Lo and behold, everyone, I have completed chapter two, as well as doing it on time. At least…I think it's on time… What day did I last update? *takes a looker* Oh, well… Okay, so I'm a day late, but guess what? :o I can across a little problem with this, after I started adding stuff to touch it up. The chapter was too long. Just about 5,000 words, actually. But then the problem I came across with that, was where I should split it up. So these are normal chapters in length (meh…2,500 or so words… :P) but I'm posting TWO of them. Woohoo! :D Thanks for all of the reviews in that last chapter! :)

"I'm so bored," Sam complained, his head falling off the side of the big bed, viewing a reading Dwayne from upside-down. "How can you read so much?" he asked him.

"How can you still read," Marko countered with a small smile. His knees were pulled up to his chest on the same bed as Sam, and he was making a new pair of earrings—his last pair mysteriously disappeared, and then reappeared on Sam's ears. Whatever. "I think I forgot how."

Dwayne snorted but didn't say anything. He went on reading, hardly fazed.

Sam tried to read what the cover was but wasn't able to, considering his right-side-down position. He turned onto his stomach, and read aloud, "Firestarter."

"It sure is a big ass book," Marko muttered to himself. "That's Stephen King for you…"

"Where'd you even get that?" Sam asked curiously, eyebrows drawn down.

Dwayne replied coyly, "I confiscated it."

"Is it any good?" Sam asked conversationally. He was so bored beyond belief that he would even settle for reading a huge novel, even though before he had always preferred comic books. Plus, he didn't get to talk to Dwayne often; they didn't have very much in common. Well, Sam didn't even know that much about Dwayne, which could tell you a lot. Maybe his brother's companion just favored silence and solitude?

Possibly. But Sam's wild imagination led him to believe the reason was on a more personal level.

Dwayne shrugged in response to his question. "I guess," he said indifferently. "It takes a while to get into it."

Sam tilted his head to the side, wanting a further explanation, and Marko went to answer it without even having to look up from his crafting to know that Sam was confused. Talk about intuitive.

"Ever read a King novel?" he asked. Sam shook his head no, sitting up on the bed straighter. "Ugh, it's torture," he went on tactlessly. "You have no idea where the plot is going until you're more than halfway through it. And not the mention the million words I don't understand that appear in every sentence." Marko sighed. "I always did hate my English teachers."

Sam had always hated all of his teachers.

There was a silence, in which Sam started to sprawl himself across the slightly ripped and worn out sheets again, sighing and thinking of something else to say to start up some conversation. And not a boring one.

He came up with nothing too brilliant.

"So," he began. "What's up?" Marko usually had something juicy going on. Well, it seemed that way, anyways.

Marko had just finished his earrings (finally) and set them aside before sitting up and looking at Sam intently. "Sam," he began thoughtfully. "I think I might be gay."

Sam's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, and over in his chair, Dwayne's dark eyebrows sky-rocketed. "Since when?" the young blonde asked disbelievingly.

"I don't know," Marko said weakly, his façade thick. "But I'm really scared. How am I going to tell my boyfriend?"

Sam was never the best actor, and he cracked in that instant and burst out laughing. This was the highlight of his week.

"That's not funny," Dwayne said gravely.

Marko rolled his eyes. "Sure it is. You just don't get it 'cause you never had parents who wanted another baptism for you again when you came out."

Sam could have sworn he heard the faintest thought in the background that said, a little sadly, Because I never had parents to tell.

There was a long, eerie silence.

Tacky, much?

Sam sighed, bending down to pick the creased fraction of paper up off the bed. This couldn't be more threats, could it? If Marko had told David again that Sam had a date…

But no, he thought, as he flipped it open with enough force that he almost ripped it in half. It was three lines, but as he scanned forward a bit, there was no "I'll rip him limb from limb" line. But that didn't mean it was a friendly letter, either. Well, David never was one for words…

"Sam— I know things are pretty crazy right now."

Uh-huh.

"And you have lots of reasons to be upset."

Damn straight.

"But honestly, is the silent treatment necessary?"

Wow. Sam crumpled up the piece of paper, chucking it to a random place on the floor. That's some apology letter, David. Why not just send him some flowers that say, "Roses are red, violets are blue. I love you and I'm sorry. Except not really." Actually, that would be better because Sam liked flowers, in fact, and paper smelled really funny mixed with his strong sense of smell. Even still, that poem didn't rhyme like it should.

Was he really that kind of a person? David couldn't confront Sam about it—he had to write a letter. In this case, it might not even be that bad to send someone from the group to translate his message. But no.

As Dwayne would say (well, he'd think it, at least) sometimes, "Oh hell no."

Two weeks. It had been two weeks after the "incident" (as it was discreetly called but everyone but Paul, who liked to just call it "You know…that, that thing…with Marko and Sam…Yeah, you know what I'm talking about?") with Wes's gang, and exactly ten days after Lucy and Max mysteriously died. Sam had taken out his frustration on David, of course, because the platinum blonde just didn't understand any of Sam's feelings. It made Sam wonder just how long it had been since David was human.

Plus, he still hadn't gotten that damn dog yet.

Sam glanced into the vanity mirror, trying to figure out if he liked his new looks or not. His hair was lighter, along with his skin, and it always looked like he was wearing some sort of very light makeup around his eyes—dark circles and lids, like he always found endearing on the others. He closed his eyes and sighed, and when he opened them he wasn't the only reflection in the mirror—Marko was standing right behind him. "Are you guys still fighting?" Marko asked accusingly, sighing himself, which let a cool breeze brush Sam's neck. His skin prickled. "Come on," he said, and for a moment Sam thought he was going to nuzzle his neck or something of the sort. He always thought it was strange how his friend held a such a sensual pose around people a lot of the time—and maybe that was a reason why Michael wasn't too fond of him; he made him feel uncomfortable. Everyone but Paul, it seemed, witnessed and experienced this, and it never looked like that bothered the tall blonde much. "I think we have to talk," he finished, finding Sam's hand and grasping it before tugging him along.

"Have you guys even talked about it yet?" Marko asked incredulously, kicking sand with his feet as he walked.

"No…Well, he wrote me a letter," Sam replied sadly, looking down at the sand and never looking up to see Marko's expression. "He thinks there isn't much of a reason for me to be angry…and he still won't tell me what's been up lately."

"Did he at least apologize in it? The letter, I mean." Sam didn't answer and just shrugged, worrying his lip. "Sam."

"What? Do you want me to apologize to him?" he asked, lifting his gaze and throwing his arms out.

"David doesn't apologize," Marko said, shaking his head. "He may want to, but he won't."

"And how do you know that? Maybe…maybe he will." If only he was really that sure.

"Maybe." They were silent for a minute, just walking shoulder-to-shoulder across the beach, lost in thought.

"So I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and—. " Sam began, but was cut off.

"Don't. Don't keep thinking all the time—you're doing too much of that. It'll drive you insane, trust me." Sam kept his mouth shut, forgetting about what he was going to say and falling back into another brief silence.

"Um…How long has it been, now?" he asked casually, but still making sure to be pretty wary. Offending people (Marko, of all of them, who Sam has learned does not take offensive things very lightly) was not on his list of things to do.

"What?" Marko asked in confusion. "Oh! That. Uh…I don't know, I think maybe a year now, actually."

"Really?" Sam was shocked; he knew it had been some time now, but that that long. Marko laughed a little and nodded. "What's taking so long?" He asked it as soon as he thought it.

"Honestly, Sam, I have no idea," Marko replied.

"But you don't—you don't look it at all." He was still confused; Marko was still as thin as the day he first met him.

"Isn't that a good thing? Then I won't look like—" He stopped midsentence abruptly and stopped walking, a tremor running up his spine, a whispered sentence in his head.

"Whoa," Sam said, stopping and eyeing him cautiously. "What was that?"

"Ah…I have to go," Marko said, biting his lip and looking behind them briefly. Sam followed his gaze: no one was there.

"Uh, okay?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Go where?"

Marko smiled cheekily. "Someone's calling," he said playfully, wiggling his fingers in a very effeminate goodbye.

For so many years David had relied on his supernatural skills to get his way. No one so far has asked why he had brought them here—why he was showing them this object; it had no relevance to them, in their views. But David had a very good reason why.

Most of them hadn't even seen a gun up close before, and Sam refused to stare at it, in fear it would go off just by that. It was placed very delicately on the newly broken into business, black and small, but still intimidating. Paul, much unlike Sam, and going against the warnings, was having his own stare-down with it, bent over with his face pressed close up against it. "Go ahead. Touch it," Marko dared, staying mostly behind Sam for protection in case it went off.

"Relax," David snapped. "The safety's on."

"Are you sure…?" Paul asked, tilting his head to the side and reaching out to pick it up. Sam winced a little, trying to take a step back but bumping into Marko. They began pushing each other around, each one trying to get behind the other, when Paul had picked it up fully, testing the weight in his hand. "How does this thing work, anyways?"

He turned it around so it was aimed right at his face, looking down the barrel. "Sheesh," Dwayne said. "Turn that thing around." He didn't know too much about guns, but he was pretty sure that was a huge no-no for gun-handling. Paul reacted to that too suddenly for their liking, turning around while holding the gun loosely in his hand, waving it. Everyone jumped back, crouching down a little, and Paul turned it upwards so it faced the ceiling now.

"What?" he asked innocently, seeing them all covering their faces with their arms, crouched down low. "Don't worry, the safety's on." Just like David had said before. "See?" He curled his finger, pulling back on the trigger, to show them that. But everyone was surprised by a loud bang that emitted from the gun, seeing a quick flash and particles from the ceiling falling onto the floor.

"Goddammit!" David growled. "Put that down!"

"Hey, you said the safety was on!" Paul accused, ditching the gun like it was a bad habit, watching as it slid across the counter.

"I didn't think you'd do that!" the platinum blonde countered, standing up fully again, the others slowly following.

And then the yelling went on and on, and once it started to get boring, the others started to file out of the closed store. Breathing in the fresh, cold air outside, Sam sighed, pulling Marko along with him in a random direction, walking down the dark, empty street side by side.

"Boys," Sam sighed, shaking his head. Marko snorted, smiling lightly. "You know…" He trailed off, stopping there, thinking if he should really say it. Would it be offensive? he wondered. Oh, Jesus, stop worrying about that.

"What?" Marko asked curiously as they continued to walk slowly, aimlessly.

"I would have never thought you guys to be, like…" Sam fought for the right word, twisting his face up in thought. "Um…what's the word…"

"Not exclusive?" the curly blonde offered. Sam opened his mouth to say something again—probably an apology. "Yeah, you're not the first to say that," he said, laughing a little. Sam didn't mean anything by it, he knew, but somehow…that still bothered him, no matter if only one person knew or all of them did.

The younger of the two decided to correct himself a little. "I mean, you just look like friends, is all. Only friends. Well, good friends—very good friends. Close. Wait, no, I don't—"

"What." This time it didn't sound as much of a question, and it wasn't an innocent, curious word. Sam stopped his babbling immediately. They stopped their walking. "What are you getting to, Sam."

The fifteen-year-old stayed quiet for a moment, trying to gather the right words in his head this time before just saying something, so he didn't up stuttering all the way to his point. "How…how often do you…?" Sam leaned in towards him more, like there was a bunch of people around and he didn't want them overhearing. "Um, you know…"

"Have sex?" Marko finished for him bluntly, loudly. Sam winced, wondering why he would ask such a thing in the first place. He quickly reminded himself, though, and tried to stay on topic. He nodded. "That depends on your definition," the taller of the two said, beginning to walk again. Sam followed him, quickly getting in sync with his steps.

"…All the way," Sam said meekly.

"Oh." A small silence followed as Marko thought and then hesitated on that one, before answering, "Then…I don't know, it's not like I count."

"Really?" He couldn't help the worried tone of voice in that one word, his eyebrows rising and pulling together, like on the inside that answer had killed a part of him. "Um, how far stretched are you talking about?" Sam tried to shake the feelings off, returning to his normal question-asking self. Curious Sam. Yup, that's him.

Marko sighed. "Why are you even asking?" He turned to look at Sam, who looked embarrassed now, his cheeks turning red as he kept his gaze down. His thoughts betrayed him. "Sammy—"

"I just want to know for sure, okay?" Sam yelled abruptly, and they stopped walking again as they took a step back from each other. "You would want to know, too, if you were in my position," he pointed out, getting angry at himself for getting so jealous and emotional about a thing like this.

"No, I'm not telling you any more than you already know, okay," Marko bit back.

"Okay," he said. "But you say it was so long ago and…" He let out a deep breath he had been holding in.

"I never said that. And in your position? Are you kidding me? Just what are you even talking about, Sam?"

Sam narrowed his eyes but thought about that. Were they even on the same page? "What are you talking about?" he asked slowly.

"It's none of your damn business what I do! I don't go around wanting to know every detail about you and David, because I don't care!"

"I just asked about you and Paul," Sam said through clenched teeth, his hands curled into fists at his side.

"No you didn't," Marko snapped. Sam raised a single eyebrow.

"What?"

They were quiet for a moment, scrutinizing each other. What's he talking about? Sam wondered.

"What?" Marko copied. "Never mind." He was backing away slowly, swaying from side to side and desperate to get away.

"No," Sam said. "What were you talking about? What did you think I was talking about? No, don't leave! Tell me!" he whined, rising to the tips of his toes as Marko left, yelling a final, "Never mind, Sam!" after him. Sam pouted for a minute before slinking down the sidewalk the opposite way Marko had gone, feeling slightly dejected.