"C-can you eat just a little bit? Lifty, all I've seen you e-eat is frozen meals and prepackaged snacks, you need real food." Flaky persisted, holding the spoon of oatmeal to his sealed lips. She tried forcing through them, but his growls would stop her.

"Just o-open your mouth." As she pulled back the utensil and pushed it to him again, he moved his head so it bluntly hit his jaw. Flaky frowned and straightened up. "Okay, now you're acting like a-a little kid. It's not going to hurt you to eat it."

"You could've poisoned it, I wouldn't know," Lifty retorted, flicking off the white mush. "I don't like oatmeal, it tastes like I'm eating sand. Lumpy sand."

"It's packed full of nutritious things though," none of these so called nutritious things came to mind, and she wasn't positive that the breakfast item even had nutritious value. "Open your mouth, it's g-going to be good for you."

"Nah," defiantly, he turned away and pushed the spoon back. "I'm not eating it."

"Lifty," Flaky pouted and led it to his lips, hitting against the barricade softly. "Open. Q-quit being stubborn and just eat t-the food." Turning her position and going on her knees, she put her hand between her thighs and raised herself above the couch, concentration leaking into her expression. "Here c-comes the train, woot woot, the food express is on its way, but Lifty won't open h-his mouth so how is the train supposed to—"

"That's the stupidest thing you've said, quit it." Lifty restrained the urge to fling the oatmeal across the room. "Why don't you eat it?"

She had gone over it before, she had eaten already and had her daily dose of mush, she wasn't about to eat his too. "Because, t-this is yours, not mine."

"Then I guess it's gonna go to waste~"

Well . . there was one thing she could try, but it would be risky, could also possibly end with his front teeth being chipped. If she timed it right while he was talking, she could lean over and jab the spoon in his open mouth. Downside, he'd might have a dentist appointment to see what they could do about his teeth, upside, he'd eat his oatmeal.

"B-but Lifty," she bit her lip and looked at him from under her long, naturally curved eyelashes. "I made it for y-you . ."

Was the look cute? Sure, why not, but was he going to fall for it? There wasn't a chance in the world he was that gullible. "Ha, nice try, little girl." He picked up a pillow, about to cover her face and the 'Pwease?' look. "But I'm not stupi—Kah!"

Flaky had jumped at the chance, placing her hand on his inner thigh and giving herself leverage, then sticking the spoon into his mouth. She had plunged it in far enough so it hit the back of his throat, triggering his gag reflex and adding to the shock that her hand had created.

"Aha!" she smiled as he jerked his head back. "N-now you know that oatmeal isn't that—" Shutting her eyes, she squeaked when he coughed, sending flying flecks of the mush to stick on her face and in her hair. His coughing lasted another minute, in which Flaky sat statue still, mouth twisted in disgust at the prospect of having to wipe off the saliva covered food.

"Thanks so fucking much, I love choking on prison food, why don't you hire someone to shove a spoon down my damn throat while you're at it," sarcasm thick, each word soaking in it, Lifty intended to be in a grouchy mood because of her, but seeing her shut eyes and lips mouthing words of revulsion, he couldn't suppress a smirk. And a chuckle. "Are you happy with what you did?~"

Flaky looked to him and whimpered, taking her small fist and punching his arm harmlessly. "Y-You're so—! . . Gross."

He was going to retort to that, but a knock at the door sounded. Tensing, he bumped his head towards it, telling whose turn it was to answer.

"You're too l-lazy," Flaky grumbled, getting off the couch and stepping to the door, "I should m-make you go r-running every day . ." Door opening, she smiled a little friendlier than normal and immediately opened the screen. "H-hey, Flips, I haven't seen you for—"

"—over a week," Flippy finished, glowering behind his humorous tone and expression when he thought of why that was. "I almost thought you disappeared, was getting worried about you, but you're here so!"

"Yeah, I've j-just been occupied with . . . stuff," she shrugged and curled a finger through her hair. She didn't want to go in depth about what she had done every day, hour to hour, for the past week like she knew he wanted her to do. He would find out eventually, anyways, from friends with too big of mouths. She looked back and saw Lifty's arms thrown over the couch, eyes trained on the veteran in a heated stare.

"Yeah . . so," Flippy beckoned her onto the porch and shut the door behind her. "How has what's his face—"

"Lifty."

"—yuh huh, Lifty, how's he been doing? He hasn't been giving you any problems right? Because I heard Lammy going on and saying he was the most untamed, indecent, scoundrel she had ever met . . ? Does that ring a bell?" Lammy really had a gossiper's mouth, almost as bad as Giggles', even Flippy had managed to hear it from her-and they hardly briefed together. If this continued, the entire town would have an opinion on the thief based on a half told story, and they wouldn't be talking good about him.

"You shouldn't believe everything that Lammy says," said Flaky, trying to understand in what way Lifty's attitude was any of her business. "A-and why are you listening to gossip? Lifty is none of those things, I d-don't know why people think of him like that . . He's not a bad g-guy if you got to know him . ."

"Oh yeah? And what do you know about him?" He countered.

"Well I know that . ." It hit her: she knew next to nothing about the twin, besides who he was reputation wise and the one person in his blood line, and she still claimed that he wasn't bad at all when she was as clueless as the others. But that wasn't it, she did know a few things about him . .

"I know that he d-doesn't like new people very much, he likes being solitary, a-and . ." She giggled, interrupting what she was going to say when Flippy wiped the oatmeal from her face, and with no thought on where it had been, put it in his mouth; in his perspective, it had touched Flaky's skin, so it must be okay to eat! "He doesn't like oatmeal."

Flippy looked at her strangely. "Mm?"

"He doesn't like oatmeal. U-um, he coughed that on me, Flippy. It was in his mouth already." Her giggles grew as, repulsed, Flippy turned and spat out the softened oats onto her plants. He groaned about getting rabies and wiped his tongue so fierce with his sweater that he'd find out he couldn't taste anything for lunch that day.

"Blah, bah!" he spat again, nose wrinkling. "That was-I really do hope he brushes his teeth."

"I . . think he does." That was something to ponder on, seeing how she hadn't given him a toothbrush. But every morning, his breath smelled minty fresh and there wasn't a stain on his flashing teeth, so how was it that . . . Flaky was placed a finger on her lips and began suspecting why it was that her toothbrush was wet every morning before she was awake, surely it would've dried overnight.

Breaking her from her thoughts that wanted to interrogate Lifty and find out if he used her toothbrush, Flippy said, "Great, well maybe he can brush them really good while we're out today."

"What? We're going o-out today?" Why wasn't she informed of this?

"Yup! The fair's just around the corner, so I thought it'd be fun for just us two to hang out together, like the old times when . . ." When they were closer, no rotten jobs or thieves to get in the way of their friendship.

"I would love to go," even if it was short notice, and he basically made plans for them without giving her a heads up, "but Lifty has to g-go too."

"For what? This was supposed to be our fun time," maybe he was being greedy, but so what, "why does he have to go?"

"Because I s-said he's going to," said Flaky flatly, turning Flippy's arguments into nothing as he accepted the fact that the twin was going with them whether he wanted or not. "It'll give u-us a time to bond, and I think . . that maybe you'll both like each other b-by the end of the day . ." She poked her fingers together solemnly. "And, if y-you like him and you two are f-friends . . people might warm up to him too . ."

He could always give a denial to her and say he couldn't attend with them, or he could bare through it and spend what time he could with her. "I guess that he could come" —he rubbed his neck— "but if he gets snappy, I won't hesitate to give him a good punch." He smiled, imagining pushing the twin's head into the open cotton candy bowl to be wrapped in the sugary webs.

"O-ooh!" Flaky squealed, glad that the two boys in her life would be hanging out. "T-thank you so much Flippy! We're going to have so much fun, and you'll s-see how kind he can be! I-I promise you won't regret d-doing this! I'll go tell him right now!" And she turned, traipsing inside and simply closing the screen door.

The only thing he heard, and it already struck his annoyance, was an exaggerated groan and, "Why do I have to go? I don't like his face, it bugs, so why do you want me to look at it all day now?"

xXx

If there was one place, the one place that was more wretched than any friend's house or a business, it was the golly, crowded fairgrounds. The air smelled of sugared treats and cotton candy, greasy foods that clogged up any person who ate its arteries and popcorn drenched in butter, cheap pizzas and hotdogs that flies swarmed on; all combined to make the tight packed arrangement of tents and booths. The fair was there for citizens to come and enjoy the poorly crafted rides, thinking that they would be safe because the seats had safety bars. With its overpriced tickets and stuffed prizes that would fall apart at the seam, it was a boring Friday afternoon's perception of fun.

He could've been sprawled on the couch, his napping station, instead of seated on a stool that was too tall for the table, memorizing the faces of every passing person while his hostess spoke idly to the goody two shoes douche bag who had invited them. Let him correct that, who had invited Flaky, and sent a look of despise at the thief when he was dragged out with her, the thief muttering, "Well hello to you too, Mr. Sunshine." But no, he had to come and 'bond', Flaky had called it, with the veteran, because nobody likes a person who's antisocial.

But they weren't doing bonding of any sort—the two males weren't, anyways. Lifty had turned to the table again, elbows placed on the surface rudely, and staring through half lidded eyes at a pizza worker sneakily picking a slice of peperoni of a customer's order and eating it. His lips were latched onto a bendable straw as he barely registered the sound of empty air being sucked into it, too invested in counting how many slices the worker was eating in secret.

Flippy, on the other hand, was radiating with the pleasure of having Flaky's full attention on him, talking about books he had read and documentaries he had seen in the past week where they hadn't had connection, asking if she could dog sit for him in a few days because he had the late shift, having to count the inventory of books the library had, and eagerly wanting to know every last detail of her day. With questions like, "And when you woke up, did you hear the birds?" and, "Did you see that new silent movie that Mime's been putting fliers up about?" it was a wonder she hadn't lost the look of interest she had no trouble keeping.

Lifty's ears were just about bleeding with how happy and friendly the soldier's voice was when speaking to anyone but him, what he got was the sourness that someone would have if they had just bitten into a tart fruit. And when it was that occasion that he lost count of the slices and looked to Flippy, he would get a murderous stare in return before the cover up of fluffiness and good will hid it. What was up with everyone and their jealousness . . . it wasn't like he was openly groping the redhead or putting a ring on her finger.

Even if he had been doing either of those things, it wasn't fair that everyone gave him the cold shoulder—though he gladly gave it back, more times than none being the one who started the hate game.

Flaky, drawn out from their conversation by the dry sucking and rattling of ice cubes, became aware that he was still there, and staring quite bored at a fly that was buzzing around the trashcan. His pizza was untouched — he had found a hair in it. Though, he wasn't a clean freak, he had standards when it came to what conditions his food was prepared in — and he didn't seem like he would be jabbing it with a fork like he had been before. She frowned as Flippy continued on to forever about how his jeep now had TVs installed, taking her full cup and swapping its place with Lifty's.

She bent and poked the straw through his lips, nodding and saying "Uh huh" where she thought it was necessary, and as she succeeded in getting through his poorly blocked mouth, compared to earlier where he had cemented them together, his drinking went on. He hadn't paused during the switch, more asleep than awake due to the other male's eternally droning voice, so when the new, fizzy liquid had entered his mouth and quenched his thirst, it had resulted in him sputtering and choking—again.

Flaky patting his back, Lifty coughed into his elbow, Flippy still speaking, now, about one of Cuddles' soccer games he had gone to see Wednesday evening. . . .

"Cuddles is actually a really good player, have you seen his kicks? They're so strong and he's faster than Toothy, too. Not sure how many miles that kid could go if somebody recorded him, but anyways, it was an intense game. Next time you have to come and watch—"

"G-d damn, do you ever stop talking?" Lifty hissed through coughs. "You're like an overexcited kid who wants to tell their mom every damn thing that's happened in their boring life. Just shut up for an instance, will you? And thank you for noticing that I'm choking, it really means a lot to me, friend." He sneered, temporarily letting Flaky touch and wipe off the soda stains from his shirt.

"N-now Lifty . ." scolded Flaky. "Be nice . . Flippy paid for your admission so I don't think it's n-nice of you to be mean to him . ."

"Me mean to him—!?" he asked, outraged that the solider boy was being labeled as the good boy when he was the one causing the problems. "I'm not doing shit to him! Just look at his face, look at it." Glaring at the thinly veiled smugness, he was close to throwing the cup of soda at his smirking face. He was being annoying enough with his constant talk of the most boring topics ever, and now he was playing the innocent act. "Oho, I could just punch that stupid ass smirk off your damn fa—"

"LIFTY!" Flaky interjected, fishing a five dollar bill from her purse and stuffing it in his hands. Her voice was understanding, but firm as she said that it would be best if he went to go buy some cotton candy or ice cream. She pat his hand and smiled, voice soothing as she tried to lower his temper that had acted up around everyone he'd been introduced to. "I t-think you need to take a little walk . . cool down . . take a-all the time you need . . Please, Lifty . . you can't yell at e-every one of your problems . ."

But he could surely try to.

Stiffly gripping the money and standing, he glared at the forest green eyes that were alight and taunting him—the vet might have even stood up and laughed in his face if Flaky was elsewhere, not in the middle of them. Lifty muttered a fuck you before striding away and swiping a child's ice cream cone from their hands on his way to nowhere. He wouldn't be spending that money, ha, it was the least he deserved for putting up with Flippy's bullshit.

"That went well," Flippy sniggered and took the lid off of his abandoned soda, sipping from it and catching Flaky's stare, her lips firm. He smiled nervously, assuming that she wasn't pleased with the little show that had gone on right then, laughing out, "Lots of drama with that one, huh?"

"W-why are you, all of you, so against him?" she asked, voice turning hopeless. She wanted to help him . . . but nobody seemed to want to make an effort at getting along with him besides her. It was sad to see that every new opportunity to make a friend was pushed away when the twin opened his mouth. Others would say that it was because of the problems he started, but she believed that if he had a friend that wasn't her to talk to, he'd grow kinder, but since everyone was shunning and purposely not including him in anything, how was he supposed to feel warmness to them?

If anything, he'd had grown even more bitter than when it was just him and his brother. Together they had shared the hatred that everyone served to them in a dog bowl, so it wasn't as bad, because they knew how each other felt and that they were getting even amounts of the vileness. But alone, the spotlight was solely on him, and he had no one to give some of the weight to so they could share and burden it together. She would help him with it, but he was locking her out . . if everyone tried to help, they could pull the door open and show him the kindness he needed . .

"I-is it because of . ." Flaky was at a loss for words, staring at her balled hands and seeking an answer. "Am I not trying hard enough . . ?"

"Flaky," Flippy said, "you can't do a thing to change the path he's chosen. The sooner you accept that the better . . . maybe you should just" —she looked to him with eyes that asked to continue what he was going to say— "just, well, ditch him. He'd go back to his brother, right? Look, he's not here right now, so maybe we should just walk away, and if he shows up at your house again, tell him to leave you alone."

Flaky gaped, then closed her mouth and slumped in her seat. She wanted to help him, she wanted to get him to try harder and strive for leaving his thieving ways behind, but . . was ditching him the best solution? It wouldn't affect her life too much, and the guilt would subside some time or later, but could she bring herself to just walking away and leaving him at the fair without saying a thing?

"I . ."

"Stupid . . fucker . ." Lifty muttered, walking back from his lap from the pizza booth, to the last food stand, and back. His anger had slowly ebbed away as he thought of new names for the veteran, a way to vent out his frustration without punching a booth and getting escorted from the fair grounds. "It's all his fault, don't know why I'm the one getting blamed." Blamed for every last thing, it had always been that way. Things hadn't changed, even if his living order had, apparently the trait of being blamable hadn't left him.

His eyes drifted upwards from the trotted ground and his feet slowly drew to a stop, the stolen ice cream, melting in his hand already, falling to the ground. He felt the sickening jolt in his chest that he had whenever he used to lose sight of his brother during a heist, followed by it quickening as he scanned the tables. The twin kept a look that was unconcerned as his hands grew sweaty; he put them in his pockets and walked to the table where they had been seated at.

The soda, three quarters filled, was there along with the pizza that was nest to six or seven flies, but his hostess and the solider were gone. They hadn't left a note, just a stack of napkins, the ends fluttering in the light wind, under the soda. Their things were gone as well; they hadn't gone to the bathroom, intending to come back to gather their belongings. Even then, one of them would've stayed behind to watch them.

Searching the area as casually as he could, he frowned when he didn't catch a hair of them. The unfamiliar faces grew into a blur as he felt each of their stares on his face, rubbing his ears to get the fake whispering to go away. Lifty licked his drying lips, the heat in his cheeks growing until it felt as though someone had a magnifying glass and was directing the channeled sunlight to his face. His throat had turned parch again, but not from thirst.

From the sick realization that he was alone.

The tops of the heads were of random colors, but none were the red, or even the green, which he was looking for. They had been waiting for this chance, no wonder Flaky had said that he was going despite his groans, she had wanted him out of her hair, and with the war vet there to help her, she had done it. At first he hadn't believed the feeling that was sitting like a peach pit in his stomach, but there was no doubt now. And they hadn't the courtesy to tell him—he clenched the money in his pocket, her money, and began ripping it with his fingers.

Emerald eyes darkening, he went from the booth. First his own brother, and now the girl that he was beginning to trust. She lied, she had said there was good people in the world, and he had secretly believed her, how else would she be there? But now he knew that people, even the nicest and good willed of heart, were deceptive . . .—

"Lifty! H-hey Lifty! Over here!"

Lifty's eyes widened at the voice, stare turning to the waving girl, curls of red hair jumping with each wave, who had called him.

"Lifty!" Flaky called, smiling. "C-come on! We're waiting f-for you!" Next to her, Flippy was gazing at him apprehensively before he smiled, a true smile instead of the other forced ones he'd delivered. She said something to him that caused him to nod and walk on without her. The girl smiled more, beckoning him over.

When he had gotten over his uncertainty and strolled to her, he raised a brow and glared at her, saying gruffly, "I thought you left."

"W-why would you think that?" questioned Flaky innocently. "Didn't you see the note?"

Note? "What note?"

"Flippy scribbled on a napkin to meet us at the Ferris wheel a-and put it under soda . . you didn't see it?" That would explain why he had taken so long, making them turn around halfway there and find him looking around with a lost expression.

"No," he answered truthfully, scowling at how stupid he was. If he had just moved the damn cup, he wouldn't have been standing there like an idiot. He must have looked pathetic to other people, the fear of a child who didn't know where their parent was in his eyes.

"O-oh, but h-hey, we came back!" she piped. "I t-told Flippy to go save us a spot in line, don't worry, I made him promise that he'd b-be nicer to you. That is what you w-want?" At his shrug, she giggled and hooked her arm in his, tugging him along with little resistance. "But you be nicer, too! Okay?"

". . Okay," he sighed out, figuring he could keep his remarks back while around the veteran for the remainder of the day. Lifty stared down at the shorter female who smiled up at him, kindness in every feature of her round face, and wondered how he could've thought she had left. She wouldn't abandon him . . .

Yet.

xXx

Alright! So this is the last filler chapter xD and also the halfway mark of this story! I have the next eight/nine chapters planned out, so hopefully I'll get this done sooner now :3

*hugs Crystal from behind and breaths down her neck* you're all mine . . all mine . . *kills anyone who goes near her*