|A Flame in the Dark
Author: Kuro The Dark Ringmaster PM
Takashi has recently flown to England is attending the prestigious University of Cambridge. His life is complicated as he adjusts to the unusual tendencies of the English. However he never expected to meet Professor Tyler Sullivan, who teaches Japanese literature. Slowly the pair are pushed together however what seemed tedious changes into something more. Contains Gay characters.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Words: 2,188 - Published: 01-03-13 - id: 3088806
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This series was written back in 2011, and a few people had asked to read it. I will warn you in advance the main characters are indeed Gay. There is nothing explicit, except a kiss or two and maybe a few hugs. However you will see some flirting later on, nothing graphic though.
I hope you enjoy,
Chapter 1: Complicated Lives
"There is a place, where not a soul dare venture. A place where there is no light, no hope, and no peace. There is only darkness, and agony, in that place the soul dare not go. The cold and bitterness, which have drowned those who see, where there is no sweetness to life only strife. Where the land is barren, all which could have been is now lost. It is here where dreams are abandoned, because that small little fire in us has been extinguished. That small flame which has kept our hearts warm has been snuffed out. Such a delicate and essential part of the people has been destroyed. With the oppressor enjoying the leisure of controlling a people who are broken, run down, suppressed and afraid. Their weapon of choice is tyranny and fear is their blade. With each swing they are able to control the people. The simple ringing of that steel blade is enough to cause people to run. As those who are different and unique are taken away simply because it is what is believed to be what is best for the people. However it is not the people trapped in the darkness that should fear it, but those who created it. They are the ones who should be quaking.
"For no place is completely shielded from the darkness, there will always be a slight crack where light my push herself through. A small fracture in a carefully constructed illusion that we are powerless, which light seeps through and touches the faces of those who are trapped. For a moment, just a moment that flame is rekindled and the pail faces of children may see what had been denied to them. A chance to change the status quote, for the people to do what had been called for. To act in a manor, which under any normal circumstance is treason, will be considered the necessary action for the governed to survive. The only question is who is to lead them?"
"Heroes can come from the most unexpected of places, well that's what the author believes," shouted a young man standing in the front of the room. A book tucked in his fingers and a marker tucked in the other hand. His green sweater was rather baggy on him, and the collar of his white shirt was neatly folded. His kaki pants had their pleats and his voice was both relaxing and encouraging. He looked about his audience of students, and noticed that most of them were on the verge of collapse. He swept his hair out of his eyes and sighed, "Who knows where that passage I just read came from?" he asked. Not a single student responded and he adjusted the glasses on his nose. "No one knows, it was written by the best selling Japanese author, Taki Shunsuke. The book you were supposed to read called The Spark." The night prior to the class he had specifically requested the students to read this particular passage.
It seemed to be that none of them had bothered to. He grinned wickedly and picked up an eraser, he was quick to throw it at a sleeping student. The eraser hit the dozing student in the head and bounced to the floor. "Takashi-sama, wake up," he shouted, naturally the young man jumped. Takashi's hair was two shades lighter than a typical Japanese man's, it was a mess and he looked up. "Eh?" he asked sleepily, as he rubbed his eyes. He yawned loudly before slowly raised his slender arms over his head and stretched his back like a cat who had been just roused from his nap. Takashi looked up to find the Professor towering over him. He smiled and said, "Ah, Sensei, I see you still have wonderful aim." Takashi smirked happily and the Professor became even more agitated. The young man shrugged and said, "I have no clue." The professor swept back his blond hair and asked, "You have no clue or you have no interest? Which is it?" His voice was sharp and cold as always, this professor was perhaps the most merciless on campus. Takashi had grown accustomed to being treated this way by the Professor. "Both," said Takashi stubbornly, he crossed his arms and looked up at him. The Professor sighed and realized that no matter how valiant the effort, his efforts with Takashi would be fruitless. The Professor turned on his heel and descended the stairs. Takashi was confused by this action, usually the Professor would argue with him until he was blue in the face. He would attempt to convince Takashi to care. Something was wrong, and Takashi seemed to be the only one who realized it.
Takashi watched the Professor's expression change as he continued to read the passage, his deep lush voice filled the room, "There comes a point in life when a hero realizes that he is not like the rest of the sheep in the flock. That he is indeed different from the rest, it may be a slight difference but it is just enough to distinguish him from all of the," he paused and closed the book. The Professor looked down at his pages on the desk and sighed. "Class is dismissed," he said with a hint of regret.
Instantly the students began to talk about their plans. Many of them were complaining about the Professor and his strict policies. Takashi watched the Professor as he took a seat, his head was resting in his hands, and he looked exhausted and exasperated. Caimbridge University was taking its toll on him and Takashi felt this twinge of sympathy for this man. He was the only student to know of the incident which had transpired that morning with the Professor's wife. Takashi walked down the stairs, he could remember their elevated voices perfectly. She was screaming at him, her voice filled with rage, "You are a professor, not a novelist you will never achieve greatness wasting your time on daydreaming. You live in the real world," these words resonated inside of Takashi. His footsteps seemed the echo in his head as he continued down the steps each one was more frightening than the next, he felt as though he was approaching a lion. "Perhaps what the people need isn't a hero in a sense," said Takashi softly, his voice had this ring to it, which made most women admire him. The Professor lifted his head and Takashi watched his bangs fall in his eyes; his golden hair glistened in the sunlight. A pair of hazel eyes looked up at him through the lenses of his glasses. "Perhaps they need someone to rekindle that hope, not to fight for them but to encourage them to fight," said Takashi, the Professor sat up. He was silent but looked intrigued and listened intently. "People shouldn't fear the government it's the government that should be quaking," said Takashi, the Professor's stern glare disappeared as he asked smugly, "Why?"
Takashi responded in moments, "Because they have been given something more powerful than bullets, and knives." Takashi looked into the professor's eyes and said, "They were given hope, they were given the ability to dream and that alone is enough of a weapon. Bullets run out, knives will dull and missiles fail, but ideas last forever. Ideas are able to withstand even the greatest of disasters." The Professor smiled, his gaze softened and Takashi noticed how different he was. He looked as though he had heard the words he had been longing to hear all lecture. "You really believe that?" asked the Professor. "Yes, I do, Professor Sullivan," answered Takashi, and Sullivan frowned and slowly rose. He looked upset and Takashi began to wonder what he had done wrong, he had provided a sufficient answer. Sullivan looked so pleased and then his mood change completely. "Why did you say this?" asked Sullivan, he looked irritated and uneasy. "I thought, you would find comfort in it, you looked upset," said Takashi nervously.
Sullivan looked down at the young man and said, "Don't patronize me." His voice stung and Takashi felt this urge to run, he had never seen Sullivan look so irritated before. Sure they had spared numberous times over literature however he had never looked that angry, his eyes were ice cold. He had woken the lion from its slumber and he was about to deal with the consequences. Sullivan walked past Takashi, he brushed Takashi's shoulder and Takashi stumbled backwards. He watched Sullivan march by him without even a thought to apologize for pushing him. Sullivan's long strides ensured him a quick escape from the young man and in seconds he was out the door.
Takashi stood at the front of the room. "What the?" he asked, "What's going through that guys head?" Takashi sighed and rubbed his head, it made no sense, all he wanted to do was show that he did actually know something and could communicate. "All I wanted to do was show him I actually do pay attention and he starts acting weird," said Takashi as he walked up the stairs. "Che, maybe he is as weird as they say," said Takashi as he continued out into the hall way. As he walked his mind was flooded with questions. Every aspect of Sullivan's reaction bothered him. Takashi sighed, there was no way he could get the Professor to explain himself to a twenty-one year old, Japanese Med school student who was there for research purposes. He had taken the class as a chance to relax, however it turned out to be a good stress reliever as he sparred with the ever so stubborn Professor Sullivan.
"Oi Taki, over here!" called a familiar voice, Takashi turned to find the young man who was supposed to be his research assistant sitting on a bench. The young man was Richard Gordon; he was actually useless in the laboratory and never paid attention to experiments. The only reason Takashi had been paired with him was because Gordon's father had money and Takashi's father refused to have him stay with a commoner. As much as Takashi disdained being called "Taki" he endured it. Gordon couldn't speak Japanese and had butchered Takashi's name multiple times. The only characters he ever seemed to get were the first "Ta" and for some reason he could say, "Ki." Takashi had grown accustomed to other people calling him that as well, in fact most of his professors did. Almost all of them did except Sullivan, Professor Sullivan was the only one on campus who could pronounce his name, which only irritated Takashi more. "Gordon, how are you?" asked Takashi, his English had improved greatly, it was good before but now he even had a British accent. It was so perfect that no one would have known he was a foreigner unless they asked. "We are going to see the match, are you coming?" asked Gordon. He smiled, his teeth were yellow from tea, and his brown hair was out of place. "Ah no thank you, alas I have some studying to do," said Takashi. Gordon shrugged and said, "Well more girls for me."
Takashi disliked watching soccer with Gordon, every time a penalty was called Gordon felt the need to explain it to him. It had become such an annoyance that Takashi had nearly punched him. Gordon was the polar opposite of Takashi, he was the popular young man, with an ego the size of Australia and a brain the size of a Wasabi pea. Everything about Gordon offended and annoyed Takashi; he would purposely leave his things lying about and even riffle through Takashi's personal affects. He understood that Gordon might want to know more about him, but all Gordon had to do was ask. The wind swept through the trees and Takashi closed his eyes. He listened to the leaves rustle, and the birds chirp. The wind picked up his bangs and he felt the leaves sweep by him. It was a moment of pure serenity which had put Takashi's erratic thoughts at ease. "Sensaina kaze ga, kanojo no tatchi wa watashi no hada, banshū no kaze o aibu," he whispered. This was the way he marked the passage of time, it had become a habit of his to do create a haiku on a whim. In Japan it was what marked a true nobleman when he could reflect on his emotions. Takashi walked away slowly and couldn't help but think if only Sullivan had heard that. Perhaps then Sullivan would treat him with a little more respect.