A/N: Behind a cut for sexual content. Assignments for KHR fanfic exchange released tomorrow, can't wait =D

My love for Battle B-daman has been rekindled...along with a new love for the Super Five, and nevertheless their host Marilyn. They should have their own anime, lols. If only Cain and Joshua didn't join the NSA and Super Five wasn't just a gig, it would be quite a cool story they have. And I doubt they're re-appearing in Fire Spirits =X

I sigh at the lack of season 2 episodes...

...Bierce should have a cameo with them. Huh.

A/N: This was meant to be yesterday's flashfic. May hint at gayness or may not. 

We always helped each other in times of need. Yet as of late, I was beginning to hint that he was tired of doing so.

 

“God, loser,” he groaned in exasperation as he studied the mess I made. “I can’t trust you with the stove or the washing machine as of now…soon, I swear even the TV is off-limits.”

 

“The problem is not that I’m pathetic, okay?” I snapped. “An accident is an accident, freaking hostel-mate.”

 

He was about to say something, but instead settled for a ‘tch’. Who was he acting all high and mighty now, refusing to even have a proper fight? Still in his school uniform, he put away his schoolbag in a corner, rolling up his pants before getting to work. The infuriating air of reluctance around him was simply irritating.

 

“Fine if you don’t want to help me,” I informed, obstructing his path. I thought two pairs of hands were better than one, carelessly missing out another factor—the practicality of the owner.

 

“Now you’re the one being childish here,” he retorted. “You know that only I can do this. Just stick to whatever you can do…all those…right, so I don’t know what in hell you can do.”

 

Apparently, his world was one biased against those unfamiliar with electrical appliances. We knew how this could be resolved, perhaps through a brawl on the orange-tiled floor lathered with a layer of suds, or a duel or some sort. However, I opted for an alternative method, something I had an edge over him.

 

“When you ruin one thing, you ruin everything—ah!” His words were effectively cut off as he found himself lifted off the ground and plunked atop the washing machine with a ‘thud’.

 

“Thus, I can’t do anything,” I summarized in a simple, unexaggerated sentence. “That’s what you meant. I’m a useless asshole.” 

 

“Huh? Well…” His eyes darted around nervously, at that moment at a loss for words. I watched as he subtly inched closer to the wall, further away from me, at the same time noticing how his Adam’s apple twitched amidst his stammering.

 

What a lovely neck he had, so elongated and sexy and very conveniently exposed.

 

It was easy. I did not even need to touch him; just a deft and lasting tug on his tie would suffice. Caught off-guard, he had no time to put his defenses up, now that he could call me nothing. Within seconds he was already gasping for breath, but from experience I knew that oxygen was not the main priority, he merely needed to scream.

 

Not long after, his back arched sharply and began to foam like the cursed broken machine. That was when I knew I had to stop. Upon release, he coughed and I reached out to help him steady himself.

 

He allowed me to do so, albeit hesitating slightly, knowing well that my sadistic tendencies were only temporary.

 

“Sorry,” he rasped.

 

There, he said it. Was it enough, self?

 

“I don’t want to kill you,” I told him again for the umpteenth time.

 

“I know,” he replied, and I knew he did. “But both of us will become worse bastards if you don’t do it.”

 

Was what he did so wrong, after all? Leaving another to dwell in purposelessness while subconsciously moving into the light, had not many ordinary people done the same thing?

 

“I can’t fix this,” I admitted.

 

“Honestly, neither do I,” he confessed, his breathing almost back to normal. “Both of us are useless.”

 

Wondering if I had finally crossed the line, I took a tentative step backwards.

 

“Want me to leave you alone?” I asked.

 

He turned away from me, casting his eyes downwards at the slippery surface.

 

“I can’t walk on this now,” he expressed his fear. “It’s rather lame to slip and break something here.”

 

I understood. He leaned forward and co-operated as I hoisted him off, his quaking body clammy with sweat.

 

Only he would forgive me. Only he could forgive me.

 

Yet he was only an ordinary person.

A/N: Some of the previous flashfics have been f-locked, because I am going to print them out soon for my portfolio. Am not really satisfied with this one, but it's supposed to give a 'relaxing' effect, really. Thinking of getting back to writing longer stuff, and definitely some fanfic once my Chinese Oral Exam is over.

“Hey, is he dead?” John asked, pointing at a young man lying by the river bank. Startled, Joseph and Thomas adverted their attention away from the ball game and stared in the direction John was pointing.

 

They were children who were yet to understand putting themselves in others shoes, thus instead of concluding that the young man could be worn out, musing or simply lain because he had the free will to do so, they concluded him to be a corpse, no more human.

 

Their big, bright eyes blinked with curiosity, and they continued studying the stranger.

 

“He’s not moving,” Thomas pointed out. “I think he’s really dead.”

 

“Hey Mister!” Joseph hollered; despite his mother’s constant reminder to not talk to people you don’t know. “Are you dead yet?”

 

“No, brother,” The young man answered. Up until one of them asked this peculiar question, he did not pay them any particular attention. “I’m very alive, thank you very much.”

 

Joseph gave a nod, though the young man could not see him as he remained in his horizontal position. However, the other two boys jumped back in fright.

 

“He’s alive!” John gasped.

 

“He might be a ghost,” Thomas spun another hypothesis.

 

“Jeez guys don’t be silly,” Joseph sighed, upon turning back and coming face to face with their ridiculously pale countenance. “You never saw something alive before? Let’s play again.”

 

With that, Joseph picked up the blue ball they had discarded among the fascination and horror, heading to a spot further away from the river. The two others dumbly followed, still befuddled by the aftermath of their encounter with the young man. Nevertheless, their short attention-span quickly rid all speculation from their naïve minds.

 

-+-

 

Then, John alerted them again. “I know why he’s dead! Look!”

 

For the second time that day, the group of boys focused on the young man. He moved not a single muscle from the last time they did so.

 

“Crows are eating up his body,” Thomas pointed out. “They only do that to dead bodies. I think he’s really dead.”

 

Without a word, Joseph instantly rushed forward and hurled a nearby rock at the young man.

 

“He’s dead you know,” Thomas reiterated his point. “There’s no point in killing him.”

 

“I’m not trying to kill him,” Joseph corrected. “Just chasing the crows away.”

 

Thomas and John looked at each other, before whispering amongst themselves and fleeing the scene. At first, Joseph assumed them to be afraid that the crows might come after them in revenge, but they returned in a flash with more stones and several branches in their hands. Using their new ammunition, they aided Joseph in his rescue mission.

 

“Argh!” The two boys’ battle cry filled the air.

 

Joseph thought that that kind of noise was only reserved for playing Red Indian or Policemen. ‘Definitely not for soccer,’ Joseph idly thought. ‘Soccer makes me too tired.’

 

In a few of their attempts they made direct hits, dispersing the flock and freeing the young man. Finally, he got to his feet, albeit painstakingly.

 

“Crows are my friends, but thanks anyway,” He shouted at the boys as he rubbed the side of his head. “Thanks, gentlemen.”

 

Sensing that he was about to leave, Thomas and John hastily seized their last chance.

 

“Mister, are you dead?” John questioned.

 

“Mister, are you a ghost?” Thomas enquired.

 

Unexpectedly, Joseph asked something different. “Mister, did the crows hurt you?”

 

“Felt more pain before they came,” The young man chuckled, choosing to only address Joseph. “More painful than crows and sticks and stones, that’s what I reckon.”

 

-+-

 

Joseph spent the rest of the day ignoring the two of his friends, choosing to imitate the young man. As time passed, his body edged closer and closer to the water body. He would certainly have fallen in, drowned and felt pain if not for his mother coming to get him.