I am writing this story to vent my feelings... in a fort of 'art.' Writing, I believe, is a form of art. If you don't believe me, well then poo on you! I hope you like this story. But if it goes against your morals, then that's okay too. Please review?

disclaimer: not mine! NOT MINE!

Saving the Fallen ch. 1

It was time to go shopping for food. There was nothing left in the cupbourd. Ron slammed the wooden door closed and sighed. He had been starving for two days just to pay off the rent. He winced slightly of his grimacing hunger. His stomach ached him. How he longed for just a taste of anything, he imagined himself a feast. Stuck in his ecstasty his mind twirled about.

He came back to the painful reality when someone knocked on his door to his 'apartment.'

"Fucking landlord... what does he want now?" he said with a sigh.

As he was walking slowly toward the thin door, he pondered about his actions lately. He noticed that he had been sighing an aweful lot. He had never done that when he was at Hogwarts. He was used to being taken care of by his friends. Now, living alone, with one shitty job, he had to rely on himself. His two best (and only) friends barely visit because they hate seeing him in shambles. They always made up a stupid reason, like they had to go to a garden party, or look after some child for the evening. But no one could lie to Ron Weasley and get away with it. He had, after all, been lying his whole entire life.

He reached the door after what seemed like an eternity and grabbed the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he turned it, and pulled so it opened. The man's face infront of his was not a face that he had seen for months.

"Bloody hell, Ron! You look like shit." remarked Harry with a grin. Ron broke out into an awkward grin. Harry always did know how to cheer him up.

It was true. Ron did look like shit. His hair had not been cut in six months, he had not shaved in a week, his clothes were dirty, and to tell the truth, showers had not been taken in several days. The hot water had shut off quite a while ago due to non payment of electric bills.

"I brought beer. I figure we should have a bloke-to-bloke chat." said the rich, famous, impossible friend of his. Mr. Impossible just walked past him, threw the beer on the worn-in sofa, and sat down. "Are you coming?"

"...yeah." said Ron quietly. I haven't cleaned up... I haven't gotten ready. The red head remembered what he had done earlier that day, and wondered if there was still blood on the carpet. Of course he was wearing a long sleeve shirt, so the gauze pads did not show. He just didn't know if he wanted Harry to find out about the cutting. He didn't worry about it too much. He just walked slowly and awkwardly to the couch and sat next to Harry.

After a few minutes of silence, the first beer was popped open by Harry. Ron decided to stay sober. He remembered what happened last time... Lavender swore that she would never go to his house again. He shuddered at the mere memory of what he did.

"So... Ron. How have you been doing?" A question. A little question of the smallest small-talk imagionable... it brought him to tears, and he didn't know why.

Drop.

Drop.

His head was down and his shaggy hair was covering his face. The glossy droplets rolled down his long nose before splashing perfectly on the dirty carpet. He did not know what was bringing the onslaught of emotions to life! He wasn't ready for Harry to know his emotions!

"...Ron..."

Before Harry knew it, Ron had curled up in his lap. This is what they used to do at Hogwarts when one of them were having a hard time.

"Oh Harry... You-you.. dont...," a heaving sob came out. "What it's--- like... big house... Her-her-mione!" Ron couldn't say anymore. Sobs travelled through his body like earthquakes, and all Harry could do was hold him. Ron cried, and Harry let him.

After what seemed like eternity and forever-ago, Ron slowly got off of Harry, rubbed his eyes with his sleeves, and then pulled the wet sleeves up to show off the blood-stained gauze pads. He did not even bother looking at Harry's expression. He could tell by the air in the room how Harry felt about the cutting. Harry's magic had a way of communicating his feelings to other people through the air.

Drop.

Another tear drop let loose as Ron could only look away. Away from anywhere that was Harry.

"Ron." Harry said with finality, as if the word Ron meant anything and everything in the world.

"Harry... I hurt so bad! Not this," he pointed to his wrists, "but this." He pointed to his heart. "This hurts me so bad sometimes! I had a shit load of nothing as a child, a shitty school career, and now I have a shitty apartment with a shitty job. And now I have shitty friends that dont visit enough." He knew he said too much, but it had to be said. He needed to say it for so long. To get it off his ever burdoned chest. He finally said it.

The tears stopped. Blue met Green in an intense staring battle as they both stood up.

"I didn't mean it Harry. You know you're really the only friend I have." Ron looked down.

"It's okay, Ron. I'll come back soon. Real soon, I promise." said Harry.

"You say that every time, Harry. Every bloody time. But somehow I still find out a way how to believe you." Ron said with a choked sob.

They crashed into each other in a big 'bear hug.' Most men found it wrong, or homosexual to hug when tears have just been shed. Ron didn't care. He didn't care if Harry cared or not. He just needed to be held by someone that he could trust.

"I'm always just a floo away, Ron, if you ever need me before I can get back here." Harry said when he let go.

Ron nodded, somewhat dumbly and blubberingly. Harry walked to the door, which wasn't that far from... anything in the room, really. He opened the door, turned, and gave a half smile to Ron before slipping out into the hallway and closing the door.

Ron did nothing but stare at that door for a full two hours before he collapsed on the floor and fell asleep.