Delilah

Summary: Joshua had always been a rather timid person, but when he learns of his brother’s horrific death, a mysterious boy named Delilah leads him on a daring quest for revenge. There should be some rhetorical questions here. (slash/yaoi)

Chapter One: Damsel

Joshua loved music; he had all his life. At twelve his father had bought him a guitar and he’d been obsessed with it ever since, playing night and day. While he loved composing and playing, he’d never thought about being a professional musician. He wasn’t cut out for it, after all, with his shy personality. And besides, someone had to run the family business, right?

Joshua’s brother also had a great love—he was enamored with acting. It was his greatest ambition to go to Hollywood and become a famous actor, so famous and wealthy that he could play in only the roles that really meant something; so he could be more than just a poster boy or a pretty face. He could play in roles that touched people’s lives and changed the world and—

Well, his brother had gone off to make his way through the business. He’d been uncertain at first, feeling bad about leaving Joshua with the burden of their parents’ business, but Joshua had encouraged him to chase his dreams. “Go on,” he’d said, and pushed his brother out the door gently. With tears in his eyes, his brother had waved goodbye and driven west in his old red Chevy, bound for California sunshine.

But his brother was visiting soon. Joshua smiled. He was finally starring in his first movie—just an indie, but it was a good start, with a compelling plotline and depth unmatched by anything Hollywood could churn out with its mass quantities of sex, violence, and cheesy lines that would never work in the real world.

Smiling, Joshua found the right strings on his guitar and hummed ‘California Dreamin,’ the old, fast-paced melody causing his lips to break out in an inescapable grin.

He nearly dropped his guitar when the phone rang shrilly. Quickly setting it down, he rushed to the phone in the kitchen and yanked it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” came his brother’s voice.

“How have you been? We’re still on for Saturday, right?” Joshua asked enthusiastically, leaning against the kitchen counter and twirling the phone cord around his fingers.

“Yeah, I’ll be there… and… there’s someone I want you to meet. Is it all right if I bring someone with me?”

“Sure, that’s fine. And don’t be late!”

“Of course not, Joshua,” the other answered with a laugh.

“All right… see you soon.”

“Bye.”

Joshua set the phone down and resumed playing his guitar.

(o)(n)(e)

The best thing about the 2 AM Greyhound bus route was that there was no one to ask questions. It was just him, the driver, and an old drunk passed out in the back. No one asked why he looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and especially, no one questioned the blood running down his legs and sticking to the uncomfortable seat beneath him.

He’d planned to go with someone, and since they both preferred traveling at night, they’d chosen the latest Greyhound they could get. They’d arrive late tomorrow, stay the night in a hotel (a special treat just for the two of them,) and then reach their destination the next morning. It had sounded like a fun trip, really, but it wasn’t very enjoyable in reality. The bus was smelly and the seat was hard and there was no familiar presence beside him because—

Because—

The driver slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop, announcing the stop. He sighed, stood from his seat, and stepped outside, his feet slapping against the wet concrete.

It was raining something horrible and it was so cold… he shivered and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, wishing he’d brought an umbrella or at least a jacket. Holding his hand over the note to protect its precious ink, he found Turnstone Street and was on his way.

(u)(n)(o)

He’d intended to just have a quiet day, to read the newspaper over a cup of coffee at ten and watch TV until he wandered off to bed at around two in the morning. However, he found his important plans interrupted when he heard a knock on his door at about eleven at night.

Joshua nearly screamed at the sound, only forcing it down by slapping a hand over his mouth. He’d been watching one of those badly done horror flicks, all lake red 20 blood and convenient power outages and minor triads playing in the background. Fighting to return his pulse to normal, his eyes darted to the front door. It was locked and deadbolted, so no one could get in… he wondered why someone would visit so late, especially when he wasn’t expecting them. His brother would be there tomorrow, so why would anyone be outside his house now?

Silently, he slid off the couch and tiptoed to the door, peering out the spyhole. What he saw shocked him, a short-haired girl with bruises all over her face, blood running down her chin as she leaned against the railing. He didn’t recognize her, but he certainly couldn’t leave her outside, not with those injuries.

Fear gone, he undid the locks and opened the door. “What happened to you?” he asked quickly, ushering her inside even though she was a complete stranger. She limped through the door, breathing heavily.

“You’re… Joshua?” she gasped out, fisting her hands in his shirt.

“Y-yeah,” he answered uncertainly, awaiting an explanation but only receiving a dead faint.

Seeing no other solution, he picked her up and took her inside, closing and locking the door as an afterthought.

He hoped there’d be enough room in the house when his brother got there tomorrow.

(u)(n)

He’d searched as much as he dared—although that wasn’t much, since she was a girl and thus, off-limits—but he hadn’t found any identification on her. Joshua had found a rain-drenched bag full of clothes on the front stoop, which he supposed had belonged to her and he’d merely neglected to notice in the commotion earlier. However, not even that had been forthcoming because now he only knew that she liked to dress in gothic Lolita and her boyfriend’s pants.

So he supposed he’d just have to wait for her to wake up.

After his fruitless search, he’d decided to at least clean her face, so he retrieved a warm, wet cloth and touched it gently to her bloodied face. She was actually quite pretty under all the blood and dirt, with a soft, pale face and delicate blonde lashes covering her eyes and soft lips. A true beauty, the kind of girl who fell from heaven into your life if you were special.

But Joshua knew he wasn’t special—not a hero, not that handsome, not particularly smart either. He was average, maybe even below-average, and girls like that didn’t go for guys like him. Music geeks with glasses who ran their parents’ stores didn’t usually get the girl in the end. Or even the consolation prize. So…

So sleeping beauty was waking up, stirring and batting her pretty blonde lashes and opening her beautiful violet eyes… god, it made him want to gag.

“You’re ridiculous,” Joshua told her as she sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“Jonas!” she cried happily, tears rolling down her cheeks as she pitched forward, wrapping her arms around him. Their chests touched and Joshua began to doubt that this beauty was a beauty at all… because… because…

“You don’t have a chest!” he shrieked.

“Oh. Oh… ‘scuse me, I’m very sorry… I thought you were somebody else.” She—or perhaps he—quickly scooted back, and Joshua found himself almost missing the warmth of the unexpected embrace.

“Jonas? My brother was named Jonas. He… he was supposed to be coming here tomorrow… or today I guess, now that it’s morning. Do you… know him?”

“Jonas? And you’re Joshua? …His twin brother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, you won’t believe it… I’m so sorry, but… but...” His lips trembled uncontrollably as he gasped out, “He’s dead!”

Joshua’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

“I… I have a tape, if you’d like proof.” He reached around for his bag and pulled out a VHS box that had the message ‘To Delilah’ written on the front with a big heart beside it. “You do have a VCR, don’t you?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Joshua mumbled dumbly, feeling numb and as if his whole world had shrunk to this effeminate boy, an outdated piece of technology, and the fact of his brother’s death. It couldn’t be true, could it? He stood and followed the boy back to the living room, watching as he pushed the tape in and turned on the television.

“I’d… prefer not to see it again, so if you’ll excuse me,” the boy said shakily, rushing back to the bedroom. Joshua barely heeded him, his eyes glued to the television screen as black turned to static and static turned into someone all too familiar.

The recording was bad and crackly, white noise tainting the sound of harsh breath as it poured from the speakers.

Jonas was bound to a table, a strange man leaning over him. “So, I see you’re just another poor lamb to the slaughter, are you?” the man asked kindly. “Deceived by an angelic face, as so many others before you… it is a tragedy, is it not? But now that you’re here, I suppose I might as well make use of you. Right?”

Jonas was drifting on the edge of consciousness, obviously drugged or worse, and his cadet blue eyes fluttered open and shut as he tried to focus. “I wasn’t deceived… I was protecting him from you!”

“Oh? And I don’t suppose he told you what I am to him?” The man asked, his eyes shining darkly. He leaned down and whispered something into Joshua’s ear, smirking when the man gave a sudden jerk.

“Then you—you should be—”

The angry shout died suddenly, turning into a gurgle. Joshua didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t bear to turn away, so he stared fixatedly on the screen as the conversation was cut short and his twin’s life slipped away.

Somehow, it was like watching his own death, and as it ended he felt as if something inside of him had shriveled like dry leaves.

(i)

“Who is that bastard?!” yelled Joshua after he’d managed to find his feet and his voice.

The boy stared at him, a sullen look stretched across his face. “His name is Haven. He leads a gang in Los Angeles.

“I… well, it’s hard to say, but… it’s all my fault Joshua is dead…” The boy stared downward, as if averting his eyes would absolve him of his guilt. “Because of me, he got involved and… and they murdered him! He murdered him!”

Joshua felt he should be angry, furious that this boy had gotten his brother mixed up in such matters, but seeing the agonized look on the soft, pale face made it so much harder to hate him. There were lines on his forehead and between his brows and his mouth was contorted into a grimace and his eyes were squinched shut. He was holding his hands together so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“It’s… it’s all right,” Joshua finally said, unable to watch the poor boy torturing himself. Wide violet eyes opened in shock.

“I never meant for anything bad to happen… I’m—”

“I know. It’s all right,” Joshua whispered, feeling compelled to comfort even the one who had presumably led his brother to death but being unable to halt his instincts. “Words will only pale in the face of what you feel.”

And suddenly that boy was crying like the girl he seemed to be.

(eins)

The tears had subsided, leaving a broken red-eyed boy in their wake.

“So… you were the one brother was going to bring with him?”

Delilah nodded, swallowing hard. “Y-yeah. But then he…”

Joshua watched as Delilah trailed off, his eyes settling nervously on the ground. “So then why are you here?”

“I… I had to get out. Haven found out where I was, so it wasn’t safe anymore… and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. We already had tickets and…”

“Don’t you have any friends? Family? Anything?”

Delilah looked away.

“All right, all right. I understand.”

“And… well, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me… Jonas’s killer must be stopped, if not for revenge, then for the sake of all the victims he will surely claim in the future.”

Joshua sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I must admit that I’m normally not a vindictive guy and going off to California to kill a gangster is far against my better judgment, but… well, I’m afraid I must help a damsel in distress when she asks so politely,” the man said with a smile.

Delilah stared at him. “I’m not a damsel,” he growled stiffly, but Joshua was glad to see a small sign of happiness curling his lips. Somehow, even the barest trace of a smile on the boy’s face was sunshine enough to ameliorate the rain his brother’s death had caused in his heart.

AN: Hmm… uhh, yeah. I guess we can all hope it’ll get better. Maybe there’ll be more angst next time. What with a loved one dying horribly, there should be some nice angst somewhere. We’ll see. Please review with thoughts and suggestions.