/From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight -Have yourself a merry little Christmas/

There were times he would just lie there.

Not moving, barely breathing, just there.

Staring at the fan spinning rapidly above him…

Just being…there.

Fans bothered Hiead.

They were one of the only things he couldn't figure out.

That and the boy lying one bed away from him.

But in moments like this none of that mattered.

Hiead would lay there, tired not broken…

But bending.

An imperfectly perfect mess.

Listening to him just breathe and watching the fan spin.

And for some strange reason it all would start to make sense.

How something could have blades but not cut.

How somehow pushing hot air around made things cooler…somehow.

Sometimes Hiead thought fans only worked because people believed in them.

Because people thought that the fans SHOULD make them cooler…so they convinced themselves that they did.

Just like Zero.

Like now as he's sleeping.

Hiead starts to doubt if Zero really IS his real enemy.

His equal.

Maybe Zero was only a challenge because Hiead WANTED him to be.

Because Hiead needed him to be.

Maybe Hiead was really JUST like everyone else.

Just clinging for something to believe in.

Because in ALL honesty…Hiead couldn't think of any reason why Zero won today.

Not ONE.

He could think of zero reasons why Zero won today.

Why he let him win.

Yes, he'd admit it…today he had let Zero win…because Zero hadn't won in a while.

And if Zero stopped winning…

Suddenly Hiead didn't feel comfortable anymore…suddenly Hiead felt HOT.

But the fan was still spinning.

And Zero was still breathing.

And for a moment Zero and the fan and EVERYTHING just melted together.

Connecting.

And then Zero would sneeze…and Hiead would feel something like hate boil underneath his skin.

And Zero would shift…further breaking Hiead's focus…lying in a perfectly imperfect mess that WAS Zero.

And sometimes Hiead would reach his hand up…tempting to touch.

But knowing it was a waste of his time…knowing that moving would stop everything.

So he didn't.

And there were times he'd want to touch him.

Hit him.

Choke him.

But he couldn't.

And the blades would keep spinning….and all of it began to seem pointless.

Completely, totally pointless.

Because something told him that if the fan stopped spinning…and if Zero stopped breathing…

What would there be to believe in?

And if there was nothing…would it matter?

Would any of this matter?