The Incredible You




Chapter Nine – Wild Wild West?

"I say we try this one."

"I say you kill yourself." Kanda snatched the paper from the boy's hand and threw it behind his back. "That idea was stupid."

Allen huffed, offended. "It was not!" he retorted. "All we'd have to do is pretend."

"To be crazy." The Japanese model narrowed his eyes. "I don't know about you, but I have limits in what I model. And modeling a fucking crack? Not too sexy, in my opinion."

"You would make a fantastic mental asylum patient!" Allen insisted, shifting through the other projects. "I mean, you already have the obsessive-compulsive disorder, not to mention the way your face looks when you wake up in the morning. Where I'm from, whackos look just like you when you wake up."

"Then you must mean fucking sexy." Kanda replied, shrugging. "And where I'm from, the mentally unstable are treated like herpes. I don't feel like pretending to be herpes."

"Now that isn't very sexy." The white-haired teenager sniffed. His gray eyes flashed over a wayward paper. "What about this?"

"Oh yes, because I can totally fucking see it. What the hell is it?"

Allen kicked him underneath the table, reveling in the pained hiss that slipped past the thin lips. "It's really quite interesting," he said, smiling. "Something about Native Americans, cowboys, and…and bondage."

"Throw that shit away."

"Ah, wait…" he blinked. "The description here says: 'Set Number 34, Dances With Wolves', requested by…' Kanda, I can't say this." Allen held the paper out to the older teenager.

The model took the paper roughly. "Little kid," he muttered. "It says: 'requested by Wild Wild West'? What the fuck? Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, there's more."

"No shit, Sherlock. 'Situation: Two men, one donned as a good-looking Native American, other as an attractive cowboy. The Native American is to attack the cowboy, and they are to proceed to tussle. Gay sex is definitely an option.'" Kanda stared at the paper. "…Why the fuck do most of these sets always include gay sex in some way?"

"This world is deprived." Allen grumbled, rubbing his temples. "I think I'd rather be a whacko than a homosexual Native American."

"Who says you would be the Indian, with your white ass?"

"And you aren't pale-skinned?"

Kanda glanced at him for a moment, and then got out of his seat. "You're a dumbass," he answered easily. "I don't have to have a tan. I'm a professional."

Allen rolled his eyes. A professional bitch is a much more accurate statement, he thought with a bright smile. "You are so right, Kanda."

"Hell yes. So, we're going with this one, right?"

"Gay Western?" This world really was deprived. "Sure. Why not?"


"A gay western?" Komui repeated, an eyebrow cocked. "You two are just regular suckers for punishment, aren't you?"

"Well, we did consider the consequences," Allen replied, legs crossed and smiling. "And, after much speculating, we came to the conclusion that we won't have the gay sex this time."

The Chinese man's other eyebrow shot up. "This time?"

Kanda resisted the urge to slam his head onto the recently polished cherry wood desk. "Just…shut up," he hissed, rubbing his temples. "You are NOT allowed to talk anymore."

"What? How are you to tell you what I can and cannot say?"

"Someone who is sick and fucking tired of you saying stupid shit. Like usual. Don't you get tired of not thinking?"

"I'm just as sick and tired of not thinking as you are sick and tired of living so long without a brain. Sorry Kanda, but we're not in Kansas anymore."

Before Kanda's fist could lovingly smash into Allen's face, Komui stood up. "Gay western it is!" he exclaimed happily, his spectacles almost twinkling in the florescent light. "Just, please, don't kill each other."

Allen smiled. "I have better things to do than to dirty my hands with his blood."

"I think he should schedule a suicide," Kanda replied instead, arms crossed stubbornly. "Killing himself is simply the best alternative."

"You two get along so well." Komui's finger hovered over the red button underneath his desk, ready to call for security in case the two started fist fighting. "So, uhm, yes, please leave. Remember to check your fax machine!"

"What fax machine?" Allen scoffed. "This bloody twit broke the poor machine. Threw it out the window and hit an ambulance, the shame."

"Whoa." Kanda blinked. "I did not hit an ambulance. It was a police car. Idiot."

"Right. Because that makes it so much more legal." The white-haired boy observed the back of his hand, lips thinned. "It wasn't very legal, by the way."

"Your existence isn't very legal."

The Chinese man, even though he wasn't a direct participant in the verbal war, was getting annoyed. "Get out of my office. Please."

"Fine!" the Japanese model stood up, sniffing in offense, and stalked out of the office irritably. But, that wasn't a good description, since his expression was irritable by default.

Allen huffed. "Prick," he muttered, standing up as well. He smiled at Komui, nodding. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Actually, Allen, there's something I needed to talk to you about anyway."

What could the man possibly want to talk to him about, except—"You're taking me off my diet?!" Thank God, because if this kept up, he'd be anorexic or something.

Then again, maybe that was the hot trend with all the models. He'd have to ask Kanda.

"Uh. No." Komui smiled at the devastation that spelled itself out on the poor boy's facial expression. "It's concerning Marian. Your manager?"

The white-haired teenager cocked an eyebrow. "Oh. Him. He doesn't exist to me right now, so please tell him to leave a message after the tone." Allen stood up at that, brushing off the seat of his pants.

The Chinese man looked around, as though there might be someone listening in on the conversation. "Here's the deal," he said quietly to the fifteen-year-old, who looked at him as though he were an idiot. "Marian dropped you from the movie—err, what was it called?" He looked through the messy pile of papers on his desk. "Uh, Crucible of History?"

Allen looked rather sad at that. "That's such a shame," he replied, running his fingers through his hair. "I was looking forward to playing 'Martin Luther'. I was scheduled to get a bad accent, for the part, that is. A German philopher…" he sighed wistfully at the thought. "I was so excited."

"Um." Komui fixed his glasses. "Right. Anyway," he intertwined his fingers in a ridiculously professional way, which didn't fit his personality very well in Allen's well-versed opinion. "He said that you'd be much more fitted for the movie…uh…Somewhat Human?"

"What?" Somewhat Human? Somehow, someway, it sounded like a porno in the teenager's ears. Maybe there was something wrong with Allen. "Okay. Um. Why?"

"Because it paid more money, and I totally understand his logic."

"Which is funny, because you just might be the only one." Allen smiled. "Well then, why are you telling me this?"

"Well, mainly—"



Because I am being harassed. D: I do not enjoy being harassed, and I do not enjoy having people associated with me being harassed. You want the full chapter? Then, give me some time to want to write it.

Until then—consider The Incredible YOU (not Yu, not Yuu) on hiatus. Until Any Way You Want It is complete. Because, clearly, I care more about it. Emi forgot this fanfic existed.

Although, I might be willing to put this up for adoption or some shit like that. :D Someone else might care more in that way.

(Btw I cannot reply to your complaints if you are anonymous. :) Try harder.)