The next day of school proves to be the first signs of just how different my life is. I grunt a goodbye to Riku as I open the car door, stepping out into the dim sunlight. I shoulder my backpack and start up the steps, hearing my "benefactor" pull away, only to falter when I notice all the eyes staring at me. Nearly half of the senior class is loitering outside before the first bell, which means they've all seen me and my ride. Screw them all, I say. Who cares what they're thinking. I stare straight at the doors, ignoring everything else as I pass through the cliques and groups of friends.

"Either that's Sora, or he's got a rich twin brother."

"It's gotta be Sora. Look at his clothes."

"Oh, you mean the rag patrol? So what's with the chauffeured ride, anyway?"

"Maybe the scarecrow got a loaded girlfriend."

I'm twitching now. Don't strangle them, Sora... you'll get yourself expelled. Hopefully someone will read my shirt du jour and get a clue. You'd think "Violent When Provoked... Do Not Approach" would give them some indication of my mood. Then again, the print is really small. Damn.

"Nah, I saw inside the car when he got out. It was a guy driving!"

"Guess the boy likes dick, especially if it's got money!"

The giggles and muffled laughter of my classmates seem far away. My toe catches on the edge of a step, sending me to one knee. If I hadn't caught the railing, I'd be sprawled out on my face. My knee throbs; it's just my luck that I landed on the one not covered by the hole in my jeans. At least I didn't wear my new clothes here, or it'd just add fuel to the fire. Hauling myself back to my feet, I storm inside as fast as I can, ignoring the ache in my knee and the sick feeling in my gut.

I'd sit in the back for every class, but since I got saddled with a last name at the beginning of the alphabet, I'm stuck up front each time, dead center. I can feel their eyes on me, the snarky grins and the whispers of increasingly disgusting suggestions about my orientation. I don't care how much Riku looks like a girl. He's not, and I don't feel a damn thing for him. How could I? There's an empty hole inside me, nestled somewhere inside that sick feeling I can't get rid of. And the thought of what it would mean to have sex with Riku... no. A thousand times no. It just oozes wrong. God, I don't want to think about it anymore. Maybe if I fake a seizure, I can go home and just sleep until the world ends.

I'm almost glad to see Riku at the end of the day, which passed in a blur of insults tossed behind my back. I flop into the passenger seat, rubbing a hand over my face.

"Rough day?" Riku turns down the radio, muting the sounds of violin and piano. He winces when I pull the door shut with a bang.

"Take me home." I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to get pissed. I'm just going numb inside. It's too bad my stomach won't do the same, filling the inside of the car with a muted, irritated rumble. I shouldn't be surprised, since I lasted all of five minutes in the lunchroom before the gossip chased me into the library. Definitely not enough time to eat. I know we're not going home now.

"What's got you rattled? You can talk to me, really." His voice is gentle and calm as ever. I want to smack him, but I don't have the energy.

"Just forget it, okay? I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I feel like shit." I tilt the seat back, my head lolling to one side as I watch the sidewalks and storefronts fly by for endless minutes. One catches my eye in a bright flare of neon, and I realize I've found a momentary respite from the pain within. "Hey, Riku?" He makes a curious sound, his attention fixed on the street as he pulls into a lot and parks. Watch the lot attendants surround the car with a barbed wire fence and guard dogs, just to protect the rich boy's nice ride. "When we're done eating, there's someplace I wanna go... just to look, really."

"Sure. If you really want, I'll give you money for whatever it is."

God, now I really am a kept man. How disgusting. "I can't pay back loans, you know."

"It's not a loan, it's a Christmas gift."

He smiles, and I finally give in to the urge to get him back for his good humor. Reaching up, I give him a hard flick to the forehead, making him reel back a step and melting his smile into a look of round-mouthed, bug-eyed surprise. It's so comical I almost smirk, not much more than a pulling back of a corner of my mouth and a little snort of what once might've been laughter. I take advantage of his stunned moment to hop out of the car, wrapping my jacket tightly around me to ward off the December wind. Riku follows suit, turning on the car alarm and going to get a ticket from the attendant as I watch the people bustle past. The so-called Christmas spirit seems to have a grain of truth to it: a teenage boy picking up a fallen package and handing it back to the woman who dropped it, an older man helping a young female city worker rehang some strands of lights that the wind blew down. Total strangers showing basic human kindness, and it's still not enough to distract me from the honking horns of cars cut off in traffic, the tossed insults and flipped fingers as the City That Never Sleeps ends up with yet another snarl at a broken stoplight. Light and dark, yin and yang, good and evil....

How poetic. How stereotypical. How pathetic.

I trail after Riku as we duck into a fast food place. Thank god he's not above places like this, or my stomach will eat itself in protest of waiting. Standing in line is bad enough. I'm only grateful that Riku chooses not to talk to me before I'm fed. When we finally get to the counter, the smell is driving me nuts. I end up with a triple-decker cheeseburger with the works, a large order of fries, and the equivalent of a small bucket of soda. Riku orders a salad. A salad, when there's the smell of meat all around us. That confirms it... he's nuts. I'm still chuckling inwardly when we sit down to eat, but I forget about everything except my meal as I tear into the food. Riku grins at me, though my stomach decides he's not worth my attention until it's satisfied. He's barely halfway through his salad by the time I'm done packing the last few bites into my mouth.

"Still hungry?" He spears a grape tomato on his fork without getting squirted in the face, chewing it while he watches me.

I shake my head, swallowing my mouthful and following it up with a long drink of soda. "... thanks."

"Still don't want to talk about it?"

Maybe he'll get the hint from my expression. Then again, he's a psych student, he probably sees that kind of thing all the time. Sure enough, he just keeps giving me that patient, even look. I heave a sigh and sit back, folding my arms across my chest. "Look, the kids at school just piss me off sometimes. What, are you my father now or something?"

Riku smiles. Doesn't this guy ever get rattled? He's not human, he can't be. "It does sound like a father-son talk, huh? No, I'm just a concerned roommate and friend. We're easier to talk to."

"Yeah, well... it's all bullshit. I don't care about the other kids. I just wanna graduate and get a job... maybe save up to go to community college."

"What for?"

"... English literature. Maybe creative writing." Go ahead and laugh at me, tell me artists never get anywhere, that I'll die poor. I've got news for you, Riku... it's nothing new to me.

"I'd love to see some of your work."

That stops me for a moment. "Yeah, sure... you can proofread something, I guess." He'll forget all about it, I'm sure. Easy way out for me. I take note of his almost-finished food and the fact that he's not eating anymore, pushing myself out of my seat. "I'll show you where I wanted to go. If you decide you don't wanna shell out the money, no big deal."

"Anything you want, Sora. Just try to cheer up, okay? It's the holidays."

I swear, he must be on drugs. No human being could be this nice. I'm three steps ahead of him, my sneakers squeaking on the wet floor. "Whatever."

Right about now, Riku's probably decided not to give me money, considering what I'm inwardly drooling over.

"Sora, this... it's a tattoo parlor...."

"Yeah, so? I pass this place all the time. I've been wanting ink for years. And I've got a fake ID, so it doesn't matter that I'm not eighteen yet."

"But it's permanent...." If he could flail and still look calm, he would be.

"No shit. Like I said, if you don't want to, it's no big deal. Figured you'd say no anyway."

He stands motionless for several minutes before pushing the door open. Okay, that's definitely a shock for me, enough for me to stare at him as I walk past him into the small shop. It's a clean place, the walls covered with airbrushed art and swinging portfolios of potential designs. The artists, male and female, all sport at least half a dozen tattoos, but most have more. Riku cringes at the sound of Tool pouring through the speakers, making me smirk. He's got to grow some rock ears, or he'll never survive a month with me.

I dig into my backpack as the head artist approaches, a burly guy with full sleeves on both arms. He raises a pierced brow when I hand over my ID and a piece of notebook paper.

"You draw this? It's pretty good."

"Yeah. How much for an armband like that?"

He fiddles with his tongue piercing as he thinks. "Lot of detail, even on a small arm like yours. One-fifty."

Riku nods, though he still looks unsure as he hands over his credit card. Platinum card, of course. "I'm paying. Go for it."

The guy glances down at the card and chokes a little. Great, he recognizes my rich shadow. "Hey, man... if you want one, too... anything you want. Two-fifty max for both of you."

"M-- me...?"

"Afraid of needles, rich boy?"

I flash him my best snarky smirk. We stare each other down for a long time as the guy goes to prep his equipment, me daring Riku to prove his mettle to me, Riku standing firm and unbending, unafraid of my unspoken challenge. Still, he stuns me when he goes to the portfolios to look, flipping through them as if he does this every day. Okay, I think I'm actually going to shut up for now.

They sit us across from each other so we can talk, the head artist working on my scrawny bicep, further dwarfed by his meaty hand. Riku has his shirt hiked up to just under his chest, sitting backward on the chair so the blond girl inking him can apply the transfer to his lower back. The buzz of the needle doesn't bother me, the stinging burn of the outline barely registering on my senses. Even so, it's a release. I'm not about to start cutting myself, but this is a good pain, a productive pain. The endorphins make me feel calm, almost floaty.

"I can't believe I'm doing this...."

"Neither can I. Quit whining, you big baby. It doesn't hurt that bad."

"It's a needle. Lots of needles, actually. Of course it's going to hurt!"

The blond girl grins, cracking her gum as she picks up the loaded tattoo gun. "Oh, it's down at the small of your back, right over the spine. It's gonna hurt a lot, baby."

Riku's eyes nearly bulge out of his head. "Excuse m-- OW!!"

I have to hide my face in the crook of my free arm to muffle my snorts of amusement. I refuse to laugh, even at his expense.

Riku's still wincing when we get back to his place. I can see the bulge of the gauze pads under his shirt. "I can't believe you convinced me to do that."

"Didn't take much. Shit, you bleed like a stuck pig, you know that?"

He makes a face at me, and I have to choke down another laugh. What the hell's wrong with me? I don't laugh, ever. Must still be giddy from the pain.

"Your face is gonna stick like that."

"Oh, hush. It's time to take these bandages off. I'll help you clean yours up if you help me with mine."

I follow him into the bathroom, where we take care of my ink first. The bandage comes off to reveal a jagged, bramble-like black tangle of a tribal tattoo, wrapping around my bicep. Somehow, it makes my arm look both stronger and more fragile, like if I flex the wrong way, the sharp points will dig in and draw blood. It looks like it should hurt far more than it does, which makes the gentle touch of Riku's fingers feel really weird as he cleans away traces of blood and extra ink under warm, soapy water. The strokes of fingertips that lightly massage ointment over the tender flesh feel... really amazing... no. No. I will not swoon, I will not doze off, no matter how good it feels. I slam the armor back into place, until that touch moves away and Riku presents his back to me.

"... okay, let's see what you got...."

I peel away the bandage, and it feels like the world just got yanked out from under me. Nestled in the hollow of his lower back is the graceful outline of a simple scrollwork heart, done in shades of sky blue. Something about it grabs me by my stomach and drags me to the floor.

"Sora? Are you alright?"

I swallow, choosing to stay sitting on the floor as I go through the motions of cleaning his tattoo. "Y-- yeah... don't have to bend over this way...."

"Oh. You have very gentle hands, did you know that?"

I shake my head, forgetting he can't see me, but I know he can feel my fingers tracing those pale lines. Somehow, I feel like a blind man, touching a Braille character he's felt only once without knowing the meaning of it, but it lingers in the back of his memory.

TBC