[fanfic] Cracks in the Sidewalk, part i
Title: Cracks in the Sidewalk
Pairing: SasuNaru
Genre: AU, Multichap, Angst
Rating: Eventual R or NC-17
Summary: Naruto is a young high school student with a passion for music. From Bob Dylan to Sex Pistols to Elliott Smith, he buries himself deeper and deeper his records with every passing day. Head in the clouds, he dreams of forming a rock band of his own. Enter Sasuke, a rigid transfer student with a knack for composition. Although trained classically, he holds an untold love for rock and roll. While their love for rock n' roll brings them together, will their passions also tear them apart?
Disclaimer: Naruto characters belong to Kishimoto. Lyrics featured, unless otherwise noted, belong to their respectful artists (usually mentioned somewhere in the story).
Comments: A new AU. I've wanted to do something like a band fic for a really long time now, and my newfound love for the oldies like The Beatles and Bob Dylan will hopefully bring an interesting twist to the story (not your typical metal/visual-kei/punk band fic). I think this story really revolves around the music involved, so I hope that a lot of you will go and download some of these songs and listen to them while reading this story. The setting is also in America to remove any confusion. First chapter is slow (as expected) but I hope to hear a lot of critiques from the people here.
Bob Dylan started singing at seven o’clock sharp. His rough voice filled every nook and cranny of the messy little room that was his concert hall. Clothes, mostly brightly-colored and smelling of artificial food flavoring, covered the faded carpet. Ethereal predawn light streamed into the room through the blinds, dancing to “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” A lump on the bed groaned, a clump of blonde hair poking out of the orange sheets.
Johnny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
“Just ten more minutes, Bob,” muttered a drowsy voice, as a hand snaked out from beneath the covers and slammed on the snooze button. The lump settled back into the mattress, snuggling into a fluffy pillow. After a few minutes, the blonde boy kicked back his covers in frustration and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
Naruto hadn’t felt this restless since the time he accidentally popped three adderall capsules in one go. He hadn’t slept much last night except for a few blinks after the first glimmers of sunshine showed. He had just gotten to sleep when Bob Dylan piped in with his sandpaper singing, preaching pretty images of underground LSD factories and gas station vandals. The world spun dramatically as he closed his eyes, pictures of drug dealers in coonskin caps flashed under his eyelids, real enough to touch. Folk music twisted itself around his brain, as the interrupted song continued playing in his head. Naruto groaned again and rubbed his sore eyes. He felt like a speed addict.
Ten minutes passed quickly as he alternated between burning consciousness and Dylan’s idealistic sixties counterculture world. Just as he felt like he was settling back into deep sleep, the radio chimed in agin, this time blaring The Beatles. The upbeat instrumentals brought Naruto nosediving back into the real world. He glared at the clock as presto violin quartets sped through measures of perfectly pronounced alto notes. “Eleanor Rigby” chopped grimly through the air as Naruto rolled out of bed. He grimaced as he opened his raw eyes to search for a shirt. He slipped on a simple orange shirt stuffed between the bed and the desk and slid into a pair of holey thriftshop stonewashed jeans. He pulled on his socks in time to catch the second round of chorus.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
He belted out the angelic harmonies in perfect pitch, his own voice carrying a hint of the boyish perfection of the Beatles. He sang along as he sliced a bagel in half and slathered a towering mound of cream cheese onto both halves. He figured he was making progress as far as health was concerned since he had quit the margarine a few months ago. He quickly swallowed a bite of his breakfast in order to catch the last round of heavenly choral fireworks.
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Although he couldn’t match the nostalgic purity of The Beatles’ vocals, he was still undoubtably a good singer. His voice, strong and powerful and deeply emotional, projected easily into the apartment. It was a nice-sounding voice, though a bit rough around the edges. However, it was unpolished in a charming way, like grain on a hardwood floor--natural, homey. It was like a young Bob Dylan sitting in his armchair, spinning smoke from his cigarette, and singing about rainy day woman number one. Raw and sincere, without any of the fizzles and pops of studio training, but still with the luster of someone completely in love with music.
The Beatles finished up their heart wrenching single just as Naruto finished his cream cheese-soaked bagel. The radio announcer bid him a good morning and ran through the trivial details of the day-weather and traffic mostly. Naruto listened with half an ear as he cleaned up the kitchen, washing the plates and filing the silverware away. Then he went into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.
He examined his large blue eyes, whites covered with a million microscopic reddish veins. He made a face at their bloodshot state and splashed his face with cold water. He ran a hand through the messy blonde mop of his hair, tugging discontentedly at a few locks that stuck out rebelliously. He gave himself a quick once over in the mirror. He was small for his age, a little shorter and thinner than most sixteen-year-old boys. He pinched his own cheek, distorting the shape of his feline face. He had long since hated the sleek, feminine features of his face, on which not a single whisker grew. He would have much preferred a rugged, stubbled look, with a brooding brow and sullen mouth. Instead, he was something of an exotic beauty, smooth tanned skin stretched over high cheekbones, doe-like eyes, and pillowed lips. Androgyny radiated from his slim body and genderless face. He sighed. He had hoped for Brad Pitt, but got a clean-shaven Beck instead-every woman’s man and every man’s woman.
Finishing up, he grabbed his backpack and walkman, and walked out the door, ghosting along to “Between the Bars,” the broken voice of Elliott Smith pulsing into his brain.
Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot
* * * * *
Walking to school was always enjoyable for Naruto. He would leave an hour before classes started, taking his time down the cracked sidewalks and gravel streets. He would kick his converse sneakers against rocks as he whistled along to his songs. Sometimes he would stop midstep and close his eyes, frozen like a statue, savoring a particular line of a song. Sometimes he would walk along with his hands poised as if holding an invisible guitar, fingers moving against silent strings, head bobbing up and down in time to the beat. Sometimes people would stop and stare at him, perplexed by his absorption in the music. Sometimes older men and women would smile as he sang the chorus of a Rolling Stones Song.
Sometimes classmates would glare at him and whisper in hushed voices.
Naruto had long since given up on chasing girls like a normal sixteen-year-old. They all thought he was disgusting. At first he thought it was a physical defect, a deformity, but then he realized that it was something much deeper and darker, something about his core that was utterly repuslive. It had hurt when he was thirteen, standing with a handful of hand-picked wildflowers in his hands in front of a girl he had adored, and being laughed at. It had hurt when he was fourteen, standing three hours outside of a coffee shop in winter, and never getting the date he had been asked on. But now he didn't care.
Sometimes he would see a few girls walking to school together and sing Radiohead's "Creep" in a biting and sarcastic voice to them, making them squeal with disgust.
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special
Sometimes that made him feel better.
* * * * *
“Hey, shrimp,” called someone, rudely interrupting John Lennon’s melancholic singing. Naruto, intending to ignore the disturbance, kept walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He concentrated on the half-muttering, half-singing voice of Lennon instead, and thought about all the people he was born too late to meet.
“I said,” came the impatient voice, “hey shrimp.” Still obsessed with listening to the deceased singer, Naruto didn’t have time to react when a hand pushed him roughly against a row of metal lockers. The clang of flesh against hollow steel boxes resounded through the hallway. The blonde rubbed at the spot where his ribs collided against jagged locks, muttering under his breath. Looking around, he noted that no one else seemed to have witnessed the act. All was normal.
Picking himself up and straightening his belongings, he proceeded toward his first class as usual, now even more intent on the music pumping out of his headphones. Lennon seemed to sympathize with him as he rasped and lulled “Working Class Hero” into Naruto’s ear.
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
“Jeez,” sneered the larger boy, “who listens to walkmans these days anyway?” He grabbed the little black machine from Naruto’s pocket, ripping the headphones off of the blonde’s ears. Naruto reached up to take his prized possession back. The other boy kept it out of his reach easily. “Let’s see what the shrimp keeps listening to, eh?”
“Give that back,” snapped Naruto, reaching again for his walkman.
“Oh, so the shrimp has a temper,” jeered the other boy. “Come on, be charitable, I just want a listen.”
The larger boy placed the headphones to his ears, a look of malicious glee reflecting in his eyes. He grinned devilishly at Naruto, his face cracking into what seemed like two halves. He was a muscular boy with average features and curly brown hair piled messily on the top of his flat head. Tall and well built, he was almost certainly an athlete. With an annoying grin and an irritating manner, he was disliked by most. John Lennon seemed to sense this about him, and kept singing with even more contempt than before.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
“What is this crap?” exclaimed the boy as he guffawed at Lennon’s folk tunes. “Jeez, you’re behind the times, don’t you have any rap or hip hop?”
“It’s John Lennon,” ground out Naruto, fists clenched tightly, ready to punch the boy in front of him.
“Never heard of him,” drawled the boy, his words grating on Naruto’s nerves, “Jesus, this stuff is ancient, no wonder you’re a loser.”
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But still fucking peasants as far as I can see
“John Lennon is classic,” said the blonde slowly, enunciating each syllable carefully so as to not lose his temper and scream it into the halls. He knew from experience the dangers of fighting back. “He defies time and trend. He will always be ‘in.’”
“As if,” chortled the boy. “This stuff is crap, and so’s this walkman. I can’t believe anyone in the twenty-first century still uses a tape deck.” He threw the machine onto the linoleum floor, the black music box landing with a heartbreaking clatter. The tape flew out of the deck and landed a few feet away from the boys. The larger boy laughed. Naruto fumed and turned a startling shade of red from both anger and humiliation.
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
“See you around shrimp,” called the boy from over his shoulder as he retreated down the hall and disappeared around a corner. For a long moment Naruto was motionless. He stared at the half-shined, half-scratched faux marble of the floor and at his abused mix tape, ejected from the walkman from force of impact. A sliver of black tape stuck out of the cassette, streaming behind the body like a comet. Then, with a sigh, Naruto began to gather his things. He picked up his fallen backpack. He retrieved the walkman from the floor, checking to make sure that it still worked. He tinkered with the buttons and batteries, and decided that the music box had survived the fall. Finally, he reached for his cassette, only to find that someone else had already picked it up.
He was a strange-looking boy, though, not in the ugly way. He was simply otherworldly in his beauty-a kind of Martian belligerence running beneath peaceful white skin. Coal eyes peered down at him from a straight nose. Hair, lustrous and raven-black, framed his face, throwing everything into high contrast, from the delicate hollows of his eyes to the dip below his full lower lip. He was tall, though slender, and had an air of false delicacy about him. His gaze could have sliced steel. Naruto shifted uncomfortably in his spot.
“Here,” said the boy, handing the cassette over. Naruto took it and thanked him.
“Forget about what that idiot said,” said the boy. “John Lennon will never go out of style.”
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
* * * * *
“So you like John Lennon?” asked Naruto, taking a big gulp of his milk. The sun filtered through the broad leaves of the maple they sat beneath, tinting the world a lush spring green. The soil was still moist from the showers the night before. Naruto liked thinking of nights when it was just him, a Cat Power disc, and the soft rain that falls outside of his window, sounding like natural static on the shingles of his roof. He smiled as he thought of those quiet nights of singing along to “Werewolf,” the rough southern voice of Chan Marshall ringing like a mellow piano in the night.
“Yeah, I guess,” replied the boy whose name was Sasuke. He was a new student, having just arrived a week ago. He was alone, having left his family behind. He had been from Seattle, the perpetually weeping city wrapped in rain clouds and mist. Now he was in Virginia, all mountains and hills, grey Appalachian hovering over the shoulders of its residents who were doped up with peace. “I always liked Paul McCartney better, though.”
“Yeah, he’s okay,” agreed Naruto as he picked away at his sandwich, “But The Beatles were more kick ass than both of them combined. It’s too bad they had to split though. Don’t see why they couldn’t all just get along.”
He paused to take another swig of chocolate milk, and savored the feeling of the cool liquid sliding down his throat. “If I had a band, I’d do it right the first time. I’d get a bunch of buddies whom I could count on forever. It’d be great; sticking together, writing songs, performing. My band would take over the world!”
Sasuke concealed a snort as he sipped from his water bottle. His movements had a certain elegance to them. Simple and concise, never a single muscle out of place, like machinery only with beautiful marble skin overtop the wires of his limbs. He too held a certain femininity about him, but it only reached as far as his slender figure and fair skin. There was a certain coldness and pessimism in him that made him unapproachable and painfully solitary; a fierceness around him that made him almost frightening. He was dominating-fond of submission in others, fond of being correct, fond of having his own way. It was the difference between his androgyny and Naruto’s-a simple matter of mentality, a subtle difference in atmosphere.
“Do you even play any instruments?” asked Sasuke.
“No,” answered Naruto, turning a little red, “But that’s the point of a band, right? You don’t have to be able to do everything. You have to trust in your band mates to take care of the things that you can’t do.”
“But what can you do?” spat Sasuke. He regarded Naruto with a judging look, eyes cold and calculating. The blonde shivered under his scrutiny.
“I can sing,” said Naruto defensively.
“I don’t think you’re vocalist material,” countered Sasuke smugly, something cold emerging within him. Naruto gave the boy a look, wondering about his change in personality. It was chilling, as if something lived beneath his porcelain skin, spiny and crawling along the tendons of his body. Something on the cool outside had been scratched away to reveal a freezing under layer.
"Hey! What do you mean?" demanded Naruto, angrily slamming his milk carton down onto the wooden picnic table.
"You don't have any charisma," replied Sasuke cooly. "And you're short."
"Like hell I don't have any charisma!" snapped Naruto, pouting, "And how would you know? You've only been here for a day."
Sasuke shrugged, "How come that guy was pushing you around?"
The blonde turned strawberry and looked away, "None of your business."
There was a silence between the two.
"And I'm not short," added Naruto with an indignant nod of his blonde head. A damp wind swept through the abandoned area, rustling the freshly-sprouted leaves. The woods of Virginia squeezed around the rear of the school, providing a convenient escape for bored students-a slight shortcoming in design. The trees hovered tall and majestic above the two as the birds chirped away, devouring their worms and collecting their twigs. Naruto had grabbed Sasuke at the beginning of the lunch period and snuck out of the building, slipping quietly into the miniature forest. They had walked blindly, independent of any trail or path, until they came upon a solitary picnic table.
"Why did you bring me here?" asked Sasuke, packing away his empty water bottle. He had allowed himself to be half-dragged into the forest without protest, preferring to be in the quiet encolsure of the wilderness instead of the bustle of materialistic people. He hadn't found any of the students interesting, simply a bunch of self-assured and cocky country girls and boys tied up in last season's clothes. Somewhat dumb and radio-dependent, their squeals and blabbering gave him headaches. He looked over at Naruto who didn't appear to be much different than the rest--clear-eyed and detached from the rest of the world wearing clothes from the sales racks. Simple-minded, he supposed he could also say, but something about him radiated something more. Sasuke decided it must have been the music; music, the great civilizer; he gave a smirk.
Naruto shrugged and ignored the question, pulling out his walkman from his backpack. “Do you listen to Elliott Smith?” he asked, plugging in the headphones into the machine. Sasuke grunted, unhappy to be ignored. “I really like his stuff. Really mellow and soft and poetic. I’d give anything to write songs like his.” He sifted through the front pocket of his back, shuffling a dozen cassette tapes, checking their tiny labels for the right tape.
“Do you write songs?” asked Sasuke. He looked straight at Naruto, obsidian eyes boring into Naruto's flesh. Sasuke did not socialize often, and he found being vocal odd. He looked turned his gaze to the trees and blamed his talkativeness on the fresh air and lack of suicide in the newspapers.* He scowled as he remembered the city. The city and his family.
“Well, sort of,” said Naruto as he found the mix tape he had been looking for, “I can write poetry, I guess, but I can’t write music at all. Well, nothing original anyway. So basically I’ve just got a bunch of lyrics lying around with no music for them.” He popped the tape in and closed the deck with a click. The walkman was old but reliable, the black paint having been chipped away at corners. Scratches littered the front of the box and dark spots appeared where he had held the machine for hours on end. “Do you write songs, Sasuke?”
The dark-haired boy shrugged, “Never gave it much thought.”
Naruto cracked a grin, "Aw that’s too bad, we could have made a cool band together!"
"I thought you only wanted buddies you could count on in your band," said Sasuke, a dash of bitterness in his voice. His voice was deep, but not robust, yet his commanding tone made him seem much older than what he really was.
"I like you," replied Naruto simply. "I don't know why, though. Maybe it's because you're the only one who ever listens to good music here. Maybe because your hairstyle is sort of cool. Though, your personality could use some work." He stuck his tongue out for effect, and put an earbud in. "Hey, you want to give him a listen?"
Sasuke shrugged and took the offered earbud and placed it in his right ear. Naruto pressed play and a stream of music flooded through the tiny headphones. Elliott Smith’s smooth, almost womanly, voice brought soft watercolor images to mind as he sang his tragic lyrics. Closing his eyes, Sasuke could see himself waiting under the splotched patterns of a stained glass window, colors running into each other like blotches of paint until they formed a continuum of black. Wispy lyrics painted vague and surreal scenes in the air.
He's pleased to meet you underneath the horse
In the cathedral with the glass stained black
Singing sweet high notes that echo back
To destroy their master
Sasuke looked over at Naruto, but found him already lost in the illusion of the music, drifting lightly over an ocean of immeasurable depth.
* Seattle has the highest suicide rate in the nation. It's also where Kurt Cobain of Nirvana killed himself (or was killed *insert conspiracy theory here*)
Pairing: SasuNaru
Genre: AU, Multichap, Angst
Rating: Eventual R or NC-17
Summary: Naruto is a young high school student with a passion for music. From Bob Dylan to Sex Pistols to Elliott Smith, he buries himself deeper and deeper his records with every passing day. Head in the clouds, he dreams of forming a rock band of his own. Enter Sasuke, a rigid transfer student with a knack for composition. Although trained classically, he holds an untold love for rock and roll. While their love for rock n' roll brings them together, will their passions also tear them apart?
Disclaimer: Naruto characters belong to Kishimoto. Lyrics featured, unless otherwise noted, belong to their respectful artists (usually mentioned somewhere in the story).
Comments: A new AU. I've wanted to do something like a band fic for a really long time now, and my newfound love for the oldies like The Beatles and Bob Dylan will hopefully bring an interesting twist to the story (not your typical metal/visual-kei/punk band fic). I think this story really revolves around the music involved, so I hope that a lot of you will go and download some of these songs and listen to them while reading this story. The setting is also in America to remove any confusion. First chapter is slow (as expected) but I hope to hear a lot of critiques from the people here.
Bob Dylan started singing at seven o’clock sharp. His rough voice filled every nook and cranny of the messy little room that was his concert hall. Clothes, mostly brightly-colored and smelling of artificial food flavoring, covered the faded carpet. Ethereal predawn light streamed into the room through the blinds, dancing to “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” A lump on the bed groaned, a clump of blonde hair poking out of the orange sheets.
Johnny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
“Just ten more minutes, Bob,” muttered a drowsy voice, as a hand snaked out from beneath the covers and slammed on the snooze button. The lump settled back into the mattress, snuggling into a fluffy pillow. After a few minutes, the blonde boy kicked back his covers in frustration and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
Naruto hadn’t felt this restless since the time he accidentally popped three adderall capsules in one go. He hadn’t slept much last night except for a few blinks after the first glimmers of sunshine showed. He had just gotten to sleep when Bob Dylan piped in with his sandpaper singing, preaching pretty images of underground LSD factories and gas station vandals. The world spun dramatically as he closed his eyes, pictures of drug dealers in coonskin caps flashed under his eyelids, real enough to touch. Folk music twisted itself around his brain, as the interrupted song continued playing in his head. Naruto groaned again and rubbed his sore eyes. He felt like a speed addict.
Ten minutes passed quickly as he alternated between burning consciousness and Dylan’s idealistic sixties counterculture world. Just as he felt like he was settling back into deep sleep, the radio chimed in agin, this time blaring The Beatles. The upbeat instrumentals brought Naruto nosediving back into the real world. He glared at the clock as presto violin quartets sped through measures of perfectly pronounced alto notes. “Eleanor Rigby” chopped grimly through the air as Naruto rolled out of bed. He grimaced as he opened his raw eyes to search for a shirt. He slipped on a simple orange shirt stuffed between the bed and the desk and slid into a pair of holey thriftshop stonewashed jeans. He pulled on his socks in time to catch the second round of chorus.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
He belted out the angelic harmonies in perfect pitch, his own voice carrying a hint of the boyish perfection of the Beatles. He sang along as he sliced a bagel in half and slathered a towering mound of cream cheese onto both halves. He figured he was making progress as far as health was concerned since he had quit the margarine a few months ago. He quickly swallowed a bite of his breakfast in order to catch the last round of heavenly choral fireworks.
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Although he couldn’t match the nostalgic purity of The Beatles’ vocals, he was still undoubtably a good singer. His voice, strong and powerful and deeply emotional, projected easily into the apartment. It was a nice-sounding voice, though a bit rough around the edges. However, it was unpolished in a charming way, like grain on a hardwood floor--natural, homey. It was like a young Bob Dylan sitting in his armchair, spinning smoke from his cigarette, and singing about rainy day woman number one. Raw and sincere, without any of the fizzles and pops of studio training, but still with the luster of someone completely in love with music.
The Beatles finished up their heart wrenching single just as Naruto finished his cream cheese-soaked bagel. The radio announcer bid him a good morning and ran through the trivial details of the day-weather and traffic mostly. Naruto listened with half an ear as he cleaned up the kitchen, washing the plates and filing the silverware away. Then he went into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.
He examined his large blue eyes, whites covered with a million microscopic reddish veins. He made a face at their bloodshot state and splashed his face with cold water. He ran a hand through the messy blonde mop of his hair, tugging discontentedly at a few locks that stuck out rebelliously. He gave himself a quick once over in the mirror. He was small for his age, a little shorter and thinner than most sixteen-year-old boys. He pinched his own cheek, distorting the shape of his feline face. He had long since hated the sleek, feminine features of his face, on which not a single whisker grew. He would have much preferred a rugged, stubbled look, with a brooding brow and sullen mouth. Instead, he was something of an exotic beauty, smooth tanned skin stretched over high cheekbones, doe-like eyes, and pillowed lips. Androgyny radiated from his slim body and genderless face. He sighed. He had hoped for Brad Pitt, but got a clean-shaven Beck instead-every woman’s man and every man’s woman.
Finishing up, he grabbed his backpack and walkman, and walked out the door, ghosting along to “Between the Bars,” the broken voice of Elliott Smith pulsing into his brain.
Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot
* * * * *
Walking to school was always enjoyable for Naruto. He would leave an hour before classes started, taking his time down the cracked sidewalks and gravel streets. He would kick his converse sneakers against rocks as he whistled along to his songs. Sometimes he would stop midstep and close his eyes, frozen like a statue, savoring a particular line of a song. Sometimes he would walk along with his hands poised as if holding an invisible guitar, fingers moving against silent strings, head bobbing up and down in time to the beat. Sometimes people would stop and stare at him, perplexed by his absorption in the music. Sometimes older men and women would smile as he sang the chorus of a Rolling Stones Song.
Sometimes classmates would glare at him and whisper in hushed voices.
Naruto had long since given up on chasing girls like a normal sixteen-year-old. They all thought he was disgusting. At first he thought it was a physical defect, a deformity, but then he realized that it was something much deeper and darker, something about his core that was utterly repuslive. It had hurt when he was thirteen, standing with a handful of hand-picked wildflowers in his hands in front of a girl he had adored, and being laughed at. It had hurt when he was fourteen, standing three hours outside of a coffee shop in winter, and never getting the date he had been asked on. But now he didn't care.
Sometimes he would see a few girls walking to school together and sing Radiohead's "Creep" in a biting and sarcastic voice to them, making them squeal with disgust.
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special
Sometimes that made him feel better.
* * * * *
“Hey, shrimp,” called someone, rudely interrupting John Lennon’s melancholic singing. Naruto, intending to ignore the disturbance, kept walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He concentrated on the half-muttering, half-singing voice of Lennon instead, and thought about all the people he was born too late to meet.
“I said,” came the impatient voice, “hey shrimp.” Still obsessed with listening to the deceased singer, Naruto didn’t have time to react when a hand pushed him roughly against a row of metal lockers. The clang of flesh against hollow steel boxes resounded through the hallway. The blonde rubbed at the spot where his ribs collided against jagged locks, muttering under his breath. Looking around, he noted that no one else seemed to have witnessed the act. All was normal.
Picking himself up and straightening his belongings, he proceeded toward his first class as usual, now even more intent on the music pumping out of his headphones. Lennon seemed to sympathize with him as he rasped and lulled “Working Class Hero” into Naruto’s ear.
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
“Jeez,” sneered the larger boy, “who listens to walkmans these days anyway?” He grabbed the little black machine from Naruto’s pocket, ripping the headphones off of the blonde’s ears. Naruto reached up to take his prized possession back. The other boy kept it out of his reach easily. “Let’s see what the shrimp keeps listening to, eh?”
“Give that back,” snapped Naruto, reaching again for his walkman.
“Oh, so the shrimp has a temper,” jeered the other boy. “Come on, be charitable, I just want a listen.”
The larger boy placed the headphones to his ears, a look of malicious glee reflecting in his eyes. He grinned devilishly at Naruto, his face cracking into what seemed like two halves. He was a muscular boy with average features and curly brown hair piled messily on the top of his flat head. Tall and well built, he was almost certainly an athlete. With an annoying grin and an irritating manner, he was disliked by most. John Lennon seemed to sense this about him, and kept singing with even more contempt than before.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
“What is this crap?” exclaimed the boy as he guffawed at Lennon’s folk tunes. “Jeez, you’re behind the times, don’t you have any rap or hip hop?”
“It’s John Lennon,” ground out Naruto, fists clenched tightly, ready to punch the boy in front of him.
“Never heard of him,” drawled the boy, his words grating on Naruto’s nerves, “Jesus, this stuff is ancient, no wonder you’re a loser.”
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But still fucking peasants as far as I can see
“John Lennon is classic,” said the blonde slowly, enunciating each syllable carefully so as to not lose his temper and scream it into the halls. He knew from experience the dangers of fighting back. “He defies time and trend. He will always be ‘in.’”
“As if,” chortled the boy. “This stuff is crap, and so’s this walkman. I can’t believe anyone in the twenty-first century still uses a tape deck.” He threw the machine onto the linoleum floor, the black music box landing with a heartbreaking clatter. The tape flew out of the deck and landed a few feet away from the boys. The larger boy laughed. Naruto fumed and turned a startling shade of red from both anger and humiliation.
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
“See you around shrimp,” called the boy from over his shoulder as he retreated down the hall and disappeared around a corner. For a long moment Naruto was motionless. He stared at the half-shined, half-scratched faux marble of the floor and at his abused mix tape, ejected from the walkman from force of impact. A sliver of black tape stuck out of the cassette, streaming behind the body like a comet. Then, with a sigh, Naruto began to gather his things. He picked up his fallen backpack. He retrieved the walkman from the floor, checking to make sure that it still worked. He tinkered with the buttons and batteries, and decided that the music box had survived the fall. Finally, he reached for his cassette, only to find that someone else had already picked it up.
He was a strange-looking boy, though, not in the ugly way. He was simply otherworldly in his beauty-a kind of Martian belligerence running beneath peaceful white skin. Coal eyes peered down at him from a straight nose. Hair, lustrous and raven-black, framed his face, throwing everything into high contrast, from the delicate hollows of his eyes to the dip below his full lower lip. He was tall, though slender, and had an air of false delicacy about him. His gaze could have sliced steel. Naruto shifted uncomfortably in his spot.
“Here,” said the boy, handing the cassette over. Naruto took it and thanked him.
“Forget about what that idiot said,” said the boy. “John Lennon will never go out of style.”
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
* * * * *
“So you like John Lennon?” asked Naruto, taking a big gulp of his milk. The sun filtered through the broad leaves of the maple they sat beneath, tinting the world a lush spring green. The soil was still moist from the showers the night before. Naruto liked thinking of nights when it was just him, a Cat Power disc, and the soft rain that falls outside of his window, sounding like natural static on the shingles of his roof. He smiled as he thought of those quiet nights of singing along to “Werewolf,” the rough southern voice of Chan Marshall ringing like a mellow piano in the night.
“Yeah, I guess,” replied the boy whose name was Sasuke. He was a new student, having just arrived a week ago. He was alone, having left his family behind. He had been from Seattle, the perpetually weeping city wrapped in rain clouds and mist. Now he was in Virginia, all mountains and hills, grey Appalachian hovering over the shoulders of its residents who were doped up with peace. “I always liked Paul McCartney better, though.”
“Yeah, he’s okay,” agreed Naruto as he picked away at his sandwich, “But The Beatles were more kick ass than both of them combined. It’s too bad they had to split though. Don’t see why they couldn’t all just get along.”
He paused to take another swig of chocolate milk, and savored the feeling of the cool liquid sliding down his throat. “If I had a band, I’d do it right the first time. I’d get a bunch of buddies whom I could count on forever. It’d be great; sticking together, writing songs, performing. My band would take over the world!”
Sasuke concealed a snort as he sipped from his water bottle. His movements had a certain elegance to them. Simple and concise, never a single muscle out of place, like machinery only with beautiful marble skin overtop the wires of his limbs. He too held a certain femininity about him, but it only reached as far as his slender figure and fair skin. There was a certain coldness and pessimism in him that made him unapproachable and painfully solitary; a fierceness around him that made him almost frightening. He was dominating-fond of submission in others, fond of being correct, fond of having his own way. It was the difference between his androgyny and Naruto’s-a simple matter of mentality, a subtle difference in atmosphere.
“Do you even play any instruments?” asked Sasuke.
“No,” answered Naruto, turning a little red, “But that’s the point of a band, right? You don’t have to be able to do everything. You have to trust in your band mates to take care of the things that you can’t do.”
“But what can you do?” spat Sasuke. He regarded Naruto with a judging look, eyes cold and calculating. The blonde shivered under his scrutiny.
“I can sing,” said Naruto defensively.
“I don’t think you’re vocalist material,” countered Sasuke smugly, something cold emerging within him. Naruto gave the boy a look, wondering about his change in personality. It was chilling, as if something lived beneath his porcelain skin, spiny and crawling along the tendons of his body. Something on the cool outside had been scratched away to reveal a freezing under layer.
"Hey! What do you mean?" demanded Naruto, angrily slamming his milk carton down onto the wooden picnic table.
"You don't have any charisma," replied Sasuke cooly. "And you're short."
"Like hell I don't have any charisma!" snapped Naruto, pouting, "And how would you know? You've only been here for a day."
Sasuke shrugged, "How come that guy was pushing you around?"
The blonde turned strawberry and looked away, "None of your business."
There was a silence between the two.
"And I'm not short," added Naruto with an indignant nod of his blonde head. A damp wind swept through the abandoned area, rustling the freshly-sprouted leaves. The woods of Virginia squeezed around the rear of the school, providing a convenient escape for bored students-a slight shortcoming in design. The trees hovered tall and majestic above the two as the birds chirped away, devouring their worms and collecting their twigs. Naruto had grabbed Sasuke at the beginning of the lunch period and snuck out of the building, slipping quietly into the miniature forest. They had walked blindly, independent of any trail or path, until they came upon a solitary picnic table.
"Why did you bring me here?" asked Sasuke, packing away his empty water bottle. He had allowed himself to be half-dragged into the forest without protest, preferring to be in the quiet encolsure of the wilderness instead of the bustle of materialistic people. He hadn't found any of the students interesting, simply a bunch of self-assured and cocky country girls and boys tied up in last season's clothes. Somewhat dumb and radio-dependent, their squeals and blabbering gave him headaches. He looked over at Naruto who didn't appear to be much different than the rest--clear-eyed and detached from the rest of the world wearing clothes from the sales racks. Simple-minded, he supposed he could also say, but something about him radiated something more. Sasuke decided it must have been the music; music, the great civilizer; he gave a smirk.
Naruto shrugged and ignored the question, pulling out his walkman from his backpack. “Do you listen to Elliott Smith?” he asked, plugging in the headphones into the machine. Sasuke grunted, unhappy to be ignored. “I really like his stuff. Really mellow and soft and poetic. I’d give anything to write songs like his.” He sifted through the front pocket of his back, shuffling a dozen cassette tapes, checking their tiny labels for the right tape.
“Do you write songs?” asked Sasuke. He looked straight at Naruto, obsidian eyes boring into Naruto's flesh. Sasuke did not socialize often, and he found being vocal odd. He looked turned his gaze to the trees and blamed his talkativeness on the fresh air and lack of suicide in the newspapers.* He scowled as he remembered the city. The city and his family.
“Well, sort of,” said Naruto as he found the mix tape he had been looking for, “I can write poetry, I guess, but I can’t write music at all. Well, nothing original anyway. So basically I’ve just got a bunch of lyrics lying around with no music for them.” He popped the tape in and closed the deck with a click. The walkman was old but reliable, the black paint having been chipped away at corners. Scratches littered the front of the box and dark spots appeared where he had held the machine for hours on end. “Do you write songs, Sasuke?”
The dark-haired boy shrugged, “Never gave it much thought.”
Naruto cracked a grin, "Aw that’s too bad, we could have made a cool band together!"
"I thought you only wanted buddies you could count on in your band," said Sasuke, a dash of bitterness in his voice. His voice was deep, but not robust, yet his commanding tone made him seem much older than what he really was.
"I like you," replied Naruto simply. "I don't know why, though. Maybe it's because you're the only one who ever listens to good music here. Maybe because your hairstyle is sort of cool. Though, your personality could use some work." He stuck his tongue out for effect, and put an earbud in. "Hey, you want to give him a listen?"
Sasuke shrugged and took the offered earbud and placed it in his right ear. Naruto pressed play and a stream of music flooded through the tiny headphones. Elliott Smith’s smooth, almost womanly, voice brought soft watercolor images to mind as he sang his tragic lyrics. Closing his eyes, Sasuke could see himself waiting under the splotched patterns of a stained glass window, colors running into each other like blotches of paint until they formed a continuum of black. Wispy lyrics painted vague and surreal scenes in the air.
He's pleased to meet you underneath the horse
In the cathedral with the glass stained black
Singing sweet high notes that echo back
To destroy their master
Sasuke looked over at Naruto, but found him already lost in the illusion of the music, drifting lightly over an ocean of immeasurable depth.
* Seattle has the highest suicide rate in the nation. It's also where Kurt Cobain of Nirvana killed himself (or was killed *insert conspiracy theory here*)