Polluted Hearts story © Gosangoku
All characters and this entire story belong solely to Gosangoku.

Warnings: This story contains homosexual relationships, violence, foul language and possibly scenes for the more mature audience all-in-all.

—Story Start—

Chapter one: Silent Snowflakes

—Story Start—

Everyone’s different. No one has the same way of thinking. No one looks exactly alike—even twins have some similarities. Everyone’s personality is dissimilar.

Everyone’s like a snowflake.

It may be highly cliché, but that’s just what I think. In spite of all the obvious differences, we are all treated the same—unjustly.

The people who presumably ‘take care’ of us—or are supposed to, anyway… I don’t consider what they do as ‘taking care’ of us—hurt us. They discriminate us, which I find exceedingly contradictory. They want us all to be the same, and they still manage to discriminate. I suppose that fighting in this world is unavoidable. However, I digress. Instead of feeding us, they starve us. Every week they send two of us into the village on foot—in spite of the fact that it’s four miles away—to purchase only necessities.

Really, I don’t think they would care if we all just dropped dead. In fact, I believe they would be elated. The only reason they don’t just get rid of us is for the benefits. In other words, they’re in it for the cash. The people in charge of them—God knows who they are; I’ve never found out—think that they take “remarkable” care of us. I wonder how they fooled them into thinking that…

I’m pulled out from my thoughts when I was slammed into a wall. I didn’t react—I was too shocked. I mean, I was always ignored by everyone as if I were invisible… as if I were insignificant. Although everyone hated me, I was never actually the target of their attacks.

I just slumped against the wall that I was being pushed against and stared blankly at it, uncaring of whatever was about to occur. I hadn’t cared for a long time. I stopped caring at one point. It was when everything was going wrong—my friends abandoned me, everyone hated me, and everyone I ever knew was simply gone. I just… didn’t care. I didn’t break down like it was usually expected—I hardly reacted at all. Just like now.

“Hey, Chris,” a deep voice drawled with a spiteful undertone. I didn’t even blink when he tightened his grip on my neck. “What makes you special, huh? You’ve never been sent to him,” he snarled.

Impassive as ever, I replied quietly and calmly, “I don’t make the decisions here, Ryan. You should know that by now.” My grey-blue eyes met his that were, astonishingly, the same exact colour. How often does that happen? I hope we don’t have the same genes… “After all,” I continued in a leisurely tone. “You were dumped here before I was.”

The twin eyes widened before narrowing, fury and abhorrence flaring within them. He shoved me hard against the wall before yanking me forward and delivering a hard punch to my abdomen. I suppressed a grimace and simply sucked in a breath.

“Fight back!” he shouted in a commanding tone as he swiftly lowered his leg onto my back and delivered the blow. I fell down to the floor but caught myself on my hands. Slowly, I pushed myself back up. I stood right before him and stared straight back into his eyes.

“I have nothing to gain from fighting,” I replied coolly, although my lower back was now killing me. I always had to act. I always had to act like I didn’t care. I didn’t even know if I was acting anymore, or if I really didn’t care. That’s just how good I am.

Obviously enraged, Ryan charged at me with his fist pulled back. I just stood there impassively but when he was about to land the blow, I sidestepped and stuck my foot out, causing him to trip. He let out a yell of fury and surprise as he face planted into the ground. I heard a sickening crunch, and vaguely wondered if he had broken his nose. That might be funny.

“I’ll kick you, Chris!” he screamed angrily, glaring furiously at me from the floor.

I looked down at him as if he were irrelevant—just like I saw myself and how others saw me.

“You don’t have the guts to kill me,” I hissed tonelessly. I knelt down beside him and placed my lips by his ear as I whispered, “But I do.”

Ignoring his befuddled and yet horrified look, I stood, brushed off my pants, and made my way to the dusty old library.

O—o—O—o—O—o—O

As always, it was practically empty. It wasn’t as extensive as it could be; it was only about twenty-something feet long and the shelves weren’t full. In addition to that, most of the books were disgraceful. There were only a couple of books I liked here—the horrors.

I hated the romance ones. There’s no such thing as a fairy-tale ending. It’s so stupid and pathetic to think so that it’s funny. Everyone knows that a happy ending doesn’t exist, so why write such unrealistic literature?

As that is the case, I read the ones without happy endings. I favour fiction, but alas, most fiction is that disgusting romance crap.

Shrugging, I grab a book I’ve read about a thousand times before and walk into a secluded area that I always sit in.

I halt instantly when I arrive there.

No way.

No fucking way.

There is someone in my seat.

How dare that bastard? No one comes here – they know that it’s where I, the nonexistent loser/complete prick always goes.

“That’s my seat.”

The boy looked up and I met curious olive-green eyes. He raised a black brow in inquisition. “Oh, is it?” he muttered. He pretended to inspect the bedraggled old chair before replying, “I don’t see your name on it.”

I scowled at him. “How old are you, five?” I bit out sarcastically.

“I’m fourteen, actually,” the boy replied.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “As if I care,” I mumbled. “Give me my chair back.”

“It isn’t like you own it.”

“Yes, I do,” I replied swiftly, folding my arms across my chest. I’ve been sitting in that chair since I was four—that’s twelve years, thank you very much. I’d say I own it.

“I have an idea. Let’s compromise,” the kid said, grinning childishly. I blinked in surprise. How could someone be smiling in this kind of place?

I didn’t respond, and he must have took my cynical silence for a, ‘Oh, yes, please continue. I’m enthralled!’

…Idiot.

“We can share the chair,” he suggested, beaming proudly.

I twitched. “No,” I said immediately. “I am not sharing with anyone—especially you.”

“You’d say that to anyone, Mr. Anti-Social,” the boy said jovially, snickering.

I was slightly unnerved that the kid had my personality down already, but then again, it was quite easy to figure out that I was a dick.

“Yes, I would.” No use denying it. “I would also say that you are sitting in my chair. Get another.”

“Why don’t you?” the kid asked, shifting on the chair and smirking challengingly up at me.

“Because that is my chair, and I—”

I was cut off when my arm was tugged and suppressed a yelp when I fell onto his lap. My eyes widened and I immediately moved to zip away, but he was restraining me.

“See?” the guy said patronisingly, making my fume. “Isn’t this better than being alone?”

“No,” I muttered peevishly, still attempting to break free of his iron grip.

“Don’t be such a baby,” he berated exasperatedly.

“I’m two years older than you!” I hissed irately, struggling more.

There was an awkward silence—on my part, anyway. He just seemed amused and baffled. “You are?” he asked in surprise. “But… you’re so short.”

I twitched again. Thank you for pointing that out, you git! “I’m not short,” I replied crossly. “I’m slightly vertically challenged. I haven’t had a growth spurt yet.”

“But you’re sixteen, right?” he argued, sniggering and grinning.

Sighing in defeat, I slumped slightly. “Shut up and read,” I snapped.

“No way,” he replied. “You’re much more fun.”

Why did the bastard look so smug?

I glared at him. “I’m not fun. I’m the opposite of fun. I hate fun.” Ugh. I hate the word ‘fun’…

The kid laughed. “No one hates fun!” he argued. “And besides…” He smirked, and I didn’t like how untrustworthy it was. There was no escape route, however. Damn it. I should train in karate instead of reading. “It’s fun to tease you,” he said jubilantly, poking my nose.

My eyes widened and I blinked a few times before growling and shoving him. I pried his arms off of me—bloody hell, he was strong!—and leapt out of his lap, flushing furiously in embarrassment. I hastily left the seating area and made a beeline for the doors.

It appeared that he was fast as well as strong—I hate when people are good at everything—but he didn’t have as much stamina as I. Soon enough, I was dashing down the hallways and he was lagging quite far behind.

However, I wasn’t watching where I was going as I was monitoring the kid that was chasing me for some unfathomable reason, and I ploughed into someone.

Well, fuck.

“What the—oh, it’s Chris! Oi! Oi, Ryan! Come over here! You can get your revenge!” one of Ryan’s cronies (not ‘friend’s’) yelled.

Well, double fuck. Oh, and thanks for breaking my ear drums. Could you be any louder, whoever the hell you are?

“Oh, is it now?” Ryan’s deep voice enquired smoothly, and I could hear the disgust in his tone. The underlying ‘I hate you’ that lined his every sentence when he heard or spoke of me. It used to hurt, but like I’ve said before – now, I just don’t give a damn. I stare up at him unwaveringly but impatiently.

“I’m busy at the moment,” I muttered.

Ryan snorted. “Running away from someone else?”

“Yes, actually,” I replied smoothly, making Ryan scowl.

“Whatever,” he muttered and clenched his fists. “I’m gonna kick your ass, shortie.” He smirked at me darkly but I didn’t react. Irritated at my lack of reaction, Ryan pulled his fist back. I waited impatiently for him to carry on but no hit came.

I blinked a few times before realising that Ryan’s fist was right in front of my face. Wants to get me back for breaking his nose, does he? I thought cynically but amusedly. I knew Ryan wouldn’t just stop out of the goodness of his own heart—the guy absolutely hated me now, so why would he?

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch my friend,” a new, more cheerful voice said with an underlying threatening tone.

I glanced to the side to see the black-haired kid from earlier clutching Ryan’s hand with a vice-like grip. Even Ryan couldn’t pull out of it? Fuck, I was right. The bloody kid is strong. Reminds me of DragonBall Z… but now isn’t the time to be thinking of anime.

“Friend?” sneered Ryan with a hostile tone. “Chris has no friends – he’s a pathetic fucking traitor who doesn’t give a shit about anyone,” he hissed angrily, his eyes flashing.

I didn’t react outwardly, but inwardly I felt a twinge of pain. I swallowed ruefully but put on an uncaring and supercilious face. I don’t care, I told myself repeatedly. I don’t care. I don’t care…

The black-haired kid’s faux-amiable smile vanished and he glared warningly at Ryan, his green eyes becoming dull and deadly. “Maybe I should rephrase…” he muttered in a menacing hiss. “Leave my friend alone, or you will regret it.” He twisted Ryan’s arm slightly and Ryan twitched, gritting his teeth. He could probably put up a fair fight with the kid—who’s name I still don’t fucking know—but I had a feeling that he’d lose.

Begrudgingly, Ryan pulled his arm back. Once sure that he wouldn’t launch a surprise attack, the kid let go and smiled before turning to me.

“Well, would you like to get something to drink?” he asked as if he hadn’t just stopped a guy from beating the shit out of me.

I scowled, but not as icily as before. “It’s getting late…” I muttered. When he cocked his head in naïveté, obviously not catching my gist, I sighed irately and said, “I’d rather get some sleep—”

“That’s fine,” the kid said, smiling softly and staring down at me. I shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“Stupid prick… being taller than me…” I thought, not realising I said it aloud.

The guy chuckled – an annoying sound that pissed me off to no end (even though it sounded like wind chimes… it was still annoying!).

“Well then, Sora-Hime, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He beamed at me before bowing and departing.

I twitched irately. Okay, firstly – how does he know my real name? Secondly… what the hell was with that suffix?

“…Fucking prick.”

But... Why was my heart beating?

O—o—O—o—O—o—O

Right now it seems like the main theme is romance. It kinda is at first, but after a while it’ll be most fighting—kendo and karate. However, romance will be a big theme between a series of interlocked people – the first obviously being Zack (the nameless fourteen year old kid in this chapter) and Chris, and the second couple will be Ryan and someone that has not yet been introduced. There’ll definitely be a third and I’m considering more, but I’ll be focusing on the three.

Chris is part Japanese. ‘Sora’ is a Japanese name and it means ‘Sky’. The suffix that Zack added to Chris’ name was ‘Hime,’ meaning ‘Princess.’ He called him that because Chris acts arrogant and like he’s ‘higher up’ than others, although he’s actually just a lonely guy hiding a heart of gold.

Ryan’s and Chris’ past will be revealed later on sometime—why they hate each other and stuff.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated by not necessary.