What would drive Johan to fear- for it was clear in Chris's mind his classmate feared losing the chance to explain himself- that he would run away?

Indeed, why would he even care? After all, he was just another student, right?

Chris stood there in a daze for a moment, seemingly frozen in time and space as his mind ran through the possibilities. Yet nothing seemed to completely fit experience…at least, nothing rational.

A sigh passed between Chris's lips as he turned to the small kitchen just behind the living room. Hunger was probably not helping him any, and Johan did say he could help himself if he wanted to.

***

"Damnit!!"

A sudden breeze from an open window carried Johan's sudden loud curse down the hallway as easily as it carried the papers he had been cradling in his arms- curses that didn't stop as he dove to try and recover the notes. "What the hell was I thinking…'Sure, just photocopy the notes for me Greg, it'd make it a lot easier than having to write it all by hand…' yeah right! I swear to god he does this just to get on my nerves…"

He paused for a moment, trying to rearrange everything back into some semblance of order as he caught his breath from running back and forth. "Next time I'll just buy the kid a tape recorder like mine. I mean….look at this crap! How can anyone keep up with-"

Eyes blinked as Johan ground to a halt mid-sentence. Buy Chris a tape recorder? The very idea was ridiculous! Here he is, just came across the little introverted (and insane, if Greg's spiel was anything to be believed) kid, and now he's worrying about his health and wanting to buy him stuff? A groan escaped Johan as he rested his forehead on his palm. No…no, his mind mumbled to itself, he couldn't go through this again. He'd learned some time ago the price of growing too close to someone, a lesson he didn't plan to repeat. He was just a friend, someone he met, that's all Chris-

To his surprise a door opened next to him, Chris looking out at him from behind it. "Hey," the blond questioned, his radiating a grade of pity Johan hadn't known in what seemed like ages, "are you alright out there? You were making an awful racket and I thought you might of hurt yourself or something."

Collecting himself and the notes, Johan rose and joined Chris in the entry to his apartment. "Nah, I'm fine…I'm just sick of dealing with this." Dumping the stack on a small end table, he continued. "I'd just like to add that our microecon professor is a rotten bastard and ought to die a slow and painful death. And why in the hell are you taking all these classes? I mean, most folks don't exactly go in for neuroscience and such, you know?"

Chris could only shrug. "It just seemed interesting to me, that's all. Besides, I needed to fill in some time."

"There is this thing called study hall, Chris."

"I'd be bored to tears if I coped out doing that."

"You're even more of a fr-" Johan started, but stopped abruptly. Scents filtered in from the kitchen behind him, tickling his nose and teasing his mind. "What the…what smells so good?"

"Oh fuck, the soup!" came Chris's cry as he raced past Johan, running to the stove as fast as he can. Following in close behind, Johan watched as Chris quickly cleaned the mess that had gotten all over the counter and stove top, taking the pot of soup from off the heat. "It looks pretty much alright still…gahhh, how could I of forgotten to…"

Not a bit of Chris's rambleing annoyance connected in Johan's brain however. He'd expected the boy to of been gone when he returned; and if he had stayed Johan never imagined he would be in the state of mind he was now as he set the table hastily for dinner. And yet here Chris was, cooking dinner for the both of them, never once mentioning the previous night. Either Chris was a particularly good actor, Johan thought, or he honestly didn't remember a thing. Looking at the bowl of homemade chicken-noodle soup Chris had sat in front of him, and then at Chris, he decided to take his chances. "You made me dinner? You didn't have to do that…"

"It's not that big of a deal," came a reply between spoonfuls of soup. "besides, you let me have the run of the place. The least I could do is do something for you in return."

Johan tested his words carefully as he ventured out father. "I didn't exactly expect this…especially after last night…"

Setting his spoon down, Chris stared quizzically at him. A chill shot through Johan's spine as Chris's sapphire blue eyes fixed upon his face, eyes that seemed oppressively piercing with each second they held their gaze on him. Thoughts raced through Johan's mind, begging him to turn back, turn the conversation before Chris had a chance to reply, but something in the younger boy's expression held him silent in his chair.

"Yeah, what was that about? You sounded pretty shook up in that note…"

He couldn't believe it! Did Chris just say what he thought he said? "What are you talking about? Don't you remember…I…I was….and you….your chest….bleeding…"

The shock grew even more as Chris started to laugh a little. "Those? Oh, those are nothing, just something I got from a long time ago. Don't worry a bit about `em, it's nothing you did." Chris gave himself a moment to calm down some before drinking some of the broth out of his bowl. "I didn't snap at you because of anything, did I?" Johan's slow, uneasy nodding made Chris look down; the young boy clenching and relaxing his hand. "I'm…I'm sorry about that. I just have a tendency to overreact sometimes, that's all."

Johan's hand played with his spoon absent-mindedly as he listened. "You sure about that? Don't be hiding something on me…"

"I'm not." Chris lifted the bowl to his lips again, drinking. "Don't have a reason to."

A sudden sense of relief came over Johan as he watched Chris; glad things had worked out this way. He didn't know why, but he couldn't see how he would of dug himself out if Chris had turned on him. Something about the boy terrified him, something in the look on his face, something in the way he moved or spoke, something that seemed not quite right. And all the while, he couldn't help but be in awe of something that could still seem as kind or generous or beautiful as Chris seemed right then. Every side of him felt pulled towards Chris, his soul gravitating towards the young boy sitting across from him just as much as his body shuddered at the thought of feeling Chris upon him.

"Johan? What are you…" Chris looked up from the soup bowl he held in his hands at Johan, who sat snickering to himself across the table, cheeks turning a faint, warm shade of red. "C'mon man, what's going on?"

"It's nothing…" Blurted Johan between small bursts of giggles. Puzzled, Chris squinted at Johan, as though looking at his friend would better tell him what he wanted to know.

"Seriously, what's so funny?"

A broad, wicked grin crossed Johan's face as he leaned towards Chris, pressing his palms on the tabletop to prop himself up face to face with Chris. "Do you really want to know, hmmm?"

"Yes damnit, now stop goofing off and tell me!"

Johan fought back his laugher a moment longer as he leaned in as close as he could, whispering into Chris's ears "I was thinking of what else those lips of yours can do." The startled expression and deep red blush that burst across Chris's face was too much for Johan-he immediately fell backwards, tumbling to the floor as he roared with laugher..

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?!"

Rising from the floor, clutching his sides, Johan gasped, "You're a smart boy…I'm sure you can figure it out!" With that he took off down the hall, exploding once more into wild laughter as Chris chased after him, confused and no more understanding Johan than he did the day before.

There was always tomorrow to figure things out, though.

***

To Be Continued...