Myron could feel himself become weightless as he was lifted back into the bed. A small, concentrated pain could be felt in his arm, almost masked by the agony of his entire body, as the replaced the IV in his arm. He vaguely felt the cushioning of the mattress beneath him, and then everything was black.

Male nurses flooded in in a rush. They placed Myron back on the bed, and then gave Charlotte a mild tranquilizer to keep her unconcious while they brought her to the psych ward and called her parents. Well... Her father, anyways...

~~~~

Myron opened his eyes again in a familiar room in Charlotte's house. It had been two days, and they had finally let him out of the hospital only yesterday. After his little stunt, they had needed to keep him that extra day to make sure his bones set correctly. But now he was in a familiar place, with familiar people. Half of his upper body was immobilized with braces, but he could still walk around. And as long as he could see Charlotte, everything was well and good.

He traversed the stairs carefully, mindful not to bump anything or fall down. Once finally up the stairs, he walked towards Charlotte's room. She would still be asleep. She had been since that day in the hospital. He sat by her bed, as he had the day before, and watched her, hoping she would wake up. "Charlotte..." He began, hoping she could hear him. "I miss you... Come back to me..." A tear threatened to fall, and Myron brushed it away. He didn't understand this feeling... He felt sad, yes, and worried. That could all be explained. After all, they were best friends, and had been since preschool. But now there was this other feeling... This one in the background, that he didn't understand at all.

Charlotte was floating on a cloud. Soft, and safe, with no worries, no cares...

Nothing, except the music. She had been hearing it constantly since she had fallen asleep. It waltzed around her and the cloud, flowing and buzzing. Every note, every rest, it was perfect. She wanted to capture it in a star net and close it in a jar, then dissect it and totally understand it. It was a part of her, and somehow, Charlotte knew the music would direct her future. Perhaps, perhaps it was the antidote to the voices she had heard since childhood. Perhaps she would be free from the cage inside her mind.

A voice, a familiar voice soon pulled Charlotte out of her reverie. "Charlotte..." She knew so well. Why did it sound so sad, so damaged? "Come back..." Why couldn't the voice go away and leave her in the clouds with the music? With her music... Her eyes soon fluttered open, slowly coming to the image of her closest friend, Myron Benedict.

"M-Myron?" Her voice was soft, but dry from being unconscious for so long. "What, what happened? What day is it?" She knew where she was at least, the sweet utopia known as her room, in her house. Charlotte began to lift her head, dropping it when a killer migrane started thumping behind her temple. "My head..." She grabbed her head, whimpering slightly from the pain.

Myron jumped at the sound of her voice. Happiness quickly overwhelmed him, and then shrivelled into nothing. "It's Tuesday." He said. "You've been out for two days." He forced a chuckle at her complaints of a headache. "Yeah you'll have that for a while. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?" Myron was anxious to do something, anything, for her. He wanted her to be comfortable. She deserved to be comfortable... At the very least.

"Two days?" She questioned groggily. It didn't feel like two days, oh not at all. It felt like a lifetime had passed through her dreams, giving her a gift she had no idea she had. Charlotte knew she HAD to write that music down, or something special would be lost.

"Umm... I think I'll be ok, if you can grab that box on my dresser, that would be great." It was a white porcelain box with a pink bow on it. It sat daintily next to a Victorian Jewelry box and a bunny plushie. Charlotte sat up in bed and winced at the sudden throb in her head, but ignored it otherwise.

Running a hand through her blonde locks, the girl looked down to see what her form was wearing. It was a spaghetti strap lolita-babydoll nightgown, with matching bloomers underneath. Truth be told, it was one of her favorites too. Charlotte tried not to think about who put it on her.

"I need tea..." She muttered, before patting the bedspread, indicating that Myron should try and get onto the bed.

Myron immediately jumped to action. He placed the box next to her where she could easily pick it up, and then moved towards the door. "I'll get the tea. Earl Grey, with one cube of sugar and a splash of sugar." The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips. "Just the way you like it." The boy lingered at the door, simply watching her, as if he feared that leaving the room would put her to sleep again. However Charlotte wished for tea. And tea she would get.

Myron microwaved the water, simply because it didn't take as long as heating it on the stove. He set the teabag in there, waiting for three minutes that lasted forever as it brewed. A cube of sugar, a splash of cream, and just enough honey to give it a hint of a taste...

Myron did his best not to spill as he rushed back to the room. Suprisingly, he didn't spill a drop. In an instant he was opening the door with his free hand, making himself seem composed, as if he had taken his time walking up the stairs and down the hall. "Your tea." He said, handing it to Charlotte. "Careful! It's hot..." Myron warned, taking the seat she had indicated with her hand.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. The boy wasn't sure if he had already asked this question, but he wanted to ask again just in case. It probably wouldn't be the last time today this question was uttered...

Charlotte smiled at him as the box moved into her possession. "Thank you Myron, this help me so much." She snapped the cover open to reveal tiny, circular blue pills. "And so the madness continues," she whispered, popping three into her mouth. A moment of holding still, then she sighed a breath of relief, listening to Myron as her discussed her favourite tea. "Yay for tea~! You're so wonderful, you don't have to do that."

She got out of the bed when Myron left, making it nice and neat so it looked pretty. It had to be perfect, for once. Charlotte then grabbed a brush, and began to fix her tangled curls. Being in bed for two days, and then not taking care of them the few days before, did not do good things for Charlotte's hair. Myron was back in heart beat, or so it seemed, tea in hand.

"Thank you so much Myron." She breathed in the aroma of the steaming beverage, when she was able to grab it. When she let out a sigh, a look of peace settled onto her face, if even just for a moment. "I could drink this all day and never get bored of it." Charlotte took a sip, and smiled again at the boy. "It's perfect!! Thank you, thank you, thank you Myron!"

She set the tea onto her dresser, getting up and looking out the window. The world outside was sunny, warm and peaceful, and her mind was slowly coming to. "Tea does wonders for the mind, I'm feeling better already. Although I still need to take my pills..." She wrote that down on the checklist in her head, next time she was downstairs, it would be priority number one.

Charlotte looked as if she had fallen from the heavens. Her hair, though it had been beautiful before, was now perfect, the golden locks bouncing to their old tune. Her face didn't look as worried and haunted as it had in the hospital room. And most importantly, she was awake.

Happiness swelled within him as Charlotte's excitement unfurled before him. He supressed a laugh when she thanked him again, the grin on her face as bright as the sun at high noon. He worried when she took her first sip, hoping that it was perfect, and that she wouldn't burn her tongue. And a private smile settled on his face when she looked away.

Myron's face twisted with confusion, for a moment. "What do you need pills for?" He asked. It had never occured to him that Charlotte might be ill. She had always seemed perfectly happy. After all, if she wasn't fine, she would have told him. ... Right?

"What do I need pills for?" Charlotte repeated the question back to Myron, her tone mocking and dark. She laughed, it being sinister and twisted. "Myron, I need pills for everything." Walking over to where she set down the heart-shaped box, she picked it up, and walked back over to the boy, opening it up so he could see it's contents. "For example," the lolita started again. "These help to stop any allergic reactions from food in the morning. I take the rest of my medication after breakfast, and that helps to stabilize me so I can actually function on the day to day basis."

Charlotte looked at Myron like it was common knowledge, her taking pills. "Half of them ease the side effects of my Manic Depression and Dissociative identity disorder, while the other half ease the side effects the other pills give off." She sighed, shrugging her shoulder. "Sometimes I just get sick in general from taking all the pills. Or I feel numb. Or it works. Wouldn't it be nice; my meds actually working once." Her sarcasm was rather surprising, for the girl who never said a rude word to anyone.

Myron was shocked. "Wait... what?" He moved toward her and turned her around. "Say that again, only slower." Myron was staring into Charlotte's blue eyes, a calculative sort of calm deep within. "Tell me everything, from the beginning." He sighed, his eyes closing for an instant. "We have some catching up to do."

When he opened his eyes again, there was pain, and dissapointment. It looked as if he had been... betrayed...

It was difficult to believe that Charlotte had hidden something from him. After all, they were best friends. Or atleast... That's what he had thought...

Charlotte didn't look at Myron, oh not at all. Instead, she grabbed her tea and sat back on the bed. Her bed was a safe spot, where dreams and the most creative ideas where born. The bed was a warm spot. Myron was a cold spot, a freezing arctic, unsafe and isolated from her now.

When did that happen? Why does he want to know about her... illness? Illnesses? He didn't need to know anything, it wasn't any of his business. The voices were her issues and her issues alone. Myron was not allowed to get into that, to stick his nose where it didn't belong. Charlotte voiced her concern to the boy.

"It-it's nothing. It's absolutely nothing. I've been diagnosed with Manic Depression, aka Bi-Polar disorder and Dissociative identity disorder, aka Multiple Personality Disorder for six years now. Nothing new. I'm just another crazy girl." Charlotte gave a sad smile, so similar to the ones that she had given Myron the past few days.

Myron's fists clenched, but he wasn't angry at her. "You're not crazy..." Then a moment to process. He sat on her bed across from her, his hands relaxed. "Six years? How come you never told me? And all those things aren't nothing. They aren't huge things, besides the fact that they make life miserable, but they deffinently aren't nothing." The pain in Myron's voice was deeply covered by calm and concern. His eyes reflected her sad smile, but his jaw was set into a calm expression. Deep down he knew that if he wasn't calm, something bad would happen. And he wanted Charlotte to be safe. Safe and happy...

Even if it killed him.

Charlotte's eyes narrowed as Myron said that. "Yes. I am crazy. Do not, I repeat, do not tell me different. I mentally insane, unbalanced, impure. Knowing I am a lunatic is the only thing that is keeping me slightly reasonable." She sighed, as if that explanation was the most logical justification for her actions. "I am crazy, insane, off my bonkers, lost my marbles and loosing more." Saying that, the girl felt a large weight lifted off her shoulders. Admitting to someone else of what she was helped to ease the burdens that came with it.

"I did not. I did not tell you about this for a full six years because it isn't a big deal!" The tea cup shattered into a thousand pieces, the antique rug stained an amber brown. "They Are nothing Myron. That's why I didn't tell you. Damn, I don't want to talk about this right now!" Charlotte's hands curled into her hair, pulling it slightly. Again, the white lines on her wrists and arms were shown, all the scars, all the pain. It seemed as though they wept, without crying, without screaming.

"It's nothing, nothing nothing nothing, tra la la. Is she fonder of dolls or of goblins or of shoes..."

The scars... EVery glance at those ugly white lines hurt Myron. He hated the fact that she had been in such pain, and he hadn't even noticed. That she had, even for a moment, thought that she deserved to die, and he hadn't even been around to stop her. It's as if they were telling him he was nothing to her. And he didn't want to believe it.

"Charlotte..." Myron gently untangled her hands from her hair, cradling them in his palms. "Alright. We don't have to talk about it. If you say it's not a big deal, then it isn't. But whenever you need to tell me something, even if it isn't anything worthwhile, my ear is always open." The boy cradled Charlotte's chin in his fingers. "All right, my Little Lottie?"

"Ne?" She asked, a word that was used for everything and nothing with Charlotte, once upon a time being used jokingly to sound like a Japanese character, but not stuck in her vocabulary. Somehow, Charlotte's hands were untangled out of her hair, not by her own willpower. She felt... warm. There was a certain peace in Myron's hands cradling her own, caressing them slightly, protecting them. Loving them. "W-we don't? You promise?"

Sometimes, when us humans get so wrapped up in our guilt, anger and sadness, that we don't see what's in front of us. The blonde suddenly saw, she saw Myron, there. He was in front of her, in his darkness, inviting her in. But it was a good darkness, it would keep her safe. But it was always there. Myron had always been there, but she had been too wrapped up in herself to see the one that was in front of her.

Her lip and quivered under his touch, her eyes welling up with tears. "I- I need a hug." With that, Charlotte wrapped herself around Myron, crying into his shirt. Best friend, protector, savior from the nothingness of herself.

"I promise." Myron had said with a serious face. Then Charlotte's arms were around him, and his heart skipped a beat. He could feel his shoulder moisten with her tears, and felt an overwhelming need to comfort her. His arms held her close in a comforting tightness, and his hand gently held her head to his shoulder. He laughed to himself, a smile secretely creeping onto his face. Thinking of how he was always willing to hug Charlotte, he softly kissed her hair. Just for a moment, afraid he would scare her.

The boy began to wonder when he had started feeling this way about Charlotte. He knew it wasn't that day in the hospital. No, it had started long before that. But when? As Myron tried to remember, Charlotte's scent drifted over him. Her hair was so soft... And even when they were crying, he could lose himself in those eyes... Charlotte was so perfect...

And, as he thought of this, his heartbeat quickened.

Charlotte blinked the rest of her tears away, knowing that it was time to let go of the little girl tantrums she kept performing. He shouldn't have to comfort her every time something went slightly off schedule, off plan. Myron's ever open arms only proved to the girl that she needed to fight like a girl more. She needed to become a lady.

The blonde pulled away from the boy, wiping all remaining traces of tears. "I need to stop crying all the time. It can't possibly be good for my eyes." She sniffled, trying to smile again. Manic depression mixed in with being a outcast teenager made Charlotte's emotions as fickle as the weather, unpredictable and dangerous. She glanced at the rug and the destroyed teacup. "Oh fucking lovely, indeed. I'll have to clean that up." She sighed melodramatically.

Even at that moment, it was hard for the girl not to look at the broken shards of China. She could imagine then sliding against her weak flesh, teardrops of red popping up. And then a bath of crimson, warm and wet and...

She didn't notice her hand reaching for the sharp glass.

Myron caught her hand seconds before she reached the shatered teacup. "Careful there." He warned her, bending down and carefully picking up the broken china for her. "You might hurt yourself." He began gathering the pieces into his hand, as he said, "Don't worry. I'll clean this up. You just get some rest. I bet you're still tired." He may have been rambling, but that look on Charlotte's face had frightened him. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her so... suicidal. That is, if he had ever seen her like that.

It occured to Myron that Charlotte was very good at hiding things...

As he picked up the last visible shard of glass, a corner pierced his flesh, and he dropped it back to the ground with a sharp intake of air. A bead of blood began to gather at the tip of his pointer finger, and a line spread down to his first knuckle. The scarlet liquid slowly pooled along this garish line, a single drop flowing down his raised finger as he inspected it.

"You- you don't have to do it Myon, I can handle it by myself." She reached out for the glass again, but hesitated when she saw Myron's movements. Somehow, she sensed that he didn't want her to touch that China with a ten foot May~Poll. She might hurt herself? But what if that was the intention? What if the pain was part of the package, the key to feeling anything once more? But she didn't want to go overboard, Charlotte did not want to kill herself. She wanted to live so badly.

All she wanted to do was hear the music again.

"But I'm not- oh God, Myron, are you ok?" She ran next to him, holding the finger in her own delicate hands. "We need to clean that up so it doesn't get infected... As much as I like blood stains, it won't do any good over here." Even though she was trying to be funny about it, it sounded so stange, and distrubing.

"I'm fine. It's just superficial." Despite his protests, Myron did not pull his finger away from her hand. Her touch felt so right... Her hands were so soft. It was hard to believe that she had those horrible scars on her wrists. He forced a laugh at her attempt at a joke. It was odd hearing such a thing from her, but he knew her obsession with injuries.

"See? It's already stopped bleeding." He said, even though it hadn't. A drop threatened to fall to the carpet, before it was caught by Charlotte's fingers. The scarlet rolled down her hand, staining her flesh red.

The crimson thread traveled back down Charlotte's hand as she moved it. The blood dropped onto her stocking, and she giggled. "Anywho, go get cleaned up, I need to get dressed, it's Tuesday!" Her eyes widened when she realized, it was Tuesday. "Oh noes, I'm going to be late!!!" And so the lolita preceded to freak and obsess over the day ahead.

"Charlotte..." Myron was desperately trying to catch the lolita without putting any more blood on her, since the intent was to wipe of the blood that was already there. "You've got blood on your hand." He finally said, resorting to telling her as he stood still and just letting her take care of it herself. "And you've still got an hour yet. Maybe more. So you can calm down." He added, the boy's voice taking on the tone of gentle teasing. "Ok ok I'll go get cleaned up while you get dressed. But you really should wipe off that blood before it gets on your clothes." He warned her before he slipped out of the room.

Well... That was a sudden change in emotion... Myron thought as he washed his hand in the sink. He paused with his finger in the running water, watching the liquid dye red with his blood as it poured down the drain. "What is it about blood that is so absolutely mesmerizing?" He whispered to himself, reaching with his other hand to shut off the water. It hadn't quite stopped bleeding yet, so he took a band-aid from Charlotte's medicine cabinet and wrapped it around his finger. He didn't want to restain her carpet with blood, after all.

He looked at the door. "No need to hurry back." A slight blush flushed his cheeks. I wouldn't want to walk in on her after all....

Charlotte popped her head in the door, looking at Myron with wide eyes. "Myron-chan?" She asked with a lilt in her voice. Things were beginning to calm down now, reasoning entering her mind. A good reasoning, unlike before with the tears and the trauma and the terrifying mood changes. With all her pills in her system, Charlotte felt something next to normal. And that was good.

She couldn't help but smile genuinely as she walked into the room, wrapping her arms around the boy from behind, and leaning her head on his shoulder. Lightly, of course, as Charlotte didn't want to hurt the sweet boy. "Do we really have to go to school today? It's Tuesday, but I don't think I'm well enough to. And you certainly are in no shape to do so either. So can we just stay home today and watch those DvDs and snuggle?" Charlotte loved snuggling, especially with Myron. Ever since they were little they would snuggle, and that was one of the reasons so many people thought the two were in a romantic relationship.

"Let's just stay home and nom and snuggle, ne? Please?"

The thing Myron wanted to do most in the world, was snuggle with Charlotte. To have the beautiful lolita curled up in his arms, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils, was heaven. The movie didn't matter. He barely paid any attention to them anyway. Just the bare minimum to make her think he had been listening. But in reality... When they spent those precious moments on the couch, it was all he could do to keep himself from hugging her so tightly... Of just holding her close and never letting go. But he couldn't. The moment had to end. Their relationship wasn't like that...

A smile spread across his lips at the thought of so many hours alone with her. For a short while he was silent, basking in her touch, not wanting to move or disturb her lest she release him. But finally, he spoke. "We can't." He turned around in her arms, wrapping his own around her waist. "We have a biology test today. Remember?" That smile still played along his lips, but it was masked behind a teasing grin. He couldn't let her see. Couldn't let her know. If she found out, and said it wasn't like that... If she put words to what he already knew and dreaded every moment of his life, he would die inside.

Without Charlotte by his side, he would not have a reason to live.