Sora's PoV

He's staring at me. I can feel him staring at me. What really worries me is how used to it I'm getting. Then he started smiling. That was even worse, because it made me want to smile. And people do not smile when they are pretending to read Hamlet. That was it. I grabbed my stuff and slid down the drainpipe, receiving an odd look from Riku, sad with a trace of hurt at the bottom. I hit the ground and started walking towards the library. I felt restless, unable to remain still. I hoped that the hordes of curious people had gotten bored; but somehow, that would be too good to be true. I made it fifty feet before I was accosted by Kairi.

"Sora, did you paint that thing in the art show?" I considered several responses, and selected one in a breath. The Sora secret clowning technique. I smiled at her like a complete goof, with an inward grimace.

"Kairi, you've seen my handwriting. With coordination like that, how could I possibly draw?" I answered her with a misleading mixture of truths. She giggled, a tad nervously, I thought.

"You're so silly, Sora…" She laughed again and walked away. I dropped the sickening grin off my face and sagged against the wall for a moment, running my hand through my hair. I hated playing the fool, but it was the only way to keep people away. I've never liked people; too many of them scare me. But nobody pays attention to a fool.

Quiet footsteps were the first warning I had as people surrounded me, and I abandoned my musings in favor of survival. The four boys from earlier ringed me on three sides, with the wall at my back both hindrance and guard. They had me completely caged in.

"Hey, fag." The leader, a boy named Rigel, greeted me. I pretended not to catch the insult and chirped back a cheery greeting of my own. I only needed to distract them for a moment… my sword was in the sports bag at my side, and wood or not, it would give me the edge that would be the difference between safety and a beating. I had one hand on the zipper when the first blow fell, a high punch that caught me on one cheekbone and stunned me for a moment. When my eyes cleared, Rigel had a knife out, a wicked looking thing as long as my hand, and clearly sharp. He never had time to use it; a moment later, I had my sword out. I flicked the tip under the hand guard of his blade and sent it flying. My second stroke changed direction and took Rigel in the temple. He went down like a stone. I settled into guard stance, eyeing the other three warily, all pretense of foolishness only a memory. They didn't even bother to try, only bolted like scared rabbits. I relaxed from my ready stance, and slid the sword through a loop in one of the chain belts. I saw I flick of motion out of one corner of my eyes and whirled, only to get a glimpse of someone walking off. I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair again. This was going to be trouble when the story got around. I didn't bother to repack my sword in my bag, just wore it thrust through the loop in my belt for the rest of the day. All afternoon, I kept catching people staring at me. I gave them a grin that was only half-feigned--- until one of them flinched. That killed the last trace of combat exhilaration, and left me feeling oddly calm. Nobody spoke to me until seventh hour, though I felt eyes on me more than once. I met Riku in the doorway, and we took seats next to each other, with no words spoken.

"I'm sorry about earlier." Riku said, and I took a minute to place what he meant. Oh, that mess in English? I nearly laughed. He thought I was still mad about that?

"It's ok. But I could have handled it myself." I said, with a grin to take the sting from my words. He chuckled.

"There are some pretty distorted rumors going around, though. They have me as everything from your arch-enemy to your lover, and you as everything from a quiet, refined art student to a wild ex-street fighter." I laughed myself at that, but there was a bit of nervousness in it. How many people remembered me running with Alex? Riku apparently noticed the nervousness; he pegged me with a sharp look.

"What's wrong?" He inquired curiosity and worry still laced through with a touch of good humor.

"Neither rumor is entirely wrong." I replied.

"You, ex-street-fighter?" he asked, "this I have to hear." He settled himself down in a listening position, elbows on the desk, chin in his hands. I took a deep breath and brushed loose hairs out of my eyes.

"Well, it really began when dad and I first moved here." I started the story, trying to figure out how to word it. "He didn't have much money back then, so we were living in kind of a rough part of town. I had just turned twelve, and was going to a public school. That's where I met Alex. His real name was Alexander, but everyone called him Alexiel, the angel of death. He was barely six months older than me, but he was already five-seven, and he had the most amazing knack for inspiring loyalty. There were fourteen people in his gang, and any one of them would have died for him. Myself included. He was more than just a fighter, though. He was an artist. Graffiti, yeh, but his wasn't crude or anything. He did paintings. Some of them were so beautiful that even the people who owned the property didn't paint over them. A few were so stunning even other taggers left them alone. When I first showed up, I was new, naive, and short for my age. Alex took me under his wing; by the end of seventh grade, I would gladly have died for him. I helped, too, when he was going painting. I was small and stealthy, and I could run really fast, so I was lookout. Then in eighth grade, dad got a new job and started making enough we could live somewhere nicer. We moved, all the way across town, but I still see Alex occasionally. He's gotten out of gangs, got a spot at one of the Schools for the arts, and a scholarship lined up for college." The teacher began the class then, so Riku and I shut up and paid attention. I didn't get a chance to talk to him again at school, but he looked very thoughtful.

I didn't get much done in art; I was too busy thinking about what I had told Riku. I had left a lot out. Alex and I hadn't only been friends, we'd been boyfriends. We'd never done anything beyond a few kisses, but I'd been the one he counted on to be there for him, just like I had counted on him. I'd found the art school for him, and helped him put together an entry, after he'd taken a gunshot wound in the leg. We'd both had our share of damage; I still had the scar where I'd struck away a knife by the blade; it might well have killed him if it had gotten through. He'd take a knife in the shoulder, knocking me out of the way. I'd been the only one who called him Alex. To everyone else, he was the Angel of Death, and that kind of informality was unthinkable. The last bell rang, and I headed off for my sword lesson, still musing.

When I got home after my sword lesson, I was covered in sweat, aching in every muscle, and my grin was not at all fake. Exercise is an excellent cure for thinking too much. I showered quickly, and dressed again in the rich, dark shades of red and blue I favored. Almost the first thing I did was open up my inbox, scanning for messages from a particular person. Finding what I was looking for, I clicked it open.

Hey Sora. Heard you beat up Rigel today. Why'd you waste your time?

Riku.

I grinned. It was good to have friends. From there, we got into a long IM conversation, and I learned more about Riku than I suspected anyone but his own mother knew. We had a lot in common. We both mostly lived with a single parent; his dad had died about two years ago, and my parents were divorced, with my mom in California. Neither off us liked rap music, though he listened to an amazing range of things. I mostly preferred the old folk tapes my mother had given me for my last birthday, but he listened to everything from Bache to Melissa Etherige. We talked for nearly two hours, until his mother kicked him off for dinner, and I went to bed that night, happy with the knowledge that I finally had a real friend.

Ok, I lied. This one is actually shorter than the other. Just as a note, Kairi is not a bitch in this fic. She has the best of intentions when she causes trouble between Sora and Riku. I got a review! That alone was justification for me to sacrifice an hour or so of sleep to type up this chapter. Arigatou!

Dyslexic Angel