(A/N: "Woah! Not another one," you say. "Tenebrae is at it again... crap!" Yeah, well, shove it in your pip and smoke it. No, I'm kidding. Anyway, thank you all to people who reviewed OiC... and those who haven't read it, don't worry. This is a completely different story. Anyway... being myself a champ of the National Mythology Exam, and minoring in Theology, and in love with Hades (and Hedwig and the Angry Inch), this story just kinda popped into my head. I'm warning you: THIS IS SLASH! SHOUNEN-AI! YAOI! M/M...Whatever you wanna call it. Now you've been warned. I'm done.)

(Disclaimer: I love Hedwig... but I don't own it. The song from Hedwig is by Stephen Trask... I BOW DOWN TO YOU!)

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Torn in Two
Chapter One

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The boy flicked a lock of the blonde wig from his sweaty-yet-effeminate face as he sang. The rest of the band played silently behind him as the 'Purple Heart' gay club sat, riveted to the performance. The Underworld… that was the name of the band, of course… and River Styx, their lead singer, had volunteered to do a special for Halloween at their local club. The lot of them were dressed as Hedwig (River, of course) and the Angry Inch. Vera, River's best friend and guitarist, looked spectacular in her own drag, dressed as Hedwig's husband, Yitzhak.

"And you're shining…Like the brightest stars…A transmission…On the midnight radio; And you're spinning…Your new 45's…All the misfits and the losers…Yeah, you know you're rock and rollers…Spinning to your rock and roll. Lift up your hands…"

He wasn't surprised at the reaction of the audience. There was a flick-pop of simultaneous lighters going off, and the multitude of lights rose high above the masquerading throng. River took the time to admire the sight. If there was one thing the glam rocker loved, it was Halloween.

The performance ended well. Vera, Collin, and Meghan all quieted their instruments and began to pack them. River helped Meg with her drum set. The patrons milled about, offering their congratulations to the band on another song well played.

River nearly ran into the back room of the club, which served as a makeshift dressing room for the band. Vera was close behind. They were both eager to shed their drag, both for different reasons. Vera was to meet her girlfriend, and River was… well…

He stripped himself down behind a curtain he had brought to hang up, quickly putting on his black boxers, white wife-beater, black, baggy pants, and a black button-up shirt. He shook out his strawberry-blond hair (which reached his chin), took out his contacts and eased on this intellectual-looking glasses, wiped off the makeup. No longer was he River Styx, sexy-ass frontman of the hottest new Glam band in the club scene. He was River McCloud. Simple, shy, smart. He was an actor; that was how he managed to become Styx every night. But one would never know it just from looking at him. He was altogether too… quiet.

One of the only times he wasn't quiet was in class, before the rest of the students had milled in. He spoke rapidly to his teachers, offering any anecdote he could to cheer them up. Teachers, he often found, needed that, though he always wondered whether he had succeeding merely in annoying them. Another place where he could always be himself was with his friends. He had always been kind of a loner in his early years. He came to appreciate whatever friends he got, being loyal, smart, sensitive, and kind. This made him popular. He was genuine, yet an enigma. If nothing else, he was a powerful ally.

The last place he lost his shy nature was not really a place, but a subject, per-se. If anyone wanted to really get to know him, all they'd have to do was ask a little about Greek and Roman mythology, and that boy would be off on a tangent. He was the national champion in the 'National Mythology Competition' for four years running, and he loved every minute of it.

Someone had asked him once… his other best friend, Archie… why his stage name was Styx. The kid had laughed, and said plainly that his favourite God of all time was Hades, the ruler of the underworld. One had to cross the river, Styx, to reach it. It suited him, he said.

But, Arch had replied, why do you love Hades? Didn't he try to kill that one dude?

Hercules? River had only shook his head. That was only in the Disney version. See, Zeus liked to womanize. And that created a lot of offspring. And Zeus' wife, Hera, was a vindictive bitch and hated all of her husband's illegitimate children. She was the one who tried to destroy Hercules. Disney really screwed that story up; Hades had nothing to do with it.

Then, if he wasn't such a bad guy, why did he get kicked off of Olympus?

He didn't, River explained. He was Zeus' favourite brother. And he had offered Hades to be his right-hand, but he had declined and said that he wanted to rule the underworld instead.

Then Disney really screwed it up, decided Arch. That had settled the conversation, and they had returned to their lunch of Chinese food.

River's friends, of course, were Vera, Archie, Meghan, Collin, and a boy named Kyle Calendar. Vera and River called him Calendar relentlessly, much to his dismay. Some people had overhead the two Glam rockers and thought that was actually his name. Kyle was, for lack of a better term, apathy incarnated. Meghan had once put five ice cubes down his shirt, one after the other, succeeding only in drawing a lazy, "Um, that's cold" from him.

They would have been the 'misfits' crowd, were they not going to a school entirely populated with misfits. A university high school for 'gifted' kids. Smart people. In essence, Nerds.

As in every group, they all had a certain person to fulfill a certain role. All of them were smart, so they didn't need a so-called 'brain.' And all were rebels, so they didn't have just one of those, either. Calendar was the quiet one. Archie was the all around ladies' man. Meg was the klutz, as well as Vera's constant supply of a nicotine fix. Vera was the flirt. Collin was the peacemaker, the happy-guy. And River? He was the glue. He was the one people waited ten minutes for just to go eat. He was, more than anything else, the observer. The chronicler.

Being an observer of anyone and everyone had its perks. He knew stuff about his peers that they might not even know about themselves. Mr. Kline always whistled before he was going to say something that was bound to be on a test, and he didn't even know he was doing it. Just with that information, River had been able to pass advanced Calculus. Harry's eyes would shift when he was saying something true, instead of when he lied. River figured that was because he didn't want people to know much about him. Harry wasn't a very trusting person. Archie would flirt with everyone except the people he really liked. And River knew all of this. No one else did, except him. This gave him the advantage.

The thing about Vera, that he saw, was that she usually tried to hate people she loved. In the dressing room, she approached him, her false beard-stubble gone and lips tinted with red. "She's such a bitch."

"Hmm?"

"Allison. She's a bitch."

"Oh?" The little blond boy sighed. Here it comes again… "What now?"

"She insulted Ozzy."

River snorted. He decided to play along, though he knew that all his friend was doing was looking for an excuse to not get close to her girlfriend. "That sucks. No one can insult Oz, man."

"I know!"

The two started to walk out, only to be bombarded by a hyperventilating Archie and a… well, an apathetic Calendar. Meg and Collin were behind them, making their way, slowly, to the dressing rooms.

"God, River, get me outta this place!" Archie wasn't necessarily a Homophobe. He was just a bit afraid of being hit on. It was natural for most straight guys. Beside him, Calendar (also straight) nodded. Collin nearly sprinted back, ready to leave the risk of being hit-on far behind.

"I'm surprised you guys came," River shrugged, smiling. "So, how'd I look?"

"…" said Archie.

"He's just creeped out 'cause he thought you looked hot," Calendar laughed.

"Nothing to worry about," Vera laughed. "He cleans up pretty well."

"I had a lesbian come after me, earlier. It was… odd," said the singer, calm as ever.

"And you turned her down?" Archie nearly fell over. "What are you, insane?"

River merely grinned an enigmatic grin. Megan joined them soon, and the friends made their way out of the flashing lights. Vera insisted upon having a piggyback ride to River's car, choosing none other than the frontman himself as her steed. Calendar and Archie had taken the train, so they had no qualms about joining the rest of their friends for some pie at the nearest 24-hour diner. Vera and Meghan insisted upon it being chocolate. The boys had no objections.

River nearly fell asleep in his pie, contented and sleepy. The boys in the audience had been eye candy to him, and they had certainly requited his feelings. He reminded himself to get more gigs there. So, he was the perpetually single one. The shy one. The matchmaker. But that didn't mean he couldn't at least look.

Vera and Meghan knew. He didn't want to tell Archie, though he suspected that his friend already knew. He didn't much care. The only reason that he wasn't really 'out,' was because of an agreement that Archie had begun, that Calendar and Collin had finished. It had been in their Sophomore year, three years earlier.

I don't want to go over to that store. The guy who works there is creepy.

Oh? River smiled. He was new to the school. He didn't know much, back then

Yeah. I mean, I don't have a problem with gays. It's just when they're flamboyant and stuff, its just kinda… weird. Archie shrugged.

River narrowed his eyes. Why's that?

Calendar leaned back in his chair. I guess its kinda like being hit on.

Yeah, Collin interjected.

So River, now a senior, had decided to keep it quiet, not because he was afraid of anything, but because he didn't want to gross out his 'brothers.' They were all too close too offend, really. But River didn't want to cause anyone any unnecessary discomfort. It wasn't as if River was attracted to any of them. All the friends were unnaturally handsome, but somehow, Riv felt nothing but deep friendship for them. He supposed that this was because he really couldn't love anymore. He didn't think he ever had. He just wasn't one of those people destined to have a soul-mate. He didn't mind much. It was a lot easier to be alone than suffer heartbreak.

Besides; he had someone already. His name was Hades, God of the Underworld, residing merely in the minds of those who chose to study Grecian myth. River had a problem with falling for people who weren't really there. But as long as he himself was real, he could still dream.

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It would have been cold, if he could feel. Somehow, his ex-wife had taken all the warmth with her when she'd left. But now, all the tall, pale, raven-haired man could feel was guilt.

Isn't that funny, he mused briefly. No hurt, no sadness, no love… just guilt. He supposed he felt sorry for taking the girl away from all she had known and loved. Begrudging her on a pomegranate. He was generous, they said. But he was also an impatient man. A persistent one. A man who never thought before he acted. It wasn't until his wife had gone that he realised the awful mistake he had made.

He had not loved her. That fact alone nearly broke his heart. He had killed undeniable beauty and innocence for nothing. He didn't want to think about it, but he had no choice, as he gleaned his room in the mansion for items of hers. He had made a mistake. His family made no mistakes. But he had. And he had to get rid of all traces of that fact, lest his brother come to torment him later.

He came upon something promising. It looked like a simple, intricately made mirror. It was inscribed, 'My dearest niece.' The man knew whom it was from, and whom it was to. But he was curious. Just what was it?

He approached it solemnly, pressing a white-as-death hand against the glass of the object, and soon after he did so, the mirror began to glow with lettering.


When the earth was still flat,
And the clouds made of fire,
And mountains stretched up to the sky,
Sometimes higher,
Folks roamed the earth
Like big rolling kegs.
They had two sets of arms.
They had two sets of legs.
They had two faces peering
Out of one giant head
So they could watch all around them
As they talked; while they read.
And they never knew nothing of love.
It was before the origin of love.

The origin of love

And there were three sexes then,
One that looked like two men
Glued up back to back,
Called the children of the sun.
And similar in shape and girth
Were the children of the earth.
They looked like two girls
Rolled up in one.
And the children of the moon
Were like a fork shoved on a spoon.
They were part sun, part earth
Part daughter, part son.

The origin of love

Now the gods grew quite scared
Of our strength and defiance
And Thor said,
"I'm gonna kill them all
With my hammer,
Like I killed the giants."
And Zeus said, "No,
You better let me
Use my lightening, like scissors,
Like I cut the legs off the whales
And dinosaurs into lizards."
Then he grabbed up some bolts
And he let out a laugh,
Said, "I'll split them right down the middle.
Gonna cut them right up in half."
And then storm clouds gathered above
Into great balls of fire

And then fire shot down
From the sky in bolts
Like shining blades
Of a knife.
And it ripped
Right through the flesh
Of the children of the sun
And the moon
And the earth.
And some Indian god
Sewed the wound up into a hole,
Pulled it round to our belly
To remind us of the price we pay.
And Osiris and the gods of the Nile
Gathered up a big storm
To blow a hurricane,
To scatter us away,
In a flood of wind and rain,
And a sea of tidal waves,
To wash us all away,
And if we don't behave
They'll cut us down again
And we'll be hopping round on one foot
And looking through one eye.

Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.
So we wrapped our arms around each other,
Trying to shove ourselves back together.
We were making love,
Making love.
It was a cold dark evening,
Such a long time ago,
When by the mighty hand of Jove,
It was the sad story
How we became
Lonely two-legged creatures,
It's the story of
The origin of love.
That's the origin of love.


The man raised an eyebrow. This was most definitely his wife's. Women liked that stupid 'love' nonsense. It wasn't even correct. This he knew for a fact.

And it was from a rock musical. He couldn't resent the mirror for that, he figured. The musical it was from was one of his favourites: "Hedwig and the Angry Inch." They had stolen from Plato, he realised. This mattered not, for the mirror was now showing something else.

"Place your hand upon the glass to behold your second half."

He sighed, curiosity getting the better of him. He knew that he was not meant for love. He never would be; his wife had shown him that. He might have kept her close to him, however, had she not borrowed from the western cultures the concept of divorce. Pushing these thoughts from his mind, he once again placed his hand on the mirror. It glowed briefly.

He raised his eyebrows at the sight. It was a diner, apparently. There were few individuals inside it; merely a few wait staff and six teenagers. One had dark, curly black hair and a floppy hat. The young man was tickling a brown-haired beauty with sparkling eyes. Beside her was a blonde, tall girl, who was currently laughing at the group. A boy with spiky, flaxen hair was trying to break up the oncoming fight. Another young man sat silently, arms crossed nonchalantly, not partaking in the other festivities.

But the sixth seemed to be lit with a glow. Perhaps it was the mirror. Perhaps it was his inherent beauty. He sat away from the group, perched on his pleather diner seat. He held in slender, white fingers, a pencil and a sketchpad. He seemed to be mapping his companions with undying focus. His full, beautiful mouth quirked up in a smile at the friends, strawberry-blond locks falling over one deep-blue eye, glasses resting in a scholarly manner on his flawless nose.

The man could see this youth plainly, his inside and out. Working with souls had given him that gift. This was the most perfect of all creations, both in spirit and body.

He blessed Aphrodite and Hephaestus for creating this mirror-thing, and Persephone for leaving it in her haste. He would journey to Olympus to ask advice of his brother, and then, without any doubt, Hades would pay a visit to this earthen angel.

The mirror returned to normal, and the God of the Underworld regarded himself in it. His angular face, white-silver eyes, white visage, and long, long raven hair were complemented by his black cloak. Being immortal had its advantages; he still looked like a youth of seventeen. They all did; Hades suspected that his brother would have much fewer children if all of the Olympians did not retain their beauty.

He tucked one lock of silken hair behind his ear. He had to look perfect for the task before him. Absolutely perfect…

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(Well, thank you for reading the...dundundunnn...first chapter of DOOM! Anyhoo, PLEASE feed the muse and review.)