I was listening to "All These Things I Hate" by Bullet For My Valentine, and I kept thinking about Elliot Knight, other wise known as "Kyd Wykkyd", and this idea manifested in my head. I'm sure that it is no where as good as mistressmarionette's works, but its worth a shot. Oh, and for everyone's information this is NOT a fanfic littered with lyrics. I have my personal opinions on people whom write such things, and I feel like it's no use in explaining it here.
This whole story is, in fact, based on mistressmarionette's and Metronome Maven's work. I only made up a moment in time, while these two geniuses made up an entire world for the Teen Titan's series. I just wanted to tell them Thank You for allowing me to use their character's names and background. And everyone whom is reading this now should go over there and read their work. Especially if your into snarky attitudes, emoish teenagers, a series of love-hate relationships, coffee, and teenage drama filled with awesome super powers. It's a good read, I swear!
To Be Tragic
Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess with a heart of gold, whom went through one mildly amusing trial, and suddenly lived happily ever after with the man of her dreams. Well, until a dark haired boy with crimson eyes came into their home and tore everything apart.
Elliot pondered on this idea. Would Professor Moore approve of such an idea? Maybe she'd even congratulate him on his slight contribution to the list of why Faery Tales Suck. 'Damn...' Elliot cursed. 'The whole assignment isn't even about Faery Tales! ....why the hell did I drink so much last night? Oh, yeah it was Billy's birthday. Haha...good times, good times.' Elliot then tried to shake himself out of his own thoughts, but it never worked. Being silent had it's downfalls after all. One could sign for hours, and still not be able to translate all their thoughts word by word to their closest friends. But, by not talking it was easier to keep certain things inside. And Elliot didn't want anyone to know about his past. Well, except for Angel. But, she was different. Angel was, in all honesty, perfect. That's why Elliot would never be able to keep Angel. Elliot was just too different, too imperfect for such a girl. 'Hell, I shouldn't complain. At least I still have her now....that's all I can ask for.'
To the majority, it would seem like Elliot was a true evil-doer. Always breaking things, always causing someone (or something) harm. But, in Elliot's mind he was just a kid. Thus his name was born. If the rest of the world wanted to believe that Elliot was evil then fine. They'd just have to deal with Kyd Wykkyd, not Elliot. Elliot would have never dealt with shit like that. Kyd Wykkyd would hurt those whom shouldn't have gotten hurt, and Elliot would crawl back to them with a apologetic shine in his eyes, and a welting rose in his hand. Kyd would make others seethe with anger, and Elliot would return not a second later to take the unjust punches. So, as the days grew into years Elliot understood that this pattern would continue until something great (or horrible) came alone. Then either Kyd Wykkyd or Elliot would take over for good. And 'God...' Elliot thought. '...I hope it's me.'
'I should really get back to my work, before second period comes around. Hell, I don't want to see Mrs. Moore angry again.' Elliot reminisced on that one incident, where his favorite teacher actually snapped, 'at me of all people.' He thought back at how one of her tiny, soft hands had grasped his neck, and scolded him for ruining her favorite vase. The one her late father had given her. Elliot had felt bad, he really had. But, he could never understand why those things were so important. He'd thought that he had done her a favor by ruining such a dull vase. It looked so old, so fragile that he figured that he could steal her a better one. So, he took it into his own hands to do just that. Though it never crossed his mind that Mrs. Moore had actually liked it. 'It was an honest mistake...' Elliot drawled.
Elliot tried to read the rest of, "American Tragic" by Ron Hull, but his mind just wouldn't let him. The assignment was to answer the question, "What is tragedy?", but Elliot couldn't think of a single answer. 'I should have copied Jaya's work!'' Elliot sighed. 'Why didn't I just do that in the first place? ' Elliot kept reading only to find himself struck by one particular sentence,
"I cheated, I lied, I hurt them to the core.
Car wreck, train wreck, plane out of the blue.
I claimed them all and all were true."
'Well, that's mostly true. I've done a lot of shit, but not all were "true". What does Hull mean by that?". Elliot was about to throw up his hands, but then something hit him. Or rather someone. Elliot turned to look, only to see Seymour staring blankly at him. No words were exchanged, just a swift finger pointing to a clock. Elliot glanced up at it, and anger tore through his very soul. '5 fuckin' minutes! You have to be fucking kidding me! ' Elliot then flicked off Seymour, and went back to his work pissed. But, then he realized that his whole life was tragic. So, is that what Mrs. Moore was trying to get out of him. His life? 'Well, fuck her! ' Elliot screamed. Why would he tell her, of all people, his life story. Mrs. Moore was his teacher for Allah's sake! What the fuck would he tell her anything! ...and then Elliot grinned a very sadistic grin.
"So ya really told her off, huh?", Billy asked half-heartedly. All Kyd Wykkyd could do was nod, and sneer. But, deep inside Elliot knew that what he had written was something that he could never take back. And deep inside he wouldn't, because Mrs. Moore deserved it. She deserved to read something real for once, and feel the exact pain that was forced upon him by her. He had tried to help her, honestly he did, but she was too dumb to realize it. So, Elliot just walked away with a slight grin on his face, as Kyd Wykkyd stood behind him with a deep frown plastered onto his face. 'Maybe he doesn't need me after all...' Kyd wondered mournfully. But deep inside Kyd Wykkyd knew that Elliot had never needed him, and that just made it worse.
Inside of an abandoned classroom stood a beautiful redwood desk. Upon this desk was a tiny piece of paper which wrote,
"Tragedy is the exact moment when you realize that the one valuable that has kept you happy, isn't your dearest possessions, but your dearest memories. That possession, or valuable can only keep your soul content for a moment's time. And, yet, you still feel the need to hold onto something that ought not to be held onto. It's just a thing, and he was a person. No thing, or person can ever allow you to keep his soul, or his heart. They are already gone, and in that moment you realize that everything you have ever loved has vanished right before your eyes. That, my dear, is what tragedy is."