I'm in an awfully crappy mood, which is why I'm writing poetry to get some stuff out of my system. It's turned into stuff that makes my friends debate on whether or not to drag me to the social worker or not. D: Oh dear…

I slipped as silently as possible into the seat next to Fang in English the next day. I must have been pretty quiet because he didn't notice that I was there until I tapped his desk. He looked up at me in surprise but he was also sort of pleased to see me. At least, that's what it looked like.

"Hey." He nodded at me. Then he grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote on it.

'Hey yourself.' I made a noise between a giggle and a laugh.

"So nice, aren't you?"

'I know I am.'

"Fang, why won't you talk?" I asked. Wow, way to be subtle.

'Because.'

"Because…?"

'I don't have anything to say.'

"Are you kidding me?" I asked. I looked at him, stunned. "You have a lot to say! I mean, sure, you don't actually open your mouth and talk but there's so much stuff that you could be saying but you're just not saying it out loud. You're writing it on paper so I can see that you have thoughts that want to escape your mind but you never actually make yourself heard! Why?"

'Because.'

"Seriously!"

'Okay, fine. It's like when you're chatting with someone online. It's a lot different than chatting in person; nothing there could have any emotion because you can't hear the person's tone of voice. And you can only see the thought once the person has written it down and sent it to you. After it's written down, you can have a second or two to make sure you wrote the right thing. You can delete what you wrote if you don't want to say it to the person. But when you talk out loud…there's no delete button.'

"So what?" I asked. "How many things could you say and regret in one conversation?"

'A lot.'

"Oh really?"

'I've said things that have chased people away. I scared them. When I write words down, I can wait a moment, reflect on what I'm about to say before I say it.'

"Seriously? Wow, you've got more depth than I thought."

'I'll take that as a compliment.' And there was a sudden surge of annoyance that stuck through me. I didn't know if he was being sarcastic, if he meant to say it in a wry manner, or if he really meant what he said.

"Couldn't you add a little note on what kind of tome you're using or something?" I asked, frustrated. He grabbed the piece of very doodled on paper and drew a little SarcMark and a little smiley face next what he just wrote. "Much better."

'Everything I need to say, I can say it on paper.'

"No you can't."

'Yes I can.'

(A/N: I swear, it came out in an unexpected way but I'm keeping it like that. Right after I wrote that chunk on conversation, I went on YouTube to listen to 'Anything you can do, I can do better.')

"Nuh uh!"

'Yuh huh…'

"There are a lot of things that you can't write on paper," I argued. "And besides, what if you can't spell something?" Fang suddenly smiled and I could have sworn that the world spun faster in the one moment. He rummaged through his backpack and pulled something out. A dictionary.

Has it ever bothered anyone that typically, no matter what, we know that Max and Fang will in love in the end? And does it bother anyone that their own love life isn't nearly as perfect and that unlike Max and Fang, we don't know who we'll end up with in the end? No? Yes? Care to review?

By the way, I'm sorry for not updating in so long; I lost the only copy of this chapter when my flash drive went POOF! Then I found it which is why you have this update. :D