Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction ❯ Sanctuary ❯ But When We Try To Talk ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Problems arise after Gateau's realization but discussion must be put off while they tend to a visitor from their past.
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.26.2003 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 307 | Status: Work In Progress
Problems arise after Gateau's realization but discussion must be put off while they tend to a visitor from their past.
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.26.2003 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 307 | Status: Work In Progress
Discalimer: No Sorcerer Hunters characters belong to me...at least not since the incident...
Sanctuary
Chapter Four : But When We Try to Talk
The echo of the nineteenth century grandfather clock filled the dimly lit halls as it chimed the early hour of five. A door on the second story opened and closed with a muted click and strong footfalls trailed slowly down the front staircase. Gateau stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked across the empty living room.
Decadence had always been a background to his life. This room, however, had been done to his tastes. Unlike the formal living room with its stiff backed couch and pristine carpet, this room called for relaxation. The furniture was white, overstuffed leather: a long couch and a recliner. The low glass coffee table help a neat stack of sporting magazines and the remote control. Nestled in the black entertainment center was a big screen TV, its blank gray screen waiting to project the latest in digital technology.
Turning on the news, Gateau plopped down on the couch. His silken blue robe fell open in the front as he sat ungracefully with his legs open, one hand dangling between them and the other thrown over the arm. With the sun yet to fully rise, it was much too early to consider manners. Tossing his head back, he sighed at the ceiling. His blond hair was disheveled, his beard showing its three days growth despite its light color, and there were bluish rings beneath his eyes.
Marron appeared only moments later. Unlike Gateau, he was already dressed, again in jeans that didn't fit quite right. His sweater was gray and thick, with a high neck that rested just beneath his chin. His dark hair had been braided, only a few short bangs remained down in front. He stood just beyond the stairs with his arms crossed over his stomach, looking very small and unsure.
Gateau turned to look at him, "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes," Marron lied.
"No you didn't."
No answer. Marron looked aside.
"C'mere," Gateau gathered his form and moved to occupy just one half of the couch. Marron obeyed rather sheepishly. He settled close to Gateau but did not go as far as touch the other. The blond looked at him, trying his hardest to find the right way to ask the questions he needed to.
"If you need to ask, go ahead," Marron stated. His hands gripped the sides of his sweater and he still refused to look up.
"When?"
"Before."
"Are you sure?"
Gold eyes met his strongly. He could smell the minty freshness of Marron's breath, somewhere his mind registered the fact that his own personal hygiene had been lacking that morning.
"Do you think," there was anger in the words, concealed but there, "that I would even suggest it if I was not sure?"
"And you didn't tell me?" the rise in his own voice was unplanned and ill timed.
"I meant to, I just couldn't."
"'Just couldn't'? This is my life here Marron!" He was yelling and he knew it was the wrong damn thing to do. But he was on his feet and his hand was raised before he could think. Marron sat stiff. His eyes were shut tightly, waiting for Gateau to hit him. He was shaking.
"Please," he whispered, lips trembling in fear, "please just do it. I'll leave right after; you won't have to see me."
Marron knew he could, even knew he would, hit another person. Several times such displays of violence at been at the defense of black haired boy. Gateau lowered his hand gently to Marron's cheek and hated himself when his friend winced even at the soft touch. The smaller man pushed past him and left the room with hurried steps.
~*~
Marron pulled the handle of the large front door, hoping for a satisfying slam and receiving only a quiet swish, as it didn't even complete its closure as his hand fell. Resenting the effort it took to finish the task, he pulled it shut and stomped heavily down the steps of the wide porch. He took two steps in one direction, turned and took three the other, before stopping with a frustrated look.
Backing up against the bottom of the porch he pulled a square package from his back pocket. Hitting it twice against his quivering hand, he withdrew a single slim cigarette and put it to his lips. A cheap Bid lighter was drawn from his front pocket. He flicked it three times before the little flame perked up. Lighting the cigarette, he took a long drag before fumbling to put away the lighter.
Letting the familiar feeling and scent fall over him, Marron tried to calm his breathing. Moments later, Gateau was behind him. A large hand reached out to touch his shoulder; he pulled away.
"When did you start smoking?" Gateau asked, taking a seat on the steps. His eyes fell for a moment to Marron's ass, but the jeans were too loose to yield a sufficient view so he settle on staring at shapely ankles.
"Does it matter?" Marron crossed one arm over his stomach, propping his elbow on his forearm and lifting the cigarette again to his lips. He exhaled, polluting the crisp morning air and gaining a strange degree of satisfaction out of it.
"Yes," the blond replied.
Dropping the half-gone smoke to the ground, Marron stepped on it. He made no attempt to answer Gateau's questions or to even look at the other man. They both stared at the purple-tinged sky.
"Sit with me?" Gateau questioned, looking up. The other turned and took a seat on the very edge of the steps. Gateau snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him suddenly close. Marron wobbled, disoriented, before falling back against Gateau's warm side. The arm settled around his shoulders, fending off the early chill or morning.
Time passed that way, all in silence. As the sun rose, Gateau debated how to raise the uncomfortable subject that sat between them. When the sky was shading with blue, he ventured it.
"Can you--"
The roar of a high-powered engine interrupted. Tires squealed as the blinding red sports car jerked to a stop at the end of the drive. The tinted windows revealed nothing, but by the time the driver's side door had closed with a bang, both men were on their feet.
Pink hair flashed in the sun, as a pair of large sunglasses were directed at them. The new arrival started up the walk, her long red skirt swishing about her legs. Her top was made of denim, fastened tastefully loose around her ample bosom. She sported a pair of heeled white boots, an obvious attempt to increase her small stature, and a matching purse. Stopping barely a foot in front of them, she pointed a finger at Marron's chest.
"Where have you been?" she demanded in a harsh tone. He went to stammer an answer, but suddenly her arms were around him. When released, he looked down to see a smile across her face.
"Tira Misu," he stated.
"Well," she pushed her glasses back onto her head to reveal brilliant ruby eyes, "at least you remember me."
~*~
Trying to play the role of host which he had never excelled at, Gateau awkwardly ushered both his guests in for morning tea. He was ultimately grateful as Marron caught him looking curiously at his own teapot and took it away from him. Boiling water was about the peak of his skills, and even that did not always go as planned. When Marshal was not around, Gateau could be found eating mostly ramen noodles and spagehtti-o's.
Gateau pulled out a chair for Tira. As she sat, he tried his best to gather his own appearance into something at least decent. Tying the belt on his wrinkled robe, he took the chair next to her at the head of the long table. Setting the filled teapot down, Marron took a chair across from Tira, smiling slightly in response to her beaming face.
"So," he asked, "how have you been?"
In response, she proffered her hand. A sensible diamond ring gleamed as she tilted it side to side before drawing it back to stare at it herself. The meaning was quite obvious, Tira was now happily married. Gateau just shook his head. Emptying his cup quickly, he sat in quiet knowing and awaited the oncoming conversation.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
"Yes," Marron answered. Gently he took her fingers in his own delicate hand, lifting the ring once again to the light. She pulled it away and laughed lightly.
"Ask her who gave her that rock," Gateau prodded, smiling.
Marron lifted an eyebrow in lieu of repeating the words.
"Carrot, your brother."
~*~
A seventeen year old Tira stared at a bright square of pink paper that had been sloppily taped to the cinderblock wall of Vernon High's cafeteria. It announced in its stereotypical computer generated form the fast approaching Christmas dance. Shifting her book bag to her other shoulder, she hurriedly stepped to the right and pushed open one of the swinging double doors. It closed behind her with a clank that was seldom heard due to the normal din of students milling about the large room.
But now it was quiet. The last bell had rang nearly an hour before and most everyone had headed home or elsewhere, anything to avoid staying another moment in the dreaded halls of forced learning. Tira, however, had stayed after for a short meeting of the student government, of which she was the Junior Class Vice President.
Now she walked alone towards the front entrance. Passing the principle's office on her right, she offered a look of sympathy to the boy beside it. He sat on the floor, knees bent out in front of him. His spikey brown hair fell over his face as he stared at the yellow slip of paper he held, most likely a recommendation for detention waiting for the signature of the dreaded Mr. Shantos.
Walking on, Tira stepped out the front doors of the school. Instantly the cold air rushed at her, chilling her despite the thick, fur-line overcoat she wore. A cement path led to the road, the normal line of buses now absent, and was lined on each side by large reaching bundles of thing branches that would once again turn into leafy trees come spring. Every eight feet a pair of benches were placed back to back in the center of the wide path, three sets in all.
Next to the second set of these benches stood a tall slender figure. Tira's heart was instantly in her throat. There beneath one of the bare trees, was Marron. The big, soft flakes of snow that fell from the sky swirled about him, catching in the long strands of his hair and creating a scene so beautiful that made Tira feel her own humble appearance was out of place in it. Still she approached.
She watched as he shivered in the thin blue jacket he wore, crossing his arms he cast a waiting glance towards the building. Their eyes met and all the well-made plans fled her brain.
"H-hi," she managed, dropping her heavy bag to the walk beside her feet.
"Hello," Marron replied, ever proper. Again his eyes shifted to the building, then back to her.
"So....it's cold today."
"Yes."
"I was just--can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"Well, next Friday is the dance, you know, the Christmas one and all, and I was just thinking---um, wondering if you weren't busy, or already, um, going, or doing something else that is...will you go with me to the dance?" Silently she berated herself. Marron was always so eloquent and she had just come up with what had to be the worst invitation ever offered to a member of the opposite sex in regards to a high school dance.
Golden eyes trained on her, their earnestness a shock as always but somehow softened now. He brought up one hand and laid it across his chest in a confusing gesture she would later register as sympathy. A car rolled to a stop in the drive and a door shut, but she couldn't look away.
"Tira," Marron started in the deep voice that filled her waking dreams, "I'm afraid I have already made plans for that night. I'm sorry."
"I--," her words were cut off as a muscular arm fell around Marron's shoulder.
"Hey there beautiful, need a ride home?"
"Gateau," Marron sighed, carefully stepping away from the blonde's touch only to have his hand caught instead.
Tira turned quickly away. With the two years' hope crumbling about her and tears forming in her eyes, she ran up the walk only to collide with Carrot. She stumbled and fell, only to be caught in surprisingly strong arms.
~*~
"So you see, its Tira Glace now."
Marron nodded as she told the story. Apparently Carrot's change from cheating boyfriend to devoted husband had been sudden and complete, at least according to the story Tira told them. It seemed too good to be true, and Gateau's too-happy smile supported that theory, but Marron knew it was not his place to say anything, so he didn't.
"I told Carrot you were back; he wants to see you. He would have come today but he's got work at the office. I was thinking we could all have dinner together Monday night, if you all don't have any other plans," the last part was turned into a question. It was aimed at Marron, but his blank look defered it in Gateau's direction.
"We'd love to visit."
"Great! Here, let me give you the address, we're over on Oak now," she shuffled through her purse and drew out a receipt and pen. With a quick glance to assure that her scrap paper was indeed that, she wrote down an address. "We'll eat around six thirty, but if you want to come over earlier we can chat a bit. Okay?"
"Sure," Gateau slipped the paper into the pocket of his robe.
With plans laid and promises made, the only thing left was to escort Tira back to her car. Gateau walked beside her down the front path, Marron trailed behind them. He stopped just before the gate as Gateau went around to open the car door and wish Tira final goodbye.
When the car was gone Gateau turned his attention back to Marron. His black hair was shining in the sun, but that was the only bright thing about him. One of his arms was bent so that his right hand clutched at his left sleeve in a desperate gesture. His eyes were downcast, and that was something that bothered Gateau alot.
Marron had never looked down, never. He might blush or shy away from certain advances, but those gold eyes had always met any challenge strait on.
"Marron?"
"Won't...I be gone by Monday?"
~tbc~
Notes: I'd really like some feedback on this one...please?
Sanctuary
Chapter Four : But When We Try to Talk
The echo of the nineteenth century grandfather clock filled the dimly lit halls as it chimed the early hour of five. A door on the second story opened and closed with a muted click and strong footfalls trailed slowly down the front staircase. Gateau stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked across the empty living room.
Decadence had always been a background to his life. This room, however, had been done to his tastes. Unlike the formal living room with its stiff backed couch and pristine carpet, this room called for relaxation. The furniture was white, overstuffed leather: a long couch and a recliner. The low glass coffee table help a neat stack of sporting magazines and the remote control. Nestled in the black entertainment center was a big screen TV, its blank gray screen waiting to project the latest in digital technology.
Turning on the news, Gateau plopped down on the couch. His silken blue robe fell open in the front as he sat ungracefully with his legs open, one hand dangling between them and the other thrown over the arm. With the sun yet to fully rise, it was much too early to consider manners. Tossing his head back, he sighed at the ceiling. His blond hair was disheveled, his beard showing its three days growth despite its light color, and there were bluish rings beneath his eyes.
Marron appeared only moments later. Unlike Gateau, he was already dressed, again in jeans that didn't fit quite right. His sweater was gray and thick, with a high neck that rested just beneath his chin. His dark hair had been braided, only a few short bangs remained down in front. He stood just beyond the stairs with his arms crossed over his stomach, looking very small and unsure.
Gateau turned to look at him, "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes," Marron lied.
"No you didn't."
No answer. Marron looked aside.
"C'mere," Gateau gathered his form and moved to occupy just one half of the couch. Marron obeyed rather sheepishly. He settled close to Gateau but did not go as far as touch the other. The blond looked at him, trying his hardest to find the right way to ask the questions he needed to.
"If you need to ask, go ahead," Marron stated. His hands gripped the sides of his sweater and he still refused to look up.
"When?"
"Before."
"Are you sure?"
Gold eyes met his strongly. He could smell the minty freshness of Marron's breath, somewhere his mind registered the fact that his own personal hygiene had been lacking that morning.
"Do you think," there was anger in the words, concealed but there, "that I would even suggest it if I was not sure?"
"And you didn't tell me?" the rise in his own voice was unplanned and ill timed.
"I meant to, I just couldn't."
"'Just couldn't'? This is my life here Marron!" He was yelling and he knew it was the wrong damn thing to do. But he was on his feet and his hand was raised before he could think. Marron sat stiff. His eyes were shut tightly, waiting for Gateau to hit him. He was shaking.
"Please," he whispered, lips trembling in fear, "please just do it. I'll leave right after; you won't have to see me."
Marron knew he could, even knew he would, hit another person. Several times such displays of violence at been at the defense of black haired boy. Gateau lowered his hand gently to Marron's cheek and hated himself when his friend winced even at the soft touch. The smaller man pushed past him and left the room with hurried steps.
~*~
Marron pulled the handle of the large front door, hoping for a satisfying slam and receiving only a quiet swish, as it didn't even complete its closure as his hand fell. Resenting the effort it took to finish the task, he pulled it shut and stomped heavily down the steps of the wide porch. He took two steps in one direction, turned and took three the other, before stopping with a frustrated look.
Backing up against the bottom of the porch he pulled a square package from his back pocket. Hitting it twice against his quivering hand, he withdrew a single slim cigarette and put it to his lips. A cheap Bid lighter was drawn from his front pocket. He flicked it three times before the little flame perked up. Lighting the cigarette, he took a long drag before fumbling to put away the lighter.
Letting the familiar feeling and scent fall over him, Marron tried to calm his breathing. Moments later, Gateau was behind him. A large hand reached out to touch his shoulder; he pulled away.
"When did you start smoking?" Gateau asked, taking a seat on the steps. His eyes fell for a moment to Marron's ass, but the jeans were too loose to yield a sufficient view so he settle on staring at shapely ankles.
"Does it matter?" Marron crossed one arm over his stomach, propping his elbow on his forearm and lifting the cigarette again to his lips. He exhaled, polluting the crisp morning air and gaining a strange degree of satisfaction out of it.
"Yes," the blond replied.
Dropping the half-gone smoke to the ground, Marron stepped on it. He made no attempt to answer Gateau's questions or to even look at the other man. They both stared at the purple-tinged sky.
"Sit with me?" Gateau questioned, looking up. The other turned and took a seat on the very edge of the steps. Gateau snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him suddenly close. Marron wobbled, disoriented, before falling back against Gateau's warm side. The arm settled around his shoulders, fending off the early chill or morning.
Time passed that way, all in silence. As the sun rose, Gateau debated how to raise the uncomfortable subject that sat between them. When the sky was shading with blue, he ventured it.
"Can you--"
The roar of a high-powered engine interrupted. Tires squealed as the blinding red sports car jerked to a stop at the end of the drive. The tinted windows revealed nothing, but by the time the driver's side door had closed with a bang, both men were on their feet.
Pink hair flashed in the sun, as a pair of large sunglasses were directed at them. The new arrival started up the walk, her long red skirt swishing about her legs. Her top was made of denim, fastened tastefully loose around her ample bosom. She sported a pair of heeled white boots, an obvious attempt to increase her small stature, and a matching purse. Stopping barely a foot in front of them, she pointed a finger at Marron's chest.
"Where have you been?" she demanded in a harsh tone. He went to stammer an answer, but suddenly her arms were around him. When released, he looked down to see a smile across her face.
"Tira Misu," he stated.
"Well," she pushed her glasses back onto her head to reveal brilliant ruby eyes, "at least you remember me."
~*~
Trying to play the role of host which he had never excelled at, Gateau awkwardly ushered both his guests in for morning tea. He was ultimately grateful as Marron caught him looking curiously at his own teapot and took it away from him. Boiling water was about the peak of his skills, and even that did not always go as planned. When Marshal was not around, Gateau could be found eating mostly ramen noodles and spagehtti-o's.
Gateau pulled out a chair for Tira. As she sat, he tried his best to gather his own appearance into something at least decent. Tying the belt on his wrinkled robe, he took the chair next to her at the head of the long table. Setting the filled teapot down, Marron took a chair across from Tira, smiling slightly in response to her beaming face.
"So," he asked, "how have you been?"
In response, she proffered her hand. A sensible diamond ring gleamed as she tilted it side to side before drawing it back to stare at it herself. The meaning was quite obvious, Tira was now happily married. Gateau just shook his head. Emptying his cup quickly, he sat in quiet knowing and awaited the oncoming conversation.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
"Yes," Marron answered. Gently he took her fingers in his own delicate hand, lifting the ring once again to the light. She pulled it away and laughed lightly.
"Ask her who gave her that rock," Gateau prodded, smiling.
Marron lifted an eyebrow in lieu of repeating the words.
"Carrot, your brother."
~*~
A seventeen year old Tira stared at a bright square of pink paper that had been sloppily taped to the cinderblock wall of Vernon High's cafeteria. It announced in its stereotypical computer generated form the fast approaching Christmas dance. Shifting her book bag to her other shoulder, she hurriedly stepped to the right and pushed open one of the swinging double doors. It closed behind her with a clank that was seldom heard due to the normal din of students milling about the large room.
But now it was quiet. The last bell had rang nearly an hour before and most everyone had headed home or elsewhere, anything to avoid staying another moment in the dreaded halls of forced learning. Tira, however, had stayed after for a short meeting of the student government, of which she was the Junior Class Vice President.
Now she walked alone towards the front entrance. Passing the principle's office on her right, she offered a look of sympathy to the boy beside it. He sat on the floor, knees bent out in front of him. His spikey brown hair fell over his face as he stared at the yellow slip of paper he held, most likely a recommendation for detention waiting for the signature of the dreaded Mr. Shantos.
Walking on, Tira stepped out the front doors of the school. Instantly the cold air rushed at her, chilling her despite the thick, fur-line overcoat she wore. A cement path led to the road, the normal line of buses now absent, and was lined on each side by large reaching bundles of thing branches that would once again turn into leafy trees come spring. Every eight feet a pair of benches were placed back to back in the center of the wide path, three sets in all.
Next to the second set of these benches stood a tall slender figure. Tira's heart was instantly in her throat. There beneath one of the bare trees, was Marron. The big, soft flakes of snow that fell from the sky swirled about him, catching in the long strands of his hair and creating a scene so beautiful that made Tira feel her own humble appearance was out of place in it. Still she approached.
She watched as he shivered in the thin blue jacket he wore, crossing his arms he cast a waiting glance towards the building. Their eyes met and all the well-made plans fled her brain.
"H-hi," she managed, dropping her heavy bag to the walk beside her feet.
"Hello," Marron replied, ever proper. Again his eyes shifted to the building, then back to her.
"So....it's cold today."
"Yes."
"I was just--can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"Well, next Friday is the dance, you know, the Christmas one and all, and I was just thinking---um, wondering if you weren't busy, or already, um, going, or doing something else that is...will you go with me to the dance?" Silently she berated herself. Marron was always so eloquent and she had just come up with what had to be the worst invitation ever offered to a member of the opposite sex in regards to a high school dance.
Golden eyes trained on her, their earnestness a shock as always but somehow softened now. He brought up one hand and laid it across his chest in a confusing gesture she would later register as sympathy. A car rolled to a stop in the drive and a door shut, but she couldn't look away.
"Tira," Marron started in the deep voice that filled her waking dreams, "I'm afraid I have already made plans for that night. I'm sorry."
"I--," her words were cut off as a muscular arm fell around Marron's shoulder.
"Hey there beautiful, need a ride home?"
"Gateau," Marron sighed, carefully stepping away from the blonde's touch only to have his hand caught instead.
Tira turned quickly away. With the two years' hope crumbling about her and tears forming in her eyes, she ran up the walk only to collide with Carrot. She stumbled and fell, only to be caught in surprisingly strong arms.
~*~
"So you see, its Tira Glace now."
Marron nodded as she told the story. Apparently Carrot's change from cheating boyfriend to devoted husband had been sudden and complete, at least according to the story Tira told them. It seemed too good to be true, and Gateau's too-happy smile supported that theory, but Marron knew it was not his place to say anything, so he didn't.
"I told Carrot you were back; he wants to see you. He would have come today but he's got work at the office. I was thinking we could all have dinner together Monday night, if you all don't have any other plans," the last part was turned into a question. It was aimed at Marron, but his blank look defered it in Gateau's direction.
"We'd love to visit."
"Great! Here, let me give you the address, we're over on Oak now," she shuffled through her purse and drew out a receipt and pen. With a quick glance to assure that her scrap paper was indeed that, she wrote down an address. "We'll eat around six thirty, but if you want to come over earlier we can chat a bit. Okay?"
"Sure," Gateau slipped the paper into the pocket of his robe.
With plans laid and promises made, the only thing left was to escort Tira back to her car. Gateau walked beside her down the front path, Marron trailed behind them. He stopped just before the gate as Gateau went around to open the car door and wish Tira final goodbye.
When the car was gone Gateau turned his attention back to Marron. His black hair was shining in the sun, but that was the only bright thing about him. One of his arms was bent so that his right hand clutched at his left sleeve in a desperate gesture. His eyes were downcast, and that was something that bothered Gateau alot.
Marron had never looked down, never. He might blush or shy away from certain advances, but those gold eyes had always met any challenge strait on.
"Marron?"
"Won't...I be gone by Monday?"
~tbc~
Notes: I'd really like some feedback on this one...please?