AN: Standard disclaimer. I don't own Cheetos either. I do own all the lyrics and songs they are derived of.

For illustrations to chapters one, three, and four, leave a note in your review. For song lyrics, see previous. Finally, reviews give me warm fuzzies. Please review.




Revising and Other Things: Yuri


Okay, so. Zach's dad said we could rehearse in their basement: awesome. I'd never been to Zach's house before: not so awesome. I did not have Zach's exact address: really not awesome. Therefore I teleported to the middle of the stream near his house: really fucking not awesome. Dripping wet, I trudged up the steps to Zach's front door, trailing water puddles and a wet, squelchy sound that made my ears cringe, and knocked.

I was suddenly very, very glad I'd forgotten my guitar at home.

When glowboy opened the door and looked at me funny, I smiled sarcastically. "Can I borrow a towel?"

Finally, I persuaded Warren to drive to my house and retrieve my guitar, music, and a spare set of clothes because I did not want to risk teleporting back with all my stuff. Dry, guitar and music in hand, and generally in better spirits (though my hair was currently seeping through the back of my jacket and t-shirt), we got down to business.

I handed out everyone's music and set about teaching Will and Layla to read basic percussion rhythms. Layla was playing the tambourine as she had requested, but I wasn't about to grant Will permission to play the gong. I did, however, allow him to play the shakers, as Layla suggested. He was a little less than thrilled, but dealt with it.

"So," I reviewed, "an eighth note is?"

"Half a quarter note," Layla replied.

"And a quarter note is?" I turned to Will.

"Half a half note," he said dutifully.

"And a half note is?" I stepped back, looking at both of them.

"Half a whole note," they said together.

"And a whole note?" I concluded.

"Has four beats."

I smiled. All rhythm is is basic math and fractions. It really wasn't very difficult until you actually started playing though. I then decided to take a look at Warren's lyrics. Upon reading the first stanza, I realized we had a problem.

"Warren," I tapped him on the shoulder as he helped Maj set up her equipment, "a word, please?"

He apologized to Maj and followed me to the porch. "Yes?"

I held up the sheet of paper he'd given me. "How is this a duet?"

He snatched the sheet out of my hand and glanced over it. "I get the first verse, you get the second verse, and the rest of the stuff is together," he explained, as if I were stupid.

I looked at him like he'd sprung a third eyeball. "That's not the way it works," I stated firmly, sitting down on the porch railing.

Clearly irritated, he sighed and leaned against a support beam. "Um, yeah it is."

"But…" I protested, "everything is in first person." I took the paper back and read it aloud.

"I wanna be something,
Let the world know that I'm out there.
I tell ya/I'm gonna make it,
Oh yeah/I'm gonna make it," I recited, deadpan.

"So?" he asked, very clearly irritated that I'd found something wrong with his creation if the heat his hands were giving off was any indication. Gee, artists: touchy, touchy. I ignored him.

"Everything in this is 'I' or 'me'," I explained. "A duet has to have 'we' or 'us' for this kind of song."

Warren rolled his eyes at me. "It's a song. It doesn't have to be realistic or grammatically correct, you know." He zapped a falling leaf. "It's a song."

I hmphed.

"And, I was looking at your music," he countered, holding up the four or so sheets I'd given him.

"And?" I asked.

"This is way too slow," he replied, pointing to the tempo marking in the upper left corner. "These lyrics," he pointed to his paper, "will not go with this music."

I know my nostrils flared. Looking over the music and lyrics together, I sighed, realizing he was right. "Shit." Slumping to the floor and looking up at him, I wrinkled my nose.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Well," I wrinkled my nose, "what do you suggest we do?"

Plucking the paper from my hands again, Warren walked over to lean against the doorpost. "I think a rewrite is in order."

My eyes shot up. "Now wait just a second mister," I began. "If you think I'm gonna-"

He held up a hand to silence me. "I said a rewrite is in order," he explained. "Meaning you and I," he moved his hand back and forth between us, "will send everyone home, order some sort of take-out, and sit at one of our houses until we have both music and lyrics that work." By that time, he had placed both of his hands on my shoulders and was talking to me as if I were stupid. "Unless, of course, that's too much work for you."

In hindsight, I probably was. "Oh."

Warren smirked at me. "Yeah."

"Well, I guess that works," I mused. Then I hit him. "You and your snark."

He made a face at me as we went back inside to tell everyone shop was packing up until further notice. Afterwards, making sure my guitar was tucked securely under my arm, we hopped onto Warren's motorcycle and sped off to my house.

When I asked why we couldn't go to his house, which I'd never seen before, he reasoned that he'd just have to drop me off at home anyway. I thought about it. Then I pouted but didn't argue.


Upon reaching my house, I checked if my parents were home. They were watching Will and Grace. We left them alone and trudged up the separate staircase (as opposed to the staircase that went up to the second floor and the renters' space) to the attic. A.k.a.: My room.

I dropped all my things (wet clothes/music/jacket/purse) on my bed and motioned for Warren to do the same. Then, putting my guitar away, I fired up my laptop and the keyboard I keep in the corner instead of a bookshelf.

"Here," I pulled my desk chair out, "you can use this to write. It's easier than erasing stuff the old-fashioned way."

While Warren settled himself at the computer, I fished around for my MD recorder and switched it on. Heaven forbid we come up with something really, really good and not remember it afterwards.

"Okay," I settled down at the keyboard. "So, now what?"

"Um…" Warren leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "Well, I guess we re-do everything."

I sighed, slouching. "Yeah." This was so not how I pictured this day going.

"So…what kind of song is it going to be?" he asked, sitting up quickly, hands poised to type.

I put my chin in my hand and squashed a couple of keys on the keyboard and blew some hair out of my face. "I don't know. A duet."

Warren rolled his eyes at me. "Yeah, I know that, Einstein. I meant what genre?"

"Well," I said, referring to his earlier attempt, "I don't know if this alternative-ish fuck authority theme is going to work." I fiddled with my earring. "We might try," I looked at him quickly to see if he might burn me for my suggestion, "something romance-themed." He was looking at me funny. And not funny in a good way. Funny as in a 'hearts-and-bunnies-fluffy-happily-ever-after-what-the-fuck-are-you-nuts?' way. "Because of the whole male-female aspect of the vocalists in question," I added quickly.

He was still looking at me funny, but without thoughts of murder dancing in his head. I hoped. Then he sighed. "I guess that makes sense."

"Okay." I looked around my room, not knowing what to do next.

"So, we're going to have to change the music too. Probably something more upbeat or else Maj won't have very much to do," Warren reasoned, tearing up pieces of scratch paper and shooting them into my Hello Kitty rubbish can.

"Okay," I replied, spinning around in my revolving chair. "So we're going for a…mid-tempo love duet, then?"

Warren ran his ring finger over his lower lip as he thought. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

I nodded. "You wanna feed me some lyric ideas and I'll see if I can put music to anything?" I asked, stopping myself and getting thoroughly disoriented as the room continued to spin.

"Sure." Warren readied his fingers over the keyboard again.

"When I try to speak, the words all fall away," he mused, keys clack-clacking as he typed, "and then you spread your wings and fly."

He looked at me for an opinion.

I nodded. "That sounds good…maybe like a transition from a verse to the chorus or the chorus to a verse." I tried out a few chords and then sang it back to him. "How's that?"

"Yeah, okay. Let's say that's the end of the first verse, so I'll be singing it, and then let's try something for the chorus." His brow furrowed as he searched for the words.

"How about…" I played a basic melody, sans chords and harmony. "It was the bridge for the other song and it's a little faster than the rest."

Warren pursed his lips and thought about it. "Yeah…yeah, like…I never realized I was un-invincible…" he rattled off. "I like it."

We worked for a couple more hours, then realized it was seven p.m. and we were hungry. I ran downstairs to order a pizza and we continued to brainstorm until food arrived.


"Ohmigodthankyou," I said to the delivery guy when he brought the pizza. By then I was starving and a starving Yuri is a cranky Yuri. Tipping him, I shoved him out the door and ran the food, two-liter bottle of coke, and a bag of Cheetos I grabbed off the kitchen counter up to Warren.

"Good news," I announced. "Food!"

He grinned at me from my desk. "More good news; I finished the lyrics for the bridge."

I handed him a plate laden with a good amount of Cheetos and a couple slices of mushroom-sausage pizza. He gratefully accepted and I wasn't able to speak to him for the next few minutes. We were both a little too starving for chit-chat.

"So," I said after we'd polished off about half the pizza, "lemme see the bridge."

He moved aside as I hovered over his lap, pizza in one hand and soda in the other, reading the screen.

"I like this repetition," I pointed with my soda cup, forcing Warren to lean back. "Hallucination, indication, origination…and then visualizing, horizon…I guess that could work," I mused. Then I made a face. "But this last line sounds weird, even without the music." I pointed again. "I fall asleep to a new surmising?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I needed as 'zing' at the end…I don't know; what do you suggest?" He scooted back as I leaned over even more.

"Devising, advising, supervising," I rattled off.

Warren slouched. "No, no, and no."

"Um…chastising?" I offered, dancing away as he shot sparks at me.

"Try again," he replied, moving back to his original spot in front of the laptop. "Unsurprising…"

He hurriedly typed something out and then cursed colorfully. "Damnit," he finished and glared at my computer.

"Hey, don't kill my laptop because of your incompetence," I chastised.

He shot me a look that clearly said 'bite me.'

"Don't try to disguise your frustration with the lyrics in rage at my laptop," I admonished, hands on my hips.

Warren's eyes shot up and he turned to me. "Say that again."

I was confused. "What-?"

"Say that again," he repeated, staring at me intensely.

"O-kay…'Don't try to disguise your frus-'"

"There!" he exclaimed. "I got it!"

I was lost. One hundred percent well and truly lost. "Huh?"

He typed for a few seconds before turning to me with a flourish. Okay, it wasn't a flourish; but it was as much 'ta-da' as Warren would put into anything.

"And while I'm visualizing a whole brand new horizon, I fall asleep and then there's just no disguising…" I smiled. "It's perfect."

He grinned as cheekily as Warren Peace might be expected to grin cheekily at me. "I know."

I rolled my eyes, chucking a pillow from the bed at him. "Get back to work, slave," I ordered.

"Make me," he dared playfully.

I smirked. "Maybe when we're finished." Aah, promise hung thick in the air…or maybe it was just the scent of cheese pizza. Anyway, Warren opened his mouth to answer, probably with a one-liner which could have finished me off for good.

Just then, the phone rang.

"'ello?" I answered, snatching the phone off its hook. 'Someday,' I vowed to myself, 'I'll get a cordless in my room.'

"Yuri?" a tentative, and very familiar, voice asked. I groaned. This was exactly what I did not need at the moment.

"What do you want?" I asked, ignoring Warren who seemed to be asking what was going on.

"Before you hang up, just…listen, okay? Just listen." Yeah, I really didn't need this. "I'm sorry. I really am. And I'm glad you haven't hung up yet."

"What do you want?" I asked again, this time with a little more force.

"To explain things to you," Nicholas continued. "I swear I wasn't hitting on skanks that night at Ocean's. …Well, okay, so maybe I was, but I was mildly drunk. You know how I get when I drink." Hoo-boy, did I know. That night at prom? Yeah, one after-party and I ordered him to let me drive, license or no license, or risk living without testicles for the rest of his life.

"Mm-hmm," I replied.

Meanwhile, Warren looked rather bored if the paper animal zoo he built was any indication. "Who is it?" he whispered.

'Ex-boyfriend,' I mouthed back. Warren frowned. 'My thoughts exactly.' Shrugging and rolling my eyes, I turned back to the task at hand.

"And…I'm sorry. I really am. I know I fucked up, especially talking to Lisa like that, but-" But I never heard what came after 'but' as Warren snatched the phone from my hand.

"Hey!"

"What do you want, asshole?" he demanded of the phone.

I slapped his arm. "Warren!"

He ignored me, concentrating on whatever insult Nick was dishing out. "Yeah? Yeah? Well-" he paused. I attempted to reclaim the phone and failed. "Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch. And don't ever call here again!" Warrem slammed the phone down on the receiver and I winced. Then, collecting my wits, I slapped him again. Hard.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded.

"I thought that guy stopped bothering you," he replied. "Why didn't you say he was still being a dickhead?"

"Because he wasn't being a dickhead! He was trying to explain himself until you so rudely interrupted us!" I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "He was trying to apologize, something you should be doing right now." Placing a hand on my hip, I eyed Warren expectantly.

"I'm not sorry; the guy was a total dick to you," he explained, reclaiming his seat at the computer.

"But he was trying to ap-o-lo-gize," I repeated. "Why do you care anyway?"

"Because I've seen this happen before, remember? When Will fucked up, who came to the rescue? Me." He let that sink in. "Of course, Will realized he'd been a dick before seeing me 'n Layla. And why do you care if he apologizes if he was such a jerk?"

"Maybe I'd forgive him if he apologized, you think?" I suggested, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Do you still like him?" he asked, a sobering tone entering his voice.

"I don't know," I replied truthfully. "We were good together. I don't know if we'd still be good together." I sighed, throwing my hands up. "I don't know; can we not talk about it, please?" I really didn't need Nick in my head and Warren asking about it while trying to get the song done. I'm all for multi-tasking, but it really depends on the task. And those? All together? Not so good.

Warren dropped the subject, instead asking me for a word that rhymed with reverie. I just… Ugh; at that moment, I just really hated boys.



Okay, on to other important things. Thank yous go to:

Seducing Reason: I'm glad the OC pleases. And yay for Tenchi. It was my favorite show back in seventh grade. (Gah! Has it really been six years?)

Off Dreaming: I showed Chris the review page. He found it hilarious. Then he laughed at me. Poo on him. And thanks about Layla's characterization. She's gotta be a little mischievous to handle them boys.

Nelle07: Sighs. I can't wait for the talent show either. But it'll be…two and a half chapters until the performance if things stay on schedule. (Knock on wood.)

War Admiral: I love torturing Warren; it's one of my joys in life. As is the happy dance. Or, rather, whatever is causing the happy dance. Muahaha.

Ghostly Green: Yes, Warren is like a tootsie pop. Hard on the outside, but just a big softie if you know where to crack the shell. Teehee. Cheers!

Suicidal Lips: Aah. Name change caught me off guard there! But I'm very thankful that I'm a favorite (or, rather, the story is).

And, Chris has agreed to let me post his picture. I'll have the link in the next chapter, as well as links (if you want 'em, let me know) for the illustrations. They're pen and ink. My sister has also been commissioned to do a piece on the second to the last chapter (which may or may not be finished on time…), and she's a fantabulous artist. Much better than I (just don't tell her I said so).

I think that's everything.

W00t.

Love, SeraphStar.