A/N: Hello, all! Jeez, I haven't been around here in a while, huh? Sorry about that, I've been over at working on some stuff. Anyways, I finally finished the sequel (more like sister story) to "Rainwater and Lemons". So now we've got some tasty male slash. If that's not your cup of tea then beat it and find some coffee. Okay, well I tried to make it clearer about who was saying/doing what so I hope not everyone is as confused as last time. So without further ado...

When it's Sunshine and Daisies

***

It's late. He's leaning out the windowsill, one leg dangling outside the window on the fire escape, while the other remains inside, resting on the pale blue-gray carpet. He shivers as the night wind blows, cold and hard, while he tries to sneak a cigarette. He knows it's bad for him, but he figures that everyone's going to get cancer someday, so what's the point in trying to keep healthy?

The noise of sheets shifting makes him jump, and he turns around to check that his bedmate is still sleeping. He is. A faint smile plays upon his lips as he scrutinizes the sleeping figure. His eyes wander from top to bottom, starting with his crown, a charmingly disheveled mess of untidy dark chocolate locks. Then his gaze travels down, down from his long, girlish lashes to the elegant curve of his cheekbone, and past his lovable nose to rest on his mouth. His beautifully shaped mouth with beautiful pink lips, chapped from constantly worrying them between his beautifully honest teeth. Further still, past the graceful swan-like neck, past the delicate slope of shoulders and collarbone, past the slender, almost wiry torso to finally pause at where the bedsheets are gathered together, right above the waistband of his faded plaid boxers.

He lets his smile fall away gradually and turns toward the window again, taking one last drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out on the side of the house, then throwing it into the bushes down on the first-story below. Silently, he swings his leg back into the one-bedroom apartment and closes the window with extreme care, so as not to wake his sleeping companion.

Their bed is small. It's only a twin size, made for one. But both boys are thin and they can fit together in the undersized mattress, even if it is a bit tight. And it is a good way to keep warm on chilly nights like this.

They should have lots of money, at least enough for a comfortable living. They each did, once. But that was a long time ago. Now, reality has caught up with them and all they know is that his parents are dead, and he's been disowned. And all the dreams that they worked so hard for have been shattered into tiny fragments, shoved into a corner in the dark recesses of their minds. So now, all they have left is nothing. Nothing but each other.

Crossing the room in but three long steps, he crawls into bed, wincing as the bedspring creaks under his weight. Fortunately, he appears to still be asleep although his eyelids flutter briefly. He sighs softly with relief and reaches down to pull the sheets up to their shoulders, tucking his head under his chin and wrapping an arm around his waist. He puts an ear against his chest and listens to the rhythmic beat of his heartbeat, letting it soothe his jittery nerves.

"You smell like cigarettes." A quiet voice breaks the silence and he opens his eyes to look the owner in the face. His emerald orbs are stained with lethargy and disapproval.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to wake you." He replies, and the bottle green eyes shine with exasperation.

"I thought you were quitting." His tone sounds so juvenile that he can't restrain the lopsided grin that inadvertently spreads across his face. He frowns.

An escaped laugh falls from his mouth, causing his bottom lip to stick out in an adorable pout. "I couldn't resist." He's not sure if he's referring to the cigarette or the laugh. "Tomorrow, I'll quit— promise."

"Okay. Tomorrow." He lifts a hand to play with his silvery-blonde mane, his eyes taking on a thoughtful expression.

"What is it?" An inquiry, one strung together out of concern. The brunette's hand falls from his crown to rest on the bed.

"It's supposed to be sunny all week. Might even reach the upper sixties." His eyes sadden as he says this and the other boy glances out the window, as if the unloved golden orb might appear at any moment.

"Hey, I know how much you hate it when it gets hot out. But don't listen to those idiots. Those weathermen, they're all full of shit."

There's a reason why the couple dislikes hot weather. It reminds them of their childhood— of school days spent skipping classes and lounging in the dewy grass, letting the sun warm the skin on their faces. Days spent walking down to the local village to window-shop, or just to grab an ice cream with classmates. These might seem like happy times to anyone else, but for them, it brings back painful memories, of friends and lovers long gone. So it's much easy to relate to the cooler weather, which numbs the senses and dulls their recollection. They like it that way, ignoring the past and living in the present, with no concern for the future. That's the way it's been for a long time.

His eyelids wearily fall shut, unable to defy gravity any longer. He smiles softly at the figure next to him and leans in to steal a kiss. He doesn't seem to be completely asleep yet, and responds whole-heartedly. He tastes of cinnamon and pine trees and quicksilver, if quicksilver could have a taste, and the lingering flavor of cigarettes dances on his tongue. While he tastes of everything good in the world— of sunshine and daisies, but there's a little hint of impurity present, a metallic kind of flavor he can't describe with words, something like freshly drawn blood. Neither one is a particularly good kisser, they're both much too impatient to have any sort of rhythm. Tongues clash, teeth chip, and lips bruise. But in the heat of the moment, none of this seems to matter. And they continue on, brutally searching the other's mouth for answers to a question neither remembers asking. But soon the need for oxygen is too great to ignore and they separate, unaware of the string of saliva connecting their mouths.

He turns away and rests his head on the pillow, closing his eyes to his surroundings. Before long, he's fallen into a deep slumber, dead to the world around him. He unconsciously moves toward his lover's warmth, laying his head in the crook of the other's neck. His chest rises and falls slowly with each breath, reminding the blonde that he's still alive. That they're still alive.

These are the moments he lives for.

Soon he can feel slumber beckoning him to drift away into a dreamless sleep, one where his worries will not haunt him and all he'll be able to feel is the warmth and love in his arms. He finds it hard to defend against and can't resist when he feels his eyelids starting to slide closed.

It's still late. He peers through half-lidded eyes to gaze out the window. The moon is beginning to rise above the horizon, softly lighting the small room. He closes his eyes and sighs, thinking about the day to come. What he'll do when the sun rises and shatters the cold from the night before. He realizes it's hopeless thinking about the future when all they want to do is live for the present. But he likes to sit on the windowsill, wishing it were all rainwater and lemons. Sometimes it is. But most of the time it's just sunshine and daisies.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling his musky scent. His eyelids are heavy and he lets them fall closed, scattered thoughts running through his brain as the cogs inside begin to turn slower, making his thoughts sluggish. He feels his consciousness slipping away before he is suddenly jolted awake by a sudden revelation. The impurity he tasted before, the tang in his lover's mouth...

It was sadness.

***

Aww. I just can't write a happy ending, can I? I guess I like sad ones more. Well, did anyone catch the Harry/Draco undertones? They were pretty strong and really hard to miss (at least from my point of view). So anyway, please leave me a review in that box below and I'll be eternally grateful. Okay, maybe not eternally, but it will make my day. ^.^

(Oh, and did anyone notice the acronym for this story— SAD? I totally did that on purpose of course. ^^;;)