Two Toned

"He really thinks he's something special, doesn't he..." Blank glared, his eyes hidden beneath his thick leather band. He didn't need physical sight to see what was going on. Zidane was being...Zidane. Attracting every female, and a few males, for miles. Rehearsal was a thing of imagination where Zidane was concerned. Across the room, Marcus and Cinna were talking, drinking a few cold ones. Baku didn't seem to care too much that his employees were wasting their time frivolously instead of planning for the most important heist they’d ever be doing. Ever. Who knew where the hell Ruby was off to! Blank shook his head, aggravated.

“Morons…all of ‘em…” He muttered, reaching for his dagger. He belted it at his waist and without another look he exited the tavern. He could hear the hushed whispers of the younger girls as he left.

“My god, what happened to that guy?” “That’s disgusting.” “Whoa, he must’ve been in one hell of an accident…”

Blank shook his head and scowled. It was the same wherever he went. People were either too scared or too grossed out to even look at him, let alone talk. No one knew what he went through…and, no one ever will.

The patches of different skin, the horrible jagged scars left from the grafting…well, it wasn’t too difficult to guess why he wasn’t the most popular member of Tantalus. It wasn’t too difficult to guess why he always had his eyes bound, either. It was a way for him to live with his different appearance, even if others still saw him as a monstrosity. At least he would be safe, just in case looks could kill.

Of course, when a problem arose, whom did everyone run to? When someone was poisoned, or silenced, or the ship was having engine trouble? Blank, of course. Everyone would momentarily forget that they were shunning him for his looks and run to him, begging for his help. He could have brushed them all away, lapse into an angry, anti-social blob. But…then he’d feel bad. They depended on him, more than they would ever admit, so, how could he ever back out without being the ‘bad guy’? He couldn’t.

Blank sighed, grabbing the rope ladder beneath the hull of the Prima Vista. He’d walked all the way out of town and into the seemingly vacant forest where they parked without even realizing what he was doing. With a shrug, he started climbing. When he got to the trap door, he knocked twice. The aging wood gave a low creak as Benero lifted the floor up to give Blank access.

“Thanks…” Blank muttered, hardly giving the squat engineer a second look. Benero blinked, turned around and returned to his work. As Blank left the engine room, Zenero came in with a pair of sandwiches for he and his brother.

Taking the rusting metal staircase spiraling downstairs, Blank opened the locked door to his room/lab. He didn’t bother locking it behind him; besides the Dumbstruck Duo, he was alone. He slunk down into his desk chair and opened the script for “I Want To Be Your Canary”. He couldn’t read the damn thing, his mind was wandering…

“This’ll be fun.” Blank sighed sardonically. “I’m the only moron studying these stupid lines. Aw, hell, I’m no actor!” He angrily picked up the thin volume and flung it across his room. When he didn’t hear a rustle of papers or the smack of something hitting the wooden paneling, he turned. Zidane was holding the pamphlet, looking over the first page.

“Hmm…maybe I should have studied this a little harder. At least I’m not Marcus…what’s with all the ‘thees’ and ‘thous’? No body talks like this!” Zidane chuckled. Blank glared. He stood and grabbed the script out of Zidane’s hands.

“How the hell did you get here so fast? Weren’t you yucking it up at the bar?” Blank asked, his voice lilting with anger. Zidane rolled his eyes.

“I got bored, saw you leave and decided to follow.” His lips curled into a sly little smirk. “I wanted to see if you were going to slink away and do something interesting. But…nope. You came here. How boring…” Blank clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, thanks. Done insulting me? Good. Go away.” Zidane’s eyes were filled with hurt, but Blank ignored it. Zidane was the best actor of the group and he wasn’t going to be fooled by him.

“Aw, what? Trying to get rid of me?” Zidane fluttered his eyelashes ridiculously. Blank crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know you love me…” Zidane smiled.

“You wanna stay? Fine. We’ll rehearse.” Blank said and went to his desk. He searched a moment amongst the pile of papers and various writing utensils. He pulled out another copy of the script and tossed it to Zidane. “What part do you wanna work on?” Zidane raised an eyebrow.

“Is there a love scene?” He asked. Blank sighed.

‘Holy, he must be drunk off his ass if he’s trying to hit on me.’ He thought, scowling.

“Not one we could do.” Was it his imagination, or did Zidane look disappointed? Damn him and his acting skills. “Come on, let’s try our fight scene. Hold on, let me get out the swords…” Blank jogged off to the storage room just upstairs and grabbed a number of practice swords. When he returned, Zidane was leaning back in his chair, an arm draped over his eyes. He was snoring lightly. Blank shook his head, irritated.

“I wasn’t gone that long, Monkey Boy. Get up.” Blank said and poked Zidane in his stomach. Zidane stuck out his tongue.

“Man…I could really use a nap right now. You?” He yawned. Stretching, he stood and looked puzzled at Blank. “Why so many? How many you got there? Four? Five?” Blank carefully set the props on his floor.

“Baku doesn’t spend a lot on props, just costumes and sets. These stupid things break easily. We need to practice, though.” Blank shrugged and picked up a hefty looking broadsword. Satisfied, he looks over at his comrade. “Okay, pick your weapon and we’ll start. Let’s see…we’ll start after the battle with King Leo, where I try to stop you from following him.” Zidane nodded, picked up the closest rapier and stood en garde.

“Uh…is it my line or yours?” Zidane asked. Blanked whipped out his script, scanned the page and nodded.

“Yours. You say, ‘Out of my way, Blank.’ But you yell it. You’re angry at me here.” Blank said and tucked his script into his belt.

“Okay…Outta my way, Blank!!” Zidane shouted. Blank blinked and shook his head.

“You’re not about to skewer me, we’re just supposed to be arguing. And don’t use slang. ‘Out of’, not ‘Outta’.” He said. Zidane smirked.

“Argh…all right.” He said, obviously lacking in enthusiasm. “Out of my way, Blank!” Zidane shouted again, this time furrowing his brows. Blank nodded.

"Consider this, Zidane! If Prince Schneider were to marry Princess Cornelia, peace would reign over both their kingdoms!" He recited. He suddenly looked puzzled, and grinned. He whipped out his script again and perused the pages. Zidane looked at him, curious.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Blank shook his head in amazement.

“I didn’t realize it until now, but we must have incredibly small parts. Baku gave us all scripts with our names stuck in certain places where certain character names should have been. I guess we don’t get characters.” Blank said. Zidane scratched his head.

“Maybe that’s just to make it easier on us. That way we won’t get confused as to who we’re talking to?” He suggested. Setting his sword back on the floor, Blank sat on the edge of his bed and kept flipping through the pages. Zidane dropped his own sword and crept quietly over to Blank.

“I think you’re right…I mean, Marcus is a main character, but he kept his name. To be perfectly honest, though, I don’t remember much about this play…” Blank muttered. Zidane squatted in front of Blank, placing his hands on Blank’s knees to keep his balance.

“So…you wouldn’t have remembered whether or not there was a love scene? You know, just for us to practice…” Zidane practically whispered. Blank snapped his eyes up, looking like he was just jolted by a Thundaga spell.

“Wha-?!” Blank stammered. He jumped to his feet, tumbling Zidane onto the floor. Zidane smirked up at him. “Are you drunk or something?!”

“At the moment? No.” Zidane winked at him. Blank shook his head. “Oh, come on, Blank. What’s wrong? I just wanna have a little fun.” Blank glowered at him.

“Not with me, you don’t!” He growled. Zidane moved in towards Blank and tried to get his arms around him. Blank, a look of total disbelief gracing his features, backed up. Zidane smiled, successfully backing Blank into a corner. Blank bit his lip, his gaze darting, desperately searching for a means to escape.

“Calm down, will ya? It’s not like I’m trying to murder you or anything.” Zidane smirked. Blank shut his eyes.

“You know, I never found any of your jokes to be very funny.” Blank muttered. Zidane narrowed his gaze.

“Well, this time, I’m not trying to make you laugh. I’m not joking…Blank.” Zidane said, lowering his lips to Blank’s. Blank pressed his head to the wall, a futile last attempt.

“We’re supposed to be practicing, Zidane…” Blank sighed, finally just letting Zidane continue. He could have pushed him away; he could have pulled his dagger out on him. But, what the hell? It’s not as if Zidane was going to remember this anyway. He’d forget by tomorrow, so why not have a little fun first…

Zidane’s lips gently brushed against Blank’s, so softly. Surprising, Blank couldn’t smell or taste any type of liquor on his breath, and his eyelids flew open, scratching against the leather of his band. A slow, fluid moment and he could feel Zidane’s hands unclasping the buckle and lamplight flooded his eyes. Squinting, he could see Zidane staring intensely at him.

“You have the most gorgeous eyes, Blank…” Blank could feel heat rise in his cheeks and Zidane’s cool hands caressing his multi-toned skin. He wanted to shake his head, but he felt frozen, and yet on fire at the same time. Zidane slowly closed his own emerald eyes and leaned in again, capturing Blank’s lips with his and embracing him tightly.

‘He’s sober…he wants this…’ Blank thought happily. He eagerly kissed back, enjoying the moment thoroughly. Zidane, the one everybody wanted, was here, wanting him! He hadn’t followed him to study, or because he was sick or needed help. He actually wanted to be with Blank, just for this. At that moment, Blank didn’t care about anything else than being right where he was. Thousands of negative reasons, explanations, began to invade his mind, but he ignored all of them.

“Zidane…” Blank sighed, practically melting into the blonde. Zidane pulled back a little and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Blank?” He asked. Blank smiled at the sound of his name and wrapped one arm around Zidane’s neck, the other around his waist, his hand spread open feeling beneath the turquoise vest.

“I wish never to leave thy side…” Blank mouthed, almost embarrassed to speak the words. Zidane watched Blank’s lips for a moment and smiled, just as he lowered once more.