Thursday, July 14, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter III)
[To put your minds at ease, in last day's chapter I forced cameos from Aurus, Mimmi, Duo, Rusty (more or less), Beyblader, Evil, Shadowlight, and Sahkiryce. Erm . . . more or less.]


Cream walked through the hallway to his apartment slowly. He had a slight bounce in his step from the drinks which had all but worn off. Still, the bounce was offset by the weight he felt in his chest - Knight was not an especially kind man to those whom he considered offensive. And there was no doubt about it, Cream did feel pretty bad about ditching his friends to hang out with the others on campus. As he turned the key in his door, he exhaled slowly and pushed the door in.

The moment he stepped into the entrance, his first breath was offset by a quick yet instantly recognisable cough. Immediately all feelings of regret and contrition faded and turned to great annoyance as the pungent air swirled towards the open doorway. Quickly closing the door back up, Cream kicked off his shoes and paced directly into the living room and into the source of the smoke.

"Dude! What the piss are you doing?!" Cream shouted as he made his way towards Knight, who was lying across the large couch. Splayed across the coffee tables were a metal pipe and ashtray; the contents of the plastic bag next to those items completed the portrait of the young student's fury.
"Oh," Knight responded back quietly as he rose to a sitting position, "hello to you too, ass."
"Cut the crap, man!" Cream growled back. "You know I hate having to smell this friggin' stuff in the house. What the hell?!"

"Yeah, well," Knight answered, the sarcasm rolling off every word, "I remember how we all - old friends since god knows how long - once had a deal that we were gonna do something tonight . . ." Cream could only stand completely dumbstruck with the situation. ". . . but then when one of us decided this sort of thing wasn't important to him, everyone else said 'screw it, I'm just gonna stay home tonight' and we did jack all. But thanks for trying, Fil', you know that's why we all love you . . . even if you do slap us all in the faces like this now and then . . ."

"Now and then, huh?" Cream said as he made his way over to the chair to the side of the couch and plopped himself down quickly. Immediately he almost had to gag again as the smoke cut its way through his system. "Don't tell me you've never missed a planned thing with us before, man. You've friggin' sold us out more than enough times for your own fair share, so don't go telling me off like you're on some sort of moral high ground." Knight closed his eyes and nodded his head back and forth.
"Uh huh, uh huh . . . so you're saying that turnabout is fair play, then?"
"Hey, I'm sorry, okay?!"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure you are . . ."

Cream dragged his hands along the sides of his head, forcing himself to keep his composure. Knight lowered his brow a little as he looked his old friend over.
"So, this school-related thing of yours," he started, "was it mostly the drinking, or was that more of anther thing on the side of the main thing?" Cream jerked straight up in the chair.
"What?"
"Come on man, you know your eyes totally give you away no matter how long it's been." As Knight finished his sentence, Cream closed his eyes and sighed - it didn't matter how much he argued back now. He was beaten.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said after taking a few more deep breaths despite the smoke, "I can't make any good excuse, but it happened and . . . and for piss' sakes, don't act like I friggin' drove a knife into your back or something!" Knight laughed a little as he listened. Of course, Cream knew the laugh was for anything but honest amusement.
"That's rich . . ." he muttered as he leaned forward to his pipe and picked it up.
"Oh, don't you dare . . ."
"What?" Knight asked with a cruel smile, "don't I dare what, ruin your night?"

The moment the end of the pipe touched Knight's lips, Cream stood straight up.
"Alright," he stated, "y'know what? Screw you. Smoke your crap and stink the hell out of the house, do whatever the piss you like . . ." Knight smiled and laughed softly as Cream walked back towards the door.
"Heeey, you just got home, Fil'. What gives?"
"Fresh air," Cream replied quickly as he stepped back into his shoes.
"What, this air's not good enough for ya? You're better than the rest of us somehow?"
"No, you dick!" Cream shouted, turning back towards his old friend, "Of course I'm not better than any of you guys!" Back in the living room, Cream could hear Knight laughing quietly again. Swearing to himself, the young man opened the door and stepped out.

"Running away again, ah?" Knight got in quickly before the door closed completely. Cream balled his fist and face tight and lashed out at the wall next to him, nearly skinning his knuckle against the wallpaper in the process.
"Yeah," he said quietly to himself. "I am running again . . . and like always, I'll come back and we'll act like nothing happened in the morning . . ."


Cream, angry and dejected, made his way down to the basement of the building where all the storage areas were. Coming to the closet assigned to him, he swore again when he remembered that he never grabbed the key to the padlock that hung in the kitchen. Breathing in the dusty air, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keychain - on it were the old bits of wire he had long since kept at hand should their need ever be required.

Deftly as always, the young man picked the lock and opened the closet. A thick layer of dust had since collected on everything from the bike in the back to the boxes in the front. Cream fought back the coughs and opened the large cardboard box in front of him. He was glad to see that his memory had not escaped him, and with a brief grin he pulled out the wooden box of mementos from his grandfather. For the past few years of his life long before he moved out of his parents' home, sentimentality was never high on the young man's priorities. And yet, for some reason that night he felt a strange urge to just look at the contents of the small box.

Inside was a small collection of insignia that his grandfather had collected as a military police officer in his youth. He remembered that he always enjoyed his grandfather's stories because oftentimes they involved beating up drunken soldiers who simply did not know better than to resist the man. Going through the decorations and citations, Cream could only feel worse considering how little he had actually done with his life. He knew he was still young, but he also knew that his grandfather was already overseas at his age.

Cream's mouth was quickly becoming dry, reminding him again of what sorts of things he considered to be important in life. Drinking, fighting, and petty thieving - none of it was anything in which he could truly take pride. As the thoughts ran through his head, he looked back down at the illustrious career he held in his hands. With a snarl, he threw the box back into the closet and slammed the door closed. As he clicked the padlock back into place, Cream looked down the wall of storage closets. As if by reflex, he looked across the line of padlocks and immediately took out his wire bits. One by one, he picked and unlocked each closet and moved on, leaving the open padlocks dangling in their rings. After almost five minutes, by the time he reached the end, he looked back down at his handiwork and found an understanding. Finally having found a way to release his frustrations, Cream took a cleansing breath and opened his eyes back to the many doors he had just unlocked . . . . . and of those doors, he knew there was nothing in his future behind any of them.

The young man quickly went back along the storage closets, latching all the padlocks he had picked open. Once the final closet was locked and secure once again, he stepped back out of the storage room and into the basement hallway.


[Now . . . I wrote at this for a long time. I wonder how long it actually is . . . . .]
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