How to Save a Life Chapter 1: p r o l o g u e, a fruits basket fanfic

Hi there!

I'm alive, surprisingly. I bet you're all thinking (at least those of you who have read my stories go) where DID SHE GO? Well, I've been here. Just not ... here.

But, here is my new Kyou x Tohru romantic fic to replace some of the stories I deleted. This story was inspired from a mixture of songs; How to Save a Life by The Fray and Gravity by Vienna Teng as the main ones. I love writing. : )

So, enjoy the story everyone! - Kiyoshi

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE
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a k y o r u romance.
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---- p r o l o g u e ----
"We make a living by what we get,
we make a life by what we give."

The rain was heavy as it hit the window. Droplets chased each other and ate away at still ones, continuously falling down, in an offbeat pattern. Thunder purred in the sky and lightening flashed every so often. It was a comfortable storm – most people would curl up with a book or in the arms of someone they love, watch a movie, or sleep. The trees and plants were being nurtured, some people jumped in puddles outside and couples were walking with umbrellas and laughing about something that was probably pointless.

But, for him, his day was what as pointless.

He just stood there staring out the window, like he had done when he was a child; always standing by the window and wanting to go outside, but never being able to. His mother always took him away and told him to come along, they'd do something fun. That usually only lasted for about five minutes before she grew angry and stomped upstairs. One of the maids or butlers would take him back up to his room and close the curtains, as he watched a small crack of sunlight peel through.

He was tired of it.

His mother was asleep and the maids and butlers were preparing dinner. It was a gray day outside and rainy, but even after seventeen years, today he felt like he'd suffocate if he stayed in his room any longer. Their family was rather rich; he had gaming systems, TVs, electronic devices and everything to make any other boy happy. But, he didn't have the chance to laugh and say he'd be back at dusk as he ran out the door to play soccer with his friends.

Friends; what did those feel like, again?

Yanking open the doors to his rather expansive closet, he turned on the light and tugged a jacket on, zipping it up and placing a beanie over his locks of ginger-orange, crimson eyes steady as he slipped into some tennis shoes and changed out of his black dinner slacks and into some torn jeans. The mirror told him what he really was; thin from hardly eating, yet he had a natural tan even though he was ever allowed outside. His hair fell over his light eyebrows and his face was handsome but had the resemblance of any seventeen year old, maybe even a younger boy. He clutched his fingers into a fist and turned from the mirror, shut off the light and exited the closet.

His room was big and open in appearance; he had a large bed with plush covers and pillows of the most comfortable kind. He had posters of his favorite bands and movies, and professionally done, modern art to cover other parts of the wall. His large TV and all gaming systems were in a corner of the room with a black gaming chair, a large looking black and white rug in the center of the room. He didn't like his room; he hated it. It had everything and then nothing – just like him.

He shoved his hands into his pockets after pulling on a crimson scarf over his black jacket. He gently closed the door to his room and walked down the stretching hallway, feeling like he was in a maze; art and fancy décor decorated the place. He then made his way down some spiraling stairs and through another door; closing it, the male sighed and was in the entryway of the first story of the house.

He had the whole second story to himself, only a door and another hallway upstairs blocking him from his mother and the maids.

It was torture.

He looked around casually and leaned forward to see the maids working in the kitchen preparing some dinner. Their two butlers were setting the large table and his lazy cat named Chuchi lounged on top of the grand piano, which was never used, in the living room. She lifted up and meowed, her eyes sparkling. He shook his head and she remained quiet, hopping off the piano to come to him, but he tiptoed his way to the door anyway, placing his hand on the knob.

The rain clouds and the storm waited outside for him; but, he had to open that door and get out there, release his wings, break from his chains, and run into the rain; feel it against his skin. It almost seemed impossible for a seventeen year old to never touch the outside world, but many possibilities of the new century made it achievable; home schooling, maids and butlers doing his things for him, being told to sleep all the time, being told that disease and hurt waited out there, being scared of the outside when he was merely a little child. His mother had traumatized and hypnotized him and he had obeyed her for a while, but …

Now he was nothing but a rebellious seventeen year old son to a cold mother, and he was getting out there.

Chuchi meowed, her orange body curling around his ankles, but he gently brushed her away. She looked sad; just like he had been. He was sad. They related in a way – they were both sad, and she probably wanted to get outside too. So she just sat and looked up at him, swishing her tail and mewing lightly.

Turning the knob and pushing the door behind him, nothing stopped him as he took his first step outside; as well as his first step into a life and experience that he would've never known if he hadn't stepped out.

Disclaimer:

Thanks for reading! c: