Evening had drawn over the island as Drift came huffing and puffing back up Llama Lump - the small plateau with the giant metal llama on the edge of Junk Junction. The sky was washed over with a deep blue hue; lavender clouds drifted faintly below. A bright moon was just beginning its ascent behind the volcano. Drift clutched a take out bag from Uncle Pete's Pizza Pit. In his ATK, Brite was still there, looking down at her lap silently.

"I'm sorry it took so long-" Drift began. He froze when Brite suddenly thrusted a fat blackbird in his face. It's body was peppered with bullet holes from Brite's pistol.

"Dinner," she said shortly.

"Nah, this is dinner," Drift plunked the bag of pizza on Brite's lap, relieved she felt like talking. The latter dropped the bird and opened the bag eagerly; dispelling the delicious smells of crispy crust, bubbly sauce, and melting cheese into the air. She pulled on a slice and happily took a bite.

"Extra cheese, just like you want it," Drift said with a grin.

While Brite ate, Drift rummaged through his back trunk for a campfire. He built a wooden mat, and plopped the unlit campfire on top. He broke off three sticks from a nearby tree and brought them to the fire. He stabbed two into the mat on both sides of it and split their protruding ends with his pocketknife to make forks. He took the blackbird in his hands and carefully checked it for remaining bullets. When he found none, he skinned off the feathers, ran the bird through with the third stick, and plopped it onto the forked sticks. A snap of his fingers produced a sizzling blaze from the campfire, and soon the smell of roasting blackbird filled the air.

"Yum! Burn the birdie! Burn it to a CRISP!" Brite chortled. She stepped down from the ATK and handed him the rest of the pizza. They sat in the warmth of the fire and ate in contented silence as they watched the bird sizzle and fry in the flames.

All of a sudden, Brite spoke again. "Those girls should burn like the birdie too."

"Oh, Bri Bri, don't listen to them," Drift gently contradicted. "They don't know you like I do." He nudged the empty pizza box into the fire and watched it flame up.

"No reason to treat me like that," she replied quietly. Anger framed the edges of her words like a few escaped embers threatening to burn an entire house.

"Those girls are the worst type. They think everything is about themselves," Drift continued. "They find their worth in the clothes the wear, the people they date, the money they have. And to put it simply, they're minigun-bush-level-thirsting-shitheads. And our job," he stabbed the fire with his pickaxe to keep it going, "-is to ignore them. Physical violence, if necessary."

"Physical violence. Brite's answer to everything," she replied. "I'll squeeze their brains out!"

"I'll punch anyone that gets in my way! Or yours," Drift said proudly. "If anyone should know about me, the master rifter, it should be I throw a meaaaaan punch!" He jumped up and thrusted his fist in the air to demonstrate. Brite laughed.

Drift sat down again, and his hand accidentally brushed Brite's. He heard a small gasp from her as their hands touched. Shocked at his boldness, Drift didn't move his hand. Brite didn't either.

Time froze as the two slowly grasped each other's fingers. Drift's heart pounded as they locked hands. He looked up and met her wide brown eyes. She was even more beautiful under the moonlight, he noticed. His heart nearly caught in his throat as a smile crept on his crush's face. He knew this was the perfect moment to confess.

"Bri Bri, I-I-" he stuttered. "I looove you. I l-love you, Brite."

She stared back at him, trying to comprehend. "You love me?" she breathed, barely audible. She let go of his hand, and his heart sank.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind-" Drift rambled, suddenly anxious. "I don't think you feel the same and I don't care it's not your fault I just-"

Brite sniffed. It took a second for Drift to realize she was crying.

"Aww, please don't cry," he said, his heart breaking. Why didn't he just keep his mouth shut and just go shoot himself?

"Please, not me," Brite sniffled. "I'm a deranged retard. I'm not normal. I can't look people in the eyes. I can hurt people bad. Only Gunner understands, only Gunner..." she trailed off.

"But Bri Bri, you looked me in the eyes," Drift encouraged, scrounging for hope in every crevice. "You hang out with me every day. I don't want you to be normal. You're crazy beautiful and unique and I am soooooo in lo-"

"Stop!" Brite clapped her hands over her ears. She curled into a ball and refused to move.

"I'm sorry," Drift got up and hurried over to his ATK. He sat in the driver's seat and fought back the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes.

AN for you horny 12 year old boys: I'm not writing smut or lemons for any of my fanfictions! Please ask someone else :)