The week felt slow and tense, hallways becoming minefields within seconds when the boys walked by. River. Clark. Zander. No one saw Noah, the boy who started it all. He was trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Smart move… Clark smiled softly as he realized the sophomore’s plan. He’d watched him like a hawk all week, spotted him blowing off Pocketknife more than once. And now they sat together in silence, barely even looking at each other. The work was on the table, their grades issued. They wouldn’t have to sit together Monday. And they probably wouldn’t, at this rate. Something told him he shouldn’t care. But he did anyway.

Roy was handing out the final projects when he felt a hand on his knee. His gaze jumped to Noah, but found him looking the other way. He looked down and found a note between his fingers.

Taking the note, he opened it carefully.

In neat, concise lettering: Please come to the bio-lab at two-forty-five after school.

In spidery, arching scrawl: Tell me what to do.

He had to have read the note about three times before he understood Noah’s meaning. It was from Pocketknife. It had to be.

He felt his stomach shift at the implication. Noah wanted him to decide whether or not he should talk to Durkin. Whether or not he should risk it. Whether he should go, and risk a fantastic let down, or stay.

Stay with Him.

He wondered what to say. Part of him, the selfish part, wanted to tell Noah to come home with him, to be all his. But that part was slowly fading, even now, as he realized that Noah was not the one he wanted.

The one he wanted was a floor below him right now, snoozing through his last class of the day. Probably not even thinking about him.

The red-haired son of a bitch who nearly killed him when he told him to leave.

Zander Kline.

He’d seen him in the hallways, stood by his classroom doors. The bastard didn’t even look at him, and he was burning. All he wanted was right there, and he could never touch it again. He’d lost sleep, dammit, he couldn’t even eat sometimes. He was growing sick inside, and Zander didn’t even notice. And maybe some part of him wanted Zander to see it. How weak he had become.

He hated him. And needed him.

He turned to Noah and smiled.

“I’ll walk you there.”

---

They turned the corner and stopped. Biology lab.

“Well kid, this is your stop. Not mine.” Clark heard himself say, staring at the door.

“Yeah…” Noah looked pale as a ghost. He put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. The boy looked like he was about to jump off a cliff, minus parachute.

“C’mon, Warner.” He tried, combing a hand through his blonde hair. “You’ll be alright. I swear.”

Noah shrugged off his hand and walked through the door silently. Clark got the feeling he didn’t believe him.

Turning around, he was about to head down the stairs toward his locker, when like a ghost, he appeared. The red-headed boy who turned him upside down and back. He stood about twelve feet away, watching him with eyes that could see every flaw, every weakness. And he regretted showing them now, because he felt like he wouldn’t survive if Zander walked away. He felt like he would fall right through himself.

Oh, God… He stood, amazed. Look at him…

He was pale, purple bags hanging below sunken eyes, whose shine seemed to dull. Clothes hung off his body, not the usual selection. Almost as if he’d thrown on whatever he could grab that morning. His hair hung in a sloppy ponytail. It looked like it hadn’t been washed in three days. But, to Clark, he was still beautiful. Like dusty water to a thirsting man.

When Zander took a step closer, it took all of his restraint to remain still. And he kept walking closer, until they were only a foot apart.

He felt the words in every part of him. “I hate you.”

His heart fell through his chest, and he looked into Zander’s eyes, making the biggest risk of his life. Green and perfect; he fought for composure.

Then, the gentle touch of an artist’s hand against his cheek, nails settling against his skin. A caress that he missed more than anything.

They were so close; he could feel his breath against his cheek. “And I hate seeing you like this.”

Did he look different? He didn’t know, but he wanted to… Stay Still… He warned himself. Stay Goddamned Still…Don’t You Dare Move…

He was shaking, he could feel it now. They both were. Clark tried not to show it. But it was so hard, so hard not to move. Not to hold him, they were so close. Not to hold him, run his hands through that hair and crush their lips together until they would never breathe again…

“I don’t want to move…” He said it before thinking. Realizing his words slowly, he let an airy chuckle escape him as he tried to breathe. “I’m afraid you’ll disappear.”

Zander’s whole body seemed to press artfully against him, making his breath hitch. “I can’t.” Barely a whisper against his ear, but Clark felt it rumble through him. “I’ve tried, Clark. But I close my eyes, and I have to stop the dreams from coming, ‘cause they’re always about you. No matter what…” The hand on his cheek trailed down against his neck, chasing chills down his spine. A dry laugh. “God,” He sighed. “I’m so messed up. I can’t even back away from you right now.”

God Help Me… “Zander,” He leaned closer, knowing everything he needed to know. All he wanted was standing in front of him, wanting him just as much. And they were too close to stop now. “I can’t let you.”

“We’re gonna kill each other, you know that?” Zander sighed, lips so close. “Gonna fuckin’ murder me… Son of a Bitch…”

Their lips melded together softly, like melting butter. He couldn’t believe the feeling, like he was falling forward and backward, and not even moving at all. There were feelings rising through him, from a whole other part of him, something far away, faint, coming into view just long enough to smile from behind the mist. Gripping Zander’s hair, he pulled him into the kiss, not giving him a second to change his mind. He didn’t dare let him back away.

He felt long arms wrap around his neck, never once hesitating. Nimble fingers played with his blonde waves, just as they used to.

No…He thought, as he finally pulled away to stare down at the green-eyed man. Better than they used to…

---

What the Hell…? Slowly walking into the lab, he looked around, only to find massive disorder. Papers were everywhere, the filing cabinet was about three feet from where it should be, and the skeleton was wedged between it and the wall. Even better, no sign of River.

Shaking himself out of his confused state, he walked toward the lab tables, and found himself sitting in his old place out of habit. Blinking at the clock, he again scanned the room for any sign of River. That’s when he saw him. Leaning against the back wall, blazer half-undone, hair pulled back as much as he could tame it. Noah stiffened.

“So,” River kicked off the wall and headed across the room. “Let’s see…”

“Riv, I-”

“I came in, right? Twenty minutes late. And, remember, I saw you glarin’ at me but I didn’t really think about it.”

The boy came closer, a few frizzy curls falling from their restraint into his face. Noah thought about brushing them away. He blinked as River dropped something onto the lab table. His English textbook.

“And I asked you, you know, ‘What’s your problem, Teach?’, and you asked me how late I was.”

Noah looked up at his face, and found it stoic as stone. “I-”

“So, I decided to be a smart-ass, and I said ‘About twenty minutes. Got a problem?’”

He watched silently as River walked around to the other side of the lab tables, just as he had done that day. Noah knew what he was talking about. He remembered that day perfectly.

“And you,” River shook his head and laughed. “You were all like ‘I’m not takin’ your shit today, Durkin. I don’t give a fuck whether you like it or not.’ And I decided to be a little shithead, and egg you on, like,” he chuckled. “like, ‘Think you can take me, Teacher-Boy? Wanna give it a try?’”

He was taken by surprise when he felt River’s fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him from his stool. He stood, his legs a little shaky. River’s hand made all the difference in the world.

“So, so then you came at me like Hell, swingin’ for my jaw. I blocked that, right?” Noah could only nod. “Yeah. So, then you landed one to my stomach, and I got real pissed, but didn’t have time to do nothin’ before you slammed me back into the lab tables.”

Noah felt his feet moving, following River’s lead, until River was backed against the lab tables. Cornered.

“But then, see, I got smart. I rammed you backwards against that file cabinet and hit you hard. You were like, completely gone by then, and I knew it,” He reached up to his shoulders, and Noah felt himself being pushed backward. Strange, how easy it was to remember these things now. When they were moving together, like a dance, instead of trying to kill each other in blind rage. Noah didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew. He could feel his heart pounding, hear River’s beat.

“And you ducked my punch,” One hand above him, pinning him against the file cabinet. They were so close now, River’s voice was growing soft. “So I…” He reached up, touching Noah’s right cheek, drawing his hand over it lightly. Noah leaned into the touch. “Sorry…” River said sheepishly, apologizing for the slap, weeks late.

“It’s okay…” Noah felt himself sigh, looking up into his eyes. Dark brown and meltingly beautiful.

“See…” He moved closer, leaning dangerously near. “You can tell me I forget things. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just stupid and I try.”

Noah listened, feeling his heart swell in his chest.

“You can tell me to forget everything. Just…” He felt River’s chest rise and fall, a deep sigh. “Just… forget it, forget us.”

“River…”

“But I won’t.” He moved in closer, his hair in his face again. “Maybe I’ll forget that fight we had, and God Help Me, maybe even someday the night after…” A shiver went down Noah’s spine as the words, his voice, fell over his ears like honey. “Maybe, in a year or two, I’ll forget the way you looked at Tony’s party. And, maybe in about a decade, I’ll forget the heart attack you gave me the night of the dance. And maybe, sometime next century, I’ll be able to forget the way I felt that night you…”

He stopped, looking down at himself and taking a shaky breath.

“But, my point is…” He looked into Noah’s eyes, and Noah felt dizzy. “I’ll never be able to forget that moment. When I looked into your eyes and I saw the real Noah Warner. The Noah Warner that doesn’t hide from anything.”

Noah looked at him, shocked beyond words. River gave him a small, sad smile.

“I guess I fell in love with you then. Somehow.” He laughed a little, then leaned his forehead against Noah’s. “That explains a few things, huh?”

Noah finally released the breath he’d been holding, and laughed as well, leaning back against the file cabinet. “Yeah.” He laughed. “Guess so.”

“Noah,” He sighed, his voice serious once more. “I don’t want to forget you.”

Noah leaned closer. “I don’t want you to forget me.”

“Then don’t let me…”

The kiss was slow, hungry, savoring. Noah remembered this kiss. He remembered every movement of these lips and every sweet taste on his tongue. Couldn’t forget, didn’t want to. He pulled River closer, wishing they’d never stop. River, he was more amazing than anything, more than he ever really deserved. He pulled away when he realized the taste on his tongue was not a school-regulated beverage.

“You didn’t.” He gave River a feigned angry glare.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t if you were attempting something like this?”

“Yeah, okay.” He sighed, shaking his head. Then, he grinned. “But next time we’re alone with that couch, I want you sober.”

---

Thanks To All Reviewers For Waiting Their Asses Sore!

Epilogue Most-Likely After Two Other Works Are Updated.