Overture; Twice But One
The year?
2042.
The year the world came to an end.
The month?
August.
The month the stars race through the sky.
The day?
The eleventh.
The day I met the world.
“And oil was already scarce then. Combined with rising tensions in the Middle East…”
Ki!
“…finally falling under extremist rule, which led to…”
Oi, Ki!
“…and so the First War on Terror broke out…”
I started as a sudden jolt of pain in my side caused me to rapidly turn, immediately regretting it with a wince as my neck audibly snapped.
“The hell?”
“You’re not paying attention are you?”
“I’ll just cram it all later, it wouldn’t be the first time…”
Letting my head drop to the table once again, I groaned and muffled the incensed rebuke with my arms, on replay for the umpteenth time that day, grabbing at my hair in frustration.
“Really, you could just study and do a whole lot better.”
“Right, or I could, you know, not.”
Proceeding to make my way out of the classroom, I was obstructed by a figure I had grown used to seeing for the past six years.
“Today, you study, whether you like it or not. Exams are in a month.”
Exasperatedly, I replied, “And that is why I will study. In a month.”
Pushing her hand out of the way, I began to walk briskly down the corridor, anxious to leave the imposing jurisdiction of the school.
Cordelia, or Lia as I called her.
Chocolate hued hair that fell elegantly to her waist, and eyes to match (I cursed myself for having skipped breakfast), Lia could definitely be considered attractive. Brilliant in academics and the arts, Lia easily fit into the description of the girl next door of every pubescent boy’s dream. I briefly wondered why someone who fell into that exact category was the one calmly analysing her popularity with the opposite sex.
Six years ago, I had been left homeless. In merely 37 days, the world had changed on a far greater scale than ever recorded in human history.
Nations fell, and not just politically, but in a very tangible sense too.
Orphaned by what would go on to be called the Third World War, Lia and her family had taken me in and given me a home, though I would never outright tell Lia how grateful I was. However, I did make known my appreciation to my foster parents on a regular basis. I always felt a profound sense of shame on these occasions, and would often suggest at various points of my life that I was old enough to look after myself, and that I could no longer impose upon them.
They always sweetly replied that their conscience would never allow that. Living with the Cerians made me feel weak and dependent. Maybe that was what family was about though – a group of people whom you could trust with your most vulnerable side.
Over dependence on Lia?
I grinned to myself.
Never letting her know that.
“Ki! Be serious about this!”
A brisk walk?
I broke into a run.
My room was not very spectacular.
Living in debt of another taught one prudence, so this meant a bed and little else.
Not that I ever wanted much else. Life for all it was hyped to be requires little more than breathable air, water, food and shelter. Our bodies are after all little more than an animated chunk of carbon. Dust.
And it is with equal ease that to dust we return.
I learnt it the hard way though, through war.
“Ki! Dinner!”
No sooner had I gotten up than the door flew open, narrowly missing my face.
“Dinner,” Lia said matter-of-factly.
“I heard you the first time,” I muttered resentfully, morbid images of a broken head that vaguely resembled mine flashed through my mind’s eye, though with far more blood on it than was usual for my face.
“Maybe you shouldn’t stand in front of the door next time,” suggested Lia, cocking her head to one side.
I sighed, refusing to grace her statement with a reply, and made my way to the dinner table, thoroughly ignoring her as I walked.
It was hard to stay peeved for long though.
The task of cooking usually fell to Lia, since her parents were usually out working, and in the kitchen, Lia was no slouch. Even on the rare occasion that the adults were in, she would be coerced into doing it most of the time, with good reason. To have ever had the good fortune of tasting her cooking meant a lasting addiction to which there was no cure.
“Seconds,” I said ungraciously.
“Get it yourself!”
Whining a little was all it took however, and I had gotten my way before Lia resumed busying herself with various household chores.
Six years after the war, society had somewhat stabilized, however, most of the refugees, which included us, had fled from our irradiated and sunken homelands to Pacifia.
Pacifia had formed due to violent crustal movements caused by the same nuclear bombardments that sank a large portion of Asia. Priority to relocate to Pacifia was thus given to us, having nowhere else to go. Settling in Pacifia for an adult meant dedication of their time and effort into the foundation of society. For us, returning to normal life was not an accurate way to describe the process. “Creating a new life”, would I believe be more apt.
Either way, while their task was to be out the whole day recreating the infrastructure, to prepare for the future, the responsibility fell to our generation to be the future. No small task for us, to take a land that had literally risen out of the ocean slightly more than half a decade ago, and restore it to society before the war.
All the more you should care, Lia would tell me, and while there was truth in that, I couldn’t bring myself to. Apathy was self-sustaining. Once it had taken root, it was hard to summon up the motivation to uproot it.
Maybe I had simply lost faith in humanity.
Sighing, I resumed my note taking, convinced that he was as good as gone for the rest of the lesson.
Kiyoshi.
Everyone just called him Ki though, and he seemed to prefer it that way. Often he would launch into passionate rhetoric about how his father, obsessed with Japanese culture, had decided on such a name, and how even worse, his mother had obliged with a laugh.
Deep down though, I think he treasured his name far more than he would admit. The only gift from his deceased parents that still remained. For him, “Kiyoshi” was a soft whisper from the dead, calling him to live on.
Responsibility for him then passed on to my family and I.
Dull grey hair that bordered on black, unkempt due to sloth rather than style, eyes a deep blue that sang melancholy, packaged with a good mind and physique, perhaps he would have been more popular in school had he bothered. However, his indifference and occasionally cold and antagonistic attitude earned him no favours, and for anything he was good at, he was sure to under perform.
As the lesson drew to a close, I looked at my notes with satisfaction.
Even he can’t mess up with notes this good!
As I looked to my right though, Ki had already hurriedly gotten up and left his seat.
“Really, you could just study and do a whole lot better.”
Finishing his dinner portion with relish, he held out his plate.
“Seconds!”
“Get it yourself,” I said with as much annoyance as I could muster.
I relented soon enough though. Ever since Ki had moved in, our relationship had become an incredibly close one. Family? Perhaps.
For me, to fulfill his every whim and fancy was no chore. My reward was nothing less than his satisfaction. Setting his plate in front of him, I was momentarily stunned. That sounded every bit like…
Do I… like…?
I shook it off. After all, he was the guest, and it was every bit my responsibility to make him feel at home. That was it.
Almost nauseous at these bizarre thoughts, I doggedly sorted the laundry.
*
Author’s Note: I decided to add an author’s note in this one. Firstly, ugh, you have no idea how much of a pain it was doing this. The general idea involves my computer’s strange habit of deleting my documents for no reason at all nowadays. *hintgetmealaptophint* Secondly, the part with Kiyoshi’s rant about his name
was put in because I felt I was overusing his name a lot. It is a nice name though, and it’s hard to find other nice-sounding names with apt meanings. =/ Third, I forgot to put a disclaimer in Chap 0, but this is very much a draft. Now while I usually hate doing drafts, I made an exception in this case because 1, I need practice writing romance (could you have guessed the genre from the prologue? =P), and thus a draft would allow me to see what i need to improve upon. And 2, because I wasn’t really producing anything, people complained, and I decided I HAD to put something out. So comment and criticize away, just bear in mind this is nowhere near the final product.
P.S. I hate how I handled this chapter a lot. But I needed to do it sooner or later. What do you guys think?
