I'd planned on letting Sora sleep, since he was exhausted last night. But now it's well after noon, and there's a lot we have to do today. I quietly open the bedroom door, not wanting to startle him. Oh my god, I just got an eyeful. Of course, Sora's used to sleeping in a drafty room with no heat in the dead of winter. My apartment has central heating and air conditioning. So while he went to bed fully dressed and burrowed under all of my blankets, he must've kicked off the layers one by one through the course of the night. Then off came the clothes, leaving him sprawled on his back, totally naked and spread out over the bed. Before my brain registers that I'm staring, I manage to count his very visible ribs, my gaze flitting over his sharp hipbones and prominent clavicle. He's so thin, I wonder how he could be healthy. But he's not, is he?

Dim blue eyes open a sliver, staring at me sleepily. "What...?" he slurs, obviously slow to wake.

I feel my face grow hot, my immediate instinct to stare at the ceiling. "Getting in the shower go ahead and get something to eat if you want so we can go out knock on the door if you need me!" And with that I slam the door shut and hustle to the bathroom. I was staring at him like some oddity. He's so fragile, but there's ice and fire inside him, contained in a shell of glass. How long before the internal chaos breaks him, destroying body and mind? I'm not thinking as I turn on the shower and strip, moving only because the routine is so familiar. The professional side of me says I can help him, that's what I'm trained for, and that I can't back down no matter how much he fights. Sure, people have to want to be helped, but sometimes they don't know what it is they have to want....

Holy crap, the water's freezing! Okay, I must be more distracted than I thought if I didn't even check the temperature first. Still, it helps banish the sight of Sora's nude form from my memory, though nothing can wash away the pity or the horror I feel. I take my time in the shower, giving my houseguest time to rouse himself fully, dress, and seek breakfast in my cabinets. By the time I emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a thick robe, I realize just how dangerous it is to leave Sora alone.

I've stepped into a sonic hell. He's sitting on the couch with the TV on, but it's muted so there's nothing to obstruct the blaring sound pounding out of the stereo. I can't be sure, but I think I catch the word "hashpipe" among the lyrics. Sora's eyes are focused on a Bugs Bunny cartoon, not even looking down at the mixing bowl filled with cereal he has cradled in his lap. He's shoveling it in like there's no tomorrow. Well... at least he's got an appetite this morning.

Now if only my ears will stop ringing. At least he's dressed, back in his worn jeans and an old but clean black t-shirt he brought. I notice the white lettering on the front of the shirt, which gives me a better idea of just who I've invited into my home. "Practice safe sex. Go fuck yourself." And he's going to wear that in public? This should prove to be interesting, especially where we're going.

The inside of Riku's car still feels like something out of a sci-fi movie. Now that I'm conscious and full, I recognize this incredible piece of automotive engineering... a 2003 Lexus SC 430, with every feature they could possibly cram into it. If I had enough ego to be jealous, I would be. Then he puts on some smooth jazz station, and I squirm. I like jazz, but I need something to compete with my mood. Just to annoy the hell out of him, I lean over and flick on the most pounding rock station I can find, filling the black leather and Cali walnut interior of his car with POD's "Youth of a Nation." Oh yeah, this is much better. He'll toss me out after ten or eleven seconds of this insult to his cultured ears.

This is the longest ten seconds of my life. And is he actually smiling a little?

"You could've asked, but it's okay. We'll be there shortly."

"Be where?"

"You need clothes, right?"

... oh my god, we're heading down Madison Avenue. I think the trendiness in the air is killing me. I give Riku a withering look, to which he just smiles more. Is he trying to piss me off, maybe as payback for this morning? Hell, at this point I'm almost less pissed and more scared out of my mind. I am not a prep, I am not a prep, I am not a prep....

"I'm not a frigging prep, Riku."

"Who said you have to dress preppy?" He holds open the door to Calvin Klein, and I resist the urge to gag. A gentle nudge pushes me into the place, Riku hanging back several paces. Oh, I guess he wouldn't want to be seen with me. "Just go find a CSR... they'll help you find something you like."

So I'm being cut off already, at least to shop. Fine, let him be that way. I head into the men's section, only to notice something after several minutes: every salesclerk I see is veering away from me. Worse, they're heading right over to Riku, flocking around him like a bunch of groupies. It's obvious they know him well, this chattering flock of harpies in expensive chic. It's disgusting, and I just want to get out of here.

"Can I help you?"

I turn, blinking as I find myself face to face with a small brunette girl. Between the longish pixie-cut auburn-black hair and the cheerful, pale blue eyes, I start wondering where she put her fairy wings. She reminds me of Mandy Moore, just barely five feet tall. When she smiles at me, my brain stops working. No, I'm not attracted to her. She's cute, but it's the fact that she's acknowledging me that has me stunned. "Excuse me...?"

She laughs softly, and I can't help taking an instant liking to her despite myself. "Can I help you find something? You look like you're a bit out of your natural element."

I pluck helplessly at my sleeve. "How can you tell?" I shake my head, hoping I don't start blushing like a moron. "This really isn't my scene, but the guy I'm with is loaded, so I can't go around dressing like I'm going to a Weezer concert."

"Don't worry, we'll find you stuff that's not too preppy. I know how you feel, I just work here. I buy most of my stuff from Hot Topic." She offers me a grin and her hand, and I find myself accepting both easily. "I'm Aelan."

"Sora Albrecht. Aelan... wow, that's a different name...."

"It's Hawaiian... that's where my dad's from. It means flower. And Sora is Japanese, right? 'Sky?'" She grins when I nod. "You don't look Japanese."

I follow her as she leads me through racks of clothes, still hearing the girls yammering around Riku. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost. "Might be part, I dunno. My last name's German, though."

"Mr. Whitebridge!"

God, it's the attack of the squealing fangirls again. Aelan and I both turn toward the sound, just in time to see Riku hurry toward us, looking more than a little harried. Aelan ushers us both around the corner into the dressing rooms, avoiding the crowd of brown-nosed clerks.

"Riku, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. They all went right past you, didn't they, Sora?"

"Yeah. Let's just go, okay? This isn't my thing." I reach for the door to the dressing room, but Aelan stops me.

"Just wait here. I'll set you up with everything you need." She guides me back, sitting me down on a bench. "Don't move, okay?" She takes a moment to sit Riku in the seat beside me before taking off into the store.

Riku smiles at me, pleasant as ever despite the fact that he was nearly mauled by women. "Aelan's the only one who doesn't fawn over me. I trust her."

"... if she brings me anything pink, I'll hurt you both." At that moment, I hear the first chords of "Pretty Woman" on the speakers. Riku quickly bites his lip to keep from laughing. I resist the urge to smack him. "Don't even say it."

He doesn't say a word. He just snickers behind his hand, even when I whap him upside the head.

An hour later, we leave with our arms loaded down with bags, not a single pink item in the bunch. It's mostly jeans and dark-colored, plain shirts, along with some other simple necessities. I still feel like a complete poser, shifting my bags uneasily as Riku pays the parking attendant. "Riku, please... I need to get some stuff that's more me. Isn't there a Hot Topic around here?"

"A what?"

I drop the bags in Riku's trunk and groan. Of course. Why would he know Hot Topic? "Never mind. If it's okay, can I go online and order some stuff? Right now, I just want to eat." I flop into the car, not really caring where we go as long as the food's decent. Riku gets in and manages to get the car out of the lot without hitting somebody, though I admit it's funny as hell to hear my usually calm "roommate" swear when somebody honks their horn at him and tries to cut him off. Even nice guys drive like maniacs in the Big Apple.

He takes me to the Carnegie Deli. I've been past here a few times, and the smells alone made me walk faster before I cried in frustration. I've always wanted to eat here, but it's a luxury I couldn't afford. But here I am now, digging into a platter of baked short beef ribs while Riku has beef brisket pot roast. To be holding good, hot food in my hands, feeling it in my mouth and in my stomach... people take this kind of thing for granted. I never did, and I still don't, not even when I've had a short run of great meals over the past few days. I could almost like Riku now, just for feeding me. But then he'll get tired of me and toss me out. It's the whims of the rich... their boredom destroys the lives of the little and weak. And what would I have to show for it? I'd like him, get attached, and have my friendship ruined on his terms.

So I'll make sure he never gets the chance.

"Sora?"

I glance up, mask in place, and lick sauce off my lips in lieu of acknowledgement.

"You still don't trust me, do you?"

I'd like to know how he's reading my mind... so I can put a stop to it. I just shrug.

"I'll prove myself to you. Yes, my reasons are a little selfish... I couldn't live with myself if I walked away from someone who needs my help." He takes a bite of potato and chews in silence, finishing it off before going on. In that time, I've taken a deep interest in my black coffee. "At least let me help you find a fresh start."

I've already learned I can't win this argument. Not yet. A bone clatters onto my plate, picked completely clean, and I reach for the next. The sauce is red on my fingers, too dark for blood, but the sight of it still disturbs me oddly. "... you win. I'll stay. It's your sanity."

I expect the world to dissolve when he reaches across the table, touching my hand. His fingers are warm and soft, the hands of a healer. I'm almost disappointed when the nice smells and the warm lighting and the snow that's starting to fall outside again still remain.

And I still feel sick when he smiles at me.

TBC