Why was is so much fun to intrude on the privacy of others? What was in the thrill of learning some tidbit of information about a person that you hadn't known before? It would seem to be far more interesting to learn what that person behaved like on a more intimate level; ripping their organs out, for example, but Johnny hadn't been especially excellent at learning about people in a good way. He had only ever been able to make note of how horrible they all seemed when they bullied him and when he was torturing them, making all those noises and being fussy. Perhaps his approach was just off, since Edgar seemed so very keen on learning about him (and sometimes he laughed at the people in the magazines he read), and this kind of curiosity seemed to make Edgar very happy, and if he wasn't unconscious and bleeding on his bathroom floor, Johnny was certain he'd be very happy to know that Johnny was trying out this "paying attention to people" thing that the man sometimes complained to him about.

At least, that's what Johnny mentally rehearsed to tell Edgar. He was really just snooping. He had snooped all through his house and now was snooping through his room. Snooping was a fun word to say. He laughed out with glee as he pulled the drawer out of it's compartment, but it got caught on something before he could even peek inside. He jiggled it around, trying to get it loose, before yanking it as hard as he could, ripping it right out of the nightstand and sending it flying behind him, ultimately colliding with the wall with a startling crack of wood.

Johnny scrambled over to the drawer, noticing a large crack had split into the corner, but was otherwise unharmed. He carefully picked it up, revealing a little white-velvet notebook that had fallen out of it. He took the two back over to the nightstand and slid the drawer back in before examining the book. The velvet was soft, and slightly worn, golden letters engraved on the front read "Diary." Johnny chuckled at the thought of someone like Edgar, of all people, having a diary, and tried to pry the covers open, nearly breaking the spine. He hadn't notice the lock that bound the book together.

He tried the key from the teddy bear, but it was too large to fit in (no matter how hard he tried to force it through). Remembering the key from Edgar's lamp, Johnny scrambled to get it out of his pocket and get it in, his hands shaking too much with excitement to open it right away. He supposed that maybe there was some enjoyment to be had in discovering things about people that they didn't want discovered. Just like Edgar and his celebrity magazines, only Edgar wasn't a celebrity. He would make a boring celebrity, Johnny laughed to himself again.

But he's handsome like one.

His fingers paused over the diary for a moment, but he quickly got back to the task at hand, opening the book somewhere in the middle. He was astonished to find that the paper was decorated with the swirls and gentle curls of the most elegant cursive writing the boy could ever recall seeing. There were even little charts and diagrams made in what appeared to be a meticulous and almost artistic way, like the utmost care and details were put into each letter and line, black ink gently staining the cotton-white pages of this little book, tuck away in a white locked cupboard in a pure white room, enchanted by moonlight. He was awestruck, at first by Edgar's skills, followed by the realization that maybe he thought of something rather nice just now, but then frowned slightly that his writing was so ugly by comparison.

"Dear diary," The page started. Johnny couldn't help but grin over how cheesy that was. Adorable. "Mr. Toffman forgot that I was in his class again today, but at least he remembered to mark my test this time. I got a decent grade, as usual, but it should be enough to get me my job. Sometimes it seems like everyone I meet forgets me as soon as the next day rolls around. Why can't anyone remember me? I even checked for family members, but there's nothing. I hardly exist in the world..."

Johnny nodded along, recalling that Edgar had told him something about this awhile ago, but he only now understood how much it must have upset him. He skipped the rest of the excerpt and examined the tiny t-chart that was so beautiful drawn at the bottom. It only had two columns, but occupied nearly half of the adjacent page. "Day" and "People who remembered my name."

It seemed as though only one or two people would remember Edgar in a given week, the words "just barely" were carefully written beside many of those days, and Johnny actually began to feel just a bit sorry for him.

The next few entries were coated in the same lovely writing, and quickly flipped through more pages of the book to examine the to see if it was just as fancy the whole way through, which it was. Like something out of a classy English-man's notebook. He managed to catch little glimpses of words from random pages while he set out in search of some pictures, which were at least more interesting than this:

"honoured," "frost-bitten fingers," "pupil," "second school," "troubled," "parents."

Johnny let the pages slip past his fingers a bit more carelessly now that it he was getting tired of staring at the words. After going through the book a few more times and not finding any pictures, he tossed it away and curled up to his knees against Edgar's bed.

I didn't learn anything new about him at all.

What a dumb idea in the first place. What was he expecting anyway? Edgar was the same goody-goody that he had always known, but the elaborate key-hiding had made him think that the man must have had some kind of dark secrets and evils locked away, and honestly, Johnny would have felt much better in comparison if that were the case. Now it really felt like there was something wrong with him. It was probably too late to turn back.

He sighed and sank into the fluffy blankets that draped over the edge of the mattress. They were so soft and plush, like they were made of cloud babies and angel guts. He fell back a bit more, the crinkling sound of fabric momentarily pushed into his ears, but he liked how the sheets felt, softly holding his face.

Johnny began to think a bit more, he was getting used to it now and decided he liked that too.

He could understand now why Edgar enjoyed sleeping so much, he practically had God's bed! Was that why the room was so white? It was easy to forget about his religious habits, or worshippy things. It was upsetting, for some reason... Johnny wasn't sure why exactly, but maybe he needed to think about that more, although the fatigue he was falling into convinced him otherwise. The blankets warmed around his flushed cheeks while he enjoyed the rare serenity in the air, wanting it to last forever. He didn't need to think about that right now. Shit. He could actually sleep right now. Maybe Edgar wouldn't mind. He could just stay there, and Edgar could go on the couch to sleep instead, or maybe he would want his bed back, with the cozy covers that hugged his face and sank in with his body. The prickles from his beard would probably scratch a bit against his pillows as he got a bit more comfortable and slid in towards the centre. He would put his hands out and softly hold Johnny's face with his warm hands, not wanting to le-

Oh shit. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Fuck."

He hadn't meant to think that.

His head jerked away from the blankets and he quickly stood up, pacing around the room, tightly gripping his stomach from the unsettling feeling that was building inside. Perhaps he wasn't in control of his thoughts after all. He was so sure he had gotten rid of the dough-boys.

The sky became darker and the moon faded away behind a thick layer of cloud, allowing the darkness to swallow up the bedroom, and Johnny along with it. He didn't like it. It reminded him that this wasn't his room, the whiteness seemed more threatening now and all those icky feely things from when he first came in here went rocketing back into his gut. He really didn't want to be alone right now and he couldn't understand that either. There was too much to think about and too much he should be worried about doing and not doing and plus this whole "thinking for yourself" dealio is kind of hard too. Can you ever be certain that your actually thinking your own thoughts?

He tried hard to think again, start over from scratch from his last thought... conversation? Thought train? Thinking moment? What the fuck are they even called!?

The bed is soft and nice and it's Edgar's bed.

It was so much harder to force this thing to happen. Last time the thought-words just flowed out like music, but now it sounded strange and clumsy, spewing out too quickly in his panic.

The bed is soft and nice and it's Edgar's bed and that's what makes it nice.

No.

The bed is soft and nice and it's Edgar's bed and maybe he'll let me use it tonight since I don't have one.

Better.

And maybe he'll let me sleep with him and-

His hands flew up to his mouth and covered it tightly.

he'll softly hold my face and say the I'm special-

Nononononono... He couldn't stop the words from coming out.

And he'll say that he's so happy that I saved him and proud that I'm so good now.

He stomped on the ground to try and drown it out, but the words just kept on repeating and his mind was starting to feel like a broken record. He stomped louder and louder and tried to cover his mouth and pull his hair and anything to distract himself and think of something else.

Johnny was learning that you can't drown yourself out as easily as other people. At least with the dough-boys he could at least try to fight back or ignore them. How do you ignore yourself?

Johnny's legs were getting tired and he began stomping less vigorously, his pacing had slowed down to more of a melancholy movement and he came to the conclusion that these were indeed his own thoughts, still repeating over and over in his head. Is this the kind of crap that people have to deal with on a daily bases?

He was just about to sit down on the bed when his attention was pulled by a sudden squeak and slam from the hallway, followed by a quieter groan of a man, probably Edgar.

"Hmm? Edgar? Are you up yet?"

It had certainly taken four-eyes long enough to quit his lazing about, and just on time too: he finally got those damn thoughts to stop repeating. He was about to leave the room when he remembered that the diary and teddy bear were still on the floor. It was probably best to put them away before Edgar saw, and seeing as Johnny hadn't actually bothered to learn anything new or useful, his previously planned excuse probably wouldn't work quite as nicely. In fact, Edgar would just get mad and realize that he was snooping.

He could hear Edgar trying to push himself off the ground, giving his heart an unexpected lurch forward. He couldn't let Edgar see all of this evidence. Johnny crouched down and put the teddy bear back in the nightstand before reaching for the book. He was just about to throw it in the drawer when his eye caught the corner of something sticking out from one of the pages. There was some hesitation as to whether or not he had enough time to investigate before Edgar got back, but he opened the page promptly and gasped at what was inside.

It was the corner of a photograph, one that Johnny had somehow missed, of Edgar and some curly-haired blonde woman. The two clearly seemed happy and were both hugging on to each other in a friendly embrace, making Johnny feel suddenly uncomfortable. They were in front of a desk with a little golden name label with Edgar's name on it, the woman leaned onto Edgar and looked up adoringly at him. Her blonde curls covered Edgar's neck they were so close. Johnny swallowed hard and quickly slipped the picture into his pant pocket and shoved the book into the cupboard just as Edgar had come bursting in.

"Oh hey," Johnny said as nonchalantly as he could manage, leaning up against the nightstand.

"So yeah, I wasn't really doing anything." He pushed stood up, rocked back and forth on his heels and tried to casually walk towards Edgar, or more precisely, the door, but the man flinched as soon as he took a step, stopping him where he was.

"D-don't... Don't come near me!" Edgar blurted out, scared and squinty eyed without his glasses.

Johnny took a step back, clearly hurt. He didn't think that Edgar would be this upset by his snooping, but he supposed that asking permission was just something that Edgar would consider polite, and perhaps he was at fault for not doing so.

"I'm so- er. I was cleaning up a bit," he continued coyly, not completely willing to apologize since Edgar had unnerved him by yelling.

"but I got distracted." He noticed that Edgar had pushed himself against the wall opposite to him and was making his way towards his bed. He pointed harshly to the door with his left hand, keeping some distance between the two.

"Get out." Edgar demanded. The harshness in his tone made Johnny flinch. He wasn't used to being yelled at, but he turned to look down at his feet, upset that he must have done something to deserve it. Just ruining things agian.

"Get out before I call the police."

The police?

"Edgar what are you talking ab-"

"Do you really think I'd fall for the same act twice!?"

"What are you...?"

"I don't know how you know Johnny, and quite frankly, I don't care!" His hand kept pointing to the door in attempts to avoid conflict. He was angry, but scared enough the he was not willing to fight.

"Edgar, it's me." Johnny replied softly. The funny feeling in his stomach returned, but he ignored it, taking a few steps forward.

"It's me." He echoed.

Edgar was caught off guard. He looked at Johnny skeptically for a moment, but soon his face grew softer and his hands fell to his sides, only a trace of doubt in his expression. He believed people so easily, but it was a quality that Johnny found endearing.

"How do I know? I can't see," Edgar whispered quietly, afraid that he might just be wrong. Johnny slowly reached out to grab his hands, startled by how cold and shaky they were, put them to his face. T He stared at Edgar and savoured the moment, moonlight breaking through the cloud filled sky as if to accentuate the scene. He had never understood what there was that people found so alluring about the human body, but he began to notice it now in Edgar. He wasn't built like a tank, and he wasn't as skinny as himself, but there was something strangely beautiful in the way he was, with just enough abdominal muscle peeking through his torso that it created a wonderful contrast of shadows in the night-time glow, the gentle curves of his lips, his long face and smooth chest, milky skin leading his eyes everywhere; there was something truly delightful in seeing Edgar this way, even in his current state: roughed up and bloody, his hair a tousled mess and his eyes wide and green without and glasses to cover his face.

His prickly beard.

"Johnny... it really is you." Edgar smiled and stroked Nny's face adoringly, tears starting to creep from his eyes, whether from relief or happiness, he couldn't tell. The boy nodded into his hands, nearly nuzzling them, and was only mildly aware of how strange this was for him, but that was something he would ponder later. Right now, he wanted to be here with the soft bed, Edgar's hands, the open wounds, the seductive moonlight; it was too much. He wanted more.

And that was it. Just like that, despite his new fondness for thinking, Johnny didn't think, he just did. He leaned forward and gently kissed Edgar's lips, slowly moving his hands up his bare chest and behind his neck. Edgar simply stood there, stunned. It wasn't until Johnny pulled his face to his again and kissed him, only more forcefully, that Edgar finally kissed back. Johnny gently bit down on his lip while he pulled the boy's body closer to his own, gently feeling his shoulder blades and back. Johnny pushed himself up against him a bit harder, their kissing becoming more ravaging and passionate while they tried to draw themselves as close as physically possible. The sound of pants and gasps for breath were the only noises in the room, and soon the rustling of Johnny's shirt when Edgar had lifted it off of the boy, constantly feeling up and down the curves of the bones of his body. Nny grabbed the man's face and pushed it closer to his while he slowly leaned back, eventually guiding the two onto the plush white blankets of Edgar's bed.

Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry for that.
I had initially uploaded a quick preview for this one, but then fanfic was kind of a knob while I was editing... so yadada it's all better now.
So yeah,
Let me know what you guys think of this one, it's a little fluffier than usual ^_^"
but I hope that's alright.
Also, let me know if any of you still read this cuz,
I was gone for so long ;_; SORRY