A/N: Not really my characters or plot, sadly enough.

Chapter 16: One Kiss, Half a Kiss

"I told mother."

That is the first words that leaves his mouth that morning. I am seated in the chair by his desk, having been waiting for him to wake up. With torso half raised and hair on end, he is looking away from me, at the indefinite patterns on the sheet. I force myself to stay silent, not wanting to interrupt now when he finally has decided to speak. I feel absentminded, numb, something close to what I think a drunk person would feel like. I wouldn't know, I've never been drunk.

"I told her of Vicki, of how she tricked you into playing truant. We both agreed that she was a bad influence." He scrunches up his nose. "Then I told her not to tell you that I told her of that stupid incident.. and of how friendless and impressionable I knew you to be. I told her that I only wanted to protect you, which is true.. to some extent."

He pauses, as if for dramatic effect, and cast a glance towards me. And I just sit there, unmoving as stone, barely blinking. ".. and she said she wouldn't mention it as long as it didn't happen again and that I was to keep an eye out. Mother can be reasonable.. if she wants to. Either way, I knew she wouldn't tell. It would have put us both in quite an uncomfortable position. Me, being the snitch and you, being the the one to ditch." And he smiles with his lips facing inwards. "But she did talk to Vicki's parents, as I hoped, and to Vicki too I suspect. Nevertheless, she got what she deserved and I made sure she made herself unavailable to you."

He waits for me to react, and I do.. on the inside, there is an explosion of fire. But he can't tell, I am sitting perfectly still.

"How?"

"Why, I spoke to her of course.. when you weren't there. And sometimes when you were, although you were to busy, or daft to notice. She got the message. Soon enough, poor Vicki had to switch school."

Unconciously, my upper lip pulls into a thin line.

"And why?" I manage. But the words are barely intelligible. That fire is growing bigger, the smoke from it clouding the blue skies..

At that he raises his head and meets my eye.

"As I told you, she was a bad influence."

"It was not for you to decide," I respond, making fists.

He crawls out of bed and before I know it, he is kneeling at my feet.

"But it was necessary," he says, after which he leans forward and kisses the top of my naked thigh. If I had felt anything, I would've felt his stubble tickle my skin there, and his chest touching my knee in the process. But I do not even flinch at the contact.

"I remember telling mother once, when I was three, maybe four, that I was going to marry you. She laughed at me, pinched my cheek and told me it wasn't a possibility - that brothers couldn't marry sisters and vice versa."

"You want to marry me?" I ask before I can stop myself, putting an end to him reminiscing about the good old days. He refuses to meet my eye, choosing to regard the thigh which he just kissed.

"Not necessarily.. I simply wish to call you my own. You've always been mine Hermione, but just like my feelings when I was little, you can't understand it, that which you feel for me. And because you can't understand it, the reality of it does not struck you. You must face reality Hermione, sooner or later."

And so he leans forward to kiss my thigh again. And this time, I am too angry to take it. So I take a vicious hold of his dark hair and pulls his face harder into my lap. Briefly wishing to smother him. Then – quickly - I let go, but not before feeling the hard row of his teeth involuntarily leaving saliva onto my skin, followed by the gentle breeze of his breath ... I've never really been a violent person before, and neither do I really enjoy hurting Tom. He doesn't deserve it, not really. Indifference, I should give him. Indifference, he deserves. And when I look into his eyes, he shows no emotion, only weariness.

And I feel weary too, I feel like I lived a thousand years and have a thousand more to come.

As I walk out the door, Tom's voice stops me.

"Knowledge doesn't always bring good things Hermione," he says, as if to berate me, the last thing he does. As if I didn't know its truth - when I'm living its cruel reality.

After school, I go to visit Abraxas. He lives in a nice neighbourhood, similar to the one Tom and I live in. The houses are neatly put in a row and when I knock on the door, his mother opens. She looks like something out of a catalogue, dressed in eggshell white trousers, a matching blouse and a dusty pink silk scarf. She greets me with a big smile, as white as her clothing and identical to that of Abraxas'. I can't decide whether I like her or not, maybe it is too early to tell.

Abraxas is lying on the couch, watching the telly. His hand lazily holds the remote control, like he is ready to quickly switch the channel the moment the program becomes too boring.

"Hiya," I say and he turns, bringing one of those smiles with him.

"Hiya," he answers, reaching for my hand but I pretend not to notice, taking a seat in the armchair next to his head.

"How are you doing?"

"Alright I suppose. It itches like hell but at least I got the day off."

I shake my head, amused. When he reaches for my hand again, I let him take it.

"I missed you," he says and it hurts more than its supposed to. Most likely because I didn't miss him in return. The guilt is eating me alive.

"Your mother seems nice," I say evasively. For some reason, it makes him chuckle. His warm fingers caresses mine.

"Please call her mom. And she's alright I suppose. Like any other mom."

After that, we go quiet for a while, watching TV in silence. A game show of some sorts, with the obligatory sarcastic presenter and forced laughter.

"Listen.." I begin.

"Uh oh.. should I sit up for this?"

I punch his arm with my free hand and he comically wince.

"I haven't even started talking yet!"

"But I know what you're gonna say." He cast a glance towards the screen and I break a little inside when I meet his eyes again. Sadness does not suit him.

"This.. this isn't working out is it?" he whispers. The laughter from the TV appears extraordinary loud."

"I really like you Abraxas.. you're funny and easy-going.. but the timing is not right.."

"Riiight.." he interrupts me. "That's a new one." He rolls his eyes but I'm not even angry, seeing how devastated he really is.

"So.. as long as we're mentioning clichés, wanna stay friends?" I ask.

He chews his bottom lip and squeezes my hand harder.

"That will be hard. Letting you go will be hard. I really, really.. like you Hermione." His voice breaks.

I lay my other hand over his, cupping his hand in both of mine. Trying my hardest not to cry and failing. At least my tears proves that I am still human after all; that I didn't sell my soul to whatever devil Tom has dealt with.

"Life goes on," I say, and in context, it might sound harsh, but Abraxas gets it. He nods.

"So it does."

Abraxas' hand is clammy in mine but I don't mind. Life does go on. He rubs his red eyes against his sleeve.

"Wanna watch this crappy show with me?" he asks, trying to put himself together.

"Sure.. but firstly, I want to write on your cast. Can I do that?"
"Of course!" he exclaims, somewhere between laughing and snivelling. "Use that pen over there," he points towards the mess on the coffee table. I pick it up and sit down at the edge of the sofa. He stares at me as I try to make neat letters. I hold up a hand as a shield and tell him not to look at my creation. He chuckles again, and I am pleased with the sound. When I'm done, I put the pen back on the messy table and sit down in the armchair again. We watch the game show together and he does not attempt to look at what I've wrote. I know he will do so after I have left.

Good things comes to a man with a smile. And you, you bastard, you've got a thousand.

And so, life goes on.

A/N: Hello earthlings! I'm back from space. (Okay not really, but wouldn't that have been cool though?) Either way, I'm hoping to stay here for a while. Since my last update I worked my a** off Hermione-style, went to China and up until yesterday, I was isolated in the north of Sweden, trying to work on my novel (which is something in between a hot mess and a masterpiece at the moment). As far as "Colours of a Black Hole" is concerned.. well, we have taken care of some unfinished business, now we can move on to the next part of the story. If you're confused about the break up, well be that. Without delving waaay too deep into this.. sometimes we don't get an explanation as to why. I pretty much wanted it to be one of those moments, when you just "know" that it's the end.
As for the future.. I've got some horrible ideas y'all. See, I never really learned when to draw the line. But if you're as disturbed as me (bless you), you will hopefully like it.