Pure--The Underground Rebels

Pure CHAPTER ONE
To deny responsibility means you’re not ready for it. To have responsibility thrown at you nearly always results in a failure.
         What was he thinking? The thought ran through Sinclair Zaire Rubio’s head as he  stood in front of his mirror, nervously straightening his already straight collar, just looking for something for his hands to do as he contemplated the next events in his head.
         It was almost time for his crowning moment, as his little sister Alessia put it. He would have to go on that stage, stand in front of a crowd of thousands, not even counting the many that would be watching it on television, and take the crown of Rubion as the official King.
         Was he ready for it? Of course not. This whole idea of being king was put off into the deep recesses of his mind for years now, Zaire knowing that if his father ever died he would have to take the role.
         But his father was alive. And he will be for many years, so this was unwanted and ridiculous to him. No one questioned the King, his father—or else they ended up dead, and Zaire was no exception, especially with his lack of approval.
         There was only one reason why Zaire’s father would be giving up his role, and that was just because of the state the entire country was in. A morale lift was needed, and apparently Zaire was the solution, the one that could stop the so-called terrorists from invading Rubion’s districts, as they remain, shunned, in the underground city below.
         Or he could just be a target.
         The answers to these questions remained elusive as he entered a panicky state of mind. He was too young, he couldn’t adequately control this country without anyone helping him! Sweat rolled down his face as he weighed his options now, because going up there was out of the question and telling his father that he didn’t want to go up there would just mean certain early death.
         It came to him in an instant. A light bulb moment, some would call it, as his eyes scanned the room and saw the open closet, his street clothes laying askew across his floor.
He could run away.
         That was it, that was perfect, that was clearly the only way to get around this responsibility as king. He could go to the Underground, the city that no one would ever think of looking for him there. That was the town of the “scum” that couldn’t afford the sunlight and the wind caressing their face like up here, and no one would pay any mind to him. Yes. It was foolproof, hopefully.
         Zaire reacted quickly, ripping off the collared military jacket with all the various pins that even he didn’t know the meaning of, as his hands reached for his street clothes.
         I could get a job. Down there they don’t care about age, I could start working and live a somewhat decent life, maybe meet a guy—his thoughts raced as he pulled the plain shirt over his head, pulling off the hair ribbon to release his white blond hair that reached past his shoulders. He didn’t grab a bag, it would be too obvious then—maybe there was still the possibility of them thinking he was kidnapped or something, even better. He grabbed jewelry from the box on his dresser to stuff in his pockets. This would bring in some hearty money so he could get an apartment—the solutions were clicking in his mind the second he looked around.
         The only necklace he insisted on keeping was the family crest. It wasn’t the reminder of his dysfunctional family that drove him to keep it, it was because of Alessia, who was the only one left that wore it. His full name that annoyed him so, was written in the ancient language on the back.
         Down the hallway, there was the clicking of Alessia’s footsteps, made louder by heels and an empty floor, and it made his heart stop. Could he really escape before she found him and surely talked him out of it?
         Yes.

Alessia cracked her brother’s door open as she murmured, “Zaire…it’s time.”. No response. Was he just being nervous? Alessia stepped through the door then, a twinge of annoyance coming from her nearly perfect pale face because of her wide descending dress, and then realized that no one was in the room anymore.
         The window on the other side of the room was open, letting the wind ruffle the curtains. “He’s…been…kidnapped! Taken by the terrorists on his inauguration day!” she began to shout out, through she knew better.
         If anyone were to know that Zaire chose to escape…I don’t even want to think of the fate that would befall him.

Chapter One: Knight
One Month Later 
Alexei felt like a sneak-thief, creeping through the dark hallways of his decaying apartment, hoping beyond hope he’s not making enough noise to wake his landlord up. He just wasn’t in the mood to go through the whole “I’ll have the rent for you by next week” fight, because even the landlord knew he was lying. Alexei barely had a penny in his pocket unless he stole it from someone else.
         His apartment was a mere few feet away from him when he realized something was off about the shape of the door. In the darkness, he could make out a different shape, rectangular almost, and with a sickening feeling in his mind he realized it was his suitcase.
         “God fucking damnit!” Alexei muttered, coming closer to grab the case by it’s handle. Without even looking through it he already knew it was everything he owned, because he barely owned anything. 
         And at this time of night he only had two options, get a room or travel all the way to the actual Kingdom and annoy Elliott for another room, much to the disgrace of his girlfriend, Angel, who hated Alexei with a burning fury. He would have desperately wanted to go to the former, only because he spent so much time trying to get out of Elliott’s apartment last time this happened, and Angel has never let him regret it—but the hotels were getting smart and made you pay before spending the night there to avoid even the most remote risk of a room-and-run.
         He trudged down the stairs, taking care to bang his suitcase against every post holding the stairs up, at this point just hoping for the landlord to come out so Alexei could give him a good punch in the face for doing this to him, though he didn’t want to admit it was all his fault in the first place for not actually making money where he was working.
         His job was more of a passionate thing, not really for wages, which is something he really needed to ratify. And it wasn’t necessary for him to draw attention to himself pending an assault case, so Alexei let a breath out when he neared the final exit and the door closest to him remained closed.
         Alexei shivered when he stepped out into the cold Underground air, like he always did when faced with the never ending darkness of this place. The only light sources other than the electricity in their homes were the streetlamps that hung above his head, beyond reach of adjusting beyond the dim lighting phase. He had to admit though, they did get a tad brighter in certain areas, given the day and the luck of the particular person walking past them.
         The Underground streets were nearly empty, for it was close to midnight after all. Just because there was no light didn’t mean the clocks didn’t dictate to them when it was sure time to go to sleep. The only things left were the drunks, that gathered among the corners, and Alexei could guess the exact reason why they were drinking. It was the environment, his teammates speculated that being trapped underground like this, with only the smallest access to the actual world dampened their spirits to the point of extreme alcoholic depression, which then lead to all the street fights.
         Of course if Alexei were to walk up to one of them and ask if they were depressed, all that would earn him was a punch in the face, not any answers.
         He passed one of the bars, absentmindedly thinking of the expressions on Elliot and Angel’s faces when he came to them way past the Underground’s curfew for entering the Kingdom…he’d imagined that they would be shocked, and then shrug it off to this connections, because without the secret pathways to the Kingdom, the resistance would have no way to do anything.
         The door to the bar opened, allowing the smell of vodka and the sound of even more drunken music along with a boy around Alexei’s age, maybe a bit younger, pulling back his longer, white blond hair as he strolled home. The uniform he was wearing meant he was an employee, which perked the interest of the drunks on the nearest corner.
         Alexei’s walk slowed down significantly as he watched the scene unfold. The drunks were most likely kicked out of that bar earlier for behaving badly, due to the way they were glaring at the bartender boy, Alexei could only assume that so far.
         One of them broke off from the others and staggered closer, making the boy turn a bright red and try to avoid him by walking closer to the alleyway separating the bar from the apartment next to it. The man’s friends, however, walked away, shaking their heads and telling him to not do it, but he wasn’t listening.
         Are you…serious? Alexei thought, already suspecting a fight, but hoping at the back of his mind that they wouldn’t. But then again, Alexei was always trying to look for the remainder of good left in these people and was shown none of it.
         The man backed the boy into the alley, and when the boy’s back hit the brick wall, he gulped. His hands were stuffed in his jean pockets, protecting what little tips he had made, and he stared down at his attackers shoes.
         “You’re the bartender that got me and my friends here kicked out…” he slurred, not knowing that none of his friends remained.
         The boy murmured something in his defense, but it was too low to be heard by the drunken attacker. Alexei didn’t want to wait any longer to retaliate, his right hand already curling around the large pocketknife in his back pocket. He pulled it out as he dropped his suitcase where he was standing as he motioned closer.
         “Do you know what happens to people who mess with my good time?!” the man yelled, grabbing the boy by his white collar as he pulled him up a few inches. The boy was terrified, struggling as much as he could, but nothing really rivaled the strength of a determined drunk man.
         Alexei drew his blade and poked the man in the back, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make him drop the boy, who slid down the wall as the man spun around to face Alexei.
         There was definitely something grubby about him, he looked like he worked in the mines on the eastern side by the way his face had patches of black dust on his cheeks and neck. His clothes were also covered in some as well.
         “We having a problem here, gentlemen?” Alexei asked, holding the knife up near the man’s face, intimidating him as much as he dared to.
         “You’re the one starting it,” he said, frowning, “You’re here to defend the little bartender? Stupid…”
         “You think I’m stupid?” Alexei grinned. Maybe this was the fight he had been looking for since he left his…well his repossessed apartment.
         The man reacted quicker than Alexei expected, grabbing the hand that held his knife and spinning him around to slam Alexei into the brick wall in the opposite side. His knife was taken from him, held in his enemy’s hand, it was positioned to cut his wrist open.
         “Yeah…stupid.” the man said, cutting the outer edge of his wrist.
         Alexei retaliated, kicking outward to nab him in the shin, he fell back enough for Alexei to turn around again, but he was already coming back, slicing into his right arm when he moved, and then into his left arm as he pushed back on him again. Already Alexei’s shirt was turning a deep dark red.
         Yelling out, Alexei overpowered him ripping the knife out of his hand and stabbing him through the hand the man used to protect his face as he lunged. The man clutched his hand for a moment, then ran out of the alleyway, muttering curses.
         The knife dropped from Alexei’s hand, he fell to his knees, looking down at all the blood coming out. He didn’t even realize his wound was that bad until that precise moment when everything went fuzzy—then finally black.

He woke up to darkness.
         It was just night, no real light coming through the windows other than the faraway glow of a streetlamp. He looked around and couldn’t see anything else other than the white sheets that surrounded him and covered his body.
         Wait a second…white sheets? Alexei scrambled up, grimacing from the pain in both his arms and saw that they were bandaged too. He could only see the white gleaming off them.
         A lamp on the other side of the room turned on just then, revealing the boy that Alexei had saved. From before, that felt like a million years ago.
         The surroundings were strictly hotel-like with the neutral color pattern on the walls and the crunchy consistency of the starchy sheets. Alexei wondered for a second how far away he was from Elliot’s, but then pushed the question away as the boy walked to his bed. 
         “How do you feel? Do the cuts hurt as much?” he asked slowly, placing his hand on the sheets. Alexei watched as they crinkled, before responding.
         “As good as I think I can be I suppose…”
         “I have to thank you for saving me, there isn’t a thing I can do that can make up for that…you don’t even know my name and already you nearly killed yourself trying to protect me…” he murmured, stopping more of embarrassment of actually revealing his feelings more than anything more.
         “Then what is your name then?”
         “Zaire. And what should I call you other than my knight in shining armor?”
         Alexei couldn’t help it, he started to laugh hysterically. Alexei, the person who single handedly killed almost hundreds of people in acts of the resistance, called a literal knight in shining armor? The idea was almost comical considering almost the entirety of the country believed he was a cold hearted terrorist. But at the same time, he could have been happy that the people didn’t know his name--so he had no restrictions introducing himself. “Alexei Black.”
         “Why’d you laugh?” Zaire asked. Alexei was happy to note that he wasn’t insulted or anything with his own negative reaction to his comment.
         “Oh, it’s just that being called a knight is actually pretty ironic.” Alexei grinned.
         “What, do you kill people in your spare time?”
         “Why, would you want to know?”
         They paused in their mild banter for a moment as Alexei grinned mischievously. Zaire gave up on trying to weasel the explanation out of him, and then went back to the topic of Alexei’s injuries.
         “You’re not dying, thank god, but I’d be careful.”
         “I’m completely fine.” Alexei threw the covers off him, attempting to get out. Zaire immediately backed off, but then saw Alexei’s grimace when his arm moved.
~~
         “You need to stop moving and accept that you’re injured.” Zaire pushed him back as much as he dared, relishing the warmth of Alexei’s skin on this cold hands. Goosebumps erupted over his arms as he quickly released him.
         Alexei sighed and fell back onto the bed. “So there’s really nothing I can do at this point other than grin and bear it?”
         “Pretty much. Morning is a few hours away…”
         Alexei interrupted him. “Why were you walking out of that bar when they attacked you? I mean, I know you work there, but you’re so young it doesn’t make sense to me.”
         Zaire shrugged, sitting on the bed next to Alexei then, careful not to jostle him. “When I went in there looking for a job, that was their question.” Zaire smiled, “But they were convinced I was desperate, so they gave it to me under the vow I would never actually drink anything. I never did, alcohol tastes…well really bad.” Looking down at his feet, he continued. “Those guys--the ones that attacked you--are frequent at the bar, and they always act so rowdy I’m surprised they hadn’t gotten kicked out before. Though I can’t complain. If they were going to pull a stunt like that, it was for the best that you were there.” Zaire looked back over at Alexei, who was staring straight forward at the wall in front of them, which was tinted orange.
         Zaire couldn’t help to notice just how beautiful Alexei seemed to him, even under this low lighting and his stern expression. He looked dangerous compared to Zaire, with ragged black hair and facial hair under his lip, but still, he was beautiful in his own way. And how he relentlessly threw himself under fire for him was something not to be ignored. He wanted to really prove how grateful he was, to be sitting there next to him and not injured at all…but…
         Alexei turned to face him with an expression that only asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
         “I still can’t believe you saved me.” Zaire fumbled out, gripping his knees tightly to overcome the urge surging through him. The few seconds of silence without a response made him look up again, back at the silent Alexei.
         Without warning, Zaire leaned in and kissed Alexei full on the mouth, not caring about anything else at that moment. It felt invigorating to just do these things on an impulse, especially for Zaire who always seemed to be caged--but he wasn’t about to tell Alexei any of that. Exposing his past was not on the agenda.
         At first, Alexei felt stiff from this sudden attack. It took a moment for the warmth, the actual perfection of the moment occurring that made him loosen up, his hand carefully pulling him closer, his mouth opening wider.
         
Caught in the moment of it all, Alexei pulled him down onto the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain from his arms and back. Sooner rather than later, the night progressed, taking both of them into a level that neither of them was prepared for.