Unfortunate Consequences (MiNaGi & Shyblade)

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"Hmm... well... I think it's my house.. I'm not sure. I haven't been there for a while." When he said "his house" he could actually be talking about two mansions; one in France, and one here where he was living. The one in the drawing was the mansion in France that had burnt to the ground when he was only a child. It mostly sneaked into his sketchbook when he was preoccupied with thoughts. As if the house was trying to tell him something, something that he had forced himself to forget. "See... it burnt down many years ago, when I was just a kid. My parents died in the commotion and I luckily escaped with my life. I got some nasty burns but all there's left now are the scars from the experience." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Right now I'm living with my family's butler. She's helped me through a lot. She's like a sister to me.." He looked down at the drawing and dared himself to smile. "That was a bit of a long explanation. Anyways, I'm just assuming it's my house in France. I can't remember how it looks, honestly."
 
Natasha was silent, her eyes carefully scanning the road as she drove. But even so it was easy to see that there was something on her mind. "When did they pass?" Her voice was cautious, she seemed to understand that talking about the deceased could be distressing for some, but he was already putting her deep in his secrets, to hold something like this from her didn't really make much sense to her. After all, it's just a date. The two were pulling up to her apartment complex now, it didn't look like too much. An old brick building that had stood the test of time. To simply look at the neighbor hood one would assume it would keep unsavory company. But the streets were silent even as the sun fell. Natasha pulled the car into it's spot smoothly. After unbuckling herself she opened her door and reached for the drivers side t-top, but looked down at Adrian's drawing first, and seemed to be waiting for him to answer her question.
 
He sat in the car for a little longer, marveling over the question. "Well... I was eight... it was just any other day, we'd sent our maid out to shop groceries when a fire started in the house. I couldn't find my parents and hid in a cabinet in the study. Not long after, I passed out, and when I came to, I was in indescribable pain and covered in blood. Well, my own blood, anyways. I passed out again after that, and when I three days later woke up at the hospital, I was informed that my parents were crushed and burnt alive inside the house, and I was the only survivor. The house I'm living in now is another of our residences, a big, bothersome house." He hardly seemed to be that affected by the incident, and yet his eyes were sad. He flipped the notebook closed and stepped out of the vehicle as he shoved it into his bag. He didn't say another word and just looked at her, as if urging her to just show them inside. Most people took pity on him for the loss of his parents and the pain he had to go through, but he hadn't ever thought of it as something to be pitied for.
 
Natasha was silent for a few moments. Her head turned straight, she seemed to be staring at the car parked in front of them. The T-top rested gently on her lap for a moment. Her eye brows seemed to be tilted inward. After a few seconds she shook her head lightly and stood from the car, placing the Drivers T-top back into it's spot. Reaching through the door again to take out the passengers side. As she walked around the car, t-top in one hand, her other switching the keys. Locking the car and placing the passenger t-top in its place. She then turned toward the apartment, opening the door and looking up the stair well. "We're on the top floor. Hope you don't mind stairs."
 
"I'm fine." He collected himself and walked after her, a strange feeling taking him over. He'd never, ever told anyone about this part of his past, and again he'd just blurted it to her, whom he'd been in contact with for less than a day. There was something about her that completely made him lose all control of his own words. He put a hand on his chest and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his own heart beat through the thin, white shirt, and it was pounding so hard he could hear it. He had no idea why he felt like this. And after all, with his condition and all, there was no way Natasha and him would get past friendship. He tried to calm his heart and the blush that was creeping onto his pale cheeks. It'd be awkward if she sensed that he had feelings in that direction for her.
 
The building was quite plain on the inside, the walls were a cream color and the carpet was a beige. Natasha was silent as she led her guest upward, keys already in hand. On the third floor she turned toward a door, placing her keys in it and twisting. A chunk noise could be heard as the lock disengaged. She turned the lock while letting out a small yawn, and pushed open the door. It didn't look like too much, the floor was covered in linoleum and at the end of it began a carpeted hall. She walked in, kicking off her shoes into the shoe rack beside the door. Instead of walking down to where the hall started, she took a left instead, which led into a small kitchen, at the end of it was an open space where a plain round table sat. The chairs around it were old, with a metal pole that led into four metal legs with casters on the bottom. "Here it is." She said with a bored tone. "Welcome home."
 
He walked in after her, putting down his bag before he turned around and wriggled out of first his coat, then kicking off his shoes and placing them neatly beside the door. He stood for a while like that, with a hand on his bag. Instead of this distracted nonsense he ripped his gaze from the leather bag to the house. He hadn't even paid attention to the fact that she'd walked into the kitchen. He followed and stood beside her, unsure of what he should do about himself. After all, intruding on people was the last thing he would ever dare. So instead of that, he was just standing there. His legs were feeling a bit heavy, and his head was still spinning, his thoughts in a frenzy. He hadn't really recovered from the hospital yet, but his condition wasn't bad enough to have to be admitted.
 
Natasha was simply humming as she pulled out materials and ingredients. As she placed a cutting board flat on the counter she turned her head, a strand of hair hung in front. She blinked before a small smile grew on her face. Her eyes turning away a little as she lifted her hand and brushed the strand out of the view. Her face only changing a tint of shade. "You don't have to stand there and watch me cook you know." Even though she said it, her hands continued to work, she appeared to be making the pasta from scratch.
 
"I don't really know what to do of myself. I'm not used to being a guest." He smiled awkwardly and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his head following suit so he, despite how nervous he felt, looked calm. His posture was always deceiving both himself and others; he would never appear accordingly to his mood. His feelings were twisted and torn so badly that he couldn't express on the outside how he actually was feeling on the inside. He'd tried from time to time to express himself as he should but it had proven difficult and forced and then he'd rather go on correcting people about his mood. He couldn't sort out his brain like this. He would need someone to help him with it. He glanced over at Natasha waiting for her to reply.
 
Natasha's hands stopped for a moment before continuing. Her head tilted to one side as she appeared to be chewing a thought. After a moment she seemed to be turning, but stopped part way. But eventually she returned to preparing the pasta dough. It was as if she had a question she decided not to ask. "I'm not really sure, not usually a guest myself." Her eyes wandered over the work space a moment before grabbing some of the ingredients she needed and pulling them toward her. "But I guess the normal thing to do in this situation would be to talk...? I think." Her face wore a thoughtful frown as if she wasn't sure exactly what to do. "What would you like to talk about?"
 
"I don't know, honestly... I'm a pretty bad guest, I guess." He blushed and looked down at his hands, leaning himself against the doorframe. He didn't know what to say to Natasha. He had no means of starting a conversation, seeing as he was a very awkward person. He wished he could just dig a hole and disappear into it forever. He was socially hopeless and hadn't had many friendships in his life. He glanced over at her again, feeling this really stupid desire to draw her. After a few moments of his fingers prickling, he decided to give in and sat down in the chair across from her with pencil and paper in hand. He didn't really pay attention as he started sketching out the outlines of her body, and then beginning to shade the darkest places, eventually going lighter until he reached the light shades. The drawing looked almost exactly like her.
 
Natasha's eyes wandered over to the guest as she began on the sauce. "So... Why don't you tell me about school." Her tone was down turned, as if she knew that the answer wasn't going to be a happy one, if she received an answer at all. But still her hands worked silently on a variety of spices before sprinkling them in gingerly to the sauce. Her long coat still gripping her form tightly. Her eyes were weary, her shoulders were beginning to slouch. She also appeared to sway slightly. Perhaps she was feeling the effects of the fatigue on her body. Her eyes blinked twice quickly as she picked up the wooden spoon and began to stir the sauce.
 
"Uhh... I don't know really, I'm good in most subjects, except math and stuff.. on the friends thing, I don't have many.. I... kinda bottled up after what happened in middle school... I got scared of associating..."
He looked at the drawing, before realizing that she was shaking a little. He put down the drawing pad, walking over to put a hand on her shoulder. Now when they were standing close, t was clear that Adrian was the tallest of the two. He leaned over her shoulder to look at her.
"Are you alright?" His voice sounded soft and a bit worried, seeing as she did look like she wasn't in her best shape. He kept standing there, with an assuring hand on her shoulder. He wasn't the most social person but when he was worried, he was unable to hide it.
 
Her eyes were distant for a few moments, but when the hand landed on her shoulder they came back into focus. Her eyes looked over to him for a instant before closing her eyes and rubbing her eyes with her sleeve. "Yeah... wait.."
As she pulled the sleeve away she shook her head. "I'm sorry. What?" Her hand continued to stir the sauce, her eyes opened but they seemed to be staring through him. Her head turned, looking down toward the pot she was stirring. "Oh, I think it's done. Would you like a taste?" She turned to look at him, lifting the spoon from the pot. Her one hand underneath the spoon as she slowly turned his direction. Her slender face was framed nicely by her hair, a sweet smile and tired eyes facing toward him.
 
As he was offered a taste, he leaned forward and sipped the sauce, giving her a soft smile. "It tastes good." He looked at her, still a bit worried about her condition. Because of this he let his hand stay on her shoulder comfortingly. He hadn't been this close to someone for long, but somehow the contact didn't seem so frightening this time. Somehow, he wasn't scared this time. He had spent so long being scared of direct contact, but he realized now that it must only have real bad effect with guys. Even just a brush of hands made him jump away as if he'd been burned. But here he was, standing close to another person with a hand on their shoulder. That was quite a huge difference.
As he felt that she seemed alright, he pulled his hand away and took a step back politely. He wanted to kiss her. It was a very unhealthy urge but he wanted so bad to act on it. He should've tried to stop himself. But in the end he didn't as he took the step back to her, tilted her chin and placed his lips against hers. It didn't last more than a few seconds before he pulled back, instantly stumbling into the wall. He seemed stuck between panic and shame, a deep blush coloring his face.
"I-I'm sorry..--"
 
Her eyes opened wide, she found herself pulling back and only stopping once she hit the wall behind her. She stared back in a mild disbelief and confusion. Her face gradually changing it's hue to a darker shade. She seemed focused again, like she had been re-energized. But she simply stood in stunned silence until she was interrupted by the sound of the silent plob of a bubble popping in the sauce. A lump in her throat was swallowed as she turned to her stove, turning the dial down. Hastily she retrieved plates, three plates to be exact, placing them on the counter and haphazardly threw noodles and sauce on to each plate before picking up one of them, holding it with both hands. She looked to Adrian with a deer in headlight looks. "I'll just be a moment." she said before briskly walking to the hall that had been visible at the entrance.
 
As she left the room, he sunk down against the wall, clutching strands of hair between his fingers. That had been the possibly most stupid thing to do. She probably hated him now. He closed his eyes with a hopeless sigh and slumped down with his head between his knees. There was no way he could talk himself out of this. There was no excuse for doing this; he'd used the fact that she was distracted and done something outrageous. As he straightened his back again, he put a hand over his mouth in a shameful gesture.
The fear and self-loathing got the better of him, and he grabbed his jacket, put on his shoes and managed to grab his bag before he left the apartment in a hurry. Before long he was out of the apartment complex. He reached a public park and his body collapsed against a tree. He had been so foolish, believing that anything good would come out of talking to her. Now the rumors were probably going to start again, and everything would be as middle school. He broke down into hoarse sobs as the events of his middle school years came back. Even with his large, warm jacket, he was freezing. He felt so cold on the inside, like he was about to shatter. For a while, he just sat there on the ground, his head leaned against a tree. Maybe it would be easier if he shattered.
((Oof, I'm in the mood for drama))
 
Natasha returned to the kitchen, upon finding her guest had left she began to quickly look around for him. She stopped as she looked at where his bag had been placed, gone. She turned and went to the door, his coat was gone as well. For a moment she stood in silence looking down, her eyes scanning the floor in thought. After a moment she let out an exasperated sigh and moved back into the kitchen, stealing away the plates in the fridge. Her coat was already on so she quickly slipped into her shoes and opened the door. "Dad! I'll be right back!" She yelled into the apartment before closing the door and frantically making her way down the stairs. Of course he would run! That wasn't exactly the most graceful reaction! She scolded herself violently as she opened the door to the city street. She looked both ways as she stepped down the small set of stairs. Her head turned downward looking to the ground for clues. There wasn't anything that could really tell which way Adrian had gone so she turned her attention to the guard railing. If someone was leaving in a hurry...

Her thought process began, the dust on the railing was mostly undisturbed, there was a streak left from someone. It could have been anyone's but still she clung to the hope it could be his. A brisk jog carried her quickly in the direction, her eyes wandered as she thought where the most likely place to go. Eventually she found herself at the park. She stood and stared at the entrance wondering to herself. It stood to reason that if someone had their mind occupied with something this is where they would end up. Either way, she didn't have any better leads so this was the best choice. She stepped onto the paved path the cut an ugly swath through the otherwise scenic park. Natasha walked softly, keeping an eye out for Adrian. It wasn't long until she found him dismally hanging his head against a tree. With nothing more than a sigh she jammed her hands into her coats pocket. She was still wearing her school uniform which was still a wrinkled mess. She stopped about three feet from him, simply staring. Be it for lack of words or cautious against using them.
 
Even if he wasn't saying a word, it was clear in his entire posture that the event had effected him so dramatically that he was considering giving up on life. He was hugging himself against the biting cold and his face was turned into the tree so only his chin was partly visible from all his hair. Even so, it was clear to see how broken he was inside. Such a little, tiny reaction, maybe even down to a certain move of her head or a blink of her eyes, had put him on edge with his depression again. He seemed to sink even further and become smaller, and more than anything he wished he could just disappear into the ground, or vanish into thin air. He would become one with nature and never again have to think about feelings and himself. Not only was he ashamed of his body, but now everyone were going to know of it again. He remembered everything from middle school; the glares, the whispering voices, and lastly, the bullying... and even the... the word stuck inside his head and he couldn't manage to even think it. As he sat there, even his sobs grew silent eventually, and he closed his eyes. If he could just be washed away by the rain...

He snapped his eyes open. Of course there was no way he could do that. He had promised himself that he wouldn't give up on life. That he would hold on. Even so, he had been about to let himself meet his end out here. In the cold, bitter and merciless rain. He would've committed suicide for something so trivial. He smiled bitterly and put his hands over his eyes as his face was removed from the tree. He spoke up, in a broken voice with sadness and hopelessness dripping from the cracks.
"I'm such a fool... just because she hates me now it doesn't mean I have to die... I'll just have to move away again, start on a new life... again..." The words weren't more than a whisper but any person in a five feet radius of him would be able to hear it. He had never been this bitter before. He hadn't thought she'd look disgusted and even scared of him when he had done that. The entire scene was haunting him, and he was convinced she couldn't like him any longer considering she had looked at him as if he had been standing with a gun against her forehead. He slumped down again and closed his eyes, his arms again trying to bring comfort and warmth to the rest of his cold body.
 
Natasha's expression grew angered. Her brow a corners of her mouth tilting downward. "A fool thinks himself to be wise." She said as she closed what little distance there was in between the two of them. "But a wise man knows himself to be a fool." A small burst of wind passed by them, doing little more than causing the ends of her long coat to flit in the wind. Giving weight to her dramatic opening. "Seriously, would you like some potatoes with that ham? I wish there was a table here just so I could flip it in frustration at you." Her face portrayed anger, but her body language betrayed her. Her hands still in her pocket began to wrap the coat around her. Her arms close, as if she was hugging herself.
 
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