Not a Walk in the Park (Open)

The sun was shining brightly and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Everything in the park boasted a lush green color, sometimes punctuated by a spot of pink or orange, a splash of white or red. Birds were singing their repetitive, but pleasant tunes and butterflies and bees paid visits to inviting flowers. Toris strolled along on the small paved pathway that curved it's way round the trees and bushes, his black camera bag slung over one shoulder and a tripod under his arm. It was a relatively warm day, so he had tied his hair back into a small ponytail and had on slightly out-of-style sunglasses that still looked kind of cool when they reflected the sunlight on their steel frames.

The Lithuanian smiled at the peacefulness that surrounded him, taking in the fresh, natural air that was still untouched by the reaches of the city. He had a rare day-off from his job at the newspaper, so he decided to go out and take some pictures for himself. Surveying the landscape, he spotted a clearing, a bit off of the paved path, that looked very picturesque to his veteran eyes, even behind shaded lenses. Humming a little song, he walked over and set his tripod down on the grass, adjusting the height and making sure that the anchors were stuck firmly in the dirt. He took his camera out, secured it on the stand, set the bag down, and took off his sunglasses, folding them deftly into his shirt's breast pocket. Bending to get his eyes level with the viewfinder, Toris turned the main dial on the camera to specify how much light to let into the shutter. Just as he was about to take his first shot, he heard grass-muffled footsteps coming up behind him.

'You never know what you have until you lose it.'

So true. Alfred never would have thought that sunshine of all things would be what he missed the most about America. Sure, he missed baseball and REAL football, not soccer, and delicious American food, but sunshine was even more important than all that. He was born in California; of course he needed his daily doze of heat and light! No wonder he felt miserable all the time in his first few months here.

That was why Alfred was lying on his back in the park, staring up at the sun. It wasn't all that hot, unfortunately, but it was bright at least. He could already feel some of his usual tan returning. Ah yes, this was the life. He stretched lazily with a satisfied moan, not caring that his white T-shirt was probably going to get ruined by the grass.

He blinked when he heard someone walking on the other side of the bush, stopping in what he knew to be a clearing. He sat up and peeked out from behind the bush, his gaze landing on a brunette young man in his twenties. And was that a camera? Was he a photographer?

Alfred liked photography, although he wasn't all that good at it. And photography was considered boring by his peers back in America so he hadn't taken a photo in years.

He stood up and walked out on the clearing, his footsteps muffled by the grass. "Hi! What's up?" he asked, grinning at the guy's back.

At the youthful voice, Toris was torn between being polite and greeting the owner of the greeting or taking the shot. He decided the scenery was too good to waste; everything at that exact moment looked perfect. “Um, wait just a moment please.” He quickly put his thumb on the shutter button and snapped the picture. Always deriving an inane pleasure from something as trivial as photography, he liked to think that he had his priorities in good order.

Right, now that that was taken care of, he turned around and saw a strangely familiar man with blond hair and glasses. The instinctive blush crept unto his face after many years of being awkward around people, even if for this meeting he had some slight warning. His brow furrowed slightly, his mind pawing through the archives labeled ‘Met People’ and trying to find a match. Does he…live in the same apartment as I do? Maybe that might explain it. I’m pretty sure he’s American, though, his accent isn’t like the local people here.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. I think that I’ve seen your face somewhere before, but…I’m afraid I don’t remember your name. M-my immense apologies.” He rubbed his neck, embarrassed by this social mistake and the act of admitting it. As usual, his stomach started to ache a little. He unconsciously pat his pants pocket and felt the small vial of painkillers there. With a start, he realized that he hadn’t introduced himself yet, and quickly spluttered out:

“My name’s Toris, Toris Laurinaitis. I, um, live in the apartment complex not too far from here, Gracefield House. And I work as a photographer at the local paper…oh! Would you like to try using my camera?” Goodness, why was he telling this man (who couldn’t possibly be older than him) his residence and job? Perhaps it was because he was younger? Hmm, I’ve always had a weakness for kids, don’t I. Ever since those babysitting days. It’s probably because you rarely feel socially uncomfortable with them. Thinking this, he brightened up a small bit and offered the young man a warm smile.

"Sure?" He was confused for a moment but then realized that the guy wanted to take his picture before turning around. So that was that. Alfred could somewhat understand; it sucked when you wanted to take a picture and someone distracted you and suddenly the moment you wanted to capture was over. He had the same problem once as a kid, when he tried to photograph a duck about to take off and his Dad called his name, making him look up. Next thing he knew he had a photo of a big, greasy, homo butt and no duck.

He grinned when the guy finally turned around. Hmm, he looked kind of familiar. Did they go to the same school? Nah, he looked too old to be in high school. Maybe they went to the same gym? The brunette didn't exactly look like the gym type; not that only overly muscled testosterone masses were the only things, err, people going there. He was kind of red in the face too, maybe he was hot?

Sir? Did he just call Alfred sir? Pfff, that was rich. No one had ever called him sir before. Did he look old enough for that? "Err, no problem, dude. You look kinda familiar too, I have no idea where from though." Why was he apologizing for not recognizing Alfred? He didn't think they had ever introduced themselves, so it wasn't surprising that the guy didn't know who he was. Or maybe Alfred was forgetting something too. Wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm Alfred! Alfred F. Jones! And whoa, I live there too! That's why you look so familiar! Which floor do you live on?" There, mystery solved.

A photographer? "That's so cool!" It really was. Alfred didn't think he had enough patience to be a photographer, but it was still an awesome job. And come on, Spiderman was a photographer too. Who wouldn't want to have the same job as Spiderman?

He smiled widely at Toris, excitement lighting up his face and coating his voice. "Can I really?" If he was a professional, he must have had some kick-ass equipment! He couldn't wait to try it!

There, that was it! This young man, Alfred, also lived in the same apartment complex as he did. And his name…maybe they have met somewhere before, but maybe that very day Toris had been in a huge hurry, running errands for his boss. That was a legitimate reason for forgetting someone’s name; it had happened many times before. His heart relaxed at Alfred’s teenage way of speaking, and he instantly felt a lot more open.

However, there was a kind of incredulous look on his face. Was it because Toris had addressed him in such a formal way? He inwardly allowed himself a small chuckle. This was nothing compared to what he had called his little charges back then. Some were ‘milord’ or ‘milady’, some ‘master’ or ‘mistress’, and a few even insisted on being deemed ‘Your Majesty’, although the latter was mainly for playing purposes. The ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ stuck with adults, as his uncle had always said that being as polite as possible was going to guarantee your safety, if not your apparent sanity. But if Alfred didn’t like it, then he guessed that he could drop the titles for a few exceptions.

“Ah, I live on the fourth floor, Alfred. I think…I think that the landlord’s tenant roster had your name around the 6th floor? Or was it the 7th?” Then he became conscious about the fact that he had just stated that he had access to some of the landlord’s records, and how queer that might sound to someone who didn’t understand his other job. He hurried to explain. “And I work as a housekeeper, a cleaner-for-hire, as a kind of part time job.” Phew, that should avert most suspicions.
Personally, Toris was glad that someone actually thought his main line of work was interesting. Too many people thought that the journalist was always greater than the photographer, but really, from a first-hand point of view, the journalist wrote what the photographer showed them, merely putting a picture into words and describing the backstory behind it. He felt that he was growing to like this teen more and more.

At Alfred’s obvious enthusiasm, he couldn’t help but relent, stepping aside so that his camera was open. He pointed out some main parts and techniques. “This is the shutter button. When you want to take a shot, just half-press it first and then when the camera has the focus, complete the press. It’s on a tripod now, so you won’t have to worry about keeping the camera still, but be careful please.” Toris added, “This isn’t the camera I use for work, but it’s still very expensive.”

In the back of his mind, he felt an apprehensive fog. What could possibly go wrong? It’s just one or two pictures. He didn’t know how he would fix the camera if something broke though.

"8th, actually. I live all the way on the top!" The view was nothing like the one he had back in New York from their own apartment, but it was still better than being stuck on the ground level. Alfred loved heights too much to be able to bear that. And taking the stairs every single day was pretty good exercise, not to mention the adrenaline rush jumping down the stairs gave him.

He blinked at Toris. Why would a photographer work as a housekeeper? Scratch that, why would anyone work as a housekeeper? That involved hellovalot cleaning. How Alfred hated cleaning; his messy room was proof of that. He thought it was a waste of time. Why clean if it was going to get dirty again anyway? "Mhm, I see. I'm a senior! I don't really have a job right now, but I want to get a part-time one in the summer!" He had to get money to go back home and punch his Dad in the face for kicking him out of America. He was sure his old man wanted him to go to college in England too, which was something Alfred really, really didn't want. He wanted to go home.

He walked closer to the camera, nodding along with Toris' explanation. "Don't worry, I won't break it! Hero's honor!" He could be careful when he wanted to. He just rarely bothered. Alfred leaned in and grabbed a camera uncharacteristically gently, looking for something he wanted to capture. Wow, this camera really did look very expensive. He would have to give all his money and it still probably wouldn't cover the costs if he broke the camera.

There! He could see a small nest nearby with Mama Bird ready to take off. Oh, he just had to capture that! He loved birds and picture of birds, especially when they were flying! He quickly pressed the shuttle button all the way in, not wanting to lose time by pressing it half-in first.

The eighth floor, eh? Hmm…Toris himself wouldn’t fancy living on the topmost floor of any building really. Not because he was averse to heights, but because it seemed too high above everyone else, a position that he absolutely did not feel he would ever like. Being in the middle was perfectly fine with him.

He felt amused at Alfred’s reaction to his proclamation about his ‘part-time’ job. He was very used to that kind of expression by now, after the two years he’s been here. At college it was understandable (the always needed extra money), but then even when he had a regular job? He just liked cleaning and tidying up, and wasn’t it good to do a job that you loved?

He looked on as the young man approached his camera, seeming to understand his offered instructions and trusting him. Alfred then turned the camera round to a tree nearby, and Toris turned his sharp eyes towards that general direction. In no time, he spotted a bird’s nest, complete with the bird about to fly off. Ambitious. Pictures of animals in motion are usually one of the hardest ones to take well. It’s a good thing that this camera is fully up to the task, so Alfred’s shot will probably turn out alright.

At first he was blanketed in semi-paternal warmth as he watched the teen and the camera, his softness for children as clear as polished glass. But that was quickly washed away by dismay as he saw Alfred’s thumb instantly press down on the shutter, knowing that the camera wouldn’t have enough time to focus, since this camera wasn’t a motion-specialty one. Then a sudden fear struck him: he remembered that this camera had had problems with the shutter button, and tended to get stuck and jam when it wasn’t given time to ease into the full-press. It took ages to repair. He wasn’t even sure if it would be repairable the second time.

The smooth, audible (to his ears) snip of the camera taking the picture followed by a click…chack of the button jamming in the mechanics prompted Toris to cringe. What rattled even him more was the third sound: crack . The noise that a camera makes when it’s insides are broken.

The 'click' of a camera was a sound Alfred used to love. It meant that his picture was done, that the moment he wanted freeze forever would be captured in that tiny frame.

The 'chack' of a camera was a not so soothing sound. And definitely not one he wanted to hear. He never had an expensive camera so he had no idea how they worked, but he was pretty sure that they weren't supposed to let out sounds like that. They were supposed to be more silent if anything, weren't they? "Err, Toris, what was that so-"

He cringed at the third sound the camera made. That was bad. Very, very bad. Cameras weren't supposed to crack. They were supposed to be silent and never crack. Oh God, he killed his new friend's camera. "B-but I just pressed the shuttle button! Wh-why did it break?"

...Fuck. He looked down at his hand. It was that stupid strength again. He must have pressed the button too hard. "I'm sorry." His voice was dripping with guilt. "I'll get it repaired." Even if it meant no Mickey D's, no new video games, and no definitely no motorbike for the next few years.

Noticeably wincing this time, Toris shut his eyes and took in deep breaths. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, really. He had forgotten to tell Alfred himself, it was his fault, his fault, his own fault! Inwardly banging his head against the walls of his mind, he quickly did a mental search on any camera repair shops around the area. He remembered none. He despaired.

As he watched Alfred panic and apologize, Toris came to his senses and forced on a shaky smile. “ Ah, don’t worry about it, Alfred! Really! It wasn’t your fault; you don’t have to be the one apologizing. I was the one who forgot to tell you about the shutter’s problem. I-I know a repair shop around here…somewhere…” He shook his head several times and waved his hands disarmingly in front of him. “Whatever. Here, I’ll just-“

He suddenly slowed, trailed off, and gazed down at his thinly-gloved hands. With a start, he recalled the queer incident that involved a plate in his kitchen some time ago. I wonder…

With a mixture of anticipation and fear, Toris gingerly pulled off the glove of his right hand and reached out towards the camera. Pausing millimeters from the device, he grit his teeth and prodded it. Nothing happened. A bird chirped in a tree nearby. Eh? It, it didn’t work? But why did it work that time? Argh, I must look like an idiot in front of the boy! He was close to blushing again and began to withdraw his hand when the thought struck him. He willed with all his might that the camera would be fixed. And he placed his bare hand on it again, his eyes shut tight. Please…

There was a numb feeling in the hand touching the camera, then several small, mechanical sounds. Toris’ heart quickened and his eyes flew open. He tried taking an experimental picture. Click . And that was all. He felt awash with relief as he turned to the blond haired boy with a sheepish expression.

Alfred felt even worse when he heard Toris' wince and saw his pale face. That camera meant a lot to him, huh...?

Now, he usually sucked at reading other people's expressions, but even he could tell that the brunette's smile was as fake as Paris Hilton's boobs. "I pressed the button though..." Reverse psychology was a bitch. If Toris had started shouting at him, Alfred would have defended himself and he would have told the other that it indeed was his fault for not telling him not to push it in that way. But with Toris insisting that it wasn't Alfred's fault...it was impossible for him not to feel guilty.

He blinked when the older man started staring at his hands like he was seeing an opposable thumb for the first time. What was he doing? He was even more confused when the other slowly pulled off his glove and started reaching for the camera. Toris looked...well, he looked a bit like a madman, with all his staring and random changes of facial expression. Now he was staring at the camera all confused.

"...Toris, are you okay? Are you in shock or something...?" The shorter man withdrew his hand, only to grasp the camera again, squeezing his eyes closed. Alfred was really, terribly confused now.

And then the camera clicked.

"Wha-wha, b-but h-how, i-it, b-but I!" He wasn't making any sense, was he? He shut his gaping mouth forcefully, but he couldn't stop gawking at the camera. "It's...not broken anymore?"

He knew that he had to explain himself now, otherwise he would lose a new acquaintance to a terrible misunderstanding. But would Alfred really believe what Toris had to say? Sure they lived in the same apartment building, but he couldn’t be sure about whether that infamous lightning storm affected everybody. Besides, the boy might not have even been there that night. Toris mentally flailed indecisively, going from ‘tell him’ to ‘just make up something plausible’ . But as he saw the very obvious shock on Alfred’s face (which prompted him to grin to himself), and realized the difficulty of the second option, he threw his lot in with the truth.

Clearing his throat and pulling his glove back on, Toris began. “Well…you live at Gracefield House, correct? Were you there during that intense storm? Um, I suppose you could say that ever since that night, I’ve developed these peculiar…powers? Abilities? One of which allows me to, apparently, restore things back to top condition if they break. Another…ability…of mine is this annoying energy transfer thing. I don’t know much about that yet, but I know that it involves Which is why I wear gloves. Ah, um, this might seem very hard for you to believe, Alfred, but I c-can assure you that e-everything is true!” He rushed to the end of his speech, worry and embarrassment gnawing in his guts.

Toris probably expected him to stare at him like he was crazy and run away screaming or something. Alfred was sure any other person would have thought the photographer was a bit loose in the head and they would have backed away slowly, only to break into a sprint and try to get as far away from this weird man as possible.

But Alfred wasn't any other person. He could sympathize with Toris, after all. He couldn't help the large smile spreading on his face, nor could he hold back a startled but happy laugh erupting from his throat. "You were caught in that storm too?! Dude, that's awesome, me too! I mean, it was kinda hard to believe at first, and if it didn't happen to me too, I would totally think you were a few crayons short of a full set, but I totally understand!"

His smile widened even more, excitement pouring out of him in waves. "Wanna see what I can do? The park is kinda deserted and no one can see us and it's so cool! Can I show you? Please, please, pretty pleaseeee?" Showing a fellow superhero your power after he showed you his was only polite after all. And Alfred had manners, buried somewhere deep in the darkest, most unused corners of his mind.

Quite shocked by the young man’s instant enthusiasm (he actually stepped back a step), Toris was torn between the feelings of extremely heavy relief at having someone in the same boat as him, and skeptical disbelief, as in maybe Alfred didn’t clearly hear what he said or was just joking around with him, playing along. His breath caught at the possibility of the latter option, seeing as Alfred looked to be someone who might do that just to embarrass him.

But…there was something about the boy’s shining grin and seemingly genuine feelings that prevented Toris from excusing himself and retreating from the park. Besides, he reasoned, Alfred lived in the same apartment as he did, didn’t he? If he was there on the night of the storm, then logically, it was very believable that the American had gotten some powers, like he had. “O-ok, I-I suppose that, um, you can…demonstrate your…abilities, seeing as there’s nobody here to see…anything.” Toris smiled very hesitantly, still bewildered at the turn of events. After looking around cautiously, he added, “A-and, and I could also show you, um, the, ah, full extent, or as much as I’ve discovered, of my…abilities.” This was by far the strangest trade-off he’s ever made, but once again, it was only polite to return the…favor.

He pumped a fist in the air triumphantly, happy that Toris was interested in his powers. "Sweet! Lemme just find something..." He looked around for something unusually heavy, something that not even two grown men could lift, or even heavier...too bad there weren't any cars around.

Something shiny caught his eyes. There it was, a large, white rock gleaming innocently in the sun. It went up to about Alfred's shoulders and was twice or even thrice as thick as him. He walked over to it and looked for a crack or something, figuring it might be easier if he had something to hold on to.

Nothing. Oh well. It still shouldn't be too hard. Alfred looked back at Toris quickly, making sure that the other was watching, placed his hands under the rock, and heaved. A spark of hesitation passed through him, wondering if the rock was too heavy after all, but lifting it wasn't any harder than it would have been lifting a laptop a few weeks ago. He carefully shifted the stone to one hand and, after making sure it was perfectly balanced, let go of it with his other.

Alfred grinned at Toris. "So, what do you think? Cool, ain't it?"

A small smile escaped Toris as Alfred’s eagerness showed itself. It appeared that kids would always be kids, fantastical powers or not. The presence of said powers probably made them more hyperactive as well. He watched as the boy looked around for something, though he wasn’t sure about what Alfred was going to do next, and frankly, he felt a bit uneasy and couldn’t help glancing left and right every so often.

Once Alfred lifted that mineral rock though, all thoughts of caution flew straight out of Toris’ head to be replaced by sheer shock and amazement. He stood stock still, held a hand to his face and covered his eyes. And he outright laughed. He’d never laughed as heartily as he did then since he had gotten hired for his job at the paper. There was just something so unbelievable, so out-of-place there, what with a man with a camera opposite a teenager holding a boulder proudly in a quiet park in the afternoon. It was the elephant in the room, really.

“Ah, ha ha, oh Alfred…I’m sorry, that is a very intriguing ability. Super strength, I believe? It fits you, it really does. It must have been quite a hassle discovering it though.” Inspirited, Toris strode over to the American, pulling off his left glove. “I suppose it’s my turn now. Please, whatever you do, do not touch my bare hands. There is another ability of mine that is not…as straightforwardly controlled as this one.”

He put his hand on the dry, rough side of the rock and concentrated, his eyes scrunching up. Break, break, I will for you to break into as small as possible pieces. Break...please. The feeling of pricks and needles was back, but even stronger this time, and it went from his hand to the rock. After a few moments, Toris looked at the white mound and then, it completely burst into tiny bits in a shower of silver dust, raining on them both.

Alfred could feel a large grin spreading on his face at Toris' amazed expression. Damn, he was good. He had the coolest power! Not that he had any doubt about it before, but having another person witness his strength and be so amazed by it was a pretty good feeling. The knowledge that Toris wouldn't run to the nearest public toilet and lock himself inside to escape from Alfred was also a plus.

His flattered expression soon turned into a confused one though when the older man started laughing. He covered his eyes and laughed. Alfred couldn't even begin to guess why. What was so funny? Did he look that ridiculous holding up a rock with one hand? "Why are you laughing...?"

He smiled, nodding his head. "Yupp! And thanks!" Did it really fit him? It probably did. He had been told many types that he looked like a typical jock and what superpower suited a jock better than super strength?

"I killed my bedside table, put a dent in my wall, turned a cup into dust, and accidentally picked up a car." Alfred snickered. "So, yeah, I guess hassle fits nicely."

He tilted his head. "You have two abilities too?" Not touch his bare hands? Was he like Rouge from X-Men? That would kind of suck. Alfred liked touching his friends, be it knocking their fists together or simply patting their shoulder. He didn't really want to have his life force sucked out of him though, so he could resist.

Alfred stared at Toris, wondering why he was touching the rock like that. "What a-" And then the rock exploded. Not the messy type of explosion with flying pieces ready to maim everyone close enough, but the silent, simply falling apart type of explosion. He stared up at the silver dust showering the both of them, his mouth agape in awe. "Whoa...that was so totally COOL!"

He looked back at Toris' face, his own shining with excitement and amazement. "You can repair and destroy stuff at the same time? This is...well, I guess it would be kinda scary if you were a bad guy, but you aren't, so this is just fucking sweet!"