I know! I know! *bad Gilly, bad* Gah! This is really short and I'm sorry. Not only was I busy with the FIVE FLIPPIN SHOWS of Grease, but Fernando died on me again! Meh, back to the old, really slow computer that I never get any time on. Which means... Slower updates! Yay! Innat dandy?

So... this is more of a second part of the prologue. Feh. Maybe I'll combine them later...

Disclaimer: I do not own anything... blah, blah, blah

He had been sitting in one of his favorite spots. His favorite tree inside the graveyard. During his free period, or during lunch, he would sneak off to the graveyard beside the school. He had no idea why someone would put a high school next to a graveyard, but he was grateful. It offered solace and quiet during the hectic days of school work. The days of being pushed around in the hallways, of being forgotten, even by his teachers, the days of close to complete solitude, even among the crowd, were calmed when he was able to visit his favorite graves.

These people could never talk back, never respond. But they could never forget him. They could only rest, feet beneath the earth, as Matthew prattled on about his day. He could complain to them and not worry about hurting their feelings, or tell them about menial things that no one else wanted to hear. It was his catharsis. He didn't keep a journal to set straight his emotions, instead he chatted with those that had already passed on.

It had been an overcast kind of day. The sun playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds. It was also very windy and slightly chilly, especially for a spring day, but it had been beautiful. The grass green, the trees full of leaves, birds chirping at one another, a small buttercup blossoming at his feet. It had been one of the times the sun had decided to show, with invisible Matthew resting against an old oak and surrounded by the dead, that he had first glimpsed pale white hair and startling red eyes. Red eyes that were staring right at him. And then, to further Matthew's astonishment as being seen, the boy had waved.

That had been the first time Matthew had seen Gilbert, and it would not be the last.

The hysteria. The intense fear coursing through his veins, demanding that he run, countered by the heavy terror that couldn't. His body was too tired to move, sleep was pulling at his eyelids. Forcing him to rest. The indescribable feeling of wanting nothing more than to get up and turn the lights on, but his body refused to move. He could only glimpse the surrounding darkness as he fell asleep. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream. The adrenalin was only enough to keep him awake for seconds. He needed to sleep, he wanted to sleep, but every little thump, every little shadow, sent him back into overdrive and thrust his mind back into the world of fear. He could only lay there and take it, waiting for the moment his eyes would fall back, waiting for the fear to dissipate.

This is how he sleeps, or more, how he doesn't. No prayers, no milk, no lullaby or bed time story. Only the fear, only the terror, only…

"Spi, mladenets moi prekrasnyi, Bayushki-bayu."

The sick and twisted inner workings of his mind conjured the old lullaby back to him. The sweet words whispered to him on dark nights like this. Through the dying lips of his mother. One would think that it would calm him down, but it only worked to make the horror of the darkness solidify.

"Ty zh dremli, zakryvshi glazki, Bayushki-bayu."

His heart rate increased to a level he didn't think possible, but he had since grown used to that. His eyes opened to the soft grass around him. He had breached new territory. He had run so far and never looked back. Wind ruffled his hair as he lay in his own bed of terror. He was paralyzed. He heard crickets chirp and frogs croak, foreign, but comforting none the less in the face of such monsters. The crickets stopped. The frogs stopped. His heart stopped. Silence reigned and the fear stayed strong, growing heavier, like a stone wedged into his chest. Then a voice floated to him in the dark.

"Big brother..."

D: Poor Russia~! Song is Cossack Lullaby and is a traditional Russian lullaby. I found it at the lovely site Mama Lisa. The parts I used translate to:

"Sleep, good boy, my beautiful,
Bayushki bayu*,"

"But you must slumber, with your little eyes closed,
Bayushki bayu."

*Bayushki bayu = the Russian expression to lull a baby to sleep (Kinda like "Hush-a-bye")

Grease was pretty awesome by the way. Tons o' fun. D: My hair is still recovering from the loads of hairspray I had to spray on to keep the cute little curls in my ponytail. It was still fun though. I got to punch one of my friends! :D (stage punch of course.) But anyway, I'll stop prattling...

LOVE YOU ALL. ;A; I'M STILL OH SO VERY SORRY.

Gilly B.