Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Iron roses ❯ The boy ( Chapter 5 )

What's ahead?: Hetero love (yep! decided to keep the lemon for my next fic, where it fits better!), cussing, bloody blood, and a bit a yaoi (finally made my mind!). And yes, the rating went down. PG-13, no trauma for anyone! ~_^

Pairing: Mainly Quistis/Seifer

Disclaimer: I don't own and I really regret it :)

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Chapter 5: The boy

The high-pitched whistling announced the train's imminent departure. Allen

crashed his sore body hard on the steel bench and crossed his ankle over his

knee, bringing to his nostrils the foul odor emanating from his dirty pants.

Grimacing, he brought his crossed leg down to the ground. Trickles of sweat fell

from his bare skull and down his cheek, just like tears. Allen licked the salty

liquid from the corner of his mouth, unaware of the few people who were giving

him dirty glares, frowning at his stench, or maybe at his careless, almost

drugged expression. More probably at the ugly half-healed scar on the right side

of his shaven head. Stitches have been useless to close the open gash after his

operation. The wound would keep reopening as soon as the stitches were removed.

The borders of the cutted skin were raw, a nasty dark purple color. Mom had to

put little steel hooks inside the flesh to keep it together. And, seeing it

wouldn't keep the blood from seeping out, she had used special plastic liquid

and sealed it in a transluscent but solid grasp. Hard as glass.

It was an accident.

It wouldn't happen again, mom said. Allen knew she felt bad about his wound. He knew it

because since it happened, she would avoid looking at the scar. She would look

at him directly in the eyes, those huge, gray eyes sprinkled with green snow,

surrounded by dark eyelashes and crowned with perfect arched eyebrows. She said

he looked a lot like his father, an obscure character from her past life who

supposedly died protecting someone very important. Mom talked about him like a

great hero, someone people would remind for decades. But she would never say his

name. And as much as he tried to find that great hero, spending days and days in

Deling City's Royal Library buried in history books, scanning thousands of

pictures searching for a resemblance with him, he never found. And he finally

gave up trying.

He supposedly died when Allen was six. He had no memories of this time. The

oldest image he could conjure was waking up in Deling City's hospital, three

months ago, with the worst headache and plastic tube connected to every inches

of flesh. He had panicked and almost tore open his left arm trying to dislodge

the needles. Allen feared needles more than he feared his own death. Any sharp

objects presented before him, even a fork, would drive insane shivers up and

down his spine. He ate all his meals with a spoon, of with his fingers when it

was solid.

Mom said he fell down the pier while she was collecting small monsters and items

on the shore besides. Probably stumbled on something. The tide was low, and he

had crushed his skull on the rocks down the pier. A sharp piece of rock was

driven through the bone by the impact, and tore a part of his brain. That's how

he lost the memories of his own life. He could have died on the spot, but he has

been lucky.

Mom lived alone. No other man had touched her since his father, and

she intended to keep it that way. Allen was her only man, she claimed to

everyone. It was a lot of responsabilities on his young shoulders. He knew he

would always have to follow the way after her. To confort her the nights when

she wasn't sure of the meaning of what she was doing anymore. Calm her

insecurities before thinking about his own. But she listened to him like she

would listen to a thinking adult, and smiled at him, a smile that meant a whole

speech. Their bound could not be broken.

Allen distractly played with the ring he wore on his right ringfinger. It was a

jewel, carved with abstract form which, mom told him, were a very ancient form

of writing that her own ancestors used, many centuries ago. The ring had a dark

green cabochon attached to it, and carved with the form of a Phoenix, the symbol

of rebirth. The artistic work done on the jewel was near perfection. When

looking close, you could see each one of the bird's feathers had been carved to

look just like the real thing. with perfect lines. But you had to watch real

close...

The boy snapped out of his contemplation of the stone when he heard a light

chuckle in front of him. pushing the ring away from his eye, he directed his

displeased glare directly to the source of the noise, a very young girl sitting

by her mother almost directly in front of him. Cute. Maybe five years-old, long

blonde locks, piercing green eyes. She had an arrogant smile plastered all over

her face as she watched him watch her. She stuck a little pink tongue out and made weird sounds,

spitting all over her lap. Allen sneered at her, fighting the urge

to throw a fist in the middle of her insolent face. Just as he felt the anger

rise inside him, he noticed the slight aura.

Slight. Not much of an aura, actually. More of a baby nightlight aura. A bit of

training could make it stronger, and she was young, very young, easy...putting

the moves on her would be risky, with her mother near her. But he hadn't found

anyone this day. Mom would be deceived.

Allen stood up carefully, keeping an unsure balance as the train rocked form

side to side. He eyed the young girl once, twice, until he saw her eyes get a

little glazy. He then slowly walked to the next wagon. He heard the faint noise

of brushing clothes, and the voice of her mother asking where she was going.

"Pee-room" She answered, giggling at the dirty word.

The train passed a rail point and headed south, to Timber. A few minutes

afterwards, the girl's mother called for people's help in order to find her

daughter, who disappeared ten minutes ago. But she was already away, docily

following Allen, her tiny hand clasped in his.

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I know this chapter is pretty damned short, but I wanted Allen to have a full chappy just for him. Ain't I nice?