Disclaimer: I own nothing.

'til kingdom come

i'll be waiting for you for forever

Tears streamed down her face as she knew had to let go, the wound in her stomach that just couldn't be treated. Just when she had found a place where she could belong, fate had decided to separate her from any chance of a new life, and love. And maybe their love was tragic for a reason; the boy who never found love would never be able to have distractions in his life: love was the biggest distraction of all. But maybe, just maybe, they would meet each other again.

She watched as the cold hardwood floor accepted, released her really, into the universe. There was no way to describe the feeling inside her, the heartbreak, all the emotions building up at once, and then suddenly being destroyed. She should never have gotten attached in the first place. But, fate had let her accept Chris into her life, and for that, she would always be thankful. Dylan had something to keep holding onto (she keeps holding on to nothing) and suddenly, she doesn't feel lost. She feels free.

-.-.-

The sun was bright and shining. The merry tunes of the birds could be heard through the windows, rising in a buried pace and breaking high notes. The weather was nice and warm, perfect temperature for a perfect day. And if it was any other day, he would be elated.

But today, it only made everything worse.

The sky should be pouring rain. The birds should be crying in agony. The weather should be cold and harsh just like his mood. Everything in the world should just be dark and empty. Nothing had meaning anymore. Not without her. Not without Dylan.

He sits up, holding back tears. He knows that if he starts now he won't...can't stop (is there really a difference?). So he steels his pathetically broken nerves, gets out of bed and begin preparing for a horrible day.

First, he takes a shower. Not hot. He doesn't deserve hot water. Instead he has water so cold that his teeth chatter, frozen droplets pelting against his skin. He grabs the soap and rubs his skin red-raw, remembering how her skin would shade red in embarrassment. He scrubs harder, determined to make the color stay. That red was the last thing, the only thing he had left of the love of his life, the color of her hair. He needs something to remind him. To punish him for all of his wrongs.

-.-.-

It was the happiest, and most colorful time of year (even more colorful than that time when the president came to OCD). BOCD was decked out it all its magnificent glory, hues visible from miles away; flags hanging out windowsills and on walls. The campus for the high school had been expanded, and now, it was almost like a castle instead of just a normal high school -but when was anything in Westchester ever normal?-. Even the Picassos, had been moved from the middle school to the high school for this event, the arrival of foreign exchange students (the princess and prince of Russia). There was nothing new in having "royalty" in B.O.C.D., but real royalty (not claimed one, like that ridiculous P.C.) was always something new.

But something was terribly wrong, and he would find out what by the end of the night. He always did.

"Chris! Your mother is calling!"

Maybe a little later, then.

-.-.-

An hour later, when the announcements were over from the booming herald who couldn't wait to let the celebrations begin, had announced whatever needed to be told to the people, and the dances had begun, Chris suddenly found himself to be alone. Sure, there were some students that he could surely speak with it, but nobody that he truly did know. Perhaps, it was doomed that way, that it would was fate for him to be alone, alone and adrift, and in deep despair. He laughed for a moment, a harsh, abrupt one, when he saw how much B.O.C.D. had changed; the students had matured, even enough for Derrick to finally admit his feelings for Massie, and vice versa.

Looking back at the assembled crowd, he realized that everybody had someone; everybody but him. Nobody noticed when Chris left the room. They were to busy with their joyous lives to care about the life of a depressed student. Weren't there people for that?

-.-.-

Greatness came with sacrifices, it was something that Chris had learned over the years.

-.-.-

The markings of violence were etched into the cold marble of the floor. The sounds of her footsteps echoed against the red walls, shattering the omnipresent silence. As she walked forward, she could smell the fear that'd been haunting the inhabitants of the castle as she noticed the drops of blood staining some of the ancient paintings. The young girl's heart raced dangerously as she neared the spiraling staircase. It seemed to go on forever before being swallowed by darkness. For a moment she stopped to admire its height. If the arched ceilings weren't so high the staircase would've, inevitably, been less intriguing to regard. Then, suddenly, a darkness took over. A darkness as black as the night sky.

And, suddenly, Dylan was gone.

-.-.-

Chris had taken the day off from school, and for once, his clueless parents hadn't questioned him. He had received news of her (he couldn't bear to speak, not even think of her name), unless he wanted to spend the rest of the evening in tears (the past two days had already been spent that way). He just couldn't move on. Dylan had captured his heart in a moment, and there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps it was good that he had been given a chance, to be able to fall in love once. Perhaps love was the greatest adventure of all, and Chris had just been given a taste, a small risk of it all. But perhaps they weren't meant to be together in the first place.

Dylan wasn't convincing himself. Even if she was gone now, she would come back; he knew she would; she promised him, and Dylan never broke her promises.

They would be together, & he would wait until she came back. 'til kingdom comes, he would wait. He would wait forever & a year & another one, because he was Chris, and he really never had moved on from Dylan Marvil.

No matter how far apart they were.

For how to forget.

Beta-read & edited by splendeur (thanks so much!).

Suggestions? I'll be doing a series of Dylan one-shots.

Clara