A/N: Completely, in every way, shape, and form, alternate universe. Special thanks to cupcakegirl and Jezzi for editing.

Happenstance
1FRICKENgirl
Chapter 1: Running to the End of the World

you told me to wait
and don't forget
cause you'll be late
but won't forget
and jus'cause it's fate
don't you regret
when things were great
you can't regret
and there'll be no hate
don't stay upset
you're only eight
and not upset
not upset
no regrets
don't forget
I told you to wait

"What d'ya think you looking at?" he growls as the box of cutlery drops on the hard cement floor with a piercing shatter. My heart jumps at the sound, and I bite my lip in an attempt to hold back my anger at his recklessness. "She's not interested, got that? So fuck off," he says.

I flinch at the tone of his voice, my fingers curling around the smooth bend of our welcome mat. A part of me wants to assure him it's alright, that I can handle guys like them. But I know he'll snap back, and I know he'll bring it up. And it belongs in Bikanel. Left to rot and decay and be forgotten in Bikanel. I don't want it here.

He picks up the box effortlessly, swinging it to rest on his shoulder, his hand balled into an angry fist.

I glance away as I feel their eyes tentatively fall on me one last time, before looking back to Aniki with amusement and turning around to continue down the sidewalk. They mumble, "Fuckin' Al Bheds…" or something like it as they leave, but for once, Aniki lets it go. The air is tense for a moment, and then he comes behind me and says in a gruff voice, "Hurry up, Rik. I got work in an hour."

I nod at him mutedly, picking up the carpet roll and a heavy bag of random ornaments before closing the car trunk. We walk up the concrete steps, and he pulls the door open for me to go ahead of him. The stairs echo with our heavy footsteps, until we reach the second floor. I pull the door open for him, but he gestures for me to go through first.

The hallway is empty, smelling of old cheese and Pops' dirty socks. The lights are dim, creating a somewhat haze all around us, almost dreamlike if it weren't for the smell. We walk in silence until we reach our apartment door. We put our belongings on the cluttered, dusty ground, and he tells me to search through one of the boxes for a baseball cap. He doesn't want me showing my face.

We make a couple more trips up and down until the last of our belongings are taken out of the car and we close the empty trunk. Once we enter back into the apartment, I mention to Aniki that he'll be late for his first day of work if he doesn't leave immediately. Pops is still down at the construction site; he said he wouldn't be home until late in the evening. Aniki hesitates for a moment, pausing to stare long and hard at the messy living room floor. Then he suddenly turns and gives me a cautious look.

"Don't let anyone in," he warns. "Don't answer the phone, don't answer the door. You stay right here until Pops comes home."

I glance down. I hate that he always treats me like such a child now. Now when I'm merely a year away from being officially adult. "I know," I mumble quietly.

He pats my shoulder reassuringly. "Besides, there's a lot of cleaning to do 'round here. Better get started."

He leaves a while later, locking the door himself, not wanting passing neighbours to see my face if I were to be the one closing it. I slump down on the hardwood floor and reach over to the box of cutlery pushed against the wall. The corners are bent where he dropped it, and its sides are bruised from being squished in the car so hastily. I use my nails to tear open the tape, and carefully open the lid to reveal the damages.

A few plates are cracked along with a cup or two. I pick them up gently and watch as grains from the fissures crumble and fall, the glass coating making them glisten like tiny teardrops in the afternoon sun. I unpack them all, putting aside the broken ones and examining each of the others just in case. I stop when I realize that a piece of Mom's mug has fallen off.

My hands become shaky, and I bite my lip fiercely at Aniki's unparalleled stupidity. I try to put the little green piece back in place, but it threatens to fall every time. I then lie it down on the coffee table, gently on a piece of cloth, before rummaging through all of our boxes and bags for some glue. Every failed search builds up my anger, every failed attempt feeds my rage, and I am about to burst into insanity when I've put the last box down and realize that I still haven't found the glue.

Tysh oui, Aniki. Tysh oui, I mentally repeat, my mind numbing at the sight of the broken green mug. My mother's mug. Her favourite mug. The one she drank coffee from every morning, happily telling me "Have a nice day!" before sending me off to school. The one she drank cool water from every hot summer afternoon when I went outside to play. The one she drank warm tea from every night she sat up in the kitchen going through the bills, rocking me soundly to sleep in her lap. No memory of her is as vivid as the memory of seeing her bring the shiny green mug to her pale pink lips, her eyes gazing distantly forward before turning around to give that special smile she only reserved for me. A smile that hugged me, laughed with me, and protected me from the unknown world. A smile only preserved in my mind and weakly brought back to life in the faint reflection of the shiny green mug.

The car! I realize, remembering that Pops had asked me to bring the glue to him yesterday when he was fixing the dashboard. I make a run for the door, but Aniki's warnings freeze my steps.

I stomp angrily, knowing he'd never understand if I explained it to him. He never liked talking about Mom. He always told me to shut up when I did. But my fingers are itching, and my heart is aching to piece back together her memory before it's too late to revive it in this strange, new city. That her memory will be forever stuck back in our old home, her prevailing smile fading away as she realizes we've left her behind.

I grab my jacket from the sofa, and grab my keys from the table. It's a quick trip down to the car and back up. Nothing will happen to you, Silly. I don't press the thought any further, for fear of changing my mind, and instead spur out of the apartment and pull down my cap.

I stare at the ground for guidance, my face being so shielded that I can hardly see where exactly I'm going. But I reach the car in no time, having been up and down repeatedly today, and I search frantically in the front seat for the little white tube of glue. I find it a few minutes later in the back, on the floor, and put it safely in my coat pocket. I lock the car doors and am about to run back inside when a figure blocks my way. A lump drops in my throat.

I glance up just enough to see his torso. "E-Excuse me," I choke out in the most polite way I can.

"I'm sorry. It's just… are you new here?" the man asks with a hint of amusement to his voice, and for a moment, I think I recognize it. "You're really pretty."

I try and walk around him but he blocks me again.

He laughs. "What's wrong, am I scaring you?" He touches my arm slightly, a dark blue band-aid on his thumb. "I just wanted to ask for the time…"

I slap his fingers harshly away and push past him with a grunt as I race up the building steps and inside. I can hear my quick heartbeat and my loud gasps of breath thundering in my ears. I just want to go back into our apartment.

Aniki's warnings echo again in my ears as I run up the stairs, my surroundings blurring around me, and I begin to wonder if I'd run up too far. But that one second of wonder consequently makes me lose my concentration, and I trip over a step and forcefully fall forward. An unfamiliar pair of sturdy arms catches me.

I don't have time to regain my breath. My hat has fallen off, and I can't look up. I mumble a quick thanks and turn around and run some more, but I trip again, and once again my savior catches me.

"Hey, slow down," he chuckles softly, trying to steady my shaky form with his strong hold. "Are you alright?"

I feel fearful in the empty stairwell, the stranger's hands firmly grasped around my wrist, and I immediately regret ever coming out in the first place. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you," I blurt, trying to wrestle myself away but can't for lack of stability on the inclined ground.

He finally gets me to balance, and I break away instantly, knowing that I had certainly passed the second floor and immediately want to go back down. He jogs down after me. "Wait! Your hat!" he calls. But I don't stop, my pace increasing at his every word until he reaches out and grabs my shoulder to turn me around, and I accidentally look up at him. I stop running.

He smiles kindly. "Your hat," he repeats, placing my red cap in my hand.

But I am too stricken by surprise to even realize it. My stare never leaving his right eye, unusually covered with a stretchy black eyepatch. My breathing slows back to normal and I almost forget why I'm in the stairwell in the first place.

He knows what I'm staring at, and shakes his head and turns away. "It was an accident when I was little. No big deal."

I tear my gaze away from him and look down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I say impulsively, not exactly sure what I was apologizing for. Strangely, though I'd never met him before, I felt as if it were my fault.

He shrugs simply. "Don't worry. I get the same reaction from people every time." He pauses, then glances back down at me with a curious look. "Did you just move here?"

I don't answer. I don't run this time; but I don't answer.

He smiles. "'Cause I think I would've remembered someone like you." He chuckles lightly and pats the side of my pocket as he walks past me. "Had fun savin' you, Clumsy," he says with a playful smirk before disappearing down the stairs and out the glass building doors.

When I get back inside our apartment, I find that my tube of glue and the six dollars from my pocket are missing.

- - - - - - - -

The spokesman's voice softly resonates throughout our quiet apartment, filling the air with a sort of warmness and comfort like one of those Christmas postcards you always see in December with the fat furry cat nuzzling by the picture-perfect fireplace. Pops reminds me of the fat cat. Lying on the couch with a pillow over his head, its position slightly changing with every breath and snore. Beside him is his cleanly eaten TV dinner – chicken and potatoes this time, and an empty Coca Cola can next to it... beside another can from this morning. He'll want another when he wakes up.

Aniki's singing in the shower; has been for nearly a half hour now. But his voice is too dim to damage the warm atmosphere of our living room, and the rhythmic sound of running water drowns out his bad singing voice. Mom always said he had a lovely voice, and could be the next big thing. But I always knew she was just trying to cheer him up. She was nice like that, lying to us so often.

A knock on the door startles my father, and he wakes up with a sleepy, "WhhHuhhh?" He sees me on the floor near him, just as confused, trying to tape together the green mug. He then glances at the clock, and shouts in a commanding, angry, voice, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

There's a short pause. "…U-Uncle Cid? I-Is that you?" comes the muffled voice from behind the door. Her voice pierces through our postcard living room, giving me a blast of exhilaration that tears the sereneness apart.

My eyes bulge wide in surprise and I leave the mug on the table as I bolt up from the floor and race towards the door. I throw it open and immediately jump on my older cousin with an excited squeal, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my face into her shoulder with love. "Yunie!" I shout and laugh all at once, ready to cry if my excitement was going to drive me to it.

She laughs with me and hugs me back with equal cheerfulness. "Why didn't you call me and tell me you arrived?" she says in a teasingly accusing manner.

I scrunch my face in shame. "I – I kind of forgot," I lie.

She makes a cute little 'o' shape with her mouth and places her hands on her hips in mock anger. "You little -"

"-Meanie, I know." I give her my best puppy-dog eyes. "I'm sorry, Yunie."

She laughs it off as my father calls her to come inside. "Where's your mother, Yuna?" he asks as she enters.

"Still at the shop." She suddenly turns to me and pokes me lightly. "Hey, you should come down someday and see it. We just got an entire shipment of fresh orchids yesterday. You'd love them so much."

I smile in response to her enthusiasm. "I can't wait to see them!"

"Why don't you come with me right now?" she suggests with a grin. "Before it gets darker. It's only a few blocks away."

I open my mouth to answer when Pops interrupts me. "Rikku's starting school tomorrow. She needs to get ready."

My cousin glances back and forth between my father and I, a bit confused. "B-But it'll only be for a while, Uncle Cid," she explains. "Besides, we haven't hung out in mont-"

My father's eyes cloud in a somber darkness and his tone is dead serious. "I'm sorry, Yuna. But Rikku is busy. You two can catch up at school tomorrow."

Yuna's mouth opens to protest, but she stops herself and I can see the fear in her eyes at my father's glare. "Al-Alright," she forces out slowly. She gives me an uneasy look. "I'll… see you tomorrow then, Rikku. Bye Uncle Cid…"

I nod faintly and watch as she leaves, walking slowly down the hallway. But then Pop slams the door in front of my face, and her figure is erased completely as if it were never there to begin with.

"It's enough that you're going to a public school, Rikku. We don't need you getting into anymore trouble," he tells me quietly before returning to his spot on the couch.

- - - - - - - -

"Go back in there and change," Aniki had said when I walked out in a pair of loose jeans and a plain white T-shirt. I told him I couldn't find anything better. He told me to wear a long sweatshirt. I told him it was a warm spring morning. He tattled on Pops.

Aniki's driving me to school while I sit in the front seat, boiling in the heavy grey sweater and tiredly blowing at the roof of my red baseball cap. I have the sudden urge to just leap out of the car and run northward until I reach the Arctic Circle and get adopted by one of those Coca Cola polar bears.

I know my family just means well. But sometimes I wish they didn't. I was independent before. Now I'm treated like a child again, always walking into traps and messes that I can't get out of. Never escaping what happened that November night.

My tank top sticks to my skin underneath my sweatshirt. Pops would kill me if he found out I was wearing it beneath. But there was no way I was going to wear a second sweater.

The car grinds to a halt in front of the school and I see my future classmates scattered around the front and on the field. The school itself is quite large, bigger than my old school definitely, but more old and rundown looking. Cigarette butts popping out of the grass and ground like orange and white daisies. Garbage bins knocked over, spilling its contents out in heavy piles. Previously red brick walls cleaned to a frightening pale peach of the vandalism. I grimace. Aniki clasps his hand around mine. "I'm picking you up at exactly three. You better be here."

I nod obediently. "But what if Yun-"

"You.Better.Be.Here," he repeats slowly, narrowing his eyes. "I'm serious about this, Rik."

"I know," I grumble, reaching down for my backpack and opening the car door. I step outside and close it.

"And Rik."

I bend down to stare in the window of the car. "Yeah?"

He's quiet as he glances down at his hands firmly on the steering wheel. His eyes are fixed. His face is emotionless. His limbs are frozen in place. He's reminiscing. "Have a nice day."

- - - - - - - -

"Huh, Rikku, ya?" the teacher says, glancing down at the sheet I'd given him. He forces out a smile, running a hand through his bright auburn hair. "Rikku. It's… an Al Bhed name, ya?"

I nod and answer, "Yes."

He shakes his head grimly, and then mumbles something I can't hear as he folds the sheet and places it at the corner of his desk. "Well then, welcome." He taps the edge of my cap. "You'll need to remove that first, ya. There's no hats allowed in the school."

I bite my lip, unsure of how to explain to him. "I - I'm not allowed to take it off," I say quietly.

The class erupts into soft giggles and smirks at my answer. My teacher doesn't find it as amusing and his voice is low and sarcastic. "Unless it's for a religious… Al Bhed... purpose, it isn't allowed." He taps his foot on the ground irritably.

After a pause, I remove the cap. My cheeks are hot with humiliation.

For a moment, he's still, his gaze softening and his rigid expression turns gentle. But he recovers quickly. He takes the hat away from me and puts it on his desk over my letter from the office. "You can get it after class," he tells me. He looks around the room. He completely misses the spare desk in the front. "There's an empty spot in the back, ya? That's your seat."

I turn and follow his directions, noticing the commanding silence that accompanies my gaze. The giggles and laughter die immediately, and with every step I take, the room grows to an even more deafening silence. Their voices have hushed, words stolen from their mouths and read in their wandering eyes. They all stare at me as I walk past them, watching in quiet wonder. I catch one particular girl glaring at me as if she is trying to burn me alive with her vicious, red eyes. She intimidates me, her stare more curious and judicious than all the rest. I turn away. I wish I had my cap.

I reach my desk and miserably sink in, burying my head immediately in the pillow of my arms to draw away attention. I wish I were more modest. More ignorant. But experience has made me realize that I turn heads wherever I go. And just like that guy with the eye-patch, people stop and stare when they see me. Except, my "eye-patch" is plastered all over my face and swirled emerald, with a big glowing neon sign screaming 'Look at me! Look at my beautiful Al Bhed face! You know I'm sexy. You know I'm gorgeous. I can be your whore for the night, Baby. Don't you just want to fuck me?'

- - - - - - - -

"Al Bhed slut," one girl whispers to her friend as they pass by me.

I try to bring Aniki's singing back into my mind to drown out all their whispers. But his voice and presence has long left me, and I can feel his protective grasp slowly weakening. I feel cold and vulnerable, and dependent like always. And I get angry. Angry that I've lost all self-respect, all independence so easily. So quickly. One night.

I wasn't like this when I was little. I was actually stronger. I was unafraid. But things happen, that strip you off your dignity, of your hope and of your pride. And in an instant, your picturesque, fine-ink sketched world, is blemished and melted away in a wave of crimson red. And before you know it, you're leaning against the side of a cold brick wall, tears streaming down your face and you cry with the heavens above and you wonder, underneath the bright streetlamp you lay there and you wonder, how your hands could be capable of being stained with so much blood.

- - - - - - - -

The sky looks omniscient when it's dark and streaks of lightning fissure through its black exterior, accompanying the loud growling of thunder that establishes its supremacy over all those beneath it. The world feels so much more real when the soft wind has rushed away, and in its place a frightening, howling cry of murder and anguish sweeps through the city streets with no mercy for the innocent. And the sun has run away to hide behind the vicious clouds, too afraid and too weak to break through and kiss the cheeks of thousands of scared victims caught in the storm of reality. It is too weak and too afraid to repaint the illusion that things are… that things are different here; the illusion that this city is a blissful heaven where tears are only that of joy and love.

But who can tell the difference anyway in the bleak atmosphere of the rain? Where tears of happiness, of sadness, of hurt and of love are disguised as simply water droplets searching for the quickest route to the ground. And the clouds bring about the darker side, conjuring up stories of the past and claiming to be able to predict the future as well. And after a while, you get tired of it. And you let the heavens go on their rampage of fury. Because everyone needs to relax once in a while. Everyone needs some way to relieve of their stress.

It's just… something about this city bugs me. The tall, skyscraper buildings, illuminating themselves proudly in the grand spotlights of the storm. Whilst below in the dirty old streets, and in the darkest corner, of the most desolate alleyways, lies a lonely person, or dog, or cat. Stranded tired, alone, and abandoned. Betrayed, angry, and vengeful. And people wonder why they go insane.

I step into a deep puddle and it splashes all over my jeans, soaking them, turning them navy blue, wet, and heavy. I shake the excess water off my boots and resume walking. I don't turn back, and I don't even turn to the side. My eyes are fixed on the future before me and my legs are frozen in one direction. I don't know where I'm going, but the closest guess would be that I'm searching for the end of the world. A place where I can just jump off and run. Run away from this place. Run away from these people. Another world. Another place. Another person is what I want.

In this world, I'll see her. And I'll bring her the taped mug. And I'll tell her that Aniki was the one who broke it, not me. And how I wanted to fix it so badly before the nice-guy-turned-hoodlum stole our glue. But in her frozen state, and in her frozen face she will not reply. She will smile like she always had, as if she were simply asking me, "So, did you have a nice day?" And even after I've told her of my horrible first day of school, the broken mug, the blue band-aid stranger, and the eye-patched thief, her never-ending smile will still forever be preserved on her pale lips. I miss her. I miss my mom.

- - - - - - - -

Sometimes, in my sleep, the Blue Devil from my childhood comes. Him and his darkly voice. Him and his forceful grip. Him and his deadly, silver blue eyes. Watching me. Fingers, taunting me. Pressing against my skin, his breath on my face. And I shrink into helplessness, down a never-ending spiral, underneath the black, stormy sky. Howling wind and lonely streetlamps. Arms hugely bruised, and legs run down to their last drop of energy. And yet he smiles. Through his wild blue hair and his silver blue eyes he smiles.

"I just want to get to know you…"

And then suddenly, it would be warm. It would be wet, and warm. And my fingers sticky and numb and drenched. The bloody blade at my feet. And he would look up from the ground, and stare at me. Gasping and clutching his side, and staring at me. Bewildered. Confused. Surprised. Angry. Staring at me.

And I would run. Down the endless sidewalk I'd run, run and find Aniki. Run and find Pops. I would run until I thought my little legs could run no more, and when I turned back around, I would see him directly behind me, panting heavily and still, staring. But this time, he's not confused. This time, he's not surprised. And he reaches out, and grabs me, viciously pulling me back down his hole. And I'll scream, and I'll shout but no one will hear my cry. I'm just a silly little Al Bhed child after all.

And he takes me into his grasp, and he presses his hand against my mouth. And I try to bite his fingers off, digging my nails and teeth into his skin to no avail. He says he'll kill me if I continue. And that he'll kill Mom if I try to get away again. But he must be retarded. Mom's already dead.

I see a van come into view, and he's heading straight for it. My heart races speedily, and I begin to realize there's no escape. I beg the world for any ounce of mercy. I frantically promise I'll always eat all my vegetables from now on. That I'll follow my bedtime to the second, and that I'll never kick Aniki again.

And then suddenly, I'm on the ground. Rolling in the grass with weeds and mud tangled in my hair as I hear cries of anguish behind me. I look up and see the Blue Devil lying on the ground, being beaten recklessly by a strange little blond boy about my age. He immediately turns and catches my gaze before I'm able to understand what had just happened.

"Run! Go on, run!" the boy tells me.

But I can't. I stand up, and I stumble. My legs still hurting from before.

"Run! Run away!"

Tears in my eyes, I try with all my might to get up and run like he says. But I can't help but feel guilt. This was my problem, not his.

Suddenly, the Blue Devil picks him up by the silver chain around his neck, choking him. But the necklace snaps, and the boy falls down. The Blue Devil throws the chain away, and reaches out for the boy before he can break free.

The necklace is a few feet away from me, and I can't help but reach out and take it. The boy lets out a scream of agony as the Blue Devil punches his face harshly, cursing loudly. But the boy manages to turn around and look at me. And he gives me an encouraging gaze.

'Run…'

And I do. I run. I run and I run… necklace in hand, hand in blood. Still I run and I run to the end of the world – to the end of the world where Mom's waiting for me.

But I always wake up before I see her.