It was almost midnight when the sullen teenager stepped off the bus, scrowling at the heavily raining sky. The city was so far away now, the rain making it look even more distant. Kirihara liked the isolation here, but whomever had created the rain could go and die (hopefully in a painful manner). He wiped the rain from his eyes, focusing on his goal ahead. His drenched sneakers squeaked as he followed the dirt path past the unused rice paddies, the houses that were in various states of disarray. Finally, he walked through the entrance of the abandoned temple, feeling even worse than he had before that weird dream.

He collapsed in a miserable heap in front of the shrine. The wind blew through the cracked windows, but he was too numb too care, until it pushed the contens of the table off. The picture frame clattered down, breaking the glass and wood into pieces. Kirihara closed his eyes, trying not to cry. They had been bought for most of his money, as the growling of his stomach attested. He bit back his rage and began to clean up the mess. He stopped when his fingers hit the glass, slicing into his skin.
Kirihara pulled out the photographs from the shattered frame. A group of teenagers laughed and made faces at the camera lens. All wore a standard school uniforms and appeared to be on a playground. Kirihara wasn't among them; he had taken the picture the fall before. Before I left. Before anything could happen to them. Had to protect my friends. He sighed and placed it on the table, going over to shut the window. They're probably really mad at me. But I couldn't let those yazuka punks figure it out and go hurt them. No way. He sighed and sat back down, pulling off his wet t-shirt and drying himself off with the towel that had been the tablecloth. Man, we used to have so much fun together. Hanging out and not caring. Kirihara stretched on the towel, smiling as he remembered the group getting into hijinks, especially at school. Like that time we blasted Niou's music through the PA system, and locked ourselves into the office so they couldn't stop us. That song, "Sexy back", the one we always would have dance-offs to. Saeki always won, because Niou and Yagyuu were always "preoccupied" and I was always laughing too hard.

Where's my cd player?I wanna hear it again. Kirihara sat up and rummaged around in his well-worn school-bag for the present from his old friends, until his fingers found the cold metal. Please let it still work! he prayed to no one in particular. It sprang to life as he pushed the buttons, music filling the darkened room. He instantly felt warmer, and stood up to dance, carefully avoiding the glass and wood splinters he had swept into a pile. In spite of his bad luck and miserable daily life, he smiled and danced to the song. Maybe they are playing it too, wherever they are, he thought, liking the idea.

I'm bringing sexy back (yeah)
Them other boys dunno know how to act
I think you're special, what's behind your back?
So turn around and I'll pick up the slack.

He turned around in time with the lyrics to see a familiar redhead sitting on the window sill, watching his antics with evident interest. Kirihara's jaw dropped. Him again? How is this possible? The redhead's smile remained as he jumped down to the floor, where he looked up at the dark-haired boy.

"No, no, Kiri-kun. Don't let me disturb you. Please keep dancing!" he purred. Kirihara closed his mouth, strangely not in anger but in shock. "What the hell, you PERV?!" he finally flung back at him, confused beyond belief. Then the realization that this person knew his name dawned on him. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" he said, feeling fear claw at his stomach, adding "I won't go back!" to convince both of them that he wasn't afraid. The stranger shook his head, explaining, "This is a dream, call me Sengoku-san. Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He paused at the lyrics.

Dirty babe
You see these shackles
Baby I'm your slave
I'll let you whip me if I misbehave
It's just that no one makes me feel this way

"Unless that's what you want, I guess," the redhead smirked, "But it seems like you want to dance, so…..

I'm bringing sexy back
Them mother fkers don't know how to act
Come let me make up for the things you lack
Cause your burning up I gotta get it fast…." he sang, standing up and pulling the other boy to him to dance. Kirihara's brain was still trying to deal with what had been said earlier, but he stopped when the redhead pulled him closer.
"Don't ruin the song like that!" he protested half-heartedly.

"I'm not ruining it, I'm making it more…interesting."
"…what?"

"See? It's more fun if someone's dancing with you!

"i guess (but i wouldn't call you are doing dancing...)"

"Come on I'll teach you how to dance with me…."

"Ok, if you are my subconcious, why are my dreams doing this to me? am i subconciously gay or something?"

"YES. yes, let's go with that."
Kirihara was about to protest to Sengoku-san or whatever he called himself, when suddenly the world burst into light and sound. Namely, morning light and birds chirping. Kirihara swore at the return of pain from his slowly bleeding fingers. He sat up on the temple floor and began gathering what he needed for work. At least my things are dry now. But what the hell does that dream mean?! Who is Sengoku-san?

Jillith again, still not owning PoT characters. More love to BoredNeko, who had to wait so long to read this. It shall be worth it, I SWEAR!