Disclaimer: I don't own Moon Child, but I do own the few vague, unimportant characters that will randomly pop up. Pay them no mind, dear child.

Warning: If you don't like boy-love, this isn't a fic for you.

------

ROSE

You asked me who my best friend was one day at lunch, and stared at me like I'd just escaped the nuthouse when I told you who. Then, one by one, your friends joined in; I don't think half of them were even in on our conversation, but they liked you, so they did what you did. Stacy dropped the vegetarian sandwich she was holding. You have no idea how much I hate being a kid.

"Oh man, Kei… Dude, are you…?"

Crazy? Apparently. You don't have to say it.

"But that kid's a nutcase! You remember him jumping from that second-story window last year? He's crazy. Pro'bly carries a steak knife in his sock or something," Anna jumped in, her dark chestnut hair bobbing over her shoulder in its red ribbon. Anna was beautiful beyond belief, but she needed to shut her mouth sometimes. Sometimes meaning I wish I had a staple-gun everyday.

"For real, that guy's got major issues. Just mopes around; I swear, losers like that are just begging to get their asses shredded. Like we did to that – remember that really goofy little kid, with those weird orange pants and that weird walk? Kunoshi or… what was it?"

"Yoshi?" someone says.

"Toshi!"

"Ah yeah, Toshi. Little wormy kid."

You and your friends pointed and laughed and reminisced for a second. I never knew a Toshi, but I bet he was a really great guy who's completely traumatized by now.

Anna just looked at you with loving eyes. A lot of girls did that, and that's why I didn't like a lot of girls here. Dumb as rocks.

"Totally. He creeps me out," Anna sighed. "Your friend's such a weird little shit, anyway. He'd probably pull a gun on us if he knew what we were saying."

Back on track about how crazy my best friend is. Bad-crazy, not good-crazy. Thanks, Anna.

"Oh yeah, Kei. I mean, the kid's a complete loser to the extreme. Totally fucked-up. You honestly hang out with guys like him?" you asked me. Finally, a somewhat reasonable question. This is the part I love.

"Sure. I mean, Sho's a interesting guy. I like hanging out with him, he's got a closet full of fireworks and all kinds of stuff. You wouldn't believe. I bet your mom doesn't even let you have candles on your birthday cake, does she, Tommy? Too many moving parts, might hurt yourself."

You laughed for a second there. Then it started kind of sinking in. That no one else was laughing, especially me. "…What? Wait, what the fuck did you just say? Did you just…"

I look at you with a calm grin because I just tripped you up, and you know it, and everyone knows it, and you're not going to pester me any more about Sho, are you? You're probably going to hook my underwear to the flagpole and leave me hanging up there until someone notices tomorrow morning. Or something like that.

But alas! I'm going to fool you once again. After school, I'll be walking home in the shade of the trees and my big hooded raincoat so I don't burn, and you'll be following me, thinking I don't know. You're kind of stupid. When I see your shadow suddenly looming over me from behind, I'm going to grab you by your tree-thick throat and drag you somewhere dark, maybe behind that old abandoned shack way down that long driveway, and proceed to surprise you one more time.

I'm going to sink my teeth into your throat like a monster. And you're going to die behind this shed.

No more surprises. And no more making Sho miserable.

He's all torn-up inside, thanks to people like you.

-----

Sho, you threw me a can of warm soda when I crawled through your window and asked what took so long. I sweep my hood back, now that I'm inside and I'm okay. I don't shut the window, because it's getting dark outside, and when it's dark I like to see the stars and feel the night and the wind. Why is it that I have to climb two flights up a fire escape, instead of using the front door anyway? I answered your question, and then you answered mine.

"Detention. They took my pocketknife, that's all. Not a big deal."

You smiled somewhere far away. "Who did you try to kill?"

You're all leaned-back on your legless sofa, and your room is less than a kid would dream for. I don't know why you live here. Your hair is this dark, ashy brunet, pulled back into long cornrows, and for some reason, your eyes are the brightest blue I've ever seen. And you're Asian as far as I can tell, and I'm wondering when I get to meet your Japanese mother who gave you your fair skin and the almond shape of your eyes and your lilting figure, and your American father who gave you your brunet hair and blue-blue eyes and long legs. Or maybe they're both dead. Or maybe you just live with your alcoholic mother who likes to chase you with her pointy heels and screams that she wish she had gone through with the abortion so you lock yourself in your room just like now, or maybe you still live with a father that used to touch you and maybe still does, and that's why you hate people so much.

Either way, watching you sit back plucking at the rusted strings of your bass guitar, watching each string reverberate beneath the shadows of your calloused fingers, I wish I could meet them.

"Don't be stupid. It was hanging out of my pocket."

"Shame. Your parents going to pick it up?"

Ha. I haven't told you that I don't have parents, have I? They died a long time ago. Know what would be fun, Sho? If we could be orphans together. That would make a really cool book, don't you think?

"No way in hell, they'd kill me if they knew I was toting a knife," I tried. You're not listening too intently, so my lie slips by. A lot of things slip by you, it seems. Just small things, while you're holed up in here with your music and your cigarettes and all your thoughts about... what?

What are you thinking about, Sho?

I ask you again why I have to climb through your window, and you shrug and look at me funny. "You tell me. You've never used my front door a day in your life."

…Hm.

This is true.

So, I sit down beneath the windowsill, where it's nice and dark, and I can feel the cold mid-fall coming in. You seem oblivious that your room is about to be seven degrees below zero in a matter of minutes. You're wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and I don't think you can even feel it.

I sip at the warm soda after it spills all down my hand and over my fingers. They're pale like the rest of me, which is very un-trendy at school. I suck the sugary drink from my hands and wipe them on my jeans, then lay back and listen. There's your bass guitar, plunking out random notes that are somehow more beautiful than any song I've ever heard; then there's the creaking of the building because of the bad foundation work and the loose floorboards; then there's the rustling of the trees right outside your window, of people shouting back and forth along the street far below.

These sounds. This music. This place.

God, this feeling.

I could stay like this forever, Sho. With just you and me and this feeling.

There's a cool burning bliss inside of me so intense that I smile into the orange darkness of the sunset melting over your room. I can't help it. I could stay like this forever, in this little cocoon of us. You could too, couldn't you? I close my eyes, kind of thinking that maybe forever will be pretty okay if I can stay here just like this.

"Who do you live with, Sho?"

You keep on playing like I'm not even in the room. You might be too far gone to salvage tonight. I may have no other choice but to leave and let you dream. I wonder if you'll be at school tomorrow? I slide my legs up so I can stand and take my leave back out the window and down the fire escape. Your blaring red alarm clock says I've been here for hours.

"My big brother."

I turn to you for a quiet moment, curl my back onto the windowsill with my hands in my pockets. A dog outside in the alley barks. Is it story time, or have you left me hanging? Am I going to learn everything about you so I can pick you apart later like a butterfly with its wings pinned back? You're not going to let me in tonight, are you? I can tell by the way you're still touching your bass like its about to break. Like how your eyebrows are furrowed and your heart is all locked-up with a bunch of weathered, mismatched padlocks and chains.

You dismiss me with cold disinterest.

But it's okay, Sho. It's going to be okay. I've got all the time in the world to fix you and give you my love and make you mine forever. I'll take your pain away. All of it.

I promise.

------

Well, it's a start! Please review. That would be so nice.