Yeah, this is for the contest :) and its slash... I can't seem to write anything non slash. I just don't like heterosexual pairings. But not hardcore slash, just thoughts on it and mild stuff.

My first competition fic, so don't be harsh. This was set in the second book? Not sure, just take it as AU

Using plot prompt 1. Someone has a dark whilst listening to The Carpal Tunnel Of Love by Fall Out Boy, which I listened to as I read Wings Of Wrath aka The First FanFic I'd Ever Read.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual stuff, mild slash, angst.

Fang's P.O.V

I tiptoed softly, trying to be light on my feet as to not wake the others. I opened the window, thankful that I could move like a ghost if I put my mind to it. I smiled slightly, as I remembered all the times I crept up on Max. I jumped out of the window, free falling for a few long seconds before unfurling my wings.

I'd always loved flying, the feeling of wind rushing through my hair. When I was younger I used to read books. Not fantasy books, but real life books. I'd always smiled when they used to wish for wings. I used to smile a lot when I was young, thats when there were things to smile about.

I landed running, before dropping to my knees. I felt like something was building up inside me, a feeling that made me want to scratch at my skin and scream so loud. I wanted to let it out, feel it rush through my mouth.

I could feel tears leaking out of my eyes, not tears of sadness but anger and self pity. Why did I have to be this way? Why me? Why did this stuff always happen to me?

Every night they came, the dreams that left me with haunting images. I knew I should be getting dreams, but don't normal 15 year old boys dream about pretty girls with gorgeous bodies? But obviously, thanks to crazy scientists, I wasn't a normal 15 year old boy.

I know what your thinking, a 15 year old having dreams about people. But mine weren't

normal romantic or sex dreams.

Images of hands touching, soft chaste kisses pressed to cheeks and lips. Being held by someone, knowing that everything would be alright. But not soft, lip gloss covered lips pressing to mine, I couldn't feel soft, curvy bodies as I was held.

No, I could feel thinner lips and slight, yet strangely muscly figures through the layer of clothing. Every time I woke up gasping, the comforting feeling slipping away as I came back into consciousness.

I wondered if the others could still see the reflection of the dreams in my eyes. My eyes always dropped to the ground when I was spoken to, so they couldn't see my sick, unnatural fantasies reflecting in my dark orbs.

I knew it was wrong, disgusting. During our brief attendance to the (real) school I had seen a kid beaten up because he was gay. He was left lying for an hour before someone found him, ambulances were called, special assemblies took place, but they didn't punish the people that did it. I didn't want to end up like him, my body lying unconscious on the floor somewhere, my limbs lying at unnatural angles.

I could never admit to other people (and myself) that I actually enjoyed my dreams, Max would be so heartbroken. I knew she liked me, I wasn't blind (no offense to Iggy) I could see the looks she gave me when she thought no one was looking. I know she'd never admit to liking me as more that a friends but she'd be so sad, I wouldn't be able to face her after.

Of course I'm talking about this like the dreams are the only thing that happened. It happened when I was awake too. My eyes would linger over attractive boys, my mind straying from the path of straightness.

I hated the fact that I was like this and I couldn't change it. I could blame it on the scientists, saying it was them that made me this messed up. But I knew it was something I couldn't change, no matter how disgusting it was. Turning to the Lord to cleanse me of sin and quoting Leviticus 18:22 wouldn't save me from hell.

I could just imagine Iggy's face, if I came out. Disgusted at the fact that I was attracted to the same sex. Never mind the fact that I was practically his brother. No longer would I share a room with him, get drunk off of stolen drinks and do ridiculous dares. He probably wouldn't even want me talking to him in case I infected him or something.

I slowly sat up, realizing I had curled up into a ball on the grass. I wiped the tears away from my eyes and making my self look presentable.I looked round, checking that I was alone before unfurling my wings and taking a running leap into the air.

I flew back to our new home, back to my family. Back to another day of masking my true emotions, back to another day of pretending to be someone I wasn't.

The end.

Oh yeah! The end! Wow, that was really angsty. Oh well. This is just about what homophobia has done to the world.