ORIGINAL FIC: Loneliness [Original Gangster]

[feygan]

Title: Loneliness?
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Original Gangster
Blurb: Flight of the magi. A twisting twirl of fate's happenstance. Do not look away, for the darkness is looking back.

I hate that I'm that sad figure at the end of the day. The one everyone winces away from and dreads having to visit.

It's painful to look in the mirror and realize that I'm every kind of person that I hate.

I have become the darkness, and the darkness is me. I have lost my way, and there's no way home.

"That's nearly poetic."

I turned to look at Gloria, and that she was. Glorious Gloria Gerarde, the sweetheart love of every wannabe-Lothario on the station; long black hair that fairly screamed with red highlights midway down to the end. Her eyes were rimmed with silvery-blue kohl and she had that wicked smirking look on her face, the one that drove the world wild. She was beautiful and dangerous, a rowdy girl out to have a good time, no matter police detainment or danger.

"What?" I asked.

"What you were saying; the unexpectedly beautiful words coming out of your mouth," she said. "I never suspected you of having a beautiful soul."

"Hm." What could I say to that? I hadn't even realized that I was speaking out loud. "I didn't even know I had a soul at all."

She snorted a laugh. "And you're funny too. You really must be the full-package Diamond Jim is always touting you are."

"I try." I shifted out of the way of her touchy hands. She was running those red razor claws across my shoulders with a rasping sound of enamel on leather. I felt like she was about to gut me, which was ridiculous. She was just a woman with extremely long nails she'd had painted peach with blood red tips.  Why was I so wary and uncomfortable around her?

"So, what are you doing after this?" I asked, hoping to change the mood; break the strange intimacy.

She pouted before smiling extra bright. Her teeth were blazing white against the cute shape of her mouth. She was prettier when she smiled. "The same thing I do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world."

I could believe it. She was a shining star, and anyone would have to be a total fool to try and get in her way; because she would set the world on fire. In a few years she would be working out of a much higher shelf on the hierarchy than me. This project of ours would be nothing more than a joke to her, if she even bothered to look back on her life.

"So you're the brains of this operation, huh?" I sidled out of her grasp and strolled over to the soda machine. "I'm getting a Bolt. You want anything?"

"There's plenty of stuff at the crafts table, you know," she said.

"So? What does that have to do with getting something to snack on right now?" I asked, digging around in my pocket. "I'm getting some chips."

"Well, if you're paying," she said, fairly dancing across the room to lean against my side. "Who am I to say no to an offer from you? I'd take a bag of cheddar cheese potato chips and a hot can mocha."

"Okay." I slipped in one of the smaller bills I insisted be in my wallet and listened to the machine purr as it worked. "There you go."

I left her to gather her own bag of chips and the hot coffee that popped out of the beverage square, cup first. It would take a few seconds for the mocha to finish pouring into the cup. I didn't want to wait for her when I wanted my own snack.

My diet coach was going to yell at me when she found out about the bag of cinnamon and sugar flavored puffed rice cakes; the small bag of chocolate covered almonds and peanuts; gellied fruit and powder sugar candies; the pretzel bites, and finally the Bolt Cola I washed everything down with. I felt like a criminal, thinking of her response to my binge-eating, but I did it anyway.

It had been so long since I tasted anything good.

I felt like I'd been locked up for years. And now I was free with a moment alone.

I sat on one of the odd futuristic chairs in the lounge area and leaned my elbows on the table as I ate, spilling wrappers all around. The taste made my eyes half-shut in pleasure, hard shells cracking between my molars as I bit down. My only regret was the soda, the sweetness being too much against the flavor of the candies -- I wasn't that found of sugar -- but other than that it felt good to break the rules a little.
Gloria sat nearby, laying her own things on the table. "You're going to get me in trouble with my trainer. There might even be calls to my manager."

"Then don't eat those chips. I'll finish them for you," I said. My eyebrow performed a natural uptick and I liked the arched tone of my own voice. I tried to remember the feel of it for in the future.

She clutched her chips closer against her. "No way. If I'm breaking the rules, I'm breaking the rules." She lifted her mocha and took a long sip. "Ah, I missed the taste of chocolate. Remember how it used to be?"

I shrugged. I knew her history and she knew mine, but that didn't mean I even really remembered meeting her in the orphanage. She was adopted briefly by a family that eventually gave her back after I'd already left. How was I supposed to remember some boy I'd met decades ago in my childhood? It wasn't happening.

"Things were very different after you left the first time," I said diplomatically. "Money was tight and the House had to tighten a few strings. The routines were changed for a while. They were just beginning to change things back when I left."

"What does that mean?" she asked. "Didn't you have Sweets Day and the Family Meal?"

"Only when there were guests," I said. It hurt to think about, but the words were bubbling up out of my throat. "We used to hope for a Visitors Day because it meant a full ration or even a treat if the guest was important enough. On the day when I was chosen for idol training, there was a state funded feast and a full festival. It was the funnest time of my life." Surrounded by my friends, the only family I had ever known, with a fireworks display and a talent show that felt like nothing more than a game; I hadn't known it would be my last day living there.

Gloria, for all the hardship she'd faced, had been adopted by a family. They'd eventually given her back after her parents died, but for a little while she'd had parents. She was twenty-five years old when she was chosen for training, five years aways from her Majority. Her training experience had been completely different from mine or anyone chosen younger than fifteen.

"Things were different for a while," I said. "For some of the younger kids, they didn't know any different. But I remembered how it was before the change, when there was plenty of food and art projects every day. It was hard during those years when we didn't have any paper to draw on and there were never any paints. I missed the brightness in the halls."

Her mouth turned down. "I'd heard that it was bad, not that it was much good the rest of the time."

I snorted. "Right? The Poppyseed Children's Home deserved to be shut down."

"I kind of wish that I had been there when state officials finally took the place down," Gloria admitted. "I would have loved to have been there when they were arrested and things got changed. You did a good thing."

"I didn't do anything," I excused.

She smirked. "Think I'm a fool, do you? I've read your Wikipedia page. They list right on in how much money you give to charity. It's not much harder to figure out what charities you give to. You're doing a good thing. You're a good person."

I shifted uncomfortably and began eating gellied fruit candies in quick succession, flicking the squares into my mouth. Powdered sugar dredged chewy syrup bites solidified and specked with walnut pieces and chunks of softened fruit. "These are good. I think they're my favorite."

"You're changing the subject. I see," she said, then changed the subject. "You've got more experience than me. How long do you think filming is going to be?"

The movie was already over-schedule as well as over-budget. There were talks of the studio firing some people, but I didn't know what was happening so I just kept my head down. It wasn't in my best interest to speculate about the miseries of others.

I liked to keep my ears closed as well. "I have no idea. They're paying my agency for each day that I'm here, so it's not in my place to ask the questions my manager can best answer. Until she tells me we're pulling out of this project, it is my number one priority."

"You talk weird," she said with a laugh, tossing her hair back. "I like it. You're interesting."

"Thank you?" I finished the last candy and brushed my hands clean when what I really wanted to do was lick my fingers. "I suppose that I've just been complimented."

"Yes. I think you have been." She crumpled up her chip bag and stood up, reaching for some of my garbage. "Let's clear up the evidence before we get in trouble with the handlers."

Together we cleared away the signs of our crime, then took turns using the small sink to wash our hands and clean our faces.

"How do I look?" I asked, holding the pencil away from my face. I'd had to retouch the eyeliner the makeup people had so painstakingly applied. "Do I have raccoon eye?"

Gloria looked away from her compact mirror to give me a thumb's up. "Nope. You did a professional looking job. What about me? Is my tongue orange?"

"No. You look fine."

She smiled impishly. "I think this is the start of a wonderful friendship."

"I guess so," I said. I wasn't really feeling anything, which made it hard to get excited the way she was. I admired the light shining in her eyes and envied the life in her. When was the last time I'd given a damn about anything?

"Maybe we should get matching bracelets," I said. It was a funny thought.

"Why not?" she asked. "That seems like a great idea. We could start a new fashion trend."

"If you come up with one, I'll wear it," I said, in the hopes of putting her off.

The next ten minutes of prattle made me regret not shutting her down in the first place, but it was too late now. I wasn't going to take back my word, even if I regretted it.

The arrival of the stage manager was a relief. He was apologetic about there being no one keeping us company as we waited, but I waved him off. "We're not children. We can entertain ourselves."

"Yes, of course," he said. "Please come with me. We're ready for your rehearsal."

"Finally," Gloria said, but that was all. I was relieved not to listen to her complaints. (I'd heard bad things about her even while trying not to listen, but she was proving them all wrong. She had a focus toward the work than I found myself appreciating.) "We can do this, right?" She nudged me with her elbow, and I shifted a few steps away.

"Of course we can," I said. "We are professionals."

She beamed at me. "Exactly. Professionals."

Against my will I found her elbow linked with mine as we followed the stage manager. "This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," she said.

I thought wistfully of my previous state of loneliness. I missed it already.