AN: this means they're speaking French.

Sora's PoV

I met Riku at the entrance to the school; he had been waiting, and fell into step with me as though we'd done it a thousand times. Riku spoke first.

"You seem to have traded a reputation as a fool for one as a paranoid schizophrenic." He teased. I chuckled.

"Suits." He looked at me oddly, so I elaborated, "Either way, it will keep people from talking to me. And being treated like a fool--- while having to act like one--- gets very frustrating." My words were hardly light, but my smile was real. Riku just made everything a little bit happier. We were both silent for a moment while I pondered the truth of my words to Riku. No, I decided, I didn't care what faceless people thought. Riku knew me, but most people would probably avoid me. I liked that idea. I have never dealt well with people. I don't really feel comfortable with being the center of attention, either, but so long as I was left alone, with Riku, I didn't really mind. I blushed slightly at my own thoughts. Alone with Riku… Bad Sora! Meanwhile, Riku and I had reached my lair in the library. We both sat down just as the first bell rand. I pulled out my sketchbook and began working on a piece I'd done the pencil for yesterday. Today I pulled out a black pen and some Bristol board. It was another drawing of Riku, standing in the choir loft of the abandoned church near my old house. In the back was a stained glass window, life sized, of an angel facing the alter. Riku stood before it, completely hiding the original angel, so that he appeared to have wings and a halo of glowing glass. I quickly transferred the sketch to the piece of Bristol and began to ink. I used thick, rough lines to outline Riku and the pieces of glass, and much finer lines for the shadows of broken benches, and the ghost of an organ in one corner. Soon the ink was dry and I erased the pencil marks. Then I grabbed my markers out of the sports bag that still had my wooden sword. I didn't have a lesson today, but I doubted Rigel would let me go unchallenged, and the sword was an edge to make up for my lack of comrades. I looked up to see Riku watching me in mute fascination.

"How do you do that?" He asked, pointing at the drawing. I shrugged; the question was not new.

"Practice, I guess." I opened the marker bag and selected a light gray. "I've always been an art person, though." I glanced up from shading the glass to see Riku looking at me inquisitively. I elaborated. "Mom still has a photo of the time when I used everything on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator to paint a sunset on the kitchen floor." He laughed out right at that.

"How old were you?" He asked, amusement lending his voice a surprising richness.

"About four. After that she bought me some nice crayons and a pad of paper instead." I chuckled slightly. "The look on her face when I filled the entire pad in under a month was priceless." He smiled himself.

"I could see you doing that. You never seem to have the same sketchbook week to week, and the amount of stuff on your website is astounding."

"Yeh." I turned my head and stared at my drawing for a moment. Blue, maybe… "Most of the money I get from my contributions jar goes towards art supplies. If I hadn't found a line of cheap sketchbooks I liked though, I'd have been really sunk." He looked at me a bit oddly.

"Contributions jar?" I looked at him in surprise. He had seen my website…

"Uh-huh. It's on the page with the web comic I do with my cousin. Didn't you see it on my website?" He flushed slightly pink.

"I didn't look at it that much. You e-mailed me back, and then I kinda forgot about it."

"Oh." I sighed, and leaned back in the chair. The colors just weren't coming… Riku glanced at the drawing again.

"Sora?" he asked, "Why did you color the background and not me?" I sighed again, and ran a hand through my hair, but my answer was truthful.

"I'm not sure what the colors should be. Whenever I see this picture in my head, I see you in black and white except for the reflected color from the glass." Riku looked at me calmly for a moment, then answered as though it were obvious,

"So paint it that way." As simple as that. I thought about it for a moment. Not completely black and white, but if the only color was his eyes… yes. That would work. The bell signaled the end of first hour, and I packed up my stuff hurriedly. Then Riku noticed the sports bag. "I thought your lesson was on Monday?"

"It is," I replied, "Monday and Wednesday, but this came in handy yesterday. I take it the rumor didn't mention four-to-one odds?" He whistled, and shook his head, making his silver hair fan out in a halo around his head. My angel… I firmly banished those thoughts. It wasn't worth the risk. Telling him how I felt would only scare him off, or worse, make him hate me. I couldn't risk our friendship. My thoughts turned darker as I headed off to Science. I kept one hand on my bag, but I didn't bother to smile. What use is it to act like a fool, when everyone knew how much damage I could do? After years of constant smiling, whether I felt happy or not, it felt strange to wear my feelings on my face. I wore all black again, with the same choker a comforting weight around my neck. Alex had given it to me, years ago; there were a number of hinged metal plates sewn into the leather, guarding the soft parts of my throat and neck. I knew I was being paranoid. However, I have always been a devout believer in a line Alex quoted to me, when we first met. "Just because you think an enemy is behind every bush, it does not follow that you are always wrong."

Science was creepy, with people flinching away every time my gaze met theirs. And I met many pairs of eyes, caught staring in a bitter mixture of curiosity and fear. By fourth hour, I had worked myself into a black depression. I think my scowl may have been the only thing that saved me from questioning--- several times people approached me, only to back away when I glared at them. Riku worked silently in the back of the room. Several times I thought about going to him, but each time I rejected the idea. He would not want my company today. Even the sight of him trying to climb the drain pipe to the gym roof, (and sliding six inches for every twelve he climbed) failed to lighten my mood.

"Hey!" he called, clambering over to the depression with cat-like grace. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, this time sounding worried, and so gentle I almost burst into tears right there. I hid them with a grin, sickening and false.

"I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be fine? I've never been better!" The words were cheerful, and tasted like poisoned honey on my tongue, sugar not quite masking the bitterness. He quirked one eyebrow and looked at me, anger and disgust fighting humor for command of his features.

"Soooraaa…" it was amazing how he managed to sound both worried and annoyed in the same breath. My smile dropped of like a broken mask. "What's wrong?" I bit my lip as my eyes stung. Rage or malice would have been easier to bear. His kindness was like fire, melting frozen loneliness in favor of an equally terrible burning. I shook my head and looked down, unwilling--- unable--- to answer. He heaved a sigh. "All right then…" He then proceeded to tell the three dirtiest jokes I had ever heard. Completely deadpan. By the third I was laughing so hard I was doubled over. It wasn't the jokes themselves, but the sheer incongruity of Riku telling them… a trace of the earlier pain still burned in the backs of my eyes, but it seemed less terrible now. Riku cast an assessing eye over my face. Apparently what he saw there satisfied him, as he sat down calmly and ate his lunch, no trace of any feeling other than quiet optimism on his face.

I still didn't feel like talking, so I pulled out my sketchbook and began a pencil drawing of him, how he looked in the morning sun. Often, when I drew him, he looked too still, frozen, but this one was one of my best. He seemed alive with a gentle radiance and infectious good cheer. I finished the sketch and looked up, to find him staring at me. It annoyed me a bit how much he looked at me. However, right now, he was clearly elsewhere, judging from his glazed expression and slightly open mouth. I took advantage of his mind's vacation to admire him for a moment. He shook his head, suddenly, and brought his eyes back into focus. I pretended to look dubious.

"Are you alright?" I asked, mock-solemn, "I think you were drooling." To my amazement, he choked, and blushed a shade of red so bright it looked painful. Now I really wanted to know what he'd been thinking.

Riku's PoV

I found people staking out the spot in the library, so I climbed up to the roof to find Sora already up there. He looked grim, and completely ignored my greeting. I had gotten used to Sora's darker moods, but today he looked like he was about to jump off the roof or something. So I tried something I rather thought would make him smile. I cracked three filthy jokes in a row, without changing my expression a hair. It was the same trick I'd always used to cheer my brother up, before he'd left for college; I knew more dirty jokes than anyone I knew of, for precisely that purpose. It worked on Sora, too—by the third one he was chuckling with real humor. A trace of sorrow lingered in the depths of his eyes, but the pain had gone out of his face. He still didn't seem to feel like talking, though, so I paid most of my attention to my food.

When I finished eating, I just admired him for a long moment. He didn't notice. He had commented earlier, only half jokingly, that he wouldn't notice a bomb going off when he was drawing, unless it dumped debris on his paper or broke his light source.

The sun was warm, and I could feel myself growing sleepy. Sora's hands were so pale, I had no doubt they would be cool on my skin… something didn't seem right about that thought, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Sora's eyes were lovely, blue, but the sky was never so wonderful. And his lips… my mind took a brief romp through the gutter. Gradually, the feeling of wrongness increased, dispelling the day dream. I shook my head. What had I been thinking about? The tone of my own thoughts now that I was awake seemed hopelessly sappy, like a fool in love. That thought caught in my mind, a fool in love. In love? I shook my head, hard, as though I could shake the thought out.

I looked up, to see Sora looking at me. His expression was dubious, but humor danced in his eyes, making them more beautiful than even the gems they resembled. His comment about drool made my cheeks feel like they had caught fire. I was sure I was blushing cherry red. Had I really been drooling? God, I was in trouble.

We both headed off to our afternoon classes, and I felt sorry for Sora. The gossip about me had been completely overwhelmed by news of his little fight, and many people came up to me to ask about Sora. Had he really beat up Rigel Barnes and eight cronies? Had he really used a katana? I had to smile at some of the rumors, they were so wild. The weirdest conversation I had though, was with Kairi. She wanted to know if Sora was alright.

I asked her, bluntly, "why do you care?" and she muttered something about having known him in grade school. We chatted for several minutes, me pumping her for information, her turning every question into a way to ask about Sora now. I didn't think she could have known him very well, but I got to know a bit about Sora I hadn't been before. I wasn't surprised she knew so little of him; he was so cheerful, so stupid, and so utterly false with most people. And for some reason, or many reasons, no one but me ever seemed to have bothered to see through that mask. He had rarely used that mask in my presence—only when he was trying (and generally failing) to hide pain. Another realization followed that one, but I shied away from it, not ready to face it. It sunk back, but remained in the bottom of my mind, waiting to confront me when I couldn't contain it.

Seventh hour was one of the classes I shared with Sora. We talked a little, but too many people were paying attention to have a real conversation. Then I had an idea.

"Sora?"

"What?"

"How much French do you speak?"

"Uhh…. A fair bit. I had a couple years of it in California, and Alex and I used it for secrets." Secrets? I wondered. What kind of secrets had those two had? I felt a stab of something, not quite rage, with more than a trace of possessiveness. I shook the feeling off. Sora was his own, not mine or anyone's.

Most of the eavesdropper's haven't had more than a year of it, and I was born in Canada. I answered the puzzlement in his expression. He laughed, softly.

Yes, that does solve the problem nicely. most of the people who had been listening to us were now looking gratifyingly puzzled. Sora and I talked for most of math class, largely about my years in a middle school in Montréal. He wanted to know how Canada was different from the Destiny Islands, and I wanted to hear about California. Then the bell rang and we packed up, but I paused near the door.

Do you really want to go to last hour? I asked, still in French. Sora looked puzzled for a moment, then he laughed.

Was that an invitation to ditch from Mr. Good boy? he teased. He didn't know the word for skip, so he had used a noun meaning hole-probably-full-of-dirty-water. Nah, I'm a strictly off-the-books TA for the art teacher last hour. It's a lot of fun. Want to come over to my house after school instead? the invitation surprised me a bit. From what he'd said on IM yesterday, his father wasn't one to let him have friends over so casually.

"Love to, meet you at the gate?" He nodded, and we walked off in opposite directions. I dashed hurriedly to my next class; it was worth skipping if I had someone to skip with, but if Sora was being good, I might as well go to class. My last class was thankfully mundane, so I met Sora at the gate in a good mood. Walking to his house, we talked about little things, and laughed and joked like old buddies. I felt strangely at ease with Sora. When we talked, we talked, and we could talk about anything, but when we didn't, that was fine to. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to make you believe in miracles.

That came out much longer than I expected… there may be some strange mistakes in this; it was mostly typed at one in the morning. This update was originally going to be tomorrow, but I couldn't sleep, so I typed the chapter instead. Thank you for all the kind reviews! They were all the inspiration I needed to finish writing chapter five. Sayonara!

Dyslexic Angel