Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Pistol-whipped ❯ The Butterfly and the Wasp ( Chapter 6 )

He knelt before the statue of Christ, before the icons of all the saints, staring down at him. Candlelight flickered over his skin, casting shadows in the church. Polished wooden benches and chairs stood clean and empty, incense smoked around the room. He clasped the rosary between his two hands in silent prayer.

 

Let them alone: they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.

 

He opened his eyes, the deep obsidian orbs reflecting the smoking myrrh and candlelight. He stood slowly, bowing his head to the looming statue of Christ, and the picture of Mary painted in stained glass on the window behind it. His eyes darkened and he turned his back to them.

 

All of them will fall.

 

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Failure.

 

Even if it was something small, it hurt like hell.

 

She willed away the something that was stuck in her throat as she looked over her end of semester Math exam. Pathetic. Her eyes prickled when she saw the red pen markings all over the place, covering the stupid mistakes she had made. She could hear other, smarter, girls smiling, sighing in relief as they shared their results. The classroom was bustling; as was the usual when a major test was handed back to the students. `What did you get?' was repeated at least fifteen times, and every response she heard was better than hers.

 

Had Arai Naomi gotten the worst mark in the class?

 

She tried to smile and looked around; the boys were just as excited as the girls. The teacher was trying to talk over the chatter, but he just made it even worse. Like icing on a cake. “You all knew this test was worth half of your final grade;” She almost sobbed, “most of you did very well.” She saw everyone around her smiling; even the American had aced it. She breathed a deep sigh.

 

She should have concentrated more on class rather than Ryunosuke.

 

Hell, a lot of her grades were dropping. Since depression had sunk itself comfortably into her life, everything seemed to be going downhill. Everyone around her was great, hard-working, and their studying paid off. She was slowly doing worse and worse, in the year it mattered the most, because of a stupid schoolgirl crush. Heh, schoolgirl crush?

 

All-out love.

 

No matter what.

 

It didn't help that Ryunosuke got the highest mark in the class. It didn't help that it got him even more attention, even more praise. The girls loved him more, the guys loved him more, and he just took it all in with a nod and a smile. He had taken to more adult behavior, cared less about spending time with her. Ryunosuke was moving steadily ahead, growing away from their childhood together.

 

And Naomi was being left behind.

 

It hurt so more than failure.

 

He had more reasons forget about her now, she realized, finalize the growing gap between them. He had friends of his own, plenty of pretty girls that would do anything for him; Ryunosuke had a better life now, he was no longer confined to hanging out with his next door neighbor all the time. He didn't need some childhood playmate latching onto their already broken bond.

 

She didn't need someone breaking her heart, every single day.

 

A pig-tailed head bobbed in front of her face suddenly, obstructing her view of her abhorring test score, “Nao-chan?” Naomi almost jumped up, and her surprised yelp caught a great deal of attention, in turn making her blush.

 

“Yuki, you scared me!” Naomi regained her composure, flicking back her silky mane and quickly wiping any moisture from her thick eye lashes. Boys peered on at the female wonder, completely oblivious to her low self-esteem. As the girls had their conversation, on the other side of the classroom, Kaji turned to Ryunosuke, who sat behind him.

 

“Maa, when are you going to nail Arai?” Ryunosuke flicked his eyes up from his work and set a dark glare at his troublesome friend, the boy had an exaggerated sad look on his face and a hand flat on his chest, over his heart, “It does me physical harm to know that you've made her off limits, but haven't even made a move,” Nagara rolled his eyes. Another friend, Seta, leaned in from behind Ryunosuke, hovering over the school president's shoulder,

 

“Yeah, Nagara,” it was a two-way attack from front and behind, and his death stare was doing nothing to ward it off, “grow a dick already; you can't expect us to honor our friendship much longer...” he shot a lingering glance at Naomi, still talking to her friend some distance away, “...she's too delicious to wait for.”

 

Ryunosuke leered at Seta over his shoulder, then at Kaji who was considerably closer this time, “Shut the fu-” Kaji cut in, his spiked up hair not moving an inch with all the movement of his head;

 

“Oh come off it already!” the hushed argument turned serious, “Did it ever occur to you that one of us might really like her!?” The boy whipped back around, apparently having a lot of important work to do. Kaji's unusually sober attitude had Ryunosuke lost for words; he did feel bad for his friend, and he knew it wasn't fair to anyone - especially not Naomi - if he growled off everyone who was interested in her. Consider it one more of his selfish acts.

 

Like smoking to drive her away, smiling to pull her back, hugging her to make her hope.

 

Fucking other girls to tear her apart.

 

“Nagara,” Seta had a hand on his shoulder, his mouth close to his classmate's ear, “I know he jokes around, but he really likes her...” Ryunosuke scoffed, for appearance's sake, but his stomach sunk at the obvious news, “Just think about that.” The conversation officially ended when the class resumed and the teacher left no time for students who took long to get organized. The tall man chalked at lightning speed, listing key words, important notes and exam dates. His deep voice droned on and on, lulling some teenagers to sleep. They jarred awake when the lunch bell went, and the daily 12 o'clock routine ran it course once again.

 

Ryunosuke had stayed silent for the entire lesson, and it didn't go unnoticed to Alexander when he saw Naomi approach the Ro operative, the pair alone inside the class. “Gaijin,” a call from Seta pulled his eyes from the scene inside, “osoi!” Yeah, yeah. He took another quick glimpse into the doorway as he walked off, and saw Naomi leaning down to Ryunosuke's desk.

 

Inside, Ryunosuke tried his best to look away, “Nagara-kun,” Naomi was facing him, with her hands on his desk and her breasts practically in his face. The small bowtie of her uniform puffed out, he could see the details of the stitching, could see the buttons of her shirt straining to contain her impressive bust. She was so close...

 

Nagara-kun?

 

I like it when she calls me Ryu...

 

His eyes snaked their way up to hers, the afternoon sun casting a shadow of the two into the classroom; “Nanda?” His voice almost echoed, the low drawl came from a source deep in his chest.

 

Her strong voice rang clear, contrary to her suggestive position; “I failed the test,” For a moment, a strung cord vibrated in Ryunosuke's mind. She failed? Naomi always did better than him...What's wrong with you? She had somehow become a stranger to him, for once; he didn't know what was going on in her mind. He knew he had been rough on her lately, but that was something necessary, unavoidable. It was just a rude awakening to know it affected her this much.

 

Don't ever call me Nagara,

Only the others call me Nagara.

 

He hid his disappointment, his concern for her health; “And...?” She leaned further forward, arching her back ever so slightly to remind him of the plump boobs in front of his face. He wanted to bury himself between them. More than anything he had ever wanted. He leaned back instead, as far as he could get. She was heart broken when she saw him move away, but didn't see his nails claw at the chair, the bulge in his pants, or the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard.

 

She rolled her eyes, forcing insensitivity, she was determined to show him what it felt like, “Well, you got great marks, congratulations,” sarcasm coated her voice while she moved just a tiny bit closer, arching her back more and putting her ass further into the air, ever so slightly...“I was wondering if you could help me out?” she pursed her lips, very aware of the picture she presented, the picture all the other girls presented when they approached Nagara Ryunosuke. She had no idea just how well she pulled it off.

 

What the hell is wrong with you!?

 

Don't be like the others...

 

She tilted her head to the side and rubbed her thighs together subconsciously, her body screaming out to him in the dead silence of the classroom, “Onegai, Nagara-kun? Be my tutor?” she shifted her balance to one hand, and lifted the other to lightly touch his forearm, loving the warmth and texture of his skin. She marveled at the contrast his colour made with her pale skin; “Onegai?” Onegai...

Please,

I just want you to be you.

 

He kept his features as placid as he could, refused to show her how much she affected him, “Hm,” he looked at all of the work on his desk, shuffling some papers, as if to show that he was `busy'. “I might not have the time...” his eyes were blank, his voice uncaring. Even when she threw herself in his face, he still didn't want her. She stood up and he was both relived and at loss.

 

Her voice would have been harsh if it didn't crack, “You never have the time anymore.” She spun around and stomped her way through the desks, not once looking back. He just sat there, staring at her back, while distant memories ran before his eyes.

 

“We'll always be friends.”

 

“Forever!”

 

“Promise.”

 

He took a deep breath. Maybe he was taking things too far...He stood, his chair grating against the floor as he pushed it aside, “Naomi,” She stopped dead in her tracks, just at the doorway to the classroom and just stood there, not turning around. “Come over whenever you need help.”

 

She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes moist and nose tinted red, and offered him a tiny smile, “Arigatou, Ryu.” While she walked out of the classroom with a new spring in her step, he could only smile in return, happy that she had gone back to normal, but annoyed with himself for leading her on. She would only end up getting hurt.

 

Naomi loved him, with all her heart.

 

And he was just standing there, studying the hem of her skirt as she walked away.

 

He could see her form through the closed louvers as she walked down the hallway, letting out the breath he hadn't known he was holding. He looked down at his lingering erection, and was thankful that she hadn't turned around completely to face him. He kept watching her distorted silhouette through the rippled glass, bobbing, bouncing, until she passed the windows, and the wall robbed him of his view. He looked down at his desk, and honestly, he had a lot of work to do. Ro and Sigma were up their asses about gathering more info, they should have brought someone in for questioning by now, but Alexander had slowed the operation by wasting time suspecting Ryunosuke. He sighed for what seemed like the tenth time, and his gaze lingered at the window he had just seen Arai through.

 

Another form darted from the shadows to follow her.

 

Nagara was at the door in an instant, effectively cutting off Naomi's would-be stalker. He was face to face with the new boy in their class, clutching his book to his chest as if it was about to be snatched away. Ryunosuke tried not to glare at the boy, or give any indication that he suspected him of anything. “I don't believe we've met,” he held out his hand to the surprised boy, studying the way his eyes darted from his hand to the corner Naomi had just turned into “Someone else must have given you the tour on your first day,” the boy had apparently given up any pursuit, and took the offered handshake, mentally rolling his eyes at the impression the American had already made on the students. No-one around here bowed anymore. “Nagara Ryunosuke.” They locked eyes, searching for something they weren't quite sure of.

 

“Sato Yuu.”

 

 

***

 

 

California.

 

The wind whistled past her face, sending her long, unbound hair into frenzy behind her. Pale green eyes were sharp as she maneuvered the speeding Ferrari, her soft hands enjoying the feel of the leather in her grasp. The radio played the latest song, not necessarily a favourite of hers, then some interference with the signal broke away the music and she was left to the sound of roaring wind, the scent of the car. The smell was expensive, rich, soothing. Jennifer loved driving this car. She was surrounded by the combination of leather and him.

 

Asshole.

 

She was nothing but a flash of red and black to other cars on the highway along the west coast. They couldn't see her expression, they couldn't see the tears streaming and drying horizontal across her eyes. The sound of the engine roared and blocked out the sound of her cry.

 

She gripped the steering wheel tighter; ground her teeth together in raw emotion.

 

His smell invaded her senses again and fresh tears ran, surviving only seconds against the strong wind. The smooth, black leather was heated under her hands, moist from her sweaty palms. It only served to remind her of the world of pleasures he had shown her, right here in his car. She clenched her eyes shut for a short moment, remembering the raw passion that had exploded out of him when he fucked her against the leather. She had obviously found one of his more intense fantasies. Oh, was he full of fantasies. She never complained though, she had them too. Like dressing up as a teacher to `teach' him his lessons, like wearing glasses and a pencil skirt to `file' his documents.

 

Like fucking him blind into the black leather of his Ferrari.

 

Heh, No inverted commas there.

 

The memory became frighteningly clear.

 

“Fuck me, Jen,”

 

“Oh, shit, Jen!”

 

“Jen...Jen...JEN!”

 

She almost swerved to dodge the car she had come much too close to, and let relief wash over when she got off the highway. The car finally slowed down; she pulled into their driveway safely after breaking at least a dozen road laws, and slammed the door of the sleek, red 360, locking it with the press of a button. Their modest home near Long Beach was but a bonus from Sigma. Alexander risks his life, they give him a house. And so the cycle goes.

 

They had been living together for two years now, a strange concept for people who weren't used to underage kids living without supervision. A strange concept for everyone. They didn't know that Jennifer's adoptive parents had died, that Alexander didn't even have parents, that Sigma paid a handsome wage to its soldiers. Hence the nice furniture, the comfortable bed, feng-shui atmosphere.

 

Oh, and the Ferrari.

 

Jennifer made her way sluggishly through the house, discarding articles of clothing one by one and leaving a trail in the hallway. Her white blouse came unbuttoned, revealed a conservative cream bra. She unbuttoned her dark skirt; let the sleek material swish down her stocking clad legs. She had just finished work, an easy office job; but still, walking in heels all day was a bitch. She flipped her shoes off less than gracefully, thankful to be rid of them. She looked at herself in the full length mirror in the bedroom for a while, admiring the way the dark stockings shaped her toned legs, the way her breasts pressed together even in a conventional bra, the perkiness of her ass even in ordinary underwear. It made her think of places to put a tattoo.

 

Jennifer collapsed into their bed, buried her face into his pillow, inhaling the natural scent still imbedded there. She let it envelop her; consume her, sooth her, like it always did, and almost cried into the plush material as loneliness replaced the feeling of warmth. She loved his smell. She loved him. Her green eyes watered over and she hugged the pillow closer.

 

...Asshole.

 

Jennifer picked up the photo frame on the table beside the bed, smoothing her fingers over the glass, over the picture of their smiling faces. Neither of them had parents, no family close by, no friends when they were growing up. Loneliness became a companion. Then they were shoved together when Alexander was thrown into her school, and was as alone as she had been. They replaced the loneliness in each other, filled in the missing chunks. Her thumb ran over his face in the photo, a single tear splashed onto the glossy surface. Every time he left, she was all alone, all over again. Call it a sick dependence, a clingy relationship, a desperate need. Whatever it was, this love, it took its toll.

 

She wanted to call him, needed to hear his voice.

 

No...

 

She wanted to see him, needed to see his smile.

 

No.

 

She wanted to feel him, have him in her arms.

 

No!

 

She flung herself off the bed and away from his enchanting scent. None of it was helping. She didn't cry anymore, she stopped sulking. She didn't take a warm candlelit bath to calm her nerves, didn't lie in bed with chocolates. She didn't sit beside the phone for hours, willing herself to dial his number. She didn't stand there, waiting for it to ring.

 

She packed her bags instead.

 

 

 

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To be continued...

 

 

A/N: =OO I'm actually pretty happy with this <.>

R&R! The button is right down there. Just a few centimeters away, really. Don't be lazy <.<