Chapter Text
-Everyone Road-
K J
The sun was shining like any other daybreak in Madison, humid and dense. The brand-new engine kept the family burning from the flashing sun's rays. However, it couldn't prevent the sweating and uncomfortable tension in the van. The body of a raven-haired teenager struggled to stop the quick twitchings and harsh breathings, his grip tightening against the boiling latter while his mind prohibited the tensed muscles of his arms from squirming. He recently flew back from the nearest and largest continent, its land cold and sparsely populated.
The whole change led to mild nausea, headache and/or diarrhea if not prepared with a tough body, the teen was fortunately immune to most of it after years of his father's harsh training. On the other hand one of the guards he and his old man came back with underestimated the power of switching such contradictory climates, face full of remorse and vomit.
Although, for now, he had to bottle it all up. Play it cool, cool it down...
„Do not dismiss what I said earlier, idiota incapaz !“ [Incapable idiot] Marcus Wilker shouted and smacked hard the leather volant with a clack. His veins ran on his skin with his fist, it mostly occurred when he was really pissed off. ,,Elbow off of my frickin' trezoro [treasure] of an armrest !!“
He immediately straightened up in his seat as quickly as lightning, almost forgetting how to breathe.
They had traveled for 3 days, and he could finally have a "rest". And Kane, a 15-year-old human living soul, drained and trained, was making his arrival in the USA in Mississippi, a well-known state not far from Mexico to be more specific. And the proximity was a crucial, beneficial criterion to his older man.
Since he sat on the backseat of the van, he felt like he'd been a prisoner for what seemed like ages. His brain, desperate to find any other distraction than the same boring view through the window of trees, grass and gravel, trees and grass, and trees and grass. Plus seeing your guard vomiting for hours isn't really something known to ease down the nerves.
Suddenly, at the same moment, they bypass an odd circus, suffocated by the dust, fading due to the past storms, its lights creepily flashing the eyes until it hurts, though still performing at an unusual hour. It seems like they don't have enough resources to fund. Some even look more miserable than the unattended, tired animals in their unenriched cages.
—
The van stops where a fancy white and beige motel, surrounded by vast vegetation, sits. Marcus Wilker had always been cash-rich along with also presenting to be very eccentric, so lodging inside the copious lodging right in front of them made perfectly sense.
They got out of the fresh engine, Kane handing the bags to the bodyguards while his father admired with a remarkable smirk the soft and organic tinted block they'll live in for the next couple of weeks. The older raven-haired man threw a few bags and cases in the guards' arms with which he confidently walked to the new permanent habitation he financed himself, stopping on the porch, rictus on his face.
–
„My precious new home, hmm~“ purred from his throat Marcus before snickering.
„Can't you tell them to move their arse?! It's too damn hot in here, Father !“ the young man yelled with a visible pout and black furrowed brown with his arms moving up and down, like some sort of impatient child, his whole figure fast forward to the older man standing on the porch.
„Relax, son. Can't you enjoy that beautiful, beautiful place we have to ourselves, here? What God attended us to do !“ his arms flew with fluidity to point out the fresh painted block, his whole body following alongside easily.
„Since when do you even believe in this Mr. Creator consumed by some weed type of shit?“ Kane leaned additionally forward.
„Shut boy. No miserable language is permitted, you know the rules, don't you, Kane boy?“
Kane remained silent at tension the Spanish debate had left and just followed once more the older man composed of the seem cells as him.
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/￣￣￣￣￣
Between Madison and Jackson was a chaotic set of tents and garlands ordered and organized for a specific goal : entertainment, oh and money but most of the folks living there didn't make the traffic busier or create any real nostalgia out of what they made. People here were only sick pioneers with poor children to promote better economies throughout their performances.
Pretending on flyers that family and self-love could break any barrier, that with confidence and a good team, like them,. anyone would become the favorite starlet of millions of fans. Fans who'll obviously cling to you to death and make a hell of a lot of money for (+dedicated) you, just by being there, the sole feeling of having a public, positive reviews, shining. Being uniquely wanted, as if it were attended.
That was what the people in there always barged about, the only thing making the curious outsiders believe more than the Crossed guy in an all-white dress? What was his name again.. God ?
Yet the bold reality always catches you at rock bottom. Who has never taken pure bigotry in their face? If rich and powerful people don't even comprehend it,
surely did the kiddos at Haly's !
– Yeah, what a pleasant reality –
✎𓂃
Big theatre building. – Camera advances – And two big, golden, castle doors who happen to open magically by themselves. – adjustment of vision because of the brightness of the ticket entrance – Camera passes – Another, way smaller door, then BOOM- ***** He arrives on stage (In a shadow), the man advancing felinely to the spectators – light adjustment – On his now visible, slim figure with those good-looking and so old-fashioned Klassik. Loose, velvet pants, where higher, sit a 3 piece costume of the same fabric accompanied by its loyal tie. A strand of perfect hair leaking on the pretty face. (Of the gentleman),, oh, he hated that sticky strand.
oh, is that a smile, Mister? Pff- Enough about me, (Ahahah). More about the
public —huh?!
Then the man dances and until his body is escalating into the flow, rhythmic jokes all planned out in front of his mirror, while doing his hair (even if perfect from nature, of course), his mouth springing them out with energy as if the underline meanings deprive of heaviness.. – The camera catching all of his swifts and blasts – and that embrace of the beautiful, beautiful moment ; lights on him. thirsty eyes for entertainment. mind full of bling bling bling bling~
Lips upright. A King at the center of his dynasty. Havin Fun ! ! !
But something was..
wrong
It meant to be..
„Ya always get that horrible horrible itchy feeling of dread that manages to eat You up before Ya even know? Have trouble at night to not only fall asleep, but also those bouncing insides and melts in your brains, mocking or guttural and breathy voices invading thus inviting You to madness... - The solitude itself?! - Or maybe the lack of interest in people gives Ya! The stress of making a glamorous show? The curse of having a family.. abusive whore at the house - burned pancakes soaked in toxic "juices" that she likes more than me - cursed fucking people ALL around YOU and, and - hateful threatening by the privileged-“]
Flowers striking everywhere, every corner of his vision is now - but it didn't mean to be - nothing more than a too-colorful view, a cloud of candy rush, -it didn't have a meaning - splashing - why, what?!-- and - he doesn't have a meaning -
Flowers striking everywhere, every corner of his vision is now - but it didn't mean to be- been — SPLASHI---- nothing more than a too-colorful view, a cloud of candy rush,CANDY DCANDY CANDY -it didn't have a meaning - splashing - why, what?!-- aANDnd - he doesn't have a meaning - overflowing him in that pleasant smell and comfort, so much comf- and oh ! Those laughs, did you - anANUSd YEA- hear them, those appreciative lau-those appreciative lau-
!CUT!????
Welll. . .
Then there was another wrong.
The pale, sleepyhead ginger smacks down the cheap ink pen he'd been holding for 3 hours straight, drawing dark circles below his already tired eyes, pausing and admiring the work of his. It was as engaging as it needed to be, as appealing, yet.. It's been years since he held a personal journal, his ; Jerom3 Diary! Because his mother would never let him be any kind of pussy writer or finish like the intrusive, meticulous and impervisibly, dazzling, "I'll do anything for my head-line" type of journalists Haly's Circus always has to deal with in summer seasons like she said. The worst part somehow is that they're coming for their opponents, ironically.
Incredibly, the pen hadn't worn out after years of brutal use, especially from a circus spaz freak that couldn't read a text with "tenacious" words without stuttering out. If anything, nobody in there would have believed that the young man could even keep anyone if not anything close to him. Even a damn old and too-colorful block of papers filled with ink. ✎𓂃
–
Furthermore..
There was something undeniably WRONG. Again !
Self-criticism or overcriticism itself wasn't something he or people in here held back. His mother was not only praised and known for her seductive, appreciative appearance ; but moreover because of the cruel and punishing behaviors she had on the ones she'd come to control. These were the most disturbing, unnecessary distressing things even the odd circus animal owner (who has a criminal record full of illegal transportation and bad treatment) couldn't proceed to do. For the most part. The.MOST.Part.
To say he was the result of her procreation with a marine.. What in the world kept him there, in the ocean, kept the baby faced ginger from seeing the truth?
That's what he had been asking himself since his early stages, the one night she told him, tried to make him trust her in that sweet maternal tone, in her welcoming embrace, that beautiful — or was it? Perhaps she never talked to him like that, even less if she took the pills in the cupboard of the bathroom. Perhaps it was just what he had made up and told the other folks at the circus the next morning, covered in brushes along with a broken tooth, and face looking into the void. A comfortable one this time.
But it was okay because he knew that when the words would get around, in the aftermath they'd go back to work. And the world would effortlessly keep spinning.
Because after all, wasn't it how sanity worked?
–
A little bit of clarity on the toxic family traits wasn't an option, it wasn't even questioned ; people would never bother to ask anyway, christ, not that it mattered.
And the skinny red-headed boy knew better than asking more of that rare attention, the attempt would be seen as too pitiful anyhow.
The pale figure leans on the notebook again, doodling something to life with expertise. Long swings appeared, followed by short lines with variations of thicknesses. Hatches here and there, the pencil lead creating a quick and sharp canvas. Without looking he opened the old furniture underneath his desk, his fingertips brushing against the wall of splinter, trailing his hand inside until it found the plastic, sparking cylinder he found in a stationery adding a country of glitter and its own weather of chaos upon the scratched piece of paper. All in his own twisted, artistic view of things he could only understand.
\___________
/￣￣￣￣￣
The raven-haired teenager bothered to inspect every inch of his new fleeting room which was indeed his. The pre-chosen bedroom was indeed significantly large, it was just as impossibly huge as an affluent student, all the stuff the bodyguards transported would fit half of it.. But hey, it had a bathroom included next to it !
–
He turned around to the door leading through the bathroom when he heard water dripping, cutting through his ears every second. His eyebrow furrowed, and when he thought his eyes would jump out of their socket, his lungs constricting, his whole body froze slightly at the scene before him.
//Какво, по дяволите?!! [ The fuck?!! ] Was all he managed to croak breathlessly in formal Russian.
There was a fricking, majestic fountain covered by rocks and odorous sets of diverse flowers sitting in the middle of the bathroom comparable to a grand castle in Disney princess movies and shit. Additionally it seemed to be well-taken care of and inviting. The rest of the space was pretty normal and there was nothing particularly eye-catching, accordingly all white and appealing as the rest of the motel.
Only if not the goddamn fountain shattering the view!
Which was kind of absurd since...
–
With a throaty huff and his eyes still out of their holes, the black haired teen slapped himself, keeping track of reality.
Kane ultimately found his feet and didn't hesitate to leave abruptly to get something to eat, moreover changing his mind.
The travel had been quite prolonged, in fact, Kane's stomach was stating him about the lack of food left inside of his growling digestive system. After coming down the long and white stairs, the young man dived into the unsurprisingly luxurious kitchen
Kane Scratched his head while searching for some yogurt and snacks. He snapped the fridge's door open in a firm grip full of force, just to pause right in front of it in boredom. For the past few days he's been eating yogurts, snacks and low quality groceries, the young apprentice was sick of it, and the bad mood he woken up with had cleary determinated his bestial behaviors out of a horror movie, at least that's what the guards said between each others wen he wasn't around.
„Karl ! COME HERE NOW-“ groaned the raven haired teen, Kane was particularly pretty moody those days, throwing passive-aggressive comments and staring dead serious into anyone unlucky enough to look at what he qualified his direction which was completely understandable from an affamed, mini-manager trainee's view, completely fine and acceptable. Especially when you'd lose your job over a poorly managed tantrum. Strangely, the middle-aged black egg, one of the rare former bodyguards, wasn't a fan of the whole thing himself, and he knew damn well that Karl would indeed regret entering the kitchen sooner than ever.
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