Ronan Keeni-Einfallen | D6 | FIN

Everything starts with a flicker of sparks.

A flicker of sparks blazes to flames.

They lick upwards into the sky, destroying anything in it's path. There's no avoiding the damage that occurs when the flame is lit. Ash is left behind from a time before. A man stands before the burning building, a letter in one hand and a box of matches in the other, eyes stare at the red. There's a passion within his eyes that no ordinary person could see. There's no pain. There's no gratitude. There's nothing, but a man who was burning down a building for something that no one knew.

This would be the last time that Tempus Opera House would stand before all of District Six. Engulfed in flames, burning away from the present and future. The orange glow of light can be seen throughout a major part of the district. Children run to their windows, staring at the blaze. Casovniks stare at the memory of a place that held their sister once. Eckharts roll from their slumber, waking to the flames that burn down a melody that still plays a tune inside. Einfallens watch in horror as Riordan's last piece of the world turns to ash.

A man pushes away from the tree he was leaning against.

There's no horror in his eyes.

There's no sorrows upon his tongue.

A letter rests upon a nailed tree, the words of Riordan Einfallen coming forth in a finale hooray.

A wish to burn down every piece of his memory in a blaze of glory.

There's a hand upon the man's shoulder as the younger adopted sibling of his cousin speaks.

"Did you do it? Why? You can't really believe Rio wanted this. Fuck man! Seriously, what the hell."

The cigarette that sends nicotine to his lungs is puffed forward. The bud is thrown on the ground as his foot smushes the light out. There's no light in a man who has seen defeat. As the chilled air turns warm and the man that once leaned against a tree smiles back at his adopted cousin. There's nothing more to him, but a duty to fulfill what his cousin wanted. There's no emotions attached to the Einfallen name. There's no emotions attached to the Keeni name. All he can do now is speak to his adopted cousin like he actually cared one bit.

"Who cares if I did or didn't? It's gone now. Read the note he left on the tree. You'll find out. If you would, please leave me. You already made me waste one cigarette. I wouldn't want you to make me waste another."

The man brushes past his adopted cousin who looks at him in anger. That's all his cousin ever truly had. An anger that burned and burned with no drawbacks. There's nothing to stoke a flame that never wants to go out. Anger blinds a man from the truth. The truth was Riordan Einfallen was dead. The past was in the past and all a person could do was follow the present into the future. There is no need to dwell on the past, but only to lose yourself to the present. Ronan wasn't like his cousins. The past didn't bother him. The future didn't control his present. Ronan was only going to be living by his own rules and if that meant, ignoring his cousin's death, then he would let it.

After all, he could party out all of that past and future to become apart of the present.

Flames lick the opera house, ashes rain down onto the street below.

There's no reason for him to be there anymore.

Ronan could only rely on himself.

After all, he wasn't an average man like the rest of them.

Lights flash in the darkness. The smell of alcohol looms through the air, sending a thirst through his mouth. He wanted to get drunk. Drunk enough to feel like he doesn't care about anything. Drunk enough to forget the eyes of his cousin who screamed at him. Drunk enough to forget the way that his parents had looked at him in disgust. Never perfect enough to be considered a Keeni or a Einfallen. A disgrace to academics as he could barely remember what time of day it was. They didn't control him. He controlled himself. The sooner he gets drunk, the better he will feel.

Alcohol trickles down his throat as the fire has ended and the sorrows have been spread. Ronan can feel the hairs on his skin stick up as a soft hand touches his arm. A whisper of pleasantries in his ear as the calm face is now curling up in a smile. There's no point to focus on the past anymore. Only to live each day like it would be his last. The soft hand leads him up the stairs into reality. A reality of passion for the present.

The morning feels awful. There's a pounding in his head from the liquids of the night before. An arm rests along his chest, resting softly on the exposed skin. He can't remember her name by just glancing at her. Instead of staying like that in bed, he pushes up. Clothes strewn across the room. small bruises upon his body from the night before. He collects his clothes slowly with patience. A mirror stares at him as his eyes wander to it.

The first thing that he can notice is his own eyes. They stare back at him with an intensity like they know he truly is stuck in the future and not the present. Brown eyes that gleam with life. A life that has seen enough death to understand how it feels to want to be alive. Plump lips that are red from use of the night before. They move with words of his reply to the girl that now is awake in the bed. Tired from the night before and yet well rested. There's more life in her eyes than his own from the glance at her.

"Morning."

She doesn't reply to him.

Throwing his clothes on now, he can see his body. The strong and lean body that stretches down to reach for his shirt. The legs that are long and holding up his weight that allow him to move wherever he needed to be. Arms that are nicely built from the past of lifting things for his parents. Brown hair is messy upon his head from the night before, but is still slightly curled in it's natural state of being. Her eyes stare at him with a want of not leaving. Problems begin to soak onto her skin. She's broken. They all were broken, but she was more broken. There's a fear in her eyes that he is gonna leave. He can see how she wants to share her fantasies, the problems that she faces, and the love she wants from him.

He was not that man.

All he could give her was a small smile and a broken heart.

The air's heavier as he leaves the place early in the morning. Cigarette already being puffed in between breaths of air. Home was never where his heart was. The small home always felt broken and hollow. His mother and father argue every day about anything and everything. If there was a reason to fight, they would find it. He's learned to keep his mouth shut around them. Inside feels less like home than the outside. At least on the outside, it felt like he could escape. Inside was clean, abnormally clean for a family that was so dysfunctional. It's only because his parents were never home. They were all highly intelligent. His father working in a warehouse for a company that makes medicine. His mother working as a doctor in the hospitals that were in District Six like many people did.

That day was his lucky day as no one was home. His parents were at work, which meant he could crawl back into a bed and sleep away the rest of the morning. As he is climbing up the stairs, he can hear the door open to his parents. Their words were already poisonous as he rushed up the stairs, only to be stopped by his father's words. Face reverts back to a calm complexion of normalcy. There's anger in his eyes and restless eyes meaning that he worked through the night. Daggers come flying at him in the form of words.

"Why the fuck did you stop going to the classes we set you up with? Do you know how much I've given up for you? Do you boy?"

There's only one reply he can give.

"Yes sir."

That's when the fist collides with his chest and his mother's shriek resides in the hall. It doesn't hurt like it had before. He's been hit too many times for it to matter. His mother had shrieked, but in her eyes he can see the glint of truth. He was supposed to be their doctor. The boy who could cure any illness. Medical books in his room from all the years of forced study. They know he's stopped going years ago, but they ignore it, like him. His cousin was the reason for it. His cousin's plays and musicals were where he resided for years. He watched them intently as a boy and into adulthood. They gave him a feeling of joy, until Riordan's recent passing.

He can't look the place in the eyes.

A forged letter and a fire is all it took to forget.

This is where he is.

A party boy with no dreams anymore and a life of nothing.

There's broken men who had been torn from the world, but he wasn't broken.

He was fine.

He was better than the average man.

Smarter than the average man.

It all starts with a flicker of sparks, until you burn everything down.

Ashes of his dreams to become an actor gone.

Ronan scourges for the sweet piece of life that remains that he can attach onto and find what he truly wants in life.

For now though, he continues on living in a world of angry and disappointed parents and parties that he can never truly remember straight the next day.

Everything starts with a flicker of sparks for a man who was above the average man.

The blaze would soon unfold into a fire.

Ronan Keeni-Einfallen would be left standing among the ashes reborn anew.

This was the truth behind the burning of Tempus Opera House.

A man was reborn from the average into the new.

A stronger person than Riordan Einfallen or Caspar Einfallen could never become.

A man of reality with no fantasies or past holding him back.