Writing Challenge: 100 Stories. 1 Month.

[Horus Richmond]

2. Physical

Horus had always hated his body.

The skin wasn't taut or firm, it was soft and pliable, it moved in tiny little undulations when he ran and if he wore a tight t-shirt, a belly bulge reminded him that he could never be a pinup in a magazine. Every night when he undressed feelings of self-loathing brewed in his stomach and made him want to do something drastic, something violent and angry to his skin.

Or at least, that was how he had felt, those months ago.

The cool side of the pillow pressed against his cheek and caused him to shift, grumbling drowsily, backwards into the warmth. An arm draped casually across that stomach he had cursed with angry words, and warm breath tickled the back of his neck. Something coiled in Horus' stomach and he sat up, stirring his bedmate and the light switched on. Wordlessly slipping out of bed, the blonde stared at his stomach from various angles in the mirror, grabbing it and prodding it, a bewildered look on his face.

"What is it, love?" The low, soothing voice from the bed asked.

Horus took a sharp sigh and continued shifting back and forth, utterly puzzled, before replying. "I look thinner." He replied hopefully, glancing over to the bleary, spectacled figure leant against the headboard. The bed creaking as weight left it was his only answer, a pair of warm, familiar hands touching the skin that Horus had so violently inspected with pinches.

"You look just as beautiful as always." The sleepy voice said, tucking his arms around Horus waist, keeping him from fidgeting any further. "Honestly Horus, just come back to bed?" The voice was growing lower and slightly more slurred as sleep further affected him.

"But y'have t'say that." Horus protested, moving back to bed and flopping down, a head resting on a familiar chest. "Y'such a fibber, Elliot." He pouted up at the dark haired man, trying to keep a straight face as a series of yawns hit him. A serious, but loving look was all he received before the light clicked off again. The warmth of Elliot's body was intoxicating and the little blonde felt it permeating his skin, lids growing heavier and heavier. A half-hearted mumble of disagreement was all he could muster as slow, steady thuds of his lover's heartbeat settled him.

Even though he'd protested, that night something had changed. Physically, no, but mentally, Horus realised someone would always, always find him beautiful.

And that was good enough for him.

[Chase Campbell]

93. Right

Chase was a heavy sleeper, normally. A herd of wild animals stampeding through the bedroom wouldn't wake him. So it was unusual that the faint sound of crying caught his attention enough to rouse him. The blond forced his eyes open and sat up, pressing his hand to his face. James was still asleep, but the jostling on the mattress was enough to wake him up as well. "... Chase? What time is it?"

"Three," he answered simply as he slid out of bed. "Go back to sleep, Jamie. I'll deal with it." James looked wary, but he lay back down and watched his husband retreat out of the room.

Just downstairs, the quiet crying continued. Chase wanted to groan and go back to bed, pretend that he didn't hear the four year old girl. Instead, he was being responsible. He didn't pause as he padded into June's room. "Juney? Baby, what's wrong?" Back when they'd first met June as a tiny baby, Chase had nearly had a panic attack at the very thought of this happening. Something would go wrong with her, and chances were, he would have no idea what it was, nor how to fix it. But he had to try. Worst case scenario, he'd have to wake James up. He didn't want to wake James, though. He had just come back from a tough recruitment trip.

June lifted her head from the pillow, looking sad. "Tummy hurts," she whimpered before sitting up and reaching for Chase. The trainer perched on the edge of the child's bed and gathered her up into his arms. She felt warm. Fever? June nuzzled her face into Chase's neck, her little hands fisted in her father's shirt. Chase would be the first to admit he didn't know what to do. A kid with a fever and a stomach ache. This was usually James’ department. Gently, he tried rocking himself back and forth, in the hopes that the girl might just fall back asleep. No such luck, as it just made June whimper and curl up tighter against him. "Daaaaddy. I feel sick."

"... Sick-sick, honey? Like you're gonna puke?" There was a silent nod as his answer. Chase managed to get to his feet without jostling the girl too much, and carried her to the bathroom. He spent half an hour with her, holding her hand, stroking her hair, and gently consoling her, all the while wondering if he was doing the right thing. Was this bad? Should he be waking James, or taking June to a doctor? He didn't know.

Finally, June seemed to collapse against him, too tired to even hold her head up anymore. Chase coaxed her into rinsing out her mouth, and drinking some water before carrying her back to bed. He was awake now, running on the adrenaline that came only from situations like this. After tucking June back in, Chase quietly murmured stories to her until she fell asleep.

James woke up to his alarm, and to an empty bed. He slipped his glasses on and headed down the stairs. All the lights were still out, save for the bathroom and June's night light. He peeked into the girl's room, a soft smile on his face. Chase was sprawled across June's bed, his arms wrapped around their daughter. Giving them a few more minutes, James headed for the kitchen and started on breakfast. By the sounds of things, June might not want to eat, so he simply made up some plain toast for her, then began on omelettes for himself and Chase.

Once breakfast was done, James returned to June's room and gently roused the both of them. "Good morning," he greeted quietly. Chase's bleary look confirmed he didn't sleep much. June's bleary look confirmed that she still wasn't feeling well. James offered them both a sympathetic smile. "Breakfast is ready, if you want it." Chase smiled and gently stroked June’s cheek.

“Ready for breakfast, baby?” She slowly shook her head, nuzzling back into the pillow.

“Not hungry,” she mumbled, eyes closing again. Chase sighed and got up, gently tucking her back in.

“Maybe later,” he offered. “But first, I want you to do something for me. Stay here.” The trainer left the room, heading to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He found what he was looking for, dosed it out, and brought back some Children’s Tylenol for her. “Take this, then you can go back to sleep.” June shifted and took the medication, giving her father’s arm a hug before settling back down again. Chase gently stroked her hair before taking back the little measuring cup and bringing it to the kitchen to wash.

James followed him, slowly. He knew his husband inside and out. And even though he knew the blond man doubted nearly everything he did as a father, there was a small flaw with his doubts. He did things right.

Chase stiffened as he set the newly rinsed cup on the counter to dry. He could feel James’ gaze on him. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave him a questioning look. “What, Jamie?” James just smiled and came up behind him, wrapping his arms firmly around him.

“You are a good father.” Chase glanced at the floor, blushing slightly. “And I still think she has your eyes.”

[Eric Bower]

86. Invasion

"...and then they make this really loud siren kinda sound, like WEEE-WOOORRRRWOORRRWOORRR." The toddler's eyes flew wide in amazement then grabbed for his uncles hands so he could be picked up. The faintly bearded black haired, tanned skinned man, bowed to his nephew's wishes and then picked him up.

"Wha happened theeen?" The boy asked, brown eyes full of wonder. Eric grinned crookedly at his nephew and shrugged a shoulder, which got a very big frown from the small boy.

"Well I don't really know, What do you think happened T-dawg?" Trevor was actually his nephew's name, but Eric thought four years old was old enough to be a gansta. He set the boy down when he started squirming to be let down. Trevor ran over to his toy box, all the while babbling in his almost-English language about how the aliens would land in his front yard, to taste ice cream, and how he would have to help with the family dog Biscuit-head (no seriously. The dog's name was Biscuit-head). Eric watched and pretended to be listening, but really, he had no idea what the boy was telling him.

"And then what happened?" Eric asked as the boy paused only long enough to get a breath before he started telling a whole different tale about how these aliens were trying to find toothpaste that tasted good, so they could brush their teeth so the didn't have to go to the 'denteeth'. Eric chuckled to himself at the boy's imagination and could totally see how his older brother thought Trevor would take after Eric.

It was almost as if thinking about Justin, that caused his older brother to call him. Eric picked his phone out of his pocket and answered the phone; Trevor had frozen mid-story to turn to look at Eric, "Daddy?!" He asked. Eric nodded and put his finger to his lips. The happy boy jumped up and ran to him and started to climb into his lap.

"Sup brother from the same mother?" Eric asked, he felt Justin roll his eyes.

"How is he behaving?"

"He's been a good boy. Well he emptied out his toy box in the playroom, but besides that he has been good." Eric closed his hand over Trevor's babbling mouth (dear lord that boy could talk), which caused the toddler to start squirming.

"Good, good. Look, me and Theresa are stuck on the highway. Traffic is completely stopped. There must be a wreck up ahead or something. We'll be late. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I only have Exams tomorrow. They'll let me make those up. Oh wait. I'm in college; no. No they won't let me make them up." It was true that he had some final exams tomorrow, but they were all in the afternoon and Justin could easily tell by the tone of his voice (and Eric being Eric) that he wasn't serious.

"Put him to bed early! It's winter, it gets dark sooner. He won't know the difference." Justin hurriedly told his wife, Theresa that everything was alright and Trevor was behaving. Eric hissed when Trevor gnawed on his finger so he let go of the boy's mouth. He turned and grabbed at the phone with that crazy childstrength and started to talk into the phone insanely fast.

Eric adjusted the kid so he wasn't in danger of crushing his groin area with his feet and listened as Justin responded here and there to his son's crazy fast speech. Eric caught on that it was a retelling of everything they had done together that day.

Spending the day with Trevor had been great; Eric loved kids. But he was twenty-two, a sophomore in college, and wasn't ready for that sort of responsibility. Sure, he was great with Trevor and would one day want his own, but couldn't support one on his own! He worked part-time at a clothing store, for crying out loud (gay, his friends called him, but c'mon he works with hot college girls!) He sighed wistfully as that got him thinking about his friends. The friends he had made at Hammel were all grown up, like him too, though those he had made that were older than him by a few years were like Justin, and were having kids.

It was like all over babies were popping up in his life. Much like an invasion of aliens. Only extremely cute and adorable babies.

"Alright daddy! I love you!" Trevor nearly yelled into the phone before he made a kissing noise and hung up Eric's touch phone. Four years old and he could probably use Eric's phone better than he could. Eric plucked it out of his sticky hands.

"Guess what time it is now?!" Eric asked excitedly as he placed Trevor on the ground (again to save his groin from Trevor's feet). The boy spun to look at him, an excited look on his face.

"What time is it?!"

"Clean up time!"

Eric had never seen someone got from happy to mad in such a short time. It had to be a world record.

[Jesse Adams]

49. Goodbye

It had been three months since Gabriel Underwood had met his demise.

Three months since Jesse’s world had shattered.

Three months since he’d felt whole.

And three weeks, since MSAD had been dissolved.

They were leaving. All of them. They had failed their final missions. Some were returning home. Others were simply moving on.

And Jesse Adams was not moving anywhere. He had nowhere to go. A mere shadow of himself now, the boy was almost more spectre than human. He'd lost a considerable amount of weight in the past months, and he'd been scrawny to begin with. The toning muscle he'd been building was gone. He rarely ate. He didn't sleep. It was like he'd lost control over a part of his powers, nightmares plaguing him every time he closed his eyes. He mainlined coffee. He drank energy drinks. He took pills to keep him awake.

Slowly, he was killing himself.

In all honesty, the teenager looked haggard. But he refused to listen to the advice of anyone. Not Lala, not Reese. Definately not Paulo or Penny. Not even Oliver. No one seemed to be able to break through his mental walls. He was no better than a zombie. He wasn't living, he was just existing. His life had ended the day Gabriel had been murdered in cold blood. They hadn't even gotten their revenge. Hammel had been too well prepared, and Kilbourne had slipped through their fingers once again.

With the compound slowly emptying, Jesse only found solace in one place. Beside the still freshly turned dirt of Gabriel's grave. For at least an hour of every day, rain or shine, he could be found there. Always silent, always brooding. No one dared to go near him during that time. The last person to try had been screamed at in a jumble of foreign languages, but the message had been clear. Leave. Now.

For a while, he hadn't known what to do. His options were limited. Go back to Hammel. Get trapped in Dr. Neville's office again, for session after session of learning what he already knew. He was screwed up. No. He could go back home. Go back to his controlling, abusive father. No. He could do as Anastasia had suggested. Get documents, flee the country. He had money. He had his access to the MSAD accounts. He had his own account. They would last a long time. No.

He had made up his mind.

It was going to be today.

~

Something was off in the air. The twins could feel it. Lala gazed out the study’s window, her eyes on the boy by the grave. “He is there agai – “ “I know,” Reese responded. She pressed her fist against the wall. When was he going to arrive? They had sent for him hours ago. After they’d convinced Paulo to give up his location, the twins had tracked him down. Jesse concerned them, and if anyone might be able to get through to him, it was him.

~

On the grass, Jesse placed his palm on the dirt. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to feel something. Anything. Something other than the cold emptiness he’d felt since the funeral. But there was nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything. Hell, even crying, mourning was beyond him now. He was just… empty. His hand slowly drew back off the dirt, reaching instead for something concealed in his pocket. This had to stop.

~

“He’s here,” “He’s here,” both twins murmured, moving to the door. On the front steps was a confused, somewhat irritated local DJ.

“I don’t know how you found me, but what’s done is done. What’s going on?” The twins invited him in, explaining the situation. They were worried. He could help. At the very least, he might be able to break through the boy’s defences. He’d always had a way with him, and any reaction out of Jesse would be a good one, at this point.

Once Nathanael got the gist of the problem, he turned to head out to appease the twins when they heard it. A single shot, fired in the backyard.

By the time the former doctor reached him, there was nothing he could do, but formally declare the teenager dead. At the same time, the twins’ phones buzzed. A single word was displayed on their matching screens. A text message, sent just moments ago.

Goodbye.

[Alan Remboldt]

79. Automatic

It was time to begin the good work.

Alan had been wandering around Chinatown for hours, hoping to find a loose bill or two or maybe even a particularly generous sandwich vendor, but the sun had risen and almost set and he had been offered nary a scrap from the scowling merchants on the grotty street-corners. He could feel his stomach's discontent, and his feet seconded the motion of his brain's reprimanding.

It was so tempting. Alan could feel the small eddys all around him: the plots, the patterns, the stories resolving, beginning, awaiting the indoctrination of members to the dramatis personae. He could even start to sense which ones involved food, and which ones could be ducked out of without serious repercussion to the perpetual flow...but best not to pry, he couldn't afford to lose himself like he'd done just last week (thank gosh it had been where no one he knew personally had seen him, and that the man he'd embraced didn't seem to mind). But he was tired, and hungry, and all he had to do was

His posture sags, goes limp. He lolls his head from side to side, as though he pushes it back and forth with an unseen hand outside himself. He stands shock still for a vaguely perfectly precise amount of time...then bolts. His entire body works in the struggle of transporting him from the uselessness of where he is to the cruciality of where he will be.

He runs down an alley, shoots past trolleys and cars and people, and just as he's about to turn the corner he slows down, strolls casually. He's always been rolling right along this sidewalk, no problems here. He brushes past a young man with dirty brown hair and an unusually formal suit sitting on the curb with his head in his hands.

"Oh, sorry, man!"

"It's cool, bro."

"Just considering the lilies of the field, I guess..."

He continues his leisurely stroll down the way, and behind him, the man starts, bites back tears, desperately tears a phone out of his back pocket and with trembling hands dials a number from memory.

He turns another corner, and then once again as soon as he's out of sight flies down the block, turning corners seemingly at random yet shaving precious seconds off his route to nowhere in particular. He races down a busy sidewalk and adjusts course just a feather's-width, and a flailing hand knocks a child's cigarette into the road. His foot protrudes from an alley at just the right moment to trip a running fellow, who loses his balance and tumbles onto his back, giving the policewoman chasing him the extra few seconds necessary to catch up and prevent him from getting away with the purse purloined not minutes before. She turns to see what caused the trip, but he has already gone, fleeing through the thoroughfares, on and on into the California sunset.


Antonio Gomez walked, amidst cheering and raucous applause, out of the chapel, holding the hand of the woman he'd met two years before, their new rings scraping against each other, sitting on fingers that had not learned to bear their weight but eventually would. He let his eye pass over the street, and was shocked at what he beheld.

"You!"

His finger lanced out at a 30-something year old in a dirty sweater, who turned and gazed bewilderedly. "Me?"

"Of course, you! Get over here, we're headed to the reception!"

"...if, uh, if you insist..."

The happy groom smiled widely, and placed his arm about the older man's shoulders.

"Everybody, listen up! Ándale, ándale!" The crowd attended. "Now, like I said during the vows, going through wit' this was real hard for me, what with Diego on the way and everything like that. An' I was really thinkin' about it, you know? I had to think about it. But this guy right here...all he did was bump into me on the street, an' all of a sudden everything was crystal clear, and I knew that I'm always gonna do everything I can to do right by Sofie! So...this man's gonna be at my reception, and if you don't like it, you can talk to me!"

The crowd burst into applause yet again, as did the bride. She was holding a bouquet of lilies.

And it turned out that no one did decide that bringing Alan (for that is what the families found his name to be) was something that Antonio needed to hear about. He was nice, and smart, and his Spanish was impeccable--the abuelas were delighted to hear the familiar rasp of their Salvadoran home. And, por Dios, could the boy eat! They loaded him with leftovers, and insisted that he stay in touch, which he promised earnestly to do as he waved over his shoulder while leaving the gathering.

He trundles happily along, a full belly giving him a warm glow...and Alan stopped and stared at the bag almost bursting with food he held. He whispered to himself, cautiously, the phrase that accompanied the end of many an evening:

"...what on Earth have I just done?"

[Elaine Tonaya]

92. iPod
Elaine looked with dismay upon the infernal device on her counter. There was an open gift box with a letter with a giant smiley face on it.

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday! Thanks so much for being so great and continuing to cook the best food this side of the galaxy. In honor of you being so awesome, I got you an awesome present! I saw a lot of my students with these, and I picked one up for myself a few years ago. It’s really great, and I know you’ll love having it. I’ve already got it all set up with some of your favorite songs. All you need to do is plug in the headphones, turn it on, and enjoy the music. Start with Roses for Mama—I put it on there special for you.

Love,
Morgan

<3 <3

“Simple, he says,” Elaine muttered. “But while he was kind enough to set up the thing, does he leave me any sort of manual to go with it? No. Does he give any instructions? No. Just the headphones, the gizmo, and some wire that I don’t even know where it is supposed to go. One of these days I will hire a brain surgeon to figure out how that child’s mind works and what happened to all the missing pieces.”

After a few minutes staring at the mp3, she finally picked it up again and looked it over. It was a very pretty color—Red, her favorite—and it wasn’t too big or too small or anything. She just didn’t know how to turn it on. She studied it a bit more until she found a small picture of a pair of headphones. Upon plugging in her earbuds, the screen lit up.

“Aha!” she said, smiling that she had finally figured something out. She put on the earphones and tried to punch some of the keys on the iPod. None of what she was hitting was doing anything, though—it still continued to display a menu screen. In frustration, she put it down again and started to stand.

“No,” she said firmly. “I will figure this out. It can’t be that hard.”

Eventually she discovered the small “hold” section on the top and slid the button over so the orange was no longer showing. This allowed her to start looking over the menu. She still had trouble trying to figure out how to navigate, but she accidentally slid her finger over the pad, which allowed her to scroll through the menu options. From there it was child’s play to go to the music option and look through the songs until she found the one that Morgan had mentioned.

When she first hit play, the music was too loud and she had to yank out the earbuds. Another minute of fiddling with the controls some more allowed her to turn down the volume so that she could stand to hear what was going on. The song was still going, but she caught the end of the chorus.

“Roses for Mama, today’s her birthday.”

The song about a little boy who had lost his mother left Elaine in tears. She wondered why Morgan would have wanted her to listen to it, especially since it was supposed to encourage people to actually go visit their mothers on their birthday when he had just sent a present.

Upon thinking this, she looked out the window. Sitting on the porch, as though he had been there for an hour just waiting for her to be able to figure out his present—in truth, he had been there a good twenty minutes—Morgan was waiting. He smiled at her, a big smile that reminded her of all the various grins he’d given her over the past nearly thirty years. He held up a bouquet of roses, likely picked from her own garden in the back.

She went outside, still holding the iPod. “Thanks for the gift,” she said.

“That wasn’t your present, Mama,” he said, standing up. “This is.” He enveloped her in a giant hug. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

[Bill Collins]

36. Crash

The sick feeling in his stomach refused to leave. It had taken up a permanent residence in his organs and no amount of starving himself, or vomiting would fix it. It was guilt, and it was just a new part of him.

He could have saved Blair--that was all there was to it. He should have known when he woke up with that memory, that it was of the future. He should have known. He should have checked the date, or called her cell phone. He. Should. Have. Done. Something.

If he called her and told her not to bring him lunch, then the wreck could have been completely avoided, and she would have survived. And then they could have gotten married and had their baby. Life would have kept going.

But no, now he was living in this hollow house, full of years upon years of happy memories with Blair and their puppies, and the bitter aftertaste that there wouldn't be any more happy memories here. That car crash ruined everything. Absolutely everything. He'd never hear her laugh. Never hear her silly jokes, her American accent (gosh it was horrible), eat her food, listen to her sing to the dogs, or to the baby growing in her tummy. Never. Never again.

He wiped tears out of his eyes.

His parents had suggested he move, move out of Sterling and back into the countryside. He needed a fresh start, and a place with no memories of her. They had been to every place Bill would ever consider moving to--places that were safe to raise a family--and he certainly didn't want to move to Edinburgh. The riots were getting worse. He might move in with his parents for a while. To get his head on straight.

He looked up when Disco padded over to him, and woofed deeply at him. It didn't hurt to look at the dogs, as it had the first few days after the crash. He petted Disco absently with a hollow look in his eyes. He couldn't write for the paper anymore, he just had no ability to care anymore.

He sighed and looked at Disco, "what do yeh want to do?" He asked the dog. The big animal eyes looked back at him. Disco huffed and padded out of the room. Bill knew very well that Disco was going to go get his leash. When Disco came back, with Bernard running through his legs, with his leash in his mouth, Bill broke into a smile for the first time.

"Yeah, OK." Bill stood and went to the door, now with three dogs jumping around at his ankles.

[Jordan Scholl]

35. Mud

Jordan had been trying—truly, he had—to do as Mia had suggested and stand up to the bullies. If he felt threatened, he would stand tall and try to scare off those who came at him. Yet the fear always rose up in his belly, and something always gave him away. Sometimes it was an eye flicker, sometimes it was the shaking of his knees, but in the end it always meant one thing. Once again, he was on the run from something that he felt he couldn’t control.

This time he had been racing home to his dorm after a class in the gym. It had been raining recently, and all the dirt had been turned to mud across the campus. A few of the more popular students had seen fit to shove by him, knocking him unceremoniously off his feet. He toppled into a giant mud puddle while the others walked by without a second glance.

His textbook was covered in mud, and he knew he’d have to take it home and try to clean it off, then leave it open to dry so the pages wouldn’t stick together. For the time being, though, he didn’t want to have to think about that. He just wanted to stay where he was and not deal with the rest of his problems.

“Am I scared of everything?” he asked himself quietly. “And why am I scared? I don’t have to be—other people aren’t. It shouldn’t be this hard to just stand up for myself.”

He glanced down at the pile of mud that he was sitting in and remembered mud fights with his younger brother in the backyard. He hadn’t been afraid then, surrounded by people who cared about him. It seemed that it was only when he was alone that he was afraid.

“Maybe I’d do better if I had more friends,” he mused. “But what kind of people want to be friends with a kid who doesn’t even know what he likes?” Then he looked down at the mud again. “No, I do know something…”

Slowly, he gathered up a giant scoop of mud and formed it into a ball shape. It didn’t hold up very well, just kind of dripped out of his hand, but he felt better for having done it. And once he had made such a beautiful mudball, he couldn’t just let it go to waste. So he threw it against the wall of the school as hard as he could. It was so fun, he did it again, and then again. Time after time he splattered his mud missiles against the wall, laughing more and more loudly each time.

“I hope Uncle James doesn’t see me,” he said with a chuckle. “He’d have a fit!”

Finally, tired of his game, he lay down flat on his back in the mud.

“I like playing in the mud,” he said to himself. “And I like soccer. And I like spying. And science, and dragons, and playing guitar. And I like Mia, and I like my friends back home. I like my family. And peanut butter and banana sandwiches.”

He lay back, closed his eyes, and laughed a little more. Then a shadow fell across him and a familiar voice spoke.

“Well, that’s it then. You’ve finally lost your senses completely.”

Jordan’s eyes flew open. “Mia!” he said with a grin. “Guess what! I like playing in the mud!”

She stared at him for a moment. “Yup. Completely bonkers.”

Then he laughed again and threw some mud up in her face. She was surprised for a moment, then scowled and was about to throw a punch at him, but he couldn’t keep from laughing.

“You look funny,” he said. “And you can punch me now. I’m still going to put mud in your hair.” He reached out an incredibly grimy hand and dumped a pile of mud on top of her head.

Mia realized that he was no longer frightened of her, at least not fully. I’ll have to fix that, she thought. Then, But it is good to see that he’s standing up for himself more. She gave him a grin.

“All right, kid,” she said. “You’ve had your fun, and I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself. Now, get out of the mud and apologize or I’ll go tell your uncles that you’re out here getting disgusting and catching all kinds of dangerous diseases.”

Jordan stretched out his hand so she could help him up. Without thinking, she reached down and took hold. Then, with an evil grin, he yanked down and she ended up sitting in a pile of mud. Then he whooped and jumped up, running off as quickly as he could toward the dorm, ruined textbook held high above his head. Mia ran after him with a shout, threatening to kill him for getting mud on her favorite jacket.

[Leila Gold]

14. Assistant

“You know, Blue, I’ve been thinking,” Leila said, walking in from the back room with two mugs of coffee. One she plunked onto the desk of her boss, the other she nursed with both hands as she took a seat behind her own desk.

“I hate it when you say that, you know,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “You thinking always ends with me being stuck in some uncomfortable situation.”

She ignored him except to flap her hand in the air at him. “No, seriously, hear me out. We’ve been getting a lot of new cases recently, especially since we’ve taken on some of those meta cases, and I think it’s high time we hired an assistant.”

“I knew it. I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever idea you had.”

“What’s wrong with an assistant? We just need someone to help us out, answer calls, fill out forms, all the stuff that we could stand to live without. And, you know, bring us coffee. Things like that.” She set her cup on the desk. “I always thought it might be a good idea to get someone else here, some other really trustworthy person to help and just be a friendlier voice on the phone. I can’t take all the calls, you know.”

Cobalt looked over at her. She was looking more and more pale these days, and though he didn’t like to press her, he was starting to feel worried. Every time he commented on it she blew him off, but he suspected that she was worried about it, too.

“What kind of assistant were you thinking about?” he asked casually. “Some other young woman like yourself with whom you can plot evil schemes against me? Is it going to be your new Hammel friend, that maintenance lady who you went home with?”

“I was actually thinking we might look into asking one of the older Hammel students to help out. That way we might be able to have someone who would be willing to work for less, and they’d have an opportunity to develop a better resume. It would have to be someone who has more free time during our work hours, but maybe if we took in a few kids it could be arranged. Perhaps some of those students that you seem to have accumulated throughout the year.” She smirked.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. At that moment, Julie jumped down off the bookcase—her favorite place to nap—onto Cobalt’s lap, then stalked over to where Athena lay sprawled on the floor in the last of the sun’s rays coming through the window. The two had developed a careful friendship since Julie had come to the office. Cobalt hadn’t been very specific on how he’d gotten the cat, but Leila had gathered that she had been a gift from one of Cobalt’s many student friends.

“If business keeps up like this,” Leila said with a big smile, “we might even need two assistants. And you might want to talk to Josh about leaving his firm to come work with you when I’m go—”

She caught herself before finishing the word. She didn’t like to talk about the point when she would end up leaving the firm. That was still years away, surely, so there was no point worrying about it now.

Cobalt frowned a little, but he knew that Leila would end up leaving at some point. When he thought about it, he wondered why she hadn’t left already. He’d always believed that she could be doing better than sticking around in a little town like Pilot Ridge with an old fart like himself.

“I can manage just fine by myself, thank you,” Cobalt grumped. “I did well enough before you came along, that’s for sure, and in a bigger town, too.”

“One only wonders how you survived. It probably had something to do with the fact that your office was too hard for anyone to find.”

“Except you.”

“Yeah. Except me.”

They sat in silence a little longer, only the sound of keys tapping away at the keyboard breaking the noise. Finally, Cobalt sighed.

“I’ll think about the assistant thing,” he said. “But this time I get a say in who works for me.”

“You always had a say in who worked with you.”

“Stop lying. Neither of us believe that.”

“Okay. No more lies. Until the next one.”

“What did I ever do to end up with someone like you helping me?”

“Someone in heaven loves you.”

I guess they do, Cobalt thought, looking over at Leila. But I’ll be darned if I’ll tell her that.

[JD Paerson]

61. War

The tension started in the Middle East as a minor skirmish between Israel and Jordan, just another of their many fights, but it soon escalated into a series of riots that erupted throughout the area. One after another different countries were sucked into what was turning into World War III.

In America, Congress debated about whether they could afford to enter into another world war and what chance they had of staying out of the war entirely. When the destruction of a US military base in Gibraltar forced their hand, the first reaction of the government was to try to make this battle as short as possible.

Ultimately, though there was much debate against the prospect, the US government turned to its strongest and most dangerous people. Every metahuman between the ages of 21 and 35 was drafted into a special corps within the United States army. Their mission was to go into the area as an elite force and eliminate all who threatened the renewed Allied forces by whatever means necessary. Many of these people fled to other countries that were willing to hide them. Suddenly Canada, Mexico, Brazil, and even all the way out to Australia and New Zealand were swamped with American metahuman runaways. Those who weren’t able to get out in time were rounded up and stuck in the military.

JD, now 25 years old, wasn’t fast enough to get out. Upon the understanding that his father had been a respected officer, the speedster was on the fast track for advancement. He was very quickly promoted to lieutenant, then he and a group of twenty other young men and women were sent off to battle. His worst fear had become reality.

The worst part for him about fighting this war was the understanding that the people fighting beside him were all his classmates. To him, it was a betrayal of trust by the American people. They had been promised safety, the safety of going to a special school and receiving the training to be able to use their talents to help people. In the end, though, they were only seen as weapons. They were still feared.

“Lieutenant Paerson!” The shout startled him out of sleep. He had been dreaming of school, one of the last times he really remembered being happy, surrounded by friends who weren’t about to die. “Lietenant, we just received a message from base. You’re to report to the Captain immediately.”

JD quickly slid into his uniform and raced over to the main base, about ten miles away. He arrived in ten minutes, slightly out of breath. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to use his power, and yet it seemed that he was being forced to use it more and more every day.

Upon seeing the captain, he snapped off a salute. “Lieutenant Paerson reporting, sir,” he said.

“You’re late,” the captain said. “I know you can get here faster than that.”

“Sorry, sir, my powers have been acting up a bit recently…”

“No excuses. Excuses lead to dead soldiers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have new intelligence about an incoming raid at this location.” He pointed to a map resting on a nearby table. “You need to select five men and lead an attack. There are only about twenty members of the other group, so don’t worry about taking your whole group. It’s a quick strike, just get it all over with quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get on, then. I’ll expect to see you again in the morning.”

JD raced off and put together his crew; then they all went together toward the opposing force. It was, as expected, a quick battle. The metahumans were an efficiently trained unit, able to work together to wipe out in only a few minutes what might take a normal group an hour or more. Whenever possible, JD tried to order his soldiers not to kill, but in the middle of a battle, it was impossible to avoid killing entirely.

At the end of the attack, the six Americans surveyed the damage and prepared to head back to their own camp. Just as they were leaving, though, a teenaged girl sprang from behind some trees and jumped onto JD’s back. She pressed a knife to his throat and was shouting in a language he did not understand. One of the telepaths in the group tried to get her to let go of the weapon, but she just shouted louder. Something was keeping her immune to at least the brunt of his power.

When none of the other efforts were able to get her off, JD pulled a gun out of his holster and fired it behind him. He heard the girl grunt in pain and fired again. This time her grasp on him weakened and she dropped the knife, falling off his back and landing with a heavy thud on the ground. Blood stained his back and on his neck and shoulder where it had fallen from her mouth. Without looking at her, he knew she was dead.

He looked at the bloodshed around him, then looked at his men. “I’m sure you can find the camp from here,” he said quietly. “I just need…I just need a moment.”

With that he took off running, going as fast as he could, trying to erase some of the thoughts of death and murder from his head and bring back the happier memories he had from a lifetime ago. As fast as he ran, though, he couldn’t outrun the reality of his current situation. When he stopped running, he felt his heart pumping wildly in his chest. At that moment he realized that if he ran much more, it would kill him.

He turned back to look at where the sun was rising over the distant hills. “Let’s see how far I get,” he said with gritted teeth. And he flew as fast as he could toward death.

[Nathanael Lee]

82. Hate

"Kenny, pick up the damn phone you little brat," Nathan growled into his smart phone before hitting the end button and sliding it on the dash of his truck. His newly acquired 'son' was suppose to be home for dinner two hours ago, and the DJ wasn't going to stand for such blunt disobedience. He was already formulating a punishment as he started the engine and clicked his seatbelt on. Grounded with no television, no cell phone, and no X-cube kenexwhatsit for a week. Or two weeks...no, a month. Hell, the kid was lucky he wasn't just going to throw him out on the street, because apparently Kenny didn't want to come home anyway.

Since the insolent child decided he wasn't going to pick up his phone, the best Nathan could do was drive around town until he spotted Kenny. It was only a matter of time before he found the kid standing in an ally with a bunch of other kids he didn't recognize. Nathan hit the button to roll down the passenger-side window as he turned onto the narrow pathway, and the boys watched as the truck pulled up to them. All of them were staring at Nate with innocent smiles planted on their faces except one certain brunette; Kenneth was giving his 'dad' a look that could kill.

Nathan chose to ignore it. "Kenny!" he shouted, leaning across the seat and sticking his head out the open window. "Get in the truck. Right. Now."

One of the boys laughed, obviously amused by the man's arrival. "Better run along. Daddy's here to pick you up."

"Fuck off," Kenneth muttered under his breath as he pulled the truck door open. The brunette slid into the passenger's seat, and slammed the door. "Don't call me Kenny."

Nate ignored the comment as he had ignored the glare, and pulled into the street. "First off, when I give you a time to be home by, I expect you to be home at that time. What the hell were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"We were just hanging out. I'm allowed to have friends," Kenny shot back, defensively crossing his arms. "Why the fuck do you care anyway? I thought you hated me."

"I do hate you," he confirmed. "And I care because..." Nathan knew the reason why. Despite all the fighting, the disobedience, and the general bitchiness, the brat had grown on him over the course of the last few months. To tell the truth, he was actually starting to feel responsible for the kid, and didn't want him getting into trouble. But it wasn't something Nate was going to admit out loud. Fortunately, telling lies was something he was good at doing. "Because. What if you got caught doing something illegal? The cops would start sniffing around, and that's the last thing I need."

"We weren't doing anything illegal. And even if we were, and I got caught, I have powers."

"Dammit, Kenny! What have I told you about using your ability like that?" Nathan growled. His knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel as he turned to yell at the boy. "Some day you're going to realize you're power can't save you every time you slip up. You could have gotten into serious trouble, and I may not be there to rescue you next time."

The boy scowled. "I don't need you anyway...watch the road."

"I can drive my own damn truck," Nathan said with a snort before turning his gaze back in front of himself. "And you do need me. If you didn't, we wouldn't be here right now. You're more trouble than you're worth, you know."

"Maybe you should just get rid of me then."

"Maybe I will," he childishly retorted. Both metas silently glared through the windshield for a moment. "You're grounded for a week. No t.v, cell phone, or video games. I mean it."

"Fine," Kenny said stiffly, the response of a kid already making plans to sneak out of his bedroom window.

"Fine," Nathan mirrored, the response of a parent already expecting his kid to sneak out of his bedroom window.

[Benjamin Rhodes]

57. Stay

Rolling in the couch, the kitten pretended not to notice the two men trying to have a conversation. She reveled in the attention both of them gave her. The shadowy man who fed her was considerably happier when the taller man was around and he became a little reserved, still loving, but less cheerful without the tall weird color eyed man. Clearly, he was important.

"She's just loving the attention isn't she?" The tall man said with a laugh. Shadowy man smirked. "You can relate to that, can't you?" Tall man laughed again, punching shadowy man's arm lightly. "Shut up you." The kitten was picked up and nuzzled. Her little amber eyes blinked close and a soft purr vibrated from her throat. Tall man had soft cheeks.

"So why aren't we freaking out about Scott again?" Tall man asked, his tone of voice indicating he very much still cared about their earlier conversation but was just a tad on the distracted side. As well he should. The kitten was a delightful distraction if any. It didn't hurt that she was getting petted and scratched and paid attention to. Shadowy man looked at tall man with an exaggerated sigh. "He's the first guy Josh has paid any attention at all to after...you know."

Tall man nodded. Tall man did a lot of nodding whenever shadowy man said things. The kitten remembers all the times tall man nodded in response to shadowy man's suggestions or simple talk. Either shadowy man makes a lot of sense or tall man was really, really agreeable. And the kitten knew which one was false. She liked tall man. And by how shadowy man acted whenever tall man was around, the kitten knew the former felt the same way.

"So we like Scott." Tall man said a few moments of cuddling and snuggling the kitten later. "Yes, we like Scott a lot." Shadowy man nodded, a little happy grin starting to show on his face. "I know Josh isn't going to admit his feelings anytime soon but we all know. And I'm sure even Riley likes the guy." Shadowy man brought up two other people the kitten liked the most. They made shadowy man in a rather different way. Raspy voice man and pie man were very important but the kitten knew they weren't as important as tall man.

"But Riley likes everybody he meets." Tall man pointed out to which shadowy man laughed and nodded in agreement. "True, but this is the man who's had feellings for Josh for awhile now." Shadowy man shrugged to which tall man nodded in agreement. See, tall man nodded a lot to what shadowy man said. It made shadowy man happy too, being agreed with. The kitten stretched its head out to rub it against the shadowy man's shoulder. Oh that hit the spot.

"Another thing you have in common. Disrespecting personal space." Shadowy man grumbled but the smirk on his face seconds later let the tall man know he was only joking. The kitten knew shadowy man liked it when tall man was near him. Even if he didn't want to admit it. Not even to himself. Not even if the kitten could feel the goosepimples rush all over shadowy man's arms whenever tall man was even mentioned.

"Oh, I see. So that's how it goes. Fine. I can take a hint." Tall man stood up, handing the kitten to shadowy man. The kitten immediately nestled comfortably in the crook of shadowy man's warm body. Purring contentedly, she kept an eye open to witness the big dramatic scene as tall man started to walk to the door he came from. Shadowy man bristled as he stood up. The kitten pulled her head up and turned to tall man and whined. "Oh come on, Ben...stay."

The kitten voted for tall man to stay too as she mewled in shadowy man's arms. "See, even Jules knows you're being dramatic." The kitten did know tall man was being dramatic. Which was all the time. Tall man turned and narrowed his eyes jokingly at the kitten, his lips already turning up into a little smirk. "You can never argue with a little kitten's logic." Tall man walked back to them and scooped the kitten into his arms, nuzzling her against his smooth face again. "Alright Jules...I'll stay."

[Zachary LaRousse]

#10 Cartridge

A soft grumble left the twelve-year old LaRousse as he tossed and turned in bed, hiding his head under his pillow in a desperate attempt to go back to sleep. The young boy was, in his eyes, unjustly roused from his sweet slumber by a not-so-pleasant dream involving zombie plush toys (which made him throw his beloved elephant stuffed toy, aptly named Dumbo, halfway across the room upon waking up; he did grab the poor toy once more after he told himself that stuffed animals can’t eat his brains). After five minutes of grunting and groaning, of curling and rolling, the little heir finally realized the futility of his endeavor and decided he’d just do something more productive (that’ll hopefully lull him to sleep sooner or later).

He briefly sat up, positioned the pillows behind his back, grabbed the remote from his side table and started looking through the channels. As expected, seeing that it’s still in the wee hours of the morning, most cartoons aren’t his cup of tea (and none his father would approve of anyway), so the young boy had no choice but turn the said appliance off. His cheeks puffed up as he pouted, once again bored to death and unable to sleep. His PlayStation console’s in his father’s room (Zac’s limited to two hours per day now, as punishment for his unruly behavior in a party one month ago) and he’s already watched every VCD he’s got in his room. Lucky for him, as he was musing on what to do next, Dumbo’s trunk accidentally pushed his Gameboy down the side table, falling down with a loud thud which caught the boy’s attention. He’s not really too hyped about being stuck with his Gameboy, but hey, maybe he could use this time to finally evolve his Silcoon into a Beautifly and defeat the first Gym Leader at long last.

Zac idly turned his console on, mashing pressing the A and B buttons as he waited for the familiar game opening. It’s been a minute however, and still nothing. He finally looked down and saw that the start-up screen hasn’t changed; he touched the back and apparently, the game cartridge isn’t there. Great. Not to be stumped by such a small obstacle, he tried to think of the places where he must’ve placed it while grabbing a flashlight from his dresser. Fortunately he’s managed to narrow his search into three places – his father’s study in the West Wing, the main living room and the entertainment room not too far from his room. Securing his flashlight and grabbing the master key card from his schoolbag (as his father’s study’s most likely locked this time of night) and his beloved Dumbo, he slowly opened his door and started his late night escapade.

He started looking in the entertainment room first, then in the main living room. No go. And for the most part of his search of the elder LaRousse’s study, he’s got none. He was just about to go back to his room and give up when, with one of his random flashlight sweeps, he caught a familiar clear green shine. A huge smile covered the boy’s face as he bent down and grabbed the said cartridge from below one of the cabinets, mumbling, “Finally. Roxanne, here I go!”

The young boy was happily skipping up the stairs leading to his room when he heard a rather peculiar sound. He stopped for a bit, putting the cartridge in his pocket and hugging the plush elephant tighter, and tried to listen for it a second time, just in case he was just imagining things. Lo and behold, it came a second time too. And this time, apparently a bit louder. Despite such sounds erupting out of nowhere in the middle of the night, curiosity conquered the boy’s fear and he tried to find the source. His eyebrows twisted in confusion as the sounds led him to the hall where his room and Cedric’s, his caretaker, can be found. For a moment he thought something has slipped through his room while he was gone, but as it was, the sounds were coming from the other end of the hall. Cedric’s room.

He cautiously approached the room, his heart slightly pounding. Is Cedric in trouble? What’s happening to him? Could he, Zac, do something to help Cedric? Will he be in danger too should he look? Well, there’s only one way to find out right? He promptly used his key card and was rather surprised with what he saw.

Cedric. Naked and sweaty. Groaning and grunting. And Stephen. On top of him.

Woah.

For a moment, Zac just stood there, eyes wide and jaw agape. He didn’t know how to react really. And apparently the two adults were too into what they were doing to care. Fortunately though, Zac has been a rather unique kid ever since he was small, so instead of running away scarred, after he had processed what he’s seeing unfold in front of his eyes, a huge smirk formed in his face. “Can I join you guys?” he asked jokingly, giggling like a little girl as his ‘big brothers’ finally turned and noticed him.

Instinctively the two guys grabbed the sheets and covered themselves, with Cedric blushing rather fiercely in shame. Stephen was a bit surprised at first, but seeing the little kid still standing by the doorway, staring straight at them with an ‘innocent’ smile, the puppeteer decided it’s best to simply explain to the twelve-year old what he just saw. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and walked over to the boy, grabbing him by the shoulder and leading him out to talk. (Good thing too, else Zac, ever the prankster, would’ve jumped on the bed and bugged them like crazy, which would most likely cause Cedric to blush even redder than he was).

As Stephen and Zac sat on the steps of the stairs, the older man spoke, asking, “So, before I talk to you about the birds and the bees, anything you’d like to ask?” The young boy’s eyes brightened in mischievous delight, snuggling his plush animal as he said, “Cedric’s loud moaning and groaning, is that why you’re called ‘Stag(gie)’?”

Who knew a cartridge search could make the young heir’s boring night extremely exciting?

ooc: Hooray for site canons. ^^.

[Xavier Abhay]

96. Hard

The night was dark, nothing could be seen or heard. Xavier was breathlessly sitting on his bed in his dorm, legs crossed eyes glazed. Sighing he reluctantly got up and flicked the light on. Walking over to double check the door he made sure his door was locked. Dragging his feet he looked at the half smoked blunt in the ash tray. Letting his eyes drag over the table he saw his "homework" and a bag of weed. Some part of him felt guilty.

It had only been a few weeks, or has it been days? Xavier lost track. Every hour felt like a minute with her. She slowed his thoughts down. Xavier wanted to be a better man for her. Still he had yet to tell her this. Her laugh was addicting, even more so then the blunt in the ash tray. Sitting back down he cradled his head in his hands. How can this be so Hard? So difficult...She is just a women. She makes everything so hard for me...this is just a decision I don't want to make.

Leaning back against the wall that his bed laid against he sighed heavily. Xavier took his phone out his pocket and flipped open the screen. Her picture was his screen saver. Rubbing his finger against the screen a tear fell down his cheek. It felt only like five minutes ago that it had happened....

2 hours ago

Xavier was smoking his blunt and pulling seeds from his sell stash. A smile played on his face as he thought about the money he was about to make. He was determined to buy his girlfriend that gps thing she wanted. Of course he was going to surprise her. She wouldn't have let him buy it for her otherwise. That was one of the many things he liked about her.

What he didn't like was how hard it was to tell her things, how many hard decisions she was making him make. Of course again, she didn't know this. Xavier tried not to tell her everything. He hated to argue with her, and the worse thing he could see was her cry. The streaks of tears forming in her eyes pulled him from reality all the time. She definitely clouded his judgment. There were many things he did before she came along.

Laughing he thought back to how many one night stands he had. It was ridiculous to him now. Yea he still liked to party, drink, smoke and many other things but he was never really the bad boy. People only saw that part of him. He loved reading and drawing. His girlfriend was the only one to know that side of him. Now it was funny for him to think back to how it first was. Now she wasn't so guarded around him. Sometimes it surprised him how different she was.

Just then his dorm door opened. His room door was open so he could see who was coming and going. Xavier had to make sure his roommates didn't burst in and catch him smoking a blunt and sorting seeds. The face that appeared surprised him. Quickly he got up and tried to stand in front of his bed room. Trying not to show her what he was hiding. "Um..you didn't tell me you where coming over cat..."

She looked at Xavier. Sighing he realized he must have forgot. She wouldn't have shown up like that. He watched as she looked down at her feet. Cat grinned then started to speak, "Yes I did" He knew she could see something behind his back. Her face was telling him she was curious. "What are you hiding?" Xavier looked around. Eyes glazed over slightly still. He hoped that she couldn't smell the weed. "Um...nothing....there is nothing to hide. So what are you doing?"

His heart felt like it was beating ninety miles an hour. He was scared that she had figured it out. He saw her frown. It was sad for him to see her frown. He wondered if she would bug him because she knew he was hiding something. Something he didn't want her to know about. He listened to her as she spoke, "Um. we had made plans but I can leave..." Xavier looked at her and shrugged. He swayed back and forth "Nothin. What would I hide from you?"

He was nervous for apparently no reason. Xavier really wanted her to approve of him. Looking at him she spoke, "Really? I won't push it. Not now at least."She turned around and went out into the sitting area. Xavier blushed as he followed her. Leaving his room unguarded. He stood as he watched her, Xavier couldn't help but notice how pretty she was.

He watched as she sniffed the air." Xavier.. you don't smell like well like you." He stiffened as she got up and walked into his room. She started to follow her nose and found something suspicious. Swayed and hoped she wouldn't ask. But she did."What's this?" Xavier shook his head. He forgot he left his door open. Walking in he stood by her "Would you believe me if I said it was Oregano?"

He watched as she frowned again, his lips made the same movement as hers. "Xavier, What is it? I won't yell. I won't scream. I won't cry. What, Is That?" Xavier swallowed air "It's a blunt and weed..I was planning on...getting rid of it. Meaning someone's gonna buy it...." His body felt cold and useless. He was terrified of what was about to happen. He watched her look at him then look down " Idiot" Xavier watched her collect her stuff and run outside.

Xavier's body started to shake. "Cat....what do you want me to do? I don't wanna loose you?" He loved her and he knew a hard decision was about to be made. He would make it..but he didn't want to. He noticed that she didn't even look at him as she answered, "Get rid of the drugs" Then she quickly closed the door. She was gone and Xavier hated it. He knew she was probably crying in her dorm room.

Present

Getting up in a rush he flipped his table over. His supplies and 'homework' flew everywhere. His feelings and wants where all messed up. How could one man feel this way about one women. Xavier wanted her back. For some reason he couldn't help but look back down at his phone and dial her number. His room was a mess tears falling down his cheeks. He dialed her number. "Cat...I'll get rid of everything its gone. It's a hard to decide but...the thing is....I...I...love you..please come back?
She sounded like she just woke up. Then he heard," NO drugs. none. When you have made up your mind, after thinking rationally about it, call me back. until then don't call me. don't text me. and don't see me." He had a feeling she was about to hang up. Xavier quickly shouted, "Don't hang up! I made up my mind...it's you. I love you..please come back?" Her voice sounded sure and he was again afraid, "You can't make up your mind that fast. Think about this before you decide." He heard the phone click and his tears flowed more.

Xavier called right back "Damn it Catherine Novella I love you. You're the answer, you always will be please...be my girl again? I feel empty" It was hard to tell her this. Everything about this relationship was hard. It drove Xavier insane, but he loved every minute of it.

Xavier heard her sigh and he hoped she would consider coming back. "Xavier I don't know. Will you really stop them?" Xavier nodded even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Yes! I swear! I will do anything for you." He barely heard her speak," ok," then all of a sudden she spoke loudly in a big voice, "no drugs. ever" Xavier got happier, prouder. "I promise. Please be my girl again?" After a long sigh she heard her say "Ok." He smiled and that was good enough for him. Now his hard decision was over...but the hardest relationship just started.

[Steven Lagenski]

51.Thank You

Lionel Richie was not an artist that he would frequent often, but that still didn’t keep him from listening to “That’s why I’m easy” on repeat for the past two hours. He had stayed in the same spot daydreaming about what laid ahead and he had come up with several scenarios. No matter what they were they always involved her, there was never a bad scenario even though every circumstance could be seen as a negative. Homeless, dying, blind, hurt, no matter what situation befell him she was always there to make it a positive. Steven had not looked up at the ceiling of his room until the last time she had come over, and the sight of it brought back memories, all of them good. A smile had always been a trademark, an occasion grin and even a smirk now and then, but the thought of her being there with him keep his lips parted at all times. From the first kiss to their last breathe it would always be on his lips.

He rolled off the satin red sheets that decorated their bed, it felt cold without her there with him, but the thought of her was enough to make him warm inside. The music had dulled his senses quite well he felt numb and his mind was cloaked in fog. They were not a conventional couple, they never had been conventional and he prayed they never would be. He always found the orthodox to be boring and found her random quirks and little shifts in personality to be a welcomed change of pace. He was always interested to hear about her day though it always involved her thoughts of him in some way. Narcissism may have been a factor in their relationship, but it was reciprocal, each would act as a mirror for the other to see themselves in and once the mirror was dropped they would only see their own views of perfection.

His hand slinked into his pocket as he paced around the room. The room had been on the third floor of their apartment and the sound of traffic had been drowned out by the sound of the music. The piano riffs mixed with the thoughts of her kept him in a state of high that no drug had ever brought him too. He had actually quit smoking because of her only because cigarettes no longer had a purpose for him. She was there to calm his nerves. He had quit smoking weed because she was the best high he could have. She had really turned his life around and now was his chance to show her how much he would change hers. He looked toward the calendar and checked the date, 9/10/11 he had heard that 11/11/11 was a day where wishes came true, but to him this day was much better. A subtle warmth had been building up in his stomach since he had woken up a buzzed feeling ran up into his chest.

The clock was now an enemy and a regulator of his life, he had six more hours of time left before he could see her and he had to be prepared, he had been preparing since the day he met her so his fears were far less than those of the average man, at the moment fear had become none existent. The warmth and the thoughts of her had consumed him to a point that anything other than that feeling was numbed out along with everything else. He made his way to the bed and sighed, as he breathed out his breath only caused the warmth to spread even further into his chest and up into his throat. His hand finally rose out of his pockets pulling out a small ring with a emerald in the center and white diamonds laced against the top. Today would be the day he would show her how much he cared, today would be the day he said thank you.