I kind wrote this because I'm feeling suddenly depressed...I don't know why, so here goes nothing~

The night was dark, and the dark was long, and it was black everywhere. Everyone was asleep? No. If you listened closely, the tip taps of moving feet could be heard, echoing through the grey stone plazas of the almost abandoned city. What business did they have? Why out in the middle of the night? Who were they?

All that can be said, for now, was that they were heading towards a specific shop, in the heart of the city. Cobwebs, shriveled up plants and dead trees were common landmarks here, not forgetting the grey riverbeds, devoid of all water. In the gloom of the night, this world was more ominous than ever.

At one point, the footsteps stopped, and a different sound resonated.

Knock. Knock. Knock. On a door, the only one to be so bright, that was painted a neon pink, like the kind you would find in a toy catalog for Christmas. The windowpanes of the quaint little building were yellow, with matching yellow walls that seemed to be the only thing close to light you would see for miles around. As bright as they looked, however, the paint was chipped, revealing the grey you saw everywhere.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Oh? Come in~" came the cheery voice, matching the mood of the house. Without further ado, the door opened, soundlessly, swinging open on those well-oiled hinges.

"You?" The happy voice was now gone, replaced by what sounded like a sigh.

"Yeah, me. Whoopee. Can we get down to business?"

"Fine, fine. What is it?" All warmth had disappeared, becoming as cold as a winter night.

"Here." A hand handed the second figure something, obscured by the black of the night. No candles lit any tables, no light bulbs illuminated the house.

"Smoke it?"

"Yes. And make it fast, or he'll come looking."

"..." The second voice seemed reluctant to continue, but it did, for reasons unknown, bound by a loyalty he barely understood or questioned. The first figure shuddered as a match was lit, revealing a pale, delicate-looking hand with a strand of hair held tightly between the thumb and index finger. Shadows seemed to stir, as if also displeased by the sudden glow. All of this was ignored, as a mysterious melody chimed out from seemingly everywhere.

"Mera mera to, yaki tsukuse...sumi kara, sumi made sono gouka de...atokata mo...nokoranu you ni...tamashii made mo yaki tsukuse!" The song was like a music box tune, each syllable sounding like a fingernail tapping a crystal.

"Santra badra winza na, wonpa to rana...intrakantera!" Smoke flared up, creating a smog that left nothing visible. Yet the flame was still there, dancing back and forth to the words.

"Haruka naru chi yori shoukan suru...saa, ideyo...ideyo...ideyo..."

Moments passed, as the final stanza faded into nothingness, and silence reigned dominant. Little by little, the smoke cleared, revealing the shadows of the world once more.

"..." The first voice was clearly shaken, even as the second person scrawled something on a scrap of wrinkled paper. After minutes had passed, their breathing became normal, but the apprehensive air was still draped over the room, like a blanket.

"Here." The paper fell from the hand, fluttering into the other in a slow, intricate path.

"Aren't you going to...get rid of...'that'?" The first person waved vaguely at the flame, which still shone brightly, a lighthouse in the sea of darkness.

After what appeared to be a moment of thought, he replied,

"I think...I like it like this. But one more thing, before you go." he said slowly.

The first person raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Say hello to my darling Francois for me~"

Francois took a long drag on his cigarette, eying a dead tree that lay several feet away from the bench he sat on, giving it no real attention. If he had been looking more closer, he would've spotted a smudge of pink mixed in with the lifeless hues of black and brown. Abnormal? More or less, depending on your point of view. If you thought it was normal that you were stalked by a man who wore bright pink jackets, then go ahead.

Oliver was hiding behind the dead tree, careful not to be spotted, so he would be able to have more time with him. He peeked out behind the tree at him when he looked away. The young blonde smiled widely, almost maniacally.

Pretty... he thought, giggling mentally. Maybe that deal would end up nicely...Would Matt keep his end of the promise?

There was a chilly breeze, and Oliver watched as Francois shuddered. So...Adorable! The way his hair bounced when his shoulders shook, it was so cute...Oliver licked his lips softly, smiling creepily once more. The ghostly winds frequently visited these parts, so it wasn't abnormal to feel one so suddenly. Then it blew again, making a mournful howling sound, the sound of a crying child. This time, however, the Frenchman turned to look at the tree once more, with a suspicious look upon his face. Oliver's breathing stopped. Seconds passed. One...Two...Three...

"Ack!" Oliver fell to the ground, getting a face full of dirt. Above him, he heard Chocolate Mint Bunny snickering and jeering, making the strange howling sound again.

"You weren't supposed to do that!" Oliver said. The bunny just made a raspberry, and then slapped his face evilly.

"Hey!" He got up, ready to strangle the creature, but it flew out of his reach quickly, giggling and making faces at the enraged Briton.

"Ahem."

Oliver looked up, and blushed, seeing the bored face of his love. Why was he so warm all of a sudden? Even when Francois looked at him like that, he felt happier, like the Frenchman actually knew he existed.

"What do you think you-" Francois sighed, before the Chocolate Mint Bunny swooped down once more and kicked the back of Oliver's head, forcing him back to the ground.

"Stop that!" Oliver whined, rubbing the spot where the blow landed. For a thing that weighed less than two pounds, it sure packed a punch.

Wait...Oh. Francois was still watching him, looking disinterested. The dark red pupils of his eyes glared straight through Oliver, like he wasn't there. The Englishman gulped, trying to stay composed.

"H-hi!" he said, trying to break the ice. No response.

Oliver stumbled towards the older male, and sat down right next to him. This time, the reaction was almost immediate. Francois quickly moved further away.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Francois repeated with an edge of warning in his voice, this time without interruption. Oliver's face turned a rosy pink once again, noticing how close they were. If only he had the nerve to hold his hand...It probably wouldn't last, though, but even if it didn't, it would still be a wondrous moment, just the two of them. Was Francois' hand cold? Or was it warm, like the person he imagined inside?

"What. Are you doing. Here?"

The husky voice snapped him out of his little fantasy world, and threw him back into the cold realm he knew as home. Oliver pulled his knees to his chest nervously, and blurted out the first thing he thought of with a friendly smile.

"O-oh, nothing much~ Admiring the weather..." The sky was pretty dark and cloudy, giving one the impression that it would soon rain, and would rain for a long while. Thundershowers, even.

Damn...

"H-hehe! Wh-what are you doing?" He quickly changed the subject off himself, wishing that Francois hadn't heard his blatant fib.

Instead of contradicting, or even, ignoring him, the Frenchman said something out of the blue in a disappointed tone.

"I thought you were Matt...Guess not." The phrase was cold and uncaring, like Oliver was just another pest he wanted to be rid of. Of course it was Matt. It was always Matt, wasn't it? That was all he thought of. Matt in the morning, Matt in the afternoon, and of course, Matt at night. The Englishman narrowed his eyes at the name, though the smile was omnipresent.

Maybe...We can start a conversation about Matt? he thought desperately, wanting more time with Francois. Here goes nothing.

"Really? Matt stalks you too?" said Oliver.

It sorta worked.

"I wish he did. And by the way you said that, I guess you were stalking me as well?" Francois sighed again, rubbing his forehead with his free hand as he adjusted his shades with the other. The smoke from his cigar traveled upwards in a spiral pattern, dancing in the sky like a bird before dissipating in the air. Oliver watched it with fake interest, stalling time. It wasn't working. He heard the impatient tapping of a foot, signalling that he had better answer, or the conversation was ruined.

"Hehehe, of course~" He leaned back a little into the hard wooden bench, trying to get as comfortable as he could. From then on, he didn't feel a good aura from Francois, but at least it wasn't an aura that said 'get the fuck out of my face'.

Every now and then, Oliver would sneak a look at the Frenchman from between his raised knees, before looking back down at his stomach, as if he hadn't been 'spying'. Every single glance made Oliver want him more. And every single glance made him feel less wanted. Finally, the silence was broken by another weary sigh, followed by a certain someone's voice.

"You know, I seriously wonder what goes on in that head of yours." he mused aloud, and looked at Oliver pointedly.

Oliver giggled quietly, before trailing off awkwardly.

"You know...Stuff." he said. When there was no response, he brushed his pale hair out of his pale face, feeling a bit self-conscious. Oliver seemed to be more cheerful then usual, and his eyes were dull as always. But something was wrong with them; an ominous feeling said that they were way more duller than they looked. The Chocolate Mint Bunny, sat onto the Frenchman's head, observing carefully, for a chance to break in. Oliver ignored it, not wanting to look like an idiot.

"Scram." Francois took care of the bunny for him, swiping at the animal, which flew off in disgust. He brushed a lock of dirty blonde hair out of his face, and leaned back into his chair, taking drags like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Oliver observed himself, watching the way Francois' chest went up and down as he breathed, the way his darker blonde waves were arranged on his shoulder...So...Cute. He just wanted Francois to think the same way. No use daydreaming, though. He had to think of a plan.

"So...How's life?" Attempt two at breaking the ice.

Result? Well, when you're trying to break the ice, even at level one on Francois mode, you'll probably end up losing.

"Bad." The situation became awkward thricefold after that, the two of them just sitting there, side by side. Side by side, like two peas in a pod. One was the big one, the one that took up all the space for growth, and ended up better. And the smaller one, who ended up not as big, but with dreams twice as large.

Oliver was almost afraid to ask.

"Why...?"

"Matt won't listen to me, Matt doesn't care about me, I can't find Matt, and you're always stalking me." Francois said plainly.

"Oh." The British boy's mouth formed a perfect 'o', as he realised how unwanted he was. Why was it always Matt? Damn him, damn him and the stupid way Francois always fawned over him.

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, but carried on like normal.

"D-damn..." Oliver shook with a feeling he had never let out. Francois probably didn't even hear. He never heard.

"Damn..." his voice was stronger now, and it shook with an alien anger.

"Damn...Him..." he mumbled, and climbed on top of Francois, staring right into those surprised red eyes.

"T-the fuck...? Get off me!"

"What's wrong with me? Tell me, dear..." Oliver drawled, his blue eyes filling with life once again. Now where were those dull irises? Francois tried to push off the man with force, but it didn't work. Oliver clung on to his shirt, and then his torso, not wanting to let go.

"Goddamnit, Oliver, I swear, if you don't fucking detach yourself right now, I won't fucking look at you ever again!" he threatened, now trying pull him off.

"Tell me, love...I want to know..." the Englishman smiled eerily, revealing the sharp, canine-like teeth that lined his mouth. They practically glinted with mad bliss.

"No one cares what you want. Now get off, you're ruining my shirt."

That line did wonders. Next time you see someone on the street with thick eyebrows selling cupcakes, you should try saying something like that. Almost immediately, Oliver's face scrunched up, and his grip loosened, causing him to fall onto the ground. A cloud of dust sprang up, but both of them payed it no mind. Oliver was at war with himself, while Francois was dusting himself off, as if Oliver had merely been a speck of dirt, and he could rid himself of it just like that.

"Finally. I'm going to ask Allen if he saw Matt. Au revoir." he said.

There were no looks back, for the male sprawled out on the ground, covered in grime and dust. Not even a look of pity, or even hate. He would've been happy if there was hate. If you loved someone, you had to hate them as well, right? But there was no glance, not even a disgusted one.

If only you knew how that felt, to be rejected in such a way.