dam kidnappers o-0
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN KYO FROM THE BAND "DIR EN GREY" I LOVE THEM TO FREAKING HELL AND SOMETIMES HAVE ODD FANTASIES ABOUT KYO DOING THINGS, BUT I OWN NADA
I ALSO DON'T OWN THE DISTRIBUTORS OF THE CREEPER SHOE LINE, BUT I DO OWN A PAIR OF BLACK ONES
CHAPPEH 9: VOMITING KIDNAPPERS
I stared up at a stick of blue fluff, cotton wisps reflecting the fair lights. I nodded and took the sugary sweet between my fingers, bringing it near my face.
The tears had already dried, a long time ago actually. I had only been crying for about five minutes before he decided to cheer me up by buying a stick of cotton candy from a nearby candy vendor.
He sat down next to me on the deserted dirt pathway, back resting against a boutique counter. I took a bite of my cotton candy, the wisps of sugar melting instantaneously as it met with my tongue. I always liked how cotton candy did that, how it almost vanished completely once it was inside your mouth.
"Who was that boy anyway?" he asked me, his pale fingers brushing against the red dirt. I frowned at him, blinded by his salt-white hair. I knew who he was implying, Real no doubt, but I didn't feel like talking about him at the moment. I didn't really care anymore, let him have his Katie or whatever, I wasn't going to stop him.
"Mom said not to talk to strangers," I said casually, turning away from him to bite at my cotton candy. "You could be a kidnapper or something." I looked at him again, giving him a weak glare. He simply smiled, the white of his teeth shining in the darkness. He brought the palm of his hand to his cheek, looking as if he were offended by my accusations.
"I'm not a kidnapper!" he mocked, his blue eyes slanting.
"Buying a kid you never met before candy is a sure way to start," I muttered, munching on yet another piece of candy. He chuckled under his breath, brushing a strand of silver hair behind his pierced ear.
"Whatever kid," he said wryly and knocked on my head. I grimaced, smacking his hand away.
"My name's Zine by the way," he added non-chalantly, bringing both his knees up. I watched as his white creeper shoes skidded across the dirt, leaving behind a streak of messed up soil. Why were his shoes that big? The soles of his shoes were practically as thick as a my old math textbook!
"Why're your shoes huge?" I asked, staring at him oddly. He looked down at his feet, seeming to wriggle his toes.
"They're called Creepers little one, Kyo always wears them," he said happily, a dreamy look glazing over his eyes. I scrunched my nose and looked away.
"Who's Kyo?" I asked, taking another nip at my cotton candy. He smiled at me, his hand coming up to play at a loose strand of my hair.
"Never you mind girly," he said off-handedly. He suddenly pouted, yanking gently at my hair.
"You never told me your name."
"Simple and short. Nice."
I smiled at him, tossing aside my finished cotton candy stick. I criss-crossed my legs, looking up into the night sky. The stars twinkled down at me, as if they were trying to soothe my frizzled nerves. It's weird how the night could do that to you, make you feel so relaxed and peaceful that it just made you forget about all your worries. Right now, I felt happy. Happy that I wasn't crying, happy that I was at least with someone who was trying to cheer me up.
"You dress like a boy," Zine said softly, his sharp blue eyes cutting into my own. I merely nodded, letting a smirk chizzle its way upon my lips.
"I like it, it's cute."
My face flushed slightly. No one had ever said anything praise worthy about my clothing before, everyone usually made fun of me for it.
Zine suddenly stood up, brushing his black pants free from any dirt. I watched as his white hair trailed behind him, swishing this way and that. He looked down at me, extending a slender hand. I took it, getting up cautiously. I too brushed away the speckles of dirt.
His hand was big and smooth, warming my chilled palms. I gripped his hand tightly, afraid that if I didn't, he'd run away.
"Which ride..." he muttered to himself, blue eyes scanning the large expanse of rides and lights. He prodded a dainty finger into his chin, thinking critically. We started walking down the dirty pathways, sliding in and out of oncoming people. I gripped onto him for dear life. I didn't want to get lost. If anyone were to see us right now, we'd probably look like brother and sister, maybe even father and daughter, walking hand in hand through an assortment of merry laughter and zooming machines.
"The Swindler," Zine said quietly, halting. I stopped walking as well, looking up at a fairly huge machine twirling in the air. It was so freaking fast that my eyes couldn't focus on it! We watched as a ring of people with vest straps on, were lifted into the air, the circular machine turning them slowly. With each second, the twirling grew faster, then they took off. They were heaved into the air, swinging like a pendulum, all the while twisting and turning.
My eyes danced with excitement, a smile brimming on my face. It looked fun, a little bit scary, but it still looked like it'd be awesome. I tugged on Zine's arm, causing him to look at me quizically. I pointed at the still twirling ride, flashing lights nearly blinding me.
"Can we go on that one?" I asked shyly, ready to dig into my pockets for the $20 dollar bill Mom had given me. He swatted at my hand, pulling out six bright red "admit one" tickets.
"Three tickets each," he said merrily. "You can pay me back later." He grinned and we started walking again, padding our feet up the metal ramp that lead to The Swindler. A line had already formed, ten or so people in front of us. A lady with a chained nose-ring and a man with a mohawk were up in front, kissing each other feverishly. I looked away in embarrassment. They reminded me of Real and that...Katie person.
Zine must have seen me, for he squeezed my hand tightly and tugged at my sweater. I looked up at him. It looked as if he were worried, a smile no longer gracing his lips.
"Don't think about it," he piped up, a grin etching onto his face. "You're supposed to have fun at carnivals."
"It's a fair."
We watched as the batch of people were lowered to the ground, a resounding click following after when the machine stopped and locked into place. The vest straps were all lifted at once, people clambering out of their seat and walking down the exit ramp. Some people's hair were totally messed up, strands of unruly string disarrayed and unkempt. All of them were smiling, their faces flushed.
The gate at the front opened, each person handing over three red tickets to the ticket guy. Zine handed the teenager six tickets and we stepped onto the metal platform, searching for an available seat. He led me over to a blue barred box, sitting himself down on one of the cushiony seats. He patted the seat next to him happily.
I smiled, butterflies in my stomach. I was usually afraid of big rides, but now was an exception. I sat down next to him, my feet dangling in the air. As soon as everyone handed in their tickets and sat down in their appropriate seats, the gate closed and the lights dimmed down. I stared across from me, my eyes dancing happily with anxiety and excitement. My mouth nearly fell open.
Real was on the other side, sitting next to a blond-headed girl.
And they were holding hands. I wanted to spit at him, to clench my teeth and bark like a mad dog. I laughed at myself. Barking like a dog would definitely land me in a mental hospital. Feeling my torment, Zine snaked his fingers within my own, squeezing my hand tightly. I blushed slightly and tried not to look over to where Real was sitting, but I failed. I wanted to see what his reaction would be, I couldn't help it.
I was met with a feral glare, his thin lips pursed. I wanted to laugh hysterically. Showed him.
Music started to flare from the array of speakers wired onto the machine ride, lights flashing like a rave. Then I felt the heavy vibrations of the gears turning, our box and all the others lifting simultaneously into the air. My feet dangled beneath me, swishing to the beat of the ravey music. I gripped Zine's hand tighter as we heaved into the air, the tremendous height we were at causing me to panic.
"Calm down," he whispered and tapped his shoe lightly on mine. I breathed in deeply and tried to calm myself like he said. It worked a little bit, I was still fairly scared, but not all panic-like.
Finally, the ride began to swish, my hair flailing in the air. We swished from side to side at a steady pace, then when the music switched to a very up-tempo crazy melody, we began to go faster. The circle of people twirled around me, swaying to the side like a broom. I watched Real from where I sat, he was staring at me, expressionless face naught of emotion. His blond fringe was waving in the air, black jagged hair framing his face messily. We went high up into the sky, going so fast that it was hard trying to breath. My stomach flipped and flopped as we turned upside down, slamming back down at such a ferocity that my shoes nearly flew off.
"FUCK YEAH!" Zine yelled into the air, his hair blowing violently in the wind. After about two minutes of death defying twirling, the machine simmered down and was lowered. We clicked into place while a computer operative voice told us to keep our hands at our sides and heads back as the vest straps were lifted.
I clambered out, my mouth wide and eyes trembling with merriment. I stumbled a little down the metal exit ramp, my hand gripping onto the support rail for balance. I was a bit dizzy, but I managed to pull myself together.
Zine stepped next to me, ruffling his fingers through his messy pony-tail. His eyes sparkled with a thrill, glistening with ferocity.
"Worth it, yeah?" he asked, fingers coming up to straighten my hair. I didn't have a chance to answer him when I leaned down and exploded.
I spewed vomit all over the dirt floor, chunks of unidentified food speckling the ground. A foul taste streaked through my mouth, a horrible smell filtering in through my nose. I hated when I threw up, it felt so disgustingly terrible.
I clasped a hand over my mouth, vomit running over my fingers to spurt onto the ground. Zine patted my back, brushing aside strands of my hair so they wouldn't get dirty.
Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I held them back, no matter how hard it was to do so. I usually cried when I threw up, I just hated it terribly. I wouldn't cry now though, not in front of all those people, not in front of Zine and most definitely not in front of Real, who was probably watching me with a smile on his face.
My hair was suddenly yanked back into a make-shift pony tail, hands on my back pushing me forward. I stumbled, walking very fast. My hand was still clasped over my mouth, vomit dripping down to leave a trail of red and orange liquid. The hand yanking on my hair gripped even tighter, almost pulling the strands out of my scalp. The hands at my back kept pushing me forward, my feet tripping over themselves.
I was shoved into a deserted pathway, thrown onto the floor. What with all the throttling, my stomach churned even more and a thick wave of vomit flew up and out.
"Ugh," I grimaced, my palms on the ground. My arms were trembling, my eyes blurry and watery. My stomach began to settle down, the feeling of nausea dissipating. I sat there on the ground, a vomity mess. I felt so miserable, so embarrassed that I didn't even want to look up at a smiling Zine.
He leaned down, his body shadowing over mine. I hung my head dejectedly, loose strands of hair covering over my eyes like vines. His hand came up, his thumb rubbing gently under my chin to wipe the remains of vomit off.
"Thanks Zine," I muttered weakly, sniffling. A pause.
Silence, then a shuffling of feet.
"Wrong guy little girl."
yay! end of 9th chapter!! hope you liked it, cuz i didn't D: i actually went on a ride like that once, it wasn't called the swindler, i forget, but it was an awesome ride.
i'm SO SORRY i haven't updated in a while, i'm working on Deathnote smut and it requires a lot of...mental attention (coughwatchesnaughtyyaoianimecough)
EXTRA: i finally named the white-haired guy..finally D: i got it from...maga...zine. MAGAZINE. ha ha haha...ha o-0 get it, magazine? LMAO...no.
and for those of you who are into j-rock and listen to the band "Dir en grey" then the "kyo" reference is for j00!! i love that kyo, he spat water on me :D
(kyo is the lead singer of Dir en grey, a japanese band. they rock hard, his vocals are sexy and he often wears Creeper platforms)
PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW OR SUFFER...thy consequences o-0 (woosh)