A/N: The credit for the poem in this chapter goes to my beta, Shinigamihaku, who wrote it for me. Thank you!

And, before we go on, let me say my thanks to one other person. Anonymous. My dear reviewer friend who basically gave me the entire plot line for the last third of the story. Whoever you are, thank you so much. Your idea was far better than my original idea, and I hope I've done you justice.

Chapter V: Never the Same

It only took that one moment, that single revelation, for everything to fall in perspective for Fang. That Max, even as beautiful and alluring as she could be at times, would never cross the line of friendship with him. And, most importantly, that Iggy, wonderful, cheerful, artsy, best-friend Iggy, could be so much more than he already was.

Fang was terrified.

With that one tiny millisecond, everything seemed to change. At least, to Fang, He was about to quite possibly explode with the rush of foreign mixed emotions coursing through him, and to make it worse, the very person those feelings were for was sitting right next to him.

"Fang?" Iggy said, waving his hand before Fang's face wildly.

"Oh," Fang muttered, shaking the thoughts out of his head, "Sorry I kind of zoned out." He quietly took the CD from Nudge's hands and, as calmly as possible, placed it and the Virgin Mega Store bag in his back pack. After a long second of painstakingly zipping the pack up, he slowly stood and swung it on his shoulders. Nudge and Iggy both took the hint, though in very different manners.

Nudge took up her usual stance and began to rattle off a list of complaints. She was hungry, she was cold, she was tired, she was thirsty, and the whole world was simply against her. (Well, those weren't her exact words, merely Fang's interpretation. But it seemed close enough to her usual rants in any case.) Iggy simply stood and allowed his fingers to trail across Fang's belt, finally putting a finger through a belt loop after a long (at least, to Fang it had been long) minute. A shiver ran up Fang's spine, he'd never been one for touching, never. Back at the school, the only type of "touching" that he'd ever experienced had been the man handling variety. True, the television had shown happy families hugging and kissing and what not, but to Fang that'd always been part of "normal", something he could never be a part of. But now his anti-contact feelings were amplified times a thousand, because it was Iggy touching him... and, as much as he didn't want to admit it, this was exactly what he wanted.

"And I want chocolate," Nudge declared, "Really badly." Fang wondered when she'd become so spoiled.

"We'll get you some later," Iggy replied, his voice was soft. Softer than usual any how.

"I'm having a craving!" She cried dramatically, but she seemed to accept well enough that it simply wasn't going to happen, and reserved herself to pouting. Which Fang was quite glad for, considering that he had bigger problems to think of. Such as lunch, for instance. Twenty-three dollars...

"Hey! Fang! Iggy! Nudge!" Fang whipped around before he had a chance to properly think, and Iggy, unfortunately, had been nearly knocked off his feet. But Fang's assumption that the group was about to be chased/caught by a group of Erasers turned out to be wrong, as it was merely Max, Gazzy and Angel running their way with groceries in hand. Well, Angel was actually skipping, but that wasn't really important.

"Hey, I thought you guys were going to be longer," Iggy said, as Angel skipped around his legs quite happily holding Celeste in one arm, and Total's leash in the other. Of course, Total was not the world's most brilliant dog and his leash was very quickly tangling around Iggy's ankles.

"No," Max sighed in an irritated sort of way, "Gazzy accidently knocked over the coffee display. We got kicked out."

"I was only trying to get Total back!" He protested, sending an annoyed glare at Angel's little dog.

"Mmm-Hmm," Iggy replied, attempting to untangle Total's leash from his feet. Fang's fingers twitched, because his immediate reaction was to at least put a hand on Iggy's shoulder and keep him from falling over backwards, but at the same time, if he did...

"Total! Don't!" Angel cried, but the fuss she was making was only adding to the problem. At the moment, Fang was still struggling with his thoughts over the to-touch or not-to-touch idea, but Iggy settled that problem quite quickly, as one wildly flailing arm came to grip Fang's shoulder tightly.

Fang, seeing as he had no other option now, hesitantly knelt down and carefully began to untwist Total from Iggy, who still rested the tips of his fingers against Fang's shoulders for balance. After some very confusing moments and annoying barking, Fang had managed to untangle his friend from the mess at his feet.

"Thanks," Iggy said, clapping a hand on Fang's back in a friendly way.

"No problem," was Fang's vague response.

"Well, what are we going to do now?" Nudge whined, her mind was still obviously off in chocolate land.

Max shrugged, "Get something to eat, I guess."

"Good." Nudge nodded in approval.

Fang reached for the wad of twenty-three dollars, seeing as Max would probably want it back, but she brushed by him, seemingly banishing the thought of paying her back. Which seemed odd enough for Fang, but he took it quite well. Seeing as money was always welcome to find a home with him.

"Let's go," She said airily, and, because it was a Maxocracy, they had no choice but to follow.

And follow her they did, from the diner for lunch to the bookstore and onwards to Macy's. All sorts of places. Places that cost money. Money that seemed to simply appear from nowhere. But that was the least of Fang's problems.

For one, his coat was itchy. Very itchy. And his shoes were too small. He had a headache and... well, he couldn't really think of anything else right then. But there had to be something, he knew it...

There was a good point to the day though, a few actually. He got a full meal for once, a new pair of socks... and he almost pushed his growing crush on his best male friend out of his mind for a full three seconds.

At first, it'd only seemed a passing fancy. That maybe, just maybe, he liked Iggy. But then it slowly began to grow, with every touch, every word, it grew. Until it was completely undeniable that he'd either have to tell Iggy or explode. And he was rather tempted to let himself explode.

If he told Iggy, there were only a few things that could happen. 1) Iggy would hate him. 2) Iggy would ignore him. 3) Or perhaps he wouldn't hate or ignore him, and would only be slightly creeped out by him.

Then there was the ever elusive option number four. A slim chance Fang barely allowed himself to touch on... maybe Iggy felt the same. After all, they'd had such a nice chat the other night, and this morning-

He quickly pushed the foolish notion out of his head.

"Fang?"

"Just a minute."

"Fang!" This time it was not a request, it was demanded of him. But he supposed that Iggy had some reason to be short with him, after all he'd hardly been paying any attention to his drawn out theory on the whitecoats and the CIA. Then again, he should have known better than to bother him when he was drawing.

Drawing was a hobby Fang had only recently found solace in, just because it was something that didn't seem to bother the whitecoats very much. He'd started with simple things, like fruit (it was what the kids on the TV did!) But eventually, an older doctor got sick of seeing his misshapen apples accumulating in the trash can, gave him a proper (though slightly old) art book that had once belonged to her daughter.

After he'd devoured it's exercises (though he had to admit the circle exercise had stumped him for a week straight) he'd moved on to anime. He'd seen a few cartoons of the style before, pokemon and what not, but he'd never really thought of doing that himself. Soon enough though, it became an addiction. Everyday from three-thirty to five he would plop himself down in front of the TV and copy whatever character appeared to him on the small screen. It was currently four-thirty-five and the only reason he wasn't sitting in front of the TV was that Max was busy watching a General Hospital marathon in the interns' room, which was the only TV they could ever manage to sneak in to see.

Seeing as it was four-thirty-five (actually four-thirty-seven) Fang considered that he had no obligation to listen, as it was still technically his time. All the same, ignoring one's best (and sometimes only) friend was not an activity he was keen in engaging in.

"Yes?" He said impatiently, pursing his lips in a displeased way. Both over the interruption and his crappy drawing skills.

"Did you hear me?"

"Quite so."

"No you didn't."

"I did!"

"Then what'd I say?"

"Fang."

"Before that, idiot."

"Oh, I dunno."

"See! You weren't listening."

"I was, just not to that."

Iggy sighed, "Anyways, I want you to do something for me tomorrow."

"And what would that be?" Fang asked, stealing a glance at his portrayal of Max as an anime character.

"Fang!"

"Sorry." He mumbled, putting the drawing away partially to prove he was listening and partially because it was extremely hard to resist drawing a moustache on Max and calling it a day.

"Tomorrow... could you bring me my book?" His face blushed fuschia as he made the request.

Fang looked at him quizzically, "Why? It's not test day or anything. We're not going anywhere."

"Well, you're not," Iggy mumbled, looking down at his socks, "But... tomorrow's the third."

Fang swore loudly. The third. It was the damn third tomorrow, how could he forget?

A month earlier, the director and his wife had come down. Usually their visits were saved for huge events, new experiments, horrible deaths, illness, unexplained side effects of new medicine. Usually just the bad stuff. But last month had actually been going pretty well for Iggy, Fang and Max. No one'd gotten sick or hurt, none of the tests had gone wrong. Nobody died that they knew of. So it'd been very perplexing to see them.

The director was an unusually somber man, preferring the company of a computer and a beaker to his own wife. But the woman herself was much different, she'd often come with gifts abound (he supposed that was why he didn't bring her very often) and would chat idly with each and every one of them. Comment on how much they'd grown, how smart they were getting. She was a bit like a grandmother (or what Fang thought a grandmother ought to be like) in a way.

In any case, she'd flown right to their room whilst her husband took his traditional tour of the facility. She'd cooed over Max's lovely honey-blonde hair, Iggy's quick wits and his own strength before presenting them each with several large, wrapped presents. (Little did he know at the time, but it'd actually been Christmas.) Max had immediately dug into hers, finding beneath the pretty blue and gold paper a set of classic books. Call of the Wild, The Chronicles of Narnia, the list was positively endless. Needless to say she was thrilled.

But she also found, to her delight, a small, handheld gaming system. Nothing really too fancy, in fact it was probably a few years old, but she loved it nearly as much as the books. She was also blessed with new clothes of all sorts (always a thrill, anything new, from the outside world portrayed in the little television box they worshiped was priceless), and a stuffed bear, which she thanked her for and quietly set aside. Max had never been one for girly treasures such as stuffed animals, dolls or makeup.

Fang himself had received a book on the manga drawing style (and thank god for it), a set of Nerf sports balls ("Not to be used in the halls!"), new clothes (his own had grown so small that an intern had taken pity on him and brought him some from the Good Will the month before) and a stuffed elephant. There seemed to be a trend there- with the stuffed animals. All the same, he did like the book and the sports balls. Even if they were just nerf.

What took the cake though, was his larger present, which was most unexpected, turned out to be a playstation. Not just the system, but the games as well. An entire set. And it was new too! Seeing his excitement and confusion, the director's wife (whose name was Roxanne, but they hardly ever called her that except when she was in the room) politely explained that it'd be their duty to share their bigger presents with each other. But she needn't have said that, they already knew that was coming. And it would be their delight to, in any case.

Iggy, who had been polite enough to remember his manners and thank her graciously before tearing in, had been blessed (and cursed) with the pattern set before, the new clothes (Iggy's hadn't even fit him in July, he was getting much too tall) and the stuffed animal. His was a dog, but he didn't seem to be too bothered by it. If he hadn't known any better, Fang might have said he liked it.

Iggy also received a set of books, not quite as grand as Max's, but they were books all the same. The first four installments in the Harry Potter series (Fang now wondered how Iggy had lived without them before. He devoured the entire series in less than two weeks,) as well as The Lord of the Rings box set and a few non-fiction books on ancient civilizations. On the inside cover, they all had his name spelt across it in grand calligraphy. Which surely said "These are yours, and yours alone". That Christmas he also received his first CD. A catalogue of Elvis's greatest hits. His large present was, to their delight, a keyboard. Not an expensive one, mind you, but a keyboard with a piano book. He could positively see Iggy's fingers itching to play it.

They could easily see the books played to their strengths at the time. Fang was thought to be the stronge, jock type (hence the sports balls), Max was to be the intelligent one, and Iggy was... well Iggy really didn't have a very clearly defined role in the group at the time. He was Iggy, and that was it.

Before the group had proper time to gush over the lavish gifts, the director had come, completely spoiling the joy of the day.

He came with several whitecoats at his call, armed with various papers and test results. They pointed out Iggy, clearing saying that it was him they were looking for.

Eventually, they came to learn that Roxanne and her husband were there to scout out a subject for a new experiment. The experiment? Night vision surgery.

The group had their vision tested before, Fang was apparently rather short sited, and Max only slightly far sited, and Iggy had perfect 20/20 vision. Making him, the ideal candidate for the surgery. So the date was set, for the third of February.

Iggy rolled his eyes at Fang's slur, "Could you just bring me the Lord of the Ring's book? Please? I really want to finish it."

Fang smiled, "No problem."

"Fang?"

The brunette boy turned with a start, and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell upon Iggy, the very person he'd set out to hide from.

He'd spent the last two hours or so on the rooftop, trying to sort out his feelings and turning out useless speeches he knew he could never say to a person. He was trying to think of the words that said, "I really like you, and I think I might be falling for you, so if I'm acting weird, that's why." Except... not as awkwardly. Or stupidly for that matter.

The thing was, he couldn't lead Iggy on thinking everything was just as normal as they'd ever been, because if/when he found out he'd probably be somewhat distraught. They shared a bed for god's sake!

Taking a deep breath. Fang managed to bring his pulse back to an acceptable rate, and checking in his feelings once more. Transforming into the stoic boy the rest of the Flock knew him as, he could finally face Iggy without feeling the urge to kiss him. So, he turned to him and said, in a somewhat mono-toned voice:

"Yes." It came out more as a statement than a question. And a lot harsher than he'd meant it

"Just wondering what you're doing!" Iggy said defensively, sensing a slight edge in Fang's voice. The smaller boy gave a slight wince at the sound of the hardness in his own voice that Iggy couldn't see. He quietly made a mental vow to soften his tone before speaking again, remembering this was Iggy, not Max he was speaking to.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "I'm just..."

He trailed off, what was he, anyways? He didn't even know! How could he possibly even begin to tell Iggy what he was feeling, if he didn't even know himself? That was when the realization started, the realization he was in over his head, and that he couldn't even begin to understand his own feelings, and that Iggy would be even less likely to understand.

That was it then, he couldn't tell him. Not now, not until-

"Stressed?" Iggy offered, his pale white hand seemed to glow in the moonlight as it gently fell on Fang's shoulder. But before Iggy could take a step closer he stepped away, pulling his arms tightly to his chest and shuddering an icy cold gust of wind ran through the air.

"I... I have to go," he said quietly, taking another step backwards, broken glass crunching under his boots as he did so.

"Fang," Iggy said, taking another step closer, "What's wrong? Please, tell me."

I want to so badly... He thought to himself, pulling his coat even tighter around him.

"You won't even talk to me anymore. It's like you're avoiding me."

Only for your own happiness. He shook his head, how could he possibly understand?

"Fang..." he paused, and shaking his head put his hands on Fang's arms, "Just forget what I said, okay? I didn't mean to... to upset you."

"I'm not upset!" Fang said defensively, as his brain seemed to turn on auto-pilot. Forgetting this was Iggy, who seemed like his only true friend in the world. Instead, he found himself twisting away, trying to escape his grasp, but Iggy's hands were firm, and he refused to let go. Fang was thankful for that.

"No, I suppose you're not, but come on, Fang, just forget it, please?" his voice was somewhat stern, but there was the same, light edge that made Iggy who he was.

"Fine," he said, his voice still simmering. He turned his head away, "forgotten."

"Good," Iggy's voice had suddenly turned quiet and breathy, so Fang had to strain to hear him over the hustle and bustle of the city below, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything," Fang found his voice mirrored Iggy's own breathy softness.

"Could you... perhaps write something down for me?" Fang felt a sigh of relief reach his lips as Iggy said so. This was a common thing for the two of them. Iggy, being his artistic self, he always had something going through his head, a song, a story, a poem, sometimes even a vision of some sort of masterpiece. He'd yet to share his vision of an artist masterpiece or the great American novel, though Fang knew he had many, mainly they kept to song and prose. Prose really, seeing as Fang's limited knowledge on how to read music had faded since childhood and the odds of him being able to carry any sort of tune were greatly outnumbered.

Fang had almost forgotten about their little ritual, it'd been so long. Not since the day they'd moved into the filth hole, a month, maybe two ago, had Iggy asked such a favor of Fang. He could have asked the other Flock members, true. But that was unlikely. Gazzy and Angel were too young to be able to fully appreciate such a thing. Nudge was too noisy, she'd break in with her own opinions and chatter on with questions that would eventually grow tiresome. A nuisance, if anything. Max was too stern, too busy. She had little time to spare, and even if she had time to spare it was unlikely that she would take Iggy as seriously as need be. She was flippant about most things to do with other's feelings.

No, Fang was the ideal candidate for such a thing. Iggy would not take anything less, at least, in Fang's mind.

"Of course," Fang said, "do you want to sit or something?"

"Sure," Iggy said, pulling a small notebook from his back pocket, and a rather dismal looking yellow #2 pencil. It was the same notebook that they had used all those months before, when they'd last met like this on top of a sky scraper. The pencil was new, or rather old, but newly found. Not that it made much of a difference.

Though reluctantly, Fang took Iggy's hands in his own and lead him towards the ledge, where he'd earlier placed a small, somewhat ragged blanket he'd stolen from below and brought up for his own protection against the cold (he'd planning to be up there for quite some time), though now he found it useful for another purpose.

"But," Iggy said, as they sat down on the cold concrete next to each other, "there are a few conditions."

"Oh... okay, then," Fang said, taking the notebook in his hands quietly and flipping to a clean page. There'd never been conditions before, it'd always been simply I talk, you write. Was he trying to stop Fang from spreading his words? Or was it something else? He wondered.

"Please... don't interrupt, okay?" No problems there, he never did.

"And don't ask questions, at least until I've finished." Once again, no problem.

"One last thing, though, Fang. You can't leave until I finish, okay?"

"Of course!" he was insulted at the thought Iggy would think he'd do so.

"Thank you," Iggy smiled, pulling himself closer to Fang, who shivered a bit at the feel of Iggy's hand brushing against his thigh, but did not protest nor abide his urge to move away.

"No problem," Fang said, squinting at the paper so he could properly see what he was writing. Thank god for enhanced bird vision.

"Okay," Iggy said, taking a deep breath, "here goes...

In this darkness I cannot see
Anything that truly would make it seem
As if one of the words you say is true
And as my heart beats faster for you
We grew together in a forbidden place
My heart a flutter at the sounds you make
I wish you were mine
But it may not be
I wish that you could only see
For if you were as blind as me
It would be as bright as day
In the way I walk with you
And the words I say
The colors of your voice
And the sounds of your wings
So soft and tranquil
And hidden meanings
I want to touch you
And hold you through these difficult times
But you heart does not beat as mine
And you may never know the truth
What I say I mean to you Fang
With this noose around my neck
My words will make me hang
For my love for you is far greater
Than the world."

"I..." Fang stuttered as he penned the last word. He must have heard wrong, because unless he was mistaken (and damn, he probably was,) Iggy just... said he loved him...

No, no... that was right...

Iggy just said he loved me.

"I don't know what to say," his voice squeaked, his face becoming flushed partially from excitement over Iggy's feelings, and partially from the embarrassment of his own loss for words.

"Then don't say anything," the blonde whispered. With that said, he leaned over and gently pressed his mouth against Fang's.

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.