Fan Fiction ❯ Broken Blossoms ❯ Broken Blossoms ( One-Shot )

Broken Blossoms

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She didn't really care to be partnered up with him. Ky was strange. She hadn't actually talked to him personally, but she knew because everyone just knew. It wasn't anything he did - in fact, he rarely did anything to the point that teachers would practically have to force an answer out of him - it was just something about his presence, the way his eyes looked at you, wild, penetrating, something in the way he moved, quick, graceful, determined. Every action, no matter how small, seemed deliberate. Every word he said seemed to have been carefully considered before it left his lips. His face was nice, but not pleasant to look at. It seemed to have a cold, sophisticated calm about it that she found unsettling. He was smart, she knew. She had often glanced at the tests left on the teacher's desk. His was on top, never anything lower than a 95%. She had also heard that he had the top mark in the class. She didn't really want to do this. She knew most of the other students and would rather have been partners with one of them. She frowned. Somebody had to end up with him as a partner. She lifted her books and pencil case off the desk, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked over to his desk. She knew he would never have come to hers.

"Hi," she said, rather low and demurely. She wasn't really sure what to say to him. "Um... I'm Alice. We're working together."

Ky barely glanced up at her, just opened his notebook to a page filled with scribbles. "I've already decided what we're going to do." He shoved the book over, as if he really didn't care to say anything to her. She was a decent student, not the most brilliant, but she was smart, she could admit. She wondered if he thought she wasn't smart enough to work with him. Perhaps he felt he had to dictate to her everything they were going to do. She looked over the notes on the paper. The concept was excellent, she had to admit. She could never have thought up something that good by herself. Of course, she wasn't going to admit that.

"It sounds okay, but I'm not sure about this part." Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. He looked at her, or more accurately, stared her down with those strange eyes. They looked almost hungry, like they could devour her whole. Nervously, she corrected herself, "I mean, I don't really get what you're trying to say." She thought he seemed to calm down at this and went on to carefully explain the concept to her, as he would to a small child. She wasn't listening. She was just staring at him, studying him. There wasn't really an outward belligerence about him. It seemed to come from within, carefully kept in check by a strong will. He must have felt her eyes on him, for he looked up, and instantly, she averted her gaze, staring absently at the periodic table on the wall. It was a pathetic attempt, she realized. Elements weren't really that interesting. She thought she saw a smirk on his face before he resumed his work. What was he smirking about? She suddenly felt stupid and insecure.

Mercifully, the bell rang, ending the period. Alice snatched up her books quickly, glad to be moving on to her next class. She didn't even look at him as she left, but noticed out of the corner of her eye, that he hadn't even begun packing his things. She ignored it, moving swiftly down the hall. Early for math class, she sat at her desk and doodled on a piece of paper. The chair beside her screeched on the floor. Adamantly, she kept up doodling. "I heard you got stuck with him," came the expected statement.

"Don't remind me, Sara, please," she muttered.

"Couldn't you ask to get put with someone else. I mean, the teacher's got to know that he's, like, weird."

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Just shoot me," she whined.

"You poor thing. Oh, he's here."

They watched as he entered silently. She'd forgotten that he had this class too. He always sat in the back so quietly that no one ever noticed him. She watched him take his seat, then turned around and dropped her head on her desk with an exasperated sigh.

"You'd better do the project at your house. You'd probably get murdered at his house."

She laughed. "Just a little extreme, don't you think?"

"But he's so weird!"

"I don't know. Maybe he's been abused or something."

She considered herself very perceptive about people and thought this was an apt if not very probable suggestion. Suddenly, she felt sorry for him. Who knows what other problems he had? And to have everyone treat him so badly . . . Maybe all he needed was someone to talk to. She could be that person. She would do the project at his house, scan his family for signs of abuse, she decided.

When the class finally ended, she walked over to his desk. "Hi," she said. He didn't look up. "So, um, that project we have to do for biology, I guess we could work on it on Saturday, okay?"

He didn't answer. All she could see of him was the short dark hair bent over his work.

"Alright then," she continued, "where do you live?"

He ripped off a piece of paper, scribbled down an address and handed it to her.

**********

There were buds on the trees. Most had begun to sprout leaves again but a few were still bare. There was a slight chill in the air still - the winter had been long - but she preferred it this way. Alice wore only a light sweater over her jeans. There was some warmth creeping into the air, and she trusted the afternoon sun to warm her. She felt anxious about seeing him - on his territory, no less - but she tried to deny it. In defiance, she began quietly humming one of her favorite tunes, and swung her school bag. The action made her feel a little more at ease. She almost laughed at her own audacity. Or perhaps it was the air that made her feel slightly giddy. It was intoxicating. She swung her arms and the straps of the bag left her fingers, flying through the crisp air over the wild, unkept greenery below and landed with a . . . thwack?

"Are you trying to kill me?!"

Her face reddened with embarrassment and she hurried round the bend in the path to find Ky sitting on the ground beside her bag, rubbing his head. A red streak was across his forehead with the imprint of a zipper at its sides.

"Ky! I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there! I'm sorry!"

"I figured you'd get lost, so I was going to meet you. Damn. I knew you didn't like me but I didn't think you were violent." His tone wasn't harsh, she realized.

She pulled a tissue from her pocket. "Here, let me - "

"No! I think I've taken enough abuse from you!"

"I said I was sorry!"

He muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch. It made her angry anyway. She had apologized. She followed him to his house, quiet the whole way, almost smirking at the whole situation. It wasn't a very good start, but it was funny.

The house was pretty with dark red bricks. The windows were open, unencumbered by any curtains or blinds. The small garden in the front had just begun to bloom again. Reds, yellows, whites, and pinks had sprung up, creating an abstract painting of life. They stepped inside and, at once, she was taken back by the normalcy of it. There was a clock on the pale lavender wall, a few paintings. The closet held twin mirror doors. The floor was tiled white, clean and spotless. She could catch a glimpse of the family room - a soft leather couch, single chairs beside it, a coffee table. From the direction of the kitchen came the distinct scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon buns.

"Ky, are you home?"

"Yeah, mom," he called back.

He waited for her to remove her shoes, then led her into the kitchen. He introduced her and she smiled sweetly, for once actually meaning the gratuitous phrases she offered back. The woman radiated warmth. She was offered a cinnamon bun and accepted graciously. It was delicious. She wasn't sure exactly what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. They were almost picture perfect. A child ran in, about eight or nine, his face sticky with honey from the buns, and latched onto Ky like a baby possum to its mother. "Play with me, Ky?" he asked, pointing towards a room from which she could hear computer sounds.

"Later. I have to work right now." The child ran back into the room and Ky led her to another, a small receiving room with a table in the center, cluttered with books, four pastel-colored chairs and a piano in the corner.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

She shook her head between bites. "Okay, so what are we going to start with?"

He opened one of the books. "I have a diagram of the internal structure of a flower here but I thought we should also use a real one for visual aid." He pulled out a box from under the table, opened it and removed a pink gladiolus blossom from it. She reached out to touch it, and he tore off a petal. "We'll have to cut it in half to get a better view," he continued.

"Are there any more in there?"

"What?"

"Flowers."

"Yeah."

"Could I have the rest?"

"I guess so." He looked at her oddly but gave her the box. The day wore on slowly. They dissected and bisected the plant and by late afternoon she was yawning. Ky was still telling her something about photosynthesis or how to improve the plant but she didn't know what; the words passed over her like waves over protruding shells on a beach. She watched the cut on his forehead, the slight break in his dusky skin. His mouth was opening, but only soft musical sounds were coming out. She hummed along, imitating them. It took her a while to realize he had stopped talking and was staring at her. She stopped humming, her face flushing, and was about to apologize, when he moved over to the piano and began tapping gently on the keys. He played back to her the tune she had hummed, the sound soft, making her think of trickling water echoing through an underground cavern. She watched him play, his expression softer, lips almost smiling. It was over too soon; the song was a short one.

"That was beautiful," she said sleepily.

"Why don't you go home? I can finish the rest of this myself."

"Oh . . .okay," she conceded, rubbing her eyes. She opened them wide, trying to shake off the sleepiness. She gathered up her flowers and headed towards the front door.

"I'll walk you home. Wouldn't want you to get murdered or anything." The tone was sarcastic, sharp and biting again. They stepped out into the chill outdoors, saying nothing. It was colder now and she wished she had brought a heavy jacket. She shook visibly, but he didn't say a word or even offer her his jacket. He walked her up to her driveway, watched her go into her house, never muttering a single word. Inside, she walked to the window and watched him walk away, silent, solitary, a panther in a concrete jungle.

**********

"You spent the entire day at his house?!" Sara stared at her friend, incredulously. They pushed their way down the hall, dodging other students who were also shoving their way to their first class.

"Yeah. It wasn't . . . that bad." She found it hard to hear above the cacophony of student voices, and hoped her words might have been drowned out.

"What do you mean 'not that bad'?"

"He's not such a freak as everyone thinks."

"Oh, so you guys are like, buddies now?"

"No!"

"The new beau, eh?"

"Will you stop!"

"But seriously, don't start hanging out with him. People are already wondering what you were doing so long at his house."

"Working?" she said, sarcastically.

She spotted Ky a little down the hall, quickly coming towards them. "Hi," he said, as he brushed past them. She opened her mouth to respond but Sara stopped her. "Don't," she whispered.

She felt relieved by the time lunch came around. She didn't have to see him or explain what she had done. She didn't understand why she felt a need to explain it to him but she did. She didn't touch her lunch, just sat there, staring at it, ignoring Sara's incessant chatter. She scarcely noticed when the chatter finally stopped, only barely heard Sara's whispered, "I can't believe him . . ."

She looked up to meet Ky's gaze. He was standing tall and straight, like an impenetrable fortress. His face was cold, unfeeling. His eyes no longer held that penetrating stare, they seemed dark, closed off.

"Um... don't you have class right now?" Alice asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I do, but - "

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Sara interrupted. "Get a clue! She doesn't want you around her." Ky turned his listless gaze on Sara. His face carried that bored, derogatory expression that was common to him.

"Am I speaking to you?" Sara's hostility was suddenly curbed. "Thank you. As I was saying. I just wanted to - " She saw it coming, but didn't have the voice to warn him. He fell forward, catching himself on the table and quickly turning around to see who had pushed him. Three boys and two girls stood behind him. She didn't much listen to the foul language being shot one way. She concentrated on Ky, sensing beneath his silence, the rage that was building. His fists clenched, the cold expression on his face, strained. He said nothing back to them, but when the second one pushed him, she knew what was coming next. Ky's eyes shined with a brilliant hate, those wild emotions, so often kept in careful check, were suddenly set free. He didn't wait for any more words. He acted. Like a panther running on pure reflex, he struck the nearest person, little caring who it was. He caught one boy in the face. He quickly turned to another one, but immediately, he was fighting off five people, each one pushing and pulling, kicking, punching, scratching. They were quickly surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. People were cheering - against Ky, wanting to see this strange boy who no one knew, hurt. It was getting hard for her to see what was going on. Ky was somewhere beneath a pile of human bodies. She really didn't want to get involved in this fight but she felt it was her fault and she needed to do something to help him. She tried to manouevre her way to Ky. She could see him, his eyes wild, viciously kicking, punching, knocking one boy's head against a wall and elbowing another girl in the face. There was blood on his clothes. The cut on his forehead had widened and was bleeding freely. She tried to get between him and one of the students he was fighting. She slipped herself between them and pain exploded on her temple. She saw Ky, with his fist drawn back, his eyes focused, without anger or hate, on where he had hit her. There was a look of anguish on his face, as his energy seemed to leave him. Then he was being pushed back into a locker, and his mind was back to the fight. Finally, a few of the teachers arrived and pulled them apart.

She didn't see what happened to Ky. Sara was over her, asking her if she was alright, telling her that she should go home. She readily obliged, glad to be away from the staring eyes and gossiping voices. The crowd dispersed, the students going to the respective classes, and the day was back to normal, the only difference being a few new rumors going around.

She walked home slowly, giving her mother a half-true explanation of what had happened. Curling up in a large soft chair, she rubbed her head. The doorbell rang. Insipidly, she dragged herself from the chair to the door. It was Ky, his black hair ruffled by the wind, a few bruises showing on his face, but standing nonchalantly on her porch. He held out her books to her. "You forgot these at my house yesterday. I would have returned them to you earlier, but well . . ." For the first time, he avoided her eyes, she noted saliently.

"Thanks," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

"Bye." He turned and walked away.

"No! Ky! I mean, wait! Please!" She quickly slipped on a pair of shoes and ran after him. He finally stopped but didn't turn around. "I just wanted to say . . . I mean . . . I'm sorry," she added, meekly.

He turned to face her, his eyes cold again. "I understand if you didn't want to talk to me. You don't need to apologize for that. And the fight wasn't your fault."

She fell silent. She found herself staring at his feet, unable to meet those disturbing eyes. "Why don't you go home," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

He started walking away quickly. She ran after him. "Ky! Please, just listen to me for a minute - " She tripped over a rock, skidding across the ground and landing in a new spring puddle.

"You are pathetic," he chuckled. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. Her hair was dripping wet, her face was bright red, and her clothes felt cold against her body. The cotton was soaking up the water. Ky sighed, slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He spotted the bruise on her head, and the smile left his lips. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't really watching what I was -"

"I know. It's okay. It's not as bad as yours."

"I'll heal." His gaze dropped to the floor, and his lips turned up in a bitter smile. "Besides, I've wanted to do that for a long time. I'm glad I got the chance."

There was an uneasy silence for a few minutes. Her hair dropped into her face, letting cold rivulets stream down her face. He pushed the damp hair from her eyes. "You're going to freeze to death out here," he said.

"What about you? I've still got your jacket." She looked at the cut on his forehead; it was covered with a small, white bandage but she could tell it was now much bigger than it had been before. "I'm sorry too. I seem to be nothing but trouble for you."

"Forget it."

"I don't know why this is so hard. I keep trying to understand you but you won't let me. Every time I try to talk to you, it's like you're trying to get away from me. I had some ideas about you before . . . some really stupid ideas," she muttered to herself, "but now I don't know what to think."

"Is it that important?"

"I suppose not . . ."

He smiled at her. It was a subtle, gentle smile and she felt comforted by it. "I'll see you around, okay?" He seemed to suddenly remember something important. "Oh, wait, you forgot this too." He pulled out a crushed gladiolus blossom from his pocket. "It's a little damaged, but it's still good."

She took it into her hands, gently smoothing out the petals. She marveled at the contrast of it; the sharp, sword-like leaves, and the beautiful bright petals. "Thank you."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shivering slightly in the chilly spring air, and continued home. She smiled at his retreating form, and held the broken blossom gently in her hand.

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A/N: This is my first piece of original fiction on mediaminer. So please review. I'd love some feedback and constructive criticism would be wonderful.