Disclaimer: characters by Aoki Takao, distributed by VIS Media, etc.

Wow, it's been over a year since I put anything on this site. When did the new look come in? Kinda reminds me of the new dA….

To the few people reading "Ten Weeks", I apologize. I always mean to write the next bit – that story has been on my to-do list since I thought up the idea three summers ago. I even have ideas for the sequel XD

'Mkay so new story, new characters – introducing OOMC! Featuring Tala Ivanov (Yuriy Balkov), a member of a gang (not a far stretch for his personality). I started this in December.

Warnings: Some language, action violence?

------OUT OF MY CONTROL------

by destinykitty

------Part 1------

The Shipwreck

I should not have done it. And what's worse, I knew I shouldn't have done it. I told myself, this is a bad idea. Don't get involved. It will only cause more trouble later on.

Apparently I'm too stupid to even listen to myself.

I couldn't help it. This kid was the poster-child of pathetic – small, skinny, wide-eyed and pink-haired. Any boy with pink hair was asking for trouble. His round pink cheeks were a mess of tears.

He'd have made a convincing girl. Heck, if you had told me that he was a girl, I probably would have believed you. Maybe that's why I had to step in. Even underworlders have a sense of honor, I'll have you know.

I jumped into the fight, scared off the punks harassing the kid, gave them a warning. They were pretty pitiful themselves – had to be to pick on such an easy target. Once they'd run off, yelling back threats which I completely ignored, I turned to the kid.

I wasn't sure how much damage they had done; once the punk holding him had let go, he'd dropped to the ground and not moved away. I put a hand on his back – shivering and jumping with sharp breaths – and called, "Hey! You ok, kid?"

He didn't answer, except to pull himself tighter into a ball. I huffed a sigh and tried to speak more softly.

"Those punks are gone; I scared them off. Now are you going to get up or should I just leave you here?"

He rubbed his face into a sleeve and glanced up at me warily.

"Good. Can you stand?"

"I… I don't know." His voice was whispery and hoarse from sobbing,

I rolled my eyes heavenward, praying for patience – I was still hyped on adrenaline from the fight, which made it even more difficult to be understanding. "You want to try?"

He dropped his gaze, shuffled around a bit, then dragged himself to his feet with the help of the alley wall. I followed him up – I'm more than a head taller when we're both upright. He stood unsteadily, rubbing his eyes and shuddering.

I puffed another sigh. "Look, tell me where you live, and I'll take you home."

His lip quivered. Great.

"I'm not going to do anything to you! Besides, things can't get much worse, right?" I tried to joke. Fail. Somehow his cheeks managed to get more red, then he looked away and shook his head.

"Come on, let's go."

Between his unsteady steps and my impatience I ended up carrying him most of the way back to my motor bike –not a huge deal, since he weighed about as much as one of Kai's stray cats – and drove him home. That part I should have been compensated for at least, considering his neighborhood was Boris's territory and Boris runs a mean gang. But I didn't see anyone hostile on our way in.

Stopped in front of the apartment building he indicated, I put the kid down on the sidewalk and made sure that he could at least stand up.

"Get yourself cleaned up and go to bed – think you can make it to your place from here? Eh, you'll be fine. Just don't come back around my side of town again. You're probably safer up here. Ok, kid?"

"My name is Raul," he said quietly. He was eyeing me from beneath those pink bangs, green eyes no longer wet though still red from crying.

"Raul, then. Hope I don't have to use it 'cuz I'm saving your ass again."

I don't know it he was even listening to me, because over the revving of my bike's engine he called, "What's your name?"

"Tala," I replied shortly, and drove off.

------

The first sign on trouble was when I was stopped on my way out of the neighborhood. "Just passing through," I called to the group of men who forced me to stop.

"You should have gone around, lowlife," one of the men replied.

"I was enjoying the view," I drawled. It was a semi-threatening situation but I didn't care much – they had not caught me doing anything and I was still on my bike. No weapons had yet appeared.

"Pay the toll and get out," another demanded. I handed over the expected bribe, then kicked my machine back to life and disappeared into the night.

------

To my surprise and bad luck I saw the kid not two weeks later. There had been a "business" meeting that night and afterwards my friend Spencer and I decided to forget about it by getting drunk.

We had barely arrived – I was only on my second beer – when the pink-haired kid suddenly appeared out of the crowd and sat down at my table uninvited, smiling shyly. Spencer was at the bar so I was alone.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded rudely.

Raul's smile faded somewhat and he glanced away across the room. "I came here with friends." My gaze followed his to a group of kids laughing and goofing around near the dance floor.

"You're all pretty damn young to be here. Isn't there somewhere else for you to hang out?"

"Not really," he answered, toying with a napkin on the table. "Besides," he continued, evidently drawing up his courage, "you're not that much older than me."

"Yeah but I can take care of myself, unlike some people."

He blushed a bit, still playing with the napkin, then stopped abruptly and said, "Tala."

Hearing my name caught my attention – why had I told him? Stupid, stupid–

"Thank you."

I looked at him. "Huh?"

He scrunched up the napkin in his hands but held my gaze. "For saving me. I didn't get to thank you that night."

"Oh… don't worry about it," I replied, suddenly uncomfortable. Taking another swig of my drink, I asked, "So are you leaving or what?"

"Do you want me to leave?"

I stared at him. I could not believe that he was actually that stubborn all of the sudden – I had completely expected him to slink off after my biting comment, but there he was, gazing up at me through his eyelashes. I was struck again by how feminine he looked. Weird.

"Fine," I growled, waving over a waiter. "Get him something to drink – non-alcoholic. And get me another."

Raul made a face at my patronizing demand about his drink but remained in place, swinging his legs under the table.

------

I talk a lot when I'm buzzed – alcohol seems to have a magical ability to unhinge my tongue and bypass my usual reserve. Having an intent, indulgent audience didn't help the situation. Either there was something in Raul's sweet-smelling orange drink or my unusually relaxed openness made him feel very comfortable, because he happily sat across from me, asking questions and drinking in my stories with wide-eyed fascination.

To tell the truth I was completely enjoying myself. I had stopped drinking, shockingly – I was buzzed but no where near trashed. I even remained relatively calm about introducing Raul to Spencer when the blond wandered by to check on me. I must have seemed pretty under control, because he smiled at Raul and allowed the playful redhead under his arm to pull him onto the dance floor.

We carried on comfortably for quite a while before the inevitable interruption. I should have seen that coming, but as I've been trying to explain, something about this kid messes with my radar and I don't like it.

Anyway this big sleazy kid ambled up to our table and Raul immediately froze up, all the light vanishing from his bright green eyes. I looked over to see who had interrupted my story, which Raul had been laughing over ten seconds before. "What," I spat coldly, instantly irritated by the way this trespasser was looking at me.

"You've got something of ours. We're taking it back," a menacing voice oozed as two more grizzly characters joined the first. At least one of them looked vaguely familiar.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, so get out of my face before I get mad."

I had been trying to place goon number three, who was slinking behind the other two, so again I was surprised when the first shot out a hand. Instinctively my fists went up, but instead of trying to hit me, he grabbed Raul's wrist. "This belongs to us," he sneered.

I frowned at him, then at Raul, whose eyes had disappeared under heavy wet lashes and pink bangs.

"Sorry, he's my drinking buddy tonight," I said tersely. I was annoyed – at myself for being caught off-guard, at Raul for attracting trouble again, at these goons for wrecking my unexpected good mood.

"Oh really?" that snide voice goaded.

"Yeah," I replied.

"What's he drinking?" he mocked humorlessly. To my shrug he gloated, "Looks like soda."

I glared hatefully at him but he turned to Raul. "Having fun, baby? Knocking back soda with this low-life? Or do you want to have a real drink with the big kids?" When Raul didn't answer, he gave the boy's arm a twisting yank that pulled him off his seat and drew a quick cry from his lips.

In an instant I was on my feet as well, barely keeping myself from mauling the bully. "Let him go!" I almost shouted. All around us people went quiet, staring.

The leader, the one holding Raul's arm, smirked again. "Do you want to join us, then? Raul, shall I invite this lowlife for a drink?"

Still Raul's eyes stayed hidden and he did not answer. After a few endless seconds, the bully said, "I guess he's not interested."

Two of the intruders slowly walked away, dragging the boy with them. The last leaned in closer to me with a smug, "Stay away from him, if you know what's good for you." Then he followed the others away.

------

I was seething. I hate being threatened, and I was pissed at how weak Raul had been in the face of those bullies. I hate people who don't stand up for themselves. The fact that I still wanted Raul's company despite how much he annoyed me bugged me even more. The many staring eyes only made things worse.

I whirled around, not even sure where I was headed, and almost crashed into Spencer.

"Tala?" his deep voice questioned.

"I'm leaving," I snapped, pushing past him and the lanky redhead still at his side – I suppose they had come to investigate the source of all the commotion.

"Are you alright to drive?" Spencer rumbled, following me.

"I'm fine! I only had three!" Somehow his concern was making me even more upset.

His hand caught my shoulder. "Tala."

"What!" I exploded, turning on him.

"Don't do anything rash," he cautioned reasonably.

I scoffed, turning away, and my eyes found the group of bullies and victim again. Raul was boxed into a horseshoe-shaped booth, a large figure on either end and the third beside the boy. A tear slipped down his cheek to be hastily brushed away as a glass of amber liquid and foam was pushed in front of him. I looked at the one giving Raul beer, the one who had seemed familiar, and now recognized the bully as one of those I had pulled off Raul that night I had first rescued the boy.

Blood boiling and pounding in my head, I found myself on the comfortably worn seat of my motorbike and raced off into the gloom of the midnight city.

------

* You shouldn't drink if you are underaged. Tala is about nineteen in this story, and where he lives oversees, he's legal.

* The goons call Raul "baby" as an insult, not a term of endearment.

Is that enough suspense? Shall I continue? Please review!

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