Children in the Rain

The rain falls from the sky
Tears of heaven
Caused by lies
Dripping
Dripping
Every drop echoing as it falls
Telling the story of heaven's walls
Have you ever wondered why the children sing?
Why they like to play in such a sad thing?
Every drop that touches a child's skin
Will be reborn into heaven again
And the little children will never know
That they bring peace to heaven
Just by stopping the tear's flow
Children feel they must be in the rain
They don't know the reason
But they can feel the sky's pain
The teardrops falling bring them joy
Better than any manifactured toy
Every dancing child
Full of love
Will be reborn as a morning dove
The angels will cheer
For salvation is here
The child who dances in the rain
In the afterlife will feel no pain

Dream

Lightning strikes the ground
Such reckless
Unbeatable speed
Such a sad sound
The testament of loneliness
True love is the need
Fear my pain
It's all I've ever known
You don't even know my name
And if you do you've never shown
Take away my prison
Take away these restless dreams
Fill the void deep inside me
With love and other nicer things
I hate the restraints that you gave me
I'm so tired of your enslaving
My feelings
My devotion
Don't pit me against myself
I'm not made for separation
Quit putting petty things before emotions
Give me a dream that I can dream
Something within my reach
Happiness that is exactly what it seems
A dream with no strings attached
Understanding without speech
I only pray that I can reach

Forever Love

Is anyone listening?
Can anyone hear me?
Living in this world that we do
You rejected me though I was saving you
You walked aruond all night long
Singing your muted beauty song
Your face is quickly fading
The truth your ears keep evading
Come now and let me show you
Everything in this world that isn't true
I know the feeling of being misplaced
To feel like the world's biggest disgrace
I know the feeling of true pain
And all the misdirected self blame
Even though you turned away from me
I will love you for all eternity

China Doll

China doll
China doll
On the shelf against the wall
Glassy eyes stare into space
If you break you'll be replaced
Disappoint and be defaced
Rosy cheeks
A perfect nose
Can't bow or curtsy
Yet still you pose
You cry your heart out
Though your tears never show
Your coral lips can only pout
Surrounded by only the finest teas and tarts
For you are the greatest of sculpted arts

Teaching the World

Singing the song of unsung heros
Raising my voice in protest
Putting my pencil to the paper
Changing the world one word at a time
The sun burnt out
Now I must shine
I am the lighthouse beacon
Guiding the ships to harbor
A world of learning opens up with every page they turn
Every youth protect by a suit of knowledge armor

My Temple

Alluring are the eyes
That lead to my demise
Your arms so strong and warm
Embrace my heart
So hurt
So torn
The body that tends to me
Enters the temple to worship me
The worshiper sacrifices then leaves
He travels the world to see other things
And here I am left
Afraid and alone
No longer a worshiper to call my temple home

Childhood

This is dedicated to my childhood best friend who long ago turned his back on me. Jeremy, I still remember when you were my best friend, and I'll always love you like the friend you were. Go ahead and hate me for this, but this is who we were, and who I still am.

Wooden swords, wooden shields, a silk dress-up robe and sequin capes.

Two children laughing, playing, with magic wands and dragon tears.

The boy and girl laugh and shout spells and curses at each other while fighting each other until their deaths with painted wooden swords.

A sword goes flying, the girl shouts out a deadly curse, the boy grabs his chest and falls backwards onto the ground.

The girl runs over to him and nudges him with her foot, the boy jumps up and grabs her leg, pulling her down next to him.

Laughs and giggles escape the two as they begin fighting over marbles and dragon tears.

Red Love

They sat there in the shadows, kissing each other. She held onto him in a tight embrace, never wanting that moment to end. She was afraid of what might happen.

"I love you," he whispered softly in her ear.

She knew he loved her, and that's what made it all the more painful. Would he still love her, regardless of what she was?

"I love you too," she whispered, fiery tears running down her pale cheeks.

He pulled back from her a little bit, slipping his hand under her chin. "What's wrong beautiful?" he asked as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

She shook her head and buried her face against his chest, hugging him tightly.

He held her tightly, unsure of what was distressing her, but not about to leave her in her distress. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed between her shoulders with one hand, while holding her tightly with the other.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" he asked her, worried.

She swallowed hard and looked up at him. Her tear-stricken eyes made contact with his worry-filled eyes.

"I'm," she panicked, trying to think of how to say it. "I'm not like you."

"Of course not, we're two totally separate people," he said, trying to understand why this was such a problem in her eyes.

"No," she stuttered. "I'm... I'm not even human."

He couldn't help but smile. He smiled a warm, understanding smile. He picked her up and hugged her tightly.

"I know, little miss creature of the night," he sad in a playful, but loving way.

She shook with shock.

"You don't hate me?" she asked, amazed that he didn't even seem upset.

"Of course not! Why would I hate you for being yourself?" he looked her in the eyes. "I love you, and nothing's ever going to change that. I don't care if you're a vampire or not, you're still the woman I love." He offered her his wrist. "Hungry?"

She took his wrist in her hand, kissing the veins and smelling his blood through his skin, but she never bit him.

He smiled. "I don't care if you do. I know you don't see me as one of your victims, so I really don't mind."

"But I do," she said, letting go of his wrist and hugging him.

They sat down and stared up at the moonlight, cuddling with each other.

"I have a favor to ask you," he whispered a while later.

"What?" she asked, kissing him gently on the neck.

"I want to be with you forever, will you help me?" he asked her.

"It's painful," she whispered.

"I don't care, the most extreme pain is worth it, if it's for you.

Later that night, after explaining everything to him in detail, she transformed him. Centuries later, they could still be seen walking the streets together at night, still hand and hand, the very same young lovers that they had been that night, immortalized by a curse, but blessed by love.

Sketches

A lonely piece of paper in a sketchbook. The artist approaches, and soon begins to draw. A few strokes of the charcoal and an arm is formed. A few more strokes of the charcoal, and soon the arm is followed by a torso, and before long, the entire body is born onto the paper. Clothes are then drawn to cover up the newborn's body.

"Beautiful, just like a Gypsy," is the remark, before the artist pulls the paper out of the sketchbook and pins it on the wall, next to so many others that were once newborns that pleased their master.

After several days, possibly weeks of being left on the wall, alone in it's thoughts. With only the glares from the others, no longer newborns themselves and no longer able to please the artist's eye, the newborn matures. For the first time, not just is it's eyes open, as they were drawn, but they can see and recognize things. It learns quickly, beginning to process complex thoughts and ideas.

The artist returns, only not alone. She has a man with her, with which together they share the rings on their fingers. She shows the man the now maturing drawing, showing it off as her pride and joy of sketches. But even though it remains the best she believes she's ever done, she no longer seems as pleased with it as she once was; when it was a newborn.

"I don't remember her wearing a ring," the sketch thinks to itself.

The sketch watches the man, wondering what it would be like to be human and to know him. the sketch listens to the artist and her fiance talk with each other. Slowly, the sketch falls in love with him.

"If only I were human, I could feel your arms. I could respond to your voice, and we could communicate like you do with my mother. You're real, but I am not. Oh how I wish we could be real together," the lonely sketch thinks to herself.

Slowly, the other matured drawings realize that this younger drawing was becoming like them, longing for the freedoms of the real world. The glares were no longer glares, but looks of sympathy and understanding. Sorrow filled their eyes, sorrow for the young one to have been born like that, to be an artist's thought on a piece of paper.

"At least he thought I was beautiful. He said I was mother's best work," she reminded herself, unsure of what she hoped it would bring.

The man walks up to the sketch and takes it off of the wall to better examine it's features.

"It's gorgeous. How do you make it look so real? It looks like it's about to start moving around on the page. It's your best work yet," the man voiced to the artist, his soon to be wife.

"I was bored and had nothing better to do," was the reply.

He pinned the sketch back into it's spot and left it, returning to his lover's side to watch her as she began to do her job as an artist.

"Boredom. That's my mother then, not the artist, but her boredom," the sketch thought loath-fully, but she cherished the words, "Your best work yet," for they referred to herself.

Soon the lovers left the room, locking the drawings within. Many weeks passed by, many months. It was over a year before the door reopened, and a tired and worn out looking artist returned to the easel and the smell of paint, to the sketchbooks and charcoal pencils.

She began to sketch again, to sketch in the very sketchbook that had brought false life so many times.

Hours passed until the man, no longer her fiance, but her husband, walked into the room holding a small infant in his arms. His child, his wife's baby. The artist looked up at her husband and child with love and pride in her eyes. The sketch's heart and soul ached from the site, for she wished the man to be hers, not her creator's.

Her husband looked over the sketch that she had been working on. He smiled and looked at his wife, "It's you best work yet."

With that, the sketch's soul was broken. The newborn sketch was pinned up on the wall over her, replacing her.

Several months, possibly years passed by before the newer sketch was taken down from the wall, revealing what was once a drawing of a beautiful Gypsy.

"What the hell!?" the artist shouted as she saw what was underneath the newer sketch. The page was empty, except for the words, "All I wanted was to be real like you. Why couldn't you have made me real?" written in charcoal.

All the sketches that surrounded the Gypsy were all still, and yet all of their faces looked onward at the once beautiful drawing, now only a few words on a piece of paper, and tears filled their fake eyes and washed down their cheeks, washing away their charcoal lines. Within minutes, all of the old sketches were washed away by their own sorrow, replacing them were the words, "All I ever wanted was to be real."

Let the patrol car through

Bright red rubies moving forward
Multicolored diamonds going backwards
Purring engines and the occasional screeching breaks
Blink blink blink
Change lanes left
Blink blink blink
Change lanes right
Flash flash flash
A patrol car's lights
Sirens pierce the sound of silence, engines, radios, and light conversation
Slow down
Pull over
The entire highway now belongs to the emergency vehicles
The sirens grow louder and then quickly farther away
Blink...
Blink...
Blink...
Cars, trucks, vans, and SUVs pull back onto the highway and resume what they were doing
Once again the different cabs are full of variations of silence, engines, radios, and light conversations

Zenis Saves Gavin

Possession takes hold
The middle light begins to dim until threatening to burn out
Clinging to his last flicker of dignity
He swallows the tears of relief
Turning them into tears of death
A body collapses into unconsciousness and certain death
A deafening cry of rage erupts and the malignant spirit leaves the dying body
Thundering footsteps rush to the scene of demise
Powerful fingers with the strength to easily destroy find their way into the throat of the damned
Pushing gently they trigger a contraction of muscles
The tears spill forth from the mouth until one of the four humors spills out as well
The heartbeat strengths slightly
But he won't wake up tonight

War in the night sky

Dull yet pure white light fell upon his sleeping form, nude and comfortably tangled in the blankets. Rather pale looking in this light, large silver leathery wings twinkled softly in the warm, calm glow given off by the glass fixtures on the walls. Silver hair, silver claws, two silver dragon horns sticking out from the top of his head, and two long, slender, pointed ears that tilted back against his head.

Unseen past his lips were four long, extremely sharp canines. Behind his closed eyelids were gray, slitted serpentine eyes. On his back, in a place that could be argued as to whether it was his middle or lower back, a tattoo could be seen, five inches high, eight inches wide. On it were the two constellations of Virgo and Draco, images of what they might look like were in front of the stars, though they didn't line up.

In this image, the virgin was wrapping cloth bandages around the dragon's badly injured front foot, and the large creature had several more grave injuries.

This tattoo, on Vayu Leaman's back, was based upon a story his mother had written when she was a teenager. The story had meant a great deal to him, so when he became older he had his favorite scene from his mother's story tattooed on his back.

The story is an interesting one, to say the least. It took place in the night sky, where sun and moon are meaningless in telling the passage of time. Where the constellations reign and no human is able to tread.

Virgo often watched Draco with longing, wishing to be mighty and free as the dragon. Orion became very jealous of the virgin always staring at the dragon, so one day, he attacked. He declared war against Draco, claiming that he would not rest until the dragon was dead. Virgo was horrified and begged Orion to stop his madness, but the hunter refused.

The battled lasted several weeks, until finally, Draco was able to defeat Orion. Severely wounded, Draco collapsed, staring off toward the pipe nebula as his vision began to blur.

Crying tears of humiliation for Orion's actions, and fear for the dragon's life, Virgo ran to him, tending to his wounds. Over the next several weeks, the dragon recovered his strength, though his front right foot would not heal. Virgo continued to care for his wounded foot even after the rest of him had healed fully, and eventually, his last remaining wound was gone.

The virgin confessed to Draco her love and admiration for him, and he responded with a confession of how he wanted her to be his treasure. With Orion out of the way, they were free to be together, and no other constellation dared to challenge the dragon who had slain the hunter.

Draco and Virgo spent tens of thousands of happy years together, until one day, they both vanished from the sky...

Seek Me Out - Chapter one

Bright lavender eyes peered over the top of a computer screen, scanning over the different faces in the café. 'Hm,' he thought, trying to pick out which of the other occupants on laptop computers was most likely to be the person he was talking with online.

It was all just a game; played by him and about five hundred other people within his metro area, and around five million game itself was like a mix between a treasure hunt and a game of I spy.

The rules on the website were perfectly clear: each week the administrators of the website would pair together random users and assign each pair a time, along with a location where it wasn't unusual for people to use their laptop computers. Without being given any hints about each other's appearance, they're left on their own to figure out who the person they're supposed to meet is.

He glanced back at his computer screen when his Seek Me instant messenger began blinking. "Argh. I can't figure out who you are. I keep looking and looking, but I can't tell which one you are. Can you give me a hint?" Amani read.

"Let me think of a hint and ask an online admin really fast, just to make sure it isn't too revealing and doesn't break the rules," he typed, pressing the enter button to send the message.

"You and the rules," came the reply, along with an eye-rolling emoticon.

"They monitor all conversations, you know. That's how they know whenever email addresses are exchanged, and people get banned for it. I really enjoy playing this game. I'm not going to break the rules," he replied back, letting out a soft sigh as he hit enter.

He opened the main messenger window, clicking on the name of an online administrator. After a couple exchanged messages, a ruling on the hint was made.

"Ah. I completely forgot that they watched every conversation. My bad. I really like this game too."

He read the new message from his current partner, then began typing up his reply. "The admin said my hint was fine, though I believe I know who you are. Brown t-shirt, blue jeans, old sneakers, and a light blue MAC with a piece of duct tape on the back of the monitor, correct?"

The person he'd described looked startled, lifting his head to look around in an attempt to figure out which of the people within sight was the one he was talking to. After a few minutes, he turned his attention back to his computer. "They aren't kidding when they say you always win. I have to admit, that unnerved me. But I still can't tell who you are."

"I'm one of the few people here that don't look depressed."

Light blue eyes looked up again, scanning over the people who didn't look absolutely miserable. "You're one of three people. The creepy middle-aged balding guy by the door, the redhead with silver bangs, or the woman with a sleeping baby."

"Well, you found me. Now which one am I?"

"Hmm." He stopped typing to look between the three people he'd described. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're the redhead. He's the only one that looks intelligent enough to make the observations that you make."

Lavender eyes twinkled upon reading the compliment. He closed his laptop and stood, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and picked up his computer, tucking it under his arm. He walked over to the table where the man with the light blue MAC sat, extending his hand to him as a greeting.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Purple Frog," he said with a friendly smile.

"Hey, I was right for once," the blue eyed man said with a laugh, shaking the redhead's hand. "Toxic Dove, but you've already figured that out. Real name is Max, what's yours?"

"Amani," he said with a nod, sitting down across from Max, setting his laptop on the table and opening it again. "So how many rounds of this have you played?" he asked curiously.

"Well, I joined the website about eight months ago. You're my third partner so far. I've lost all three rounds," he said with a nervous laugh. "What about you?"

"I'm one of the first hundred users. I've seen the site grow from an infant to a full grown adult in three years time. I've played over two hundred rounds of Seek. I remember back when you could be paired up with as many as four people on a single day," he explained as he contacted an administrator to confirm that they'd found each other.

"How many have you lost?" Max asked, flagging down a waitress and ordering some food.

"I've lost nine," Amani said, ordering food as well.

They left the café after about an hour and went to a movie together. After the movie they found a place to hang out for a little while, before exchanging phone numbers and parting ways. It had been another successful round of Seek Me Out.

Tick Tock Click Boom

Tick
Tick
Tick

Words and little things start to build up
More things happen
A temper begins to rise
Confrontation

Tock
Tock
Tock

People clam to share your feelings
Then you voice how you feel to the offender
Suddenly, you find yourself standing alone
The others left your side
The offender confronts them
They say they never felt that way

Tick
Tick
Tick

You're made a fool of
And reminded why you try hard not to trust
Friendships are best kept where they can be ended with a click
Being pursued when all that's needed is time to calm down
Your opponent is fighting like a child, throwing names of other people into the fight
When you didn't pull anyone's names into it

Tock
Tock
Tock

It was most likely going to happen
But the breaking point came too soon
You can hear the cocking of the gun echo throughout the room and halls
The trigger gets pulled, but it's an empty click

Click
Click
Click

It's cocked and loaded, but the gun just won't fire
Something broke along the way
Maybe a pin or a spring
Or maybe the finger on the trigger is too weak

Tock
Tock
Tock

Cowardly?
Something broke my self-defense
Is it cowardly when you can't fend for yourself for a little while?
Doesn't everyone reach a time in their life when they still want to fight, but they just don't have it in them?

Click
Click
Click

Don't offer me something
Then hold it over my head if I accept
Friendships like these aren't worth their weight in gold
Because money shouldn't be used to buy friends
I would've been your friend even without everything
Just because you give me something, doesn't mean you own me
It doesn't mean I should be made to feel guilty because I accepted what was offered

Bang
Bang
Bang

The gun fired, but it wasn't as powerful as I hoped it'd be
I still feel like I'm not being heard
And yet, I get this feeling that you don't really care

Rusty Gears

Have you ever witnessed the exact moment when someone's heart breaks? There's this look of pure helplessness in their eyes, and all purpose for leaving has visibly been ripped away from them. When they move, even when doing something they've been known to love, there's something wrong about how they do it. Like a gear that's sticking, or a tooth from the steel comb of a music box that's bent and won't make the right sound in the melody when struck by the pins.

Something just clicks over and over again, the smoothness of a fully functioning person gone until either someone saves them or they finally lay down and die.

When Kay died, Itami's gears rusted, the clicking loud and echoing. Even those who'd never seen him before that day could tell that the man in front of them was broken and without a reason to live. And yet for some reason, he refused to die. He struggled to survive by any means he had to. He hid her body away, unable to pay for a casket or a funeral, and he couldn't stand the thought of her being cremated, believing that if she was there'd be no chance that she could be reborn in the future.

He buried her belongings and abandoned the pathetic apartment they'd lived in for a decade, taking to the streets. After several days of stumbling around, he finally took on his wolf form, living as a stray dog in the city's alley ways.

And all the while, the reaper who took his sister's soul saw him break. Watched him revert to the primitive instincts of a wolf. And she tried to communicate to him, but he was just beyond her reach...

Lost Boy Chronicles - Chapter one

Another restless night's sleep in an uncomfortable bed. His dying cellphone lay open on the pillow. He'd fallen asleep on the phone again.

"Jeff! Damnit Jeff! Why do you always fall asleep when we talk about this!?" came the agitated voice of Raphael on the other end. He'd been trying to wake Jeff up for almost an hour now. Finally, an airhorn was pressed against the phone and blew loudly, the resulting sound on the other end causing the sleeping teen to bolt up in bed.

"Villains! Trolls! The lot of them!" he exclaimed as he stared wide-eyed at the wall. He blinked and sighed, falling back onto his pillow again. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he groped for the phone with the other. Finding it, he put it up to his ear again.

"Sorry about that... How long was I asleep?" he asked tiredly.

"About an hour. Feel better now?" Raphael asked in annoyance.

"Not really. It's fucking cold in here," Jeff replied, glancing out of the bare window at the bright half-moon in the sky.

"Then put on some clothes and get under the blankets."

"Can't. Richard took most of my clothes and blankets to the laundry mat a week ago. Haven't seen him since. Just got the one blanket right now."

"Not that nasty one," Raphael groaned, wrinkling his nose at the thought of it.

"Yeah. Listen Raph, I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed."

"Is that a smart idea? Will you be able to wake up before I come over? I'm not waiting around for you for three hours like last time."

"I'm going to sleep on you if I don't get any sleep now. I'll set my alarm clock for fifteen minutes before you show up. I'll have just enough time for a shower."

Raphael sighed. "Alright, Jeff."

"Bring a jacket for me? Please?" Jeff asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Raphael replied. "Go to bed. See ya in four hours."

"Night Raph," Jeff yawned, hanging up the phone. He closed the phone and laid it under his pillow. Reaching over to the dresser next to his bed, he set his alarm clock. He pulled the ratty old blanket higher up on his body, curling up into a ball underneath it. With a tired sigh, he laid his head back down on his flat, single pillow, and drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

Roller Coaster Ride

She's legal to smoke
He's legal to drink
The child they raise can already speak
He's overworked
She's overpaid
Every night they return to the bed that fate's made
Their love is a roller-coaster ride
He can't make her stay
He's already tried
The ride goes up-track
She always comes back
To take his heart and break it
At this rate
They might not make it
Family, work, class
His life as fragile as glass
He rarely catches his breath for a minute
But he'll march on and not regret it

Can't Let Go

Eirose stood out on the fire escape, leaning over the rail and staring down at the ground three stories below. He sighed lightly as the breeze rustled through his hair.

"There you are," came a voice as the Zaitsu he knew climbed out the open bedroom window to join him on the fire escape.

"You found me," Eirose said quietly, a weak smile tugging at his lips.

"Why have you been hiding again? You're always with Kayla, out here, or hiding under the couch as a wolf," Zaitsu said, holding out a pack of cigarettes towards Eirose. "Do you like her?"

"I respect her and yes, I like her. But not the way that you're thinking," Eirose replied, taking a cigarette and putting it between his lips. There was a small spark from his finger-tip as a small flame jumped from it and lit the cigarette. He took a long drag from the cigarette, closing his eyes and enjoying the nicotine entering his body, exhaling his held breath a moment later.

"Then how do you like her?" Zaitsu asked, watching his friend.

"She's strong, kind, firm, and fierce," he said, taking another drag from the cigarette and turning to face Zaitsu. "And she's in love with my best friend's reincarnation."

"Eirose, the boy awakened, this body is mine," Zaitsu replied, leaning over the railing and staring downwards.

"He wouldn't have turned into you if Damian hadn't forced him to. It's not your life, Zaitsu. Let the boy live it."

"So you don't want me here?" Zaitsu asked quietly.

"I missed you more than I've ever missed anyone, and I'm prepared to miss you again."

"I'm not ready to go back. Eirose, I never crossed over. I was stuck in this world, able to see and hear everything, but not able to touch." He looked into his friend's eyes. "Do you have any idea how painful that is?"

"You just left, I didn't know where you went or why you left. I felt so horrible, thinking I'd done something wrong... I didn't even find out you were dead until three years later!" Eirose's eyes welled up with tears as he flicked his half-smoked cigarette over the rail.

"Eirose..." Zaitsu leaned in to kiss the other man, only to have a hand meet his lips.

"No." Eirose smiled weakly as he held his hand to Zaitsu's lips. "The boy isn't like you, he loves Kayla. You have to respect that."

"But I love you," Zaitsu said, batting his friend's hand away. "Why don't you respect that?"

"I do, and I still love you. I never stopped loving you. I spend so much time with Kayla so I don't forget why I can't let myself touch you."

"That's unfair to me! I want to be with you! I didn't leave you! I snuck out after you fell asleep, I was looking for a ring for you!"

"You wanted to marry me?" Eirose asked quietly, shocked.

"Of course I did, and I still do."

"You can't. The boy wants to marry Kayla," he said, a soft smile on his lips.

"But why should that matter?" Zaitsu asked, a desperate tone in his voice.

"Because we've already been together," Eirose answered, his smile now strong on his features. "The only reason you're in your own body is because you turned the boy's body into your own. It's really his body, his life, and inside his apartment is the girl he loves."

"But I want--"

"Zaitsu, it's not about what you want. Do you know what I want? I want to fall asleep in your arms again. I want to feel your body against mine and to be able to stare into your eyes. To feel your warm breath on my neck and in my ears. I just want to reach up and run my fingers through your hair." He reached up and made a motion of running his hands through Zaitsu's hair. But he didn't completely give into temptation, keeping his fingers just far enough away not to touch the other man.

"Zaitsu, the boy isn't like you. I watched him for eleven years and he isn't like you. When Damian began hurting him in ways he hurt you, I couldn't stand to watch it anymore. I took him and made sure that Andrew and Shozii would find him. They erased his memories of me and Damian, of everything before they found him. He grew up the way that you should've. He's not bitter and full of anger like you are. Please, just give the boy his life back."

"Is that what you really want?" Zaitsu asked quietly.

"Yes," Eirose said, just above a whisper, nodding a little. "I find it funny though," he laughed softly. "I wanted to marry you too, I even bought a ring, I was just too afraid to give it to you. I didn't know how you'd react."

"I bought the ring I was looking at," Zaitsu said quietly. "I made sure to follow it after I died..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny silk pouch. "One of the first things I did after I came back was go and retrieve it."

"Well, I wanted to be traditional, but neither of us like gold, and you never seemed to like any kind of precious stone." Eirose pulled at a chain around his neck, unhooking it and pulling the ring that'd been hidden under his shirt from the chain. He held it in his hand and stared at it for a moment before giving it to Zaitsu.

Zaitsu handed Eirose the silk ring bag and looked down at the ring he'd been handed. Eirose slipped the ring from inside the silk pouch and looked at it in shock as Zaitsu stared down at his own hand, also in shock.

"It's the same ring," they said in a quiet unison. They both held identical thick silver bands with a small onyx stone.

"Can I please kiss you?" Zaitsu asked, looking up at Eirose with tears in his eyes.

"No," Eirose said quietly.

"Alright," Zaitsu sighed, handing the ring back to Eirose. "I guess this is goodbye, huh?"

"It's more than I got from you last time."

"Hopefully we'll get a chance in another life..." Zaitsu said quietly, tears running down his cheeks.

"We will," Eirose said, giving slightly into temptation and hugging the other man tightly. "I'll marry you next time, I promise."

"I love you..." Zaitsu closed his eyes, red energy surrounding him.

"I love you too..." Eirose held on to Zaitsu, determined to hold on until he was gone.

Zaitsu's body grew shorter, his chest more narrow, his skin slightly darker. His body went limp, falling completely into Eirose's arms.

"Goodbye," Eirose whispered, holding the younger Zaitsu up. Lifting him up properly, he carefully carried him through into the apartment through the open window and laid him down on the bed.

He slipped both wedding bands onto his left hand, the one meant for him on his ring finger, the one meant for Zaitsu on his middle finger. Taking off the collar he had to wear for when he went outside as a wolf, he dropped it onto the couch and walked out the door of the apartment, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Have a good life, little one. Get married and have a family. You can escape the war, I know you can," Eirose said under his breath to himself as he walked down the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He never went back to Zaitsu's apartment, and none of them ever saw him again.

Goodbye

"...Zaitsu?" Kayla asked as she cautiously approached him.

"What!?" he snapped, his head turning quickly, angry red eyes meeting her concerned green.

Before she could stop herself, her hand flew out, striking him across the face. "Give him back!" she yelled, tears in her eyes. "Give me back the man I love!"

"Why should I? This body is mine, girl, why should I let that pathetic excuse for my reincarnation possess the body I worked so hard to get back?" Zaitsu stood up, tower over the short girl. "You can't have him," he sneered.

"He was here first!" Kayla protested, unable to keep herself from striking out and beating him repeatedly on the chest.

"Correction, child, I was here first!" he growled, grabbing Kayla by the wrists and holding her a few inches above the floor. "Let's see what my pathetic other side sees in you," he said with a sick grin.

Kayla's eyes widened as she was tossed onto the couch, Zaitsu quickly pinning her down. The look on his face made her feel sick as his hand reached up her skirt and stroked her inner thigh. She let out a cry as she tried to wriggle free of him, but failed.

"Zaitsu...please! Please don't!" she begged, tears in her eyes as she shook underneath him.

Zaitsu's eyes widened as they grew kind and fearful. "Kayla!" he gasped, seeing her underneath him. He quickly got off of her, then pulled her into his arms. "I hurt you..." he said, shaking and holding her close.

"Don't ever call him you!" Kayla yelled, smacking him. "He's not you!" She burst into tears, holding tightly to Zaitsu. "Don't let him get us. Don't let him get you."

"Kayla," Zaitsu said softly. "He already has me. It's not safe for you anymore. Please...please just leave."

She pushed away from him, looking straight into his eyes. "You're choosing him over me?" she asked, voice breaking.

"I don't have a choice. Goodbye..."

Punk Girl Writing - Chapter one

Head down, avoiding her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she slipped her shirt off over her head and dropped it into the basket on the floor. A moment later and her bra, torn-up jeans, and underwear made their way into the basket as well.

Reaching over the edge of the bathtub, she began running the water over her hand until it was the temperature she wanted it. Stepping into the tub, she pulled the shower curtain shut and turned the shower on. She sighed heavily as the hot water droplets danced over her skin. Her face was directly under the shower head, eyes closed under the the falling artificial rain.

She'd woken up having a bad day, and now that school was over, she had a feeling that things could only get worse. She didn't even bother to peek out of the shower when she heard the bathroom door open; she knew who it was. It was just Teri, coming to take her clothes and wash them, like she always did when Madison snuck over to use the shower.

After lingering under the falling water for as long as she could and still have time left to actually bath, she reached up without even opening her eyes and pulled her friend's bottle of shampoo off of the tiny window sill above her head. Lathering her hair, she allowed herself to regain a train of thought. After finishing her bathing ritual, the water shut off as the shower curtain opened. She saw a fresh change of clothes laid out for her in the basket, along with a metal lunch box and thermos.

She quickly dried herself off and dressed in her friend's clothes before stashing her towel under the sink and leaving a dry towel on the towel-rack. She grabbed the lunchbox and the thermos and darted out of the room. Quickly she trotted down the back-steps, meeting with her friend half-way down. Her friend Gave her a quick hug and handed her a shoulder bag, wished her luck, and then hurried up the stairs herself to remove any traces that Madison had been in the house.

Madison went through the back yard and slipped aside one of the boards of the privacy fence, reaching around through the slot, she pulled out a nail that allowed her to open a much larger gap in the fence for her to climb through. The gap was quickly covered by the boards, the nail replaced, and she was quickly running down the small gravel alley behind the row of houses. Checking to make sure she wouldn't be seen, Madison ran across the road and rounded the corner, vanishing from the sight of her friend's house.

Teri folded the newly-clean towel, placing it on a shelf above the toilet. She pulled out the now-fake bottom under the sink and placed Madison's now clean clothes next to several other folded outfits of hers. A car door slam outside made her jump; quickly replacing the false-bottom she closed the small cabinet and rushed down the stairs to greet her father and cook his dinner.

Several blocks of quick walking later, and Madison was where she needed to be. The sign overhead wasn't the most impressive, most attention getting sign, but the cafe did well enough. Placing a five on the front counter, she headed off to the computer in the most secluded spot she could find. Headphones were instantly plugged into the speaker-jack, as her flash drive made it's way to the USB port in record time.

Listening to music on the computer as she accessed her flash drive, dozens of emails with file attachments being sent out every couple minutes to various addresses throughout the country.

It was going to be another one of those nights. Another one of those horribly quiet nights. Head hung, she hurriedly prepared her father's meal as he sat at the table, looking through the files in his briefcase and pretending that he didn't have a daughter. Trying to make her father's dinner look as beautiful as possibly, she sighed and bit her lip as she finished garnishing his plate and sat it on the table in front of him. She walked into the other room to clean up before taking her place across from him at the table.

After a long, stressful silence and many dirty looks later, Teri cleared the table and washed the dishes, putting them back in the cupboards after drying them. She changed into her pajamas in the laundry room and threw her clothes in the wash. Heading up the stairs, she gave her father one last fleeting glance before he vanished from her sight.

Two hours and a tap on the shoulder, telling her that her time at that computer station was up later, and Madison was making her way across town to the theater district. Walking into a well-known restaurant, she quietly asked the host if there was room for her in the kitchen.

"Sorry Madison, there's no work here for you today. If you come a couple hours before opening tomorrow, there should be something for you to do," the host replied. He seemed genuinely sorry. Madison nodded understandingly and headed across the street to see if any of the other restaurants had work for her.

Rolling her eyes and sighing, Teri held the phone to her ear, not even bothering to listen to all the excuses coming from the other end of the line. She never really listened anymore, not when all her mother talked about was herself, making up every excuse she could think of not to show up to important events, not to have her over every other weekend, even though it was a condition of the divorce settlement.

"Yeah, I love you too," she finally said as her mother hung up. She knew she'd have a check in tomorrow's post. Her mother always called the day before the check arrived. After creeping down the stairs to make sure her father was still ignoring her existence, she went back up to her room and dialed a long-distance number.

"Teri! I was getting worried that you weren't going to call tonight!" came a relieved voice on the other end.

After much venting out her frustrations about her parents to him, she took a deep breath, trying to stop her angry tears.

"So...how's Madison?" the voice on the other line asked.

"She doesn't like to talk about it, avoids home as much as possible, gets smacked around, and still shows up for school in the morning with makeup on her face, and somehow manages to pass all her classes," Teri replied hotly.

"Yeah, her father always was a bastard. Just remember, if you try to put a stop to it she'll end up being taken away. You have to wait a little longer. Keep an eye out for the post, I sent you a package this morning."

"Okay," she replied, stifling a yawn.

The man on the other line couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "Get some sleep, Sis. Tell Madison I said 'Hi'."

"I will. I'll call you later," she said, hanging up the phone. She let out a large sigh as she stood up to put the phone on the charger. Turning out her bedroom light, she walked over to her bedroom window and stared out into the backyard. Unlocking her window, she inspected the backyard one last time before climbing into bed.

The clock on the nightstand read just past three in the morning when the window to the bedroom slid open from the outside. Closing the window, Madison locked it and then vanished into the closet to catch what little sleep she could before school.

Awkward

Golden blond hair fell into his face, obscuring the view of electric blue eyes. He turned the page of his book, ignoring the strands of hair in his face. He was sitting by the second biggest fountain in he school courtyard, enjoying the cool breeze and the sound of water flowing as he researched his homework assignment.

"Andy!" came a girl's excited voice as she rushed over to him.

His eyes raised up to meet hers and a warm smile spread across his lips.

"Tabby!" he greeted.

She sat down next to him and began reading the page his book was opened to.

"Oh my god! Is that our assignment for World Literature!?"

"Yeah, and you're going to have a pop quiz in Natural Science."

"Pop...quiz? As in...?" she was stunned and wondering exactly what his definition of "Quiz" was.

He began digging through his backpack and then pulled out a thick packet of papers.

"This, not to mention a five page essay. I managed to steal a packet without him noticing." He handed the heavy stack of papers to Tabby, who gaped at the weight of it.

"Oh my god... I'm so screwed!" she sobbed.

"Don't worry, already got you covered," he dug out a large notebook full of notes and handed it to her. "Notes on everything you'll need to know for the Natural Science quiz, and my notes from today's World Lit class."

She threw her arms around him and clung tightly, oblivious to the loud smacking sound that was the result of the notebook still in her hands coming in contact with the back of Andrew's head. It was only when a muffled whimper escaped him that she even realized he was injured.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" she cried, looking at the back of his head where a distinct knot was forming.

"It's nothing..." he sighed, pushing her away.

"But! I hurt you!"

"You didn't mean to. Besides, I can barely even feel it now."

"Liar!" She quickly pulled him towards her and lifted up his mass of blond hair to look at the back of his head. "Oh my god..." she gasped. The lump was almost completely gone.

"I told you..." he sighed once more, shoving her off again and gathering his things into his backpack. "Let's go find some lunch."

Wide-eyed and stunned, Tabby just nodded and grabbed the quiz packet and notebook full of notes before standing up. Andrew stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder before heading off-campus. She quickly followed after him.

Three bowls of ramen and seven refills of Pepsi later, Tabby was very talkative as she scanned the restaurant for pretty people.

"Ooooh! She's pretty! Don't you think?" she asked happily as she stared at a well-proportioned waitress.

"Eh," he replied, his nose in his book as he lazily stuffed another sushi roll into his mouth with a pair of chopsticks.

"What is up with you!?" she demanded.

"Mmmph," was his reply as he shrugged, stuffing another sushi roll in his mouth without even looking up from the page.

"Yeah, whatever," she sighed. She resumed scanning around the restaurant. "Ooohh! Man he's hot!"

Andrew's head shot up and looked around, immediately spotting who she was referring to. Pieces of his lunch began falling from his open mouth.

"I don't think anyone's going to find you very attractive with your lunch all over your face," Tabby giggled, throwing a cloth napkin at him. Her eyes followed Andrew's still constant stare to the guy she was just drooling over. Her stare immediately shot back to Andrew. "No way! There's, there's just no way!"

"No way what?" he asked, suddenly alert again and wiping his face with the cloth.

"There's no way you were staring at him!"

"And why am I not allowed to stare at pretty people like you are?" he asked, folding the cloth and setting it by his plate. He stuffed another sushi roll into his mouth.

"You are! But just... You're supposed to look at pretty girls!"

"But I don't like girls, Tabby. I like boys, just like you do," his tone was casual as he continued eating his meal as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"So, you're... You're admitting that you're gay!?"

"I never hid it," he took a sip of tea before continuing, "I just never came outright and said it."

There was a loud sputtering sound from her side of the table as she began to choke on the sushi roll she'd just stolen from Andrew's plate.

"Oh come on, you never figured it out? The fashion sense? The Play Girl magazines stowed away under my mattress? My close friend Kyle during high school that I got depressed over when he moved away? We were always together for a reason, you know."

By now Tabby was blue in the face and still choking. He gave her one good smack on the back and she coughed up the piece of pilfered sushi that was lodged in her throat.

"Oh my god!" she stuttered. "I was always just trying to give you the benefit of the doubt! There are some straight men who are like that." She gulped down the rest of her Pepsi to finish clearing her throat.

"Oh? Then why would I have the Play Girl magazines?"

"Who knows, you could've been using them to draw the human form like some people do."

"Well, I wasn't using them for that," he said with a smirk. Tabby shuddered.

Andrew sighed and looked her over for a moment. "You're not paying, are you?"

"Hell no."

"Fine," he sighed, laying a couple bills down on the table before grabbing his books and walking towards the front of the restaurant.

"Oh! Sir!" a waitress rushed after him. "Don't forget this!" she held up a small bag full of take-out boxes.

He looked stunned and slightly confused. "But... I didn't order this."

"No Sir, I was told to give this to you by that man over at that table," she pointed towards the man he and Tabby had been drooling over.

'Oh my god! Where we really talking that loud!?' he asked himself, looking over at him. He shook his head and turned his gaze back to the waitress. At a loss for what to do, he held his already somewhat-full arms out to take the take-out from the waitress. The woman sighed with relief as she placed it in his arms and hurried back behind the counter.

Tabby caught up with him as he left the building, staring over her shoulder at the hotty she could never have. "You're kidding me...right? He's gay too?"

"That's the only logical solution..." he replied, staring down at the neat little bag in his arms.

"I refuse to believe you're completely gay," Tabby said, grabbing him by a forearm and dragging him off down the street. "And I'm going to prove it!"

After a very uncomfortable raid of the local adult video store, Andrew was sprawled out over the couch and staring at lesbian porn with a stupid and horribly bored look on his face. Tabby had made sure to only get lesbian porn so he wouldn't be distracted from the boobs by a hot man.

"You're telling me that you honestly don't feel anything while watching this?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"Other than violently ill and like my brain is trying to ooze out my ears and crawl away? No, I don't feel anything."

"What if it were real?"

"...What do you mean?"

She clicked off the TV and crawled across the couch until she had him pinned underneath her.

"What if it were real? A real, live, warm woman?" she asked softly.

Shivers shot up and down his spine as the sick feeling grew in size. She pulled her shirt off and started rubbing her crotch against his.

"Unhook my bra..." she whispered.

"Tabbitha..." he whimpered, the sick feeling was overwhelming.

"Do it," she said in a gentle firmness. She planted her lips against his.

His hands shot up to her shoulders and forced her away from him. She fell to the floor as he sprang up over the back of the couch and vanished into the bathroom, the lock clicking behind him. She could hear him retching.

Tears in her eyes, she pulled her shirt back on and went over to the bathroom door, sitting on the floor with her back against it. When he'd managed to stop puking, he sat on the bathroom floor with his back against the door, well aware that Tabby was outside.

"Do you hate me...?" she asked quietly.

"No..."

"Really...?"

"Yeah... Just promise me something..."

"What...?"

"Never do that again..."

Insanity of Normality

Beyond the looking glass of my soul
Beyond the painful tears I've never shed
Is the pain that I display through my anger and rage
The pain in my heart knows no end
The tears in my eyes have never touched the air of the surface of hell
The earth we live in
The insanity of normality
When it's the people who know the truth who are outcast and called insane
When the idiots succeed and leave the smart people to rot
Slowly the people rot away within the torments of their all mighty minds
Leaving only a hollow shell of the person that used to be there

Pain Without You

I think one day I'll fly away
Spread my wings
Dance and sway
Together again for the moment
Hold on tight
Touch while we can be this close
Run away from fear of sin
Run away from the evil in men
Forever I shall search for the truth
Love is pain
There is no such thing as true happiness
But there is true pain
Far too rare for most people to understand
To feel the force
And out of those few
Only a couple survive
Only for important things to be taken
Body
Soul
And mind

Trickery - Chapter one: Mailman Conspiracy

It was just like any other summer day on Manchester Avenue. The sun was obnoxiously bright, the air was just thick enough to be uncomfortable, and Trenton Taylor was walking across the balcony-like walkway that connected the apartments on the second story of building three of the Waterstate Apartment Complex, looking through the mail that he'd just retrieved from the mail boxes in the parking lot.

He paused for a moment, seeing that yet another envelope addressed to one of his neighbors had made its way into his mail box. He sighed a somewhat frustrated sigh, having become the delivery boy of lost mail - he often found mail belonging to other people in his mail box, and was beginning to wonder if the mail man had just gotten lazy and decided to stuff everything in one box and let the owner of the box take care of delivering the mail - and looked up at the nearest door side number to see whose apartment he was closest to.

Glancing back down at the address on the letter, he realized that it didn't even belong to his building, rather one of the buildings towards the back of the complex. Biting his lip a little, wondering if he should take it to the rightful owner this moment or not, or take his own mail home first. He decided on the latter and made his way down the walkway to his place of residence and slipped inside, tossing his roommate's mail onto the counter in the kitchen before going to his room and putting his own mail on his dresser, the letter he needed to take to the rightful owner making its way to his pillow.

He decided on taking a quick shower before going about his usual good-deeds as the local freelance mailman.

"Hey Trick, you home yet?" a voice called as Kadali Jenson let herself into the apartment her friends lived in.

"In here," Trenton called from the bathroom, having left the overhead fan off while he showered. He much preferred the room to fill with steam so he'd stay warm while drying off and getting dressed. This also allowed him to hear what was going on in the apartment around him if he could hear it over the sound of the running water.

"Gotcha," she called back, setting down a large rectangular clothes basket full of various items of hers on the floor by the door and next to the couch. She dropped her purse into the basket and made her way to the bathroom, slipping inside and sitting down on the toilet lid and staring off at the towel rack across from her.

"What's up, Li?" Trenton, known to everyone as 'Trick' asked, peeking out of the shower at Kadali.

"Dad fell off the wagon again and is in a drunken rage. I took Del over to her friend's house for the day, but we need a place to stay for a couple days, and I don't want to have to sleep in the Escape this time. I was wondering if..." her voice trailed off and she sighed, beginning to think what she was about to ask wasn't such a good idea after all.

"If you could stay here?" Trick asked for her, rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

"Well, yeah..."

"I don't have a problem with it. I don't think Glass will have a problem with it either, after all, he's your friend too. And I know he doesn't have a problem with Del. Maybe we can all go out to eat later, rent a couple movies. Li, you know you're always welcome here, right? After all, we gave you a key so you'd be able to come here whenever you wanted to." He shut off the water and leaned back against the tile wall behind him, crossing his arms over his bare chest and breathing in the steam. He didn't know why, but steam in the bathroom was enjoyable to him, even though the air was much thicker in the room at the moment than it was outside, and the thickness outside was uncomfortable. He made a mental note to bring this up to Glass later and find out his personal thoughts on the matter. It was always a good idea to ask odd questions to a nerd, they always had interesting theories on what the answer could be.

"I know, but I don't want me or Del to be in the way," Li said, getting up and going over to the door.

"You're never in the way. Friends need to help each other in times of need. This is as much of a time of need as any. Don't worry about it. You guys can stay here as long as you need."

"Thanks," she replied, a weak smile spreading across her lips. "I'll let you get dressed." Leaving the bathroom, she went into the living room and picked up her basket, taking it into Trick's bedroom and sitting it against the wall next to his closet door, simply to get it out of the way and out of sight of anyone coming in or out of the apartment.

After getting dressed, he turned on the fan in the bathroom to get rid of the steam and made his way out into the kitchen to get a glass of juice. Putting the now empty glass in the sink, he went into his room and got the letter he needed to deliver, and went back out into the living room where Li was now settling down on the couch to watch a movie.

"Where are you going?" Li asked, looking up as Trick pulled the door open.

"Out. Got someone else's mail again. I'm going to take it to the person it belongs to," he told her, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him. Li just kind of nodded even though he'd already left, then returned her attention to the television. She knew all about Trick's conspiracy theories about the post office trying to con innocent civilians into doing their work without getting paid for it.

It was on his way up the stairs of the correct building that Trick finally looked down at the name on the letter and took a good look at it. He recognized it, but couldn't remember for the life of him where he'd heard it before. 'Lucio Jaston. Sounds like either an artist or a Satanist,' he thought to himself, making his way to the apartment on the far corner of the building.

At the door, he gave it a loud but not obnoxiously so knock, hoping that the man in question was home so he wouldn't have to return at a later time with the letter. A minute or two later, the door opened to reveal a tall, nicely built man with short, rich-colored blond hair and bright green eyes. Trick swallowed a little hard, realizing how plain and boring he must look in his loose fitting clothing, wet brown hair and blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, looking over Trick curiously.

"Yeah... I got your letter in the mail today," Trick replied, trying not to stutter and trying not to stare as he held the letter out. He recognized this man from somewhere, but it wasn't from seeing him out in public and catching just a glance.

"Ah, thank you," he said with a grateful nod, taking the envelope from Trick.

"It's okay, I get other people's mail a lot. I'm used to it by now," Trick said, turning to walk away. He froze in place after a few steps, his eyes becoming wide like saucers. Spinning around to face the man, he tried to speak a few times and failed miserably, in shock at whose letter he'd just delivered.

"Y-you're Ciar Tempest!" he finally managed to say, staring up at the blond in awe.

The man smiled and chuckled. "How did you know?" he asked in a friendly manner.

"You were on one of my favorite news shows last month, talking about some research that you were donating to and how you hoped that other authors would join the cause... I, I have all of your novels! I've been a big fan of your work since I was given one of your books for my thirteenth birthday! I've always wanted to meet you!" His face turned bright ed when he realized he was telling this to his favorite author and not just another everyday person.

"It's nice to know that you like my work. It's also nice to know that someone remembered my appearance when I attempted to gain more support for my cause. I wish more people remembered things like that."

"How could I forget!? You sponsor a research effort to clone endangered animals that are in zoos and release the clones into the wild! I think it's wonderful. I mean, at first I wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but I did some looking into it and really started to like the idea. I even donated to the cause! I-" He stopped, blinking a couple times at his idol. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Lucio laughed warmly, highly amused by Trick. "It's fine. I don't mind at all. It's nice to listen to someone talk for once instead of being the one talking. I don't get the chance to talk to a lot of people outside of the publishing world."

"Really?" Trick asked in surprise. "Most of the authors I like turn out to be assholes. I've given up on a lot of good books just because I couldn't stand the person who wrote them." He glanced behind him at the buildings off in the distance, his own building barely visible through a gap between two others. Turning his attention back to the author, he looked up at him again.

"I have a question for you, then I have to leave. I have a friend over right now and I don't want to be rude to her."

"Ask away."

"How did you pick your penname? And sorry, I have to ask, but is the name written on that envelope your real name?" He pointed to the letter in Lucio's hand.

"Ciar means 'dark', the opposite of my first name, I picked it for the sheer humor I find in it. Tempest means storm, as I'm sure you know. Yes, Lucio Jaston is my real name."

Trick nodded a little, unable to help but smile. "Cool. I always found humor in calling something the opposite of what it is. My friends and I do it in public sometimes just to confuse people. Anyways, I should really get back to my friend. It was an honor to meet you, Mr. Tempest, err, Mr. Jaston. I hope you have a nice day." He turned and headed back towards the stairs he'd come from.

"It was nice meeting you as well. Thank you for bringing me my mail. It was very nice of you," he called after Trick, waving slightly, then turning to go back into his apartment.

"What are you so happy about?" Li asked, raising a brow at the look of ecstasy on Trick's face when he finally came back into the apartment. "What took so long?"

Trick plopped down on the couch next to her, staring up at the ceiling happily. "Li, who's my favorite author?" he asked with a dreamy sigh.

"Is this some sort of test?" She poked his forehead, feeling the sudden urge to become a bother to him.

"Who is it?" he asked again.

"Ciar Tempest, duh. Ever since Glass gave you that book, you've never been able to get enough of that author. But why are you asking me something like that?"

"I met him."

"When!?"

"Just now. The letter that got mixed in with our mail belonged to him. Li, he lives here in Waterstate!"

"You have to tell Glass! He'll never believe it, but you have to tell him! Tempest is his favorite author too!"

"Don't worry, I'll tell Glass later. Right now why don't we go get Del and pick up a pizza or something on the way back?"

"You really are in a good mood today, aren't you, oh Mischievous One?" Li asked with a soft laugh, tapping the top of Trick's head.

"Of course I am! I met my idol today!"

Gavin the Gay - Chapter one

It all started when I was a young boy. My sister knew I wasn't like the other kids. I knew I was different than them, but I thought I was just being myself, and they were being themselves. I thought we were supposed to be different as children.

Yes, I loved playing with little toy cars as a young boy. I loved playing with marbles, and playing handball. I had no interest in baseball or football, or the various other sports that young boys watch and play with their fathers. No, I was more interested in watching movies with my sister, and watching her favorite bands perform with her when they were on television.

Unfortunately, by the time I was old enough to form opinions of things, the band The Police were no longer active. However, my oldest sister had taped everything she had ever seen on television regarding them, and we watched them often. I liked the posters on her walls, and we both had a crush on the lead singer.

Of course, only my sister knew I shared a crush with her. I never really felt the need to discuss it with anyone, but she knew. Luckily, my father never found out, or I think he would've killed me.

My childhood wasn't an easy one, I suffered some severe injuries at the age of six that I don't really like to talk about. The injuries left me in a wheelchair for five years, and I had managed to make two or three good friends during that time. Though I never let anyone but my oldest sister know about them, I was afraid of what my father might do to them if he were drunk, or that my mother would chase them away if she got angry with me or if they tracked dirt into the apartment.

My closest friend and my sister, Diana, helped me to walk again by pushing me not to give up. They would gently take me from my chair and carry me a few feet away, setting my feet down on the ground and supporting my weight enough that I wouldn't fall. After surprising the doctors with my ability to stumble around, I was given braces for my legs, and crutches for the days that walking was even harder for me. You know, those bad days we all encounter that makes everything much harder than it should be.

Anyways, one day after school, my best friend came over to where I was sitting in the little outdoor lunch area in the small courtyard of our high school. He looked like he was going to be sick, and asked me if I could keep a secret, and if I promised not to hate him for what he wanted to talk about.

Concerned, I agreed that I wouldn't hate him, and I really only trusted Diane with my secrets, but if he didn't want her to know I'd never tell her.

What he had to say made my eyes widen and my heart race. All the while I was growing up, I found myself more attracted to the boys in my classes than the girls. Yes, I got along with girls just fine, and I didn't act like one of them, I always preferred to look at the boys. When I had met my best friend, my eyes seemed to prefer him especially. As we grew older, I found myself more and more attached to him to the point that it was sometimes painful; but I never voiced this.

He felt the same way, but unlike me, he confided in me how he felt, and asked me not to hate him. I told him I felt the same, and under the noses of everyone, we began dating. Only Diana knew we were together.

Oh, it felt so wonderful with him. I had never been so happy in my life. At the age of fourteen, we gave ourselves to each other, and though I knew we were both too young, nothing in the world meant more to me than him.

Now, I don't condone young relationships, especially those of a sexual nature. It's my belief that such things should be put off until later on in life, after high school and sometimes even after college. Young minds, bodies, and emotions are forever changing during those years, and they make many mistakes. Teens can't think clearly while drowning in their own hormones, and should never try to swim in the hormones of another teen.

Even though I knew this at a young age, I threw it away. Logic and common sense were meaningless to me when I looked into his eyes.

My euphoria wouldn't last, though. Somewhere around the middle of the year, when sixteen was too far behind me and seventeen was too far ahead of me, Jackson approached me at the table where our relationship had been reborn into romanticism. Myself already in college, I had always made it a point to meet him at the high school when his classes ended; I always arrived about half an hour early, just to make sure I would never be late. Always appreciative of this, he wasn't on this day. He seemed angry at me, though I hadn't given him a reason to be.

He informed me that over the last three months he had been falling in love with another one of his classmates, and he was angry with me because he wanted to be with the other boy instead, but that he and I were too close that he couldn't just leave me. I was horribly confused. I had developed a crush or two on other boys during our relationship, but it had never been more than a simple crush, and I had never wanted to leave Jackson for even a moment.

I didn't understand how Jackson could be angry with me that he was too involved with me to be able to leave. I wasn't holding him hostage, at least, I never thought I was. We never made plans for our future, I never pressured him to do anything; everything we did together was spur of the moment and completely consensual. At least, I always thought it was...

Confusion and sadness are never a good combination. I told him that if what he needed was for me to release him from whatever hold he felt I had over him, that I did. I didn't want him anymore if he could be angry at me for the fact that he loved me. It wasn't fair and I didn't want to be involved with someone stupid enough to feel that way. It was the most painful lie I had ever forced past my lips, hurt and angry tears stinging my eyes and tightening my throat with every word.

Jackson looked completely heartbroken, like I had stabbed him, and I couldn't understand why. Had I misunderstood what he was trying to tell me? I never got the chance to find out if I had or not. He ran away from the table; from me, and didn't come back to school the next day. Or the day after that, or the day after that, until two weeks had passed.

I received a phone call from his mother, asking to see me. Thankfully, she had found out about us the summer before, and hadn't protested about our relationship. She also knew how my parents were, and wasn't about to let them know I was attracted to men.

I hesitantly went to Jackson's house, completely unsure of what to expect. I was horrified at what I saw when I arrived. The coffee table had been pushed against the wall, a photograph of Jackson in the middle of it, surrounded by dozens of candles and a handful of his favorite possessions. I felt like I had died seeing the shrine in the memory of my lover.

His mother informed me that he had fallen into a deep depression, and had stopped eating. The evening before she had gone to check on him to see if he wanted some soup, and found him hanging from the light-fixture in his bedroom, with a long, handwritten letter that closer resembled a novel lying underneath his dangling body.

It was addressed to me, his mother, and the other boy he had fallen in love with. When I asked her to see what it said, she shook her head slowly and patted me on the shoulder, telling me that I didn't need to know, and to move on with my life. This further confused and horrified me, and I pressed her to let me read what his last words were to me. She refused again, and told me that the only thing I needed to know was that he didn't hate me, and that he had been depressed for several months, and it wasn't my fault.

That stung me even worse. I hadn't even noticed that he was depressed. Was he just really good at hiding it from me, or had I been stupidly oblivious to what was right in front of me? I was busy with college, the youngest in my class, sure I had a lot of work to do, but I always made time for him. Was I just too exhausted to notice the trouble he was having?

I never got to know the answer to that question, either.

Jackson's mother gave me several of his belongings, and told me that I would always be welcome in her home, regardless of what happened or became of me and my life. Even more confused, I nodded stupidly and left, feeling incredibly sick and wondering what it all meant.

I went back to my dorm room and called Diana, who came to stay with me for several weeks, making sure I took care of myself and did everything that needed to be done. Neither of us went to Jackson's funeral, and neither of us answered the phone when his mother would call to check to see how I was doing. She was worried about me, as was obvious by the messages she left on the machine. But I just didn't have it in me to talk with her, and I think Diana felt the same way I did.

I had never dreamed that my life could become even more complicated than the suicide of my lover and the depression that followed it.

I was horribly, horribly wrong.