I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and I'm only posting it because I haven't updated in awhile. It's short and something and blah blah blah...

I feel like I've been breathing in too much oxygen at the same time and it's making me so high, only it's not fun or funny and I want to hit people in the face to make up for it. And I just found out that my mom has cancer.

I haven't really been working on Fall Off lately, but I'm nearly finished with the next chapter... Thanks for your support, people. You've given me a ton of reviews and an insane number of hits. Don't worry, it won't be too long before I'm done. And I'll make sure to wait till I'm feeling better before attempting another post after this... --

Lurve. xo

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Brian’s been sitting on the table watching Frey all day. He can’t even feel his hand anymore where his chin’s been resting. He sighs heavily and thinks of stretching out and going to sleep, but he doesn’t. Frey’s mother appreciates Brian being there and tells him so when she can, even though Frey’s old enough to take care of himself without a makeshift babysitter- or would be, if he hadn’t gotten sick.

Frey’s been sick for more than a year. Brian stills comes to see him every day, but everything’s different now. He knows that Frey’s smart enough to be applying to top colleges instead of starving himself down in the basement while he works on his mural, like he is today. Plans have changed since Frey got sick.

His mural is an interesting project. It covers an entire wall of the basement. Some days Frey uses charcoal and chalks, and other days he uses paints, and sometimes he chalks over the paint. Either method is equally messy. Today’s a charcoal day.

“You’ve been down here for a really long time,” Brian tells Frey. He can’t tell what Frey is drawing at the moment, but it resembles a human face if he looks at it from the right angle. “Don’t you want to eat anything?”

Frey doesn’t answer. He draws a rounded curve and then traces it with his fingers.

“Frey?”

Frey glances over at him. “What?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Brian tries again.

“Um, no.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“I said I’m not hungry,” Frey answers sharply.

“Well, that doesn’t-”

“Now be quiet, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Brian stays quiet for another five minutes. Frey keeps pushing his hair back behind his hair every once in awhile like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. There’s a black mark on his cheek where his charcoal-caked fingers rub it accidentally. He hasn’t had a haircut in months and it drives his mother crazy, but Brian likes it this way.

Frey clears his throat and looks over at Brian abruptly as if he’s just noticing him. “Oh,” he says, “did you say something a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, I asked if you were hungry.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not, really.”

“I know. We already cleared that up.”

Frey frowns. “I wasn’t paying attention. You, you shouldn’t try to talk to me when…” His fingers go to his face and leave a second black mark on his cheek. Then he seems to forget what he was going to say and begins again abruptly. “Brian, why are you sitting on the table?”

“You have charcoal on your face, you know.”

“I don’t care.”

“Come here.” Frey’s standing close enough that Brian can reach over and grab a little bit of the fabric on his elbow, and tug him two inches closer so he can get a hold on his arm. He uses it to drag Frey toward him. Frey protests. “Stop struggling, I’m just going to get that damn charcoal dust off your face.”

“Well, maybe I want it there.”

“Whatever. Just hang on a second.” Brian rubs away the dust with the back of his hand and then with his thumb. It helps a little, but the dark smudge is still there. He gives up on it and moves the hand down to Frey’s waist.

“Come on, Frey, kiss me. Please.”

“I’m busy right now.” Frey tries to wriggle away, but Brian won’t let him.

“You’re so mean. I’ve hardly bothered you all day. I’m bored.”

Frey stops struggling. He looks vaguely insulted. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to.”

“But you’re bored.”

“I won’t be bored if you’ll just kiss me already.”

Frey sighs a little but he puts his hands on Brian’s shoulders and pulls him forward and kisses him hard. Brian hasn’t gotten to do this all day, and all of yesterday, except when he was saying goodbye. Frey doesn’t break away after a few moments so Brian deepens it and tastes Frey’s lips and the inner skin and the ridge of his teeth. Frey tilts his head into the kiss and slides his hands down Brian’s back. He doesn’t seem to notice when Brian’s touching the skin that was hidden under the edge of Frey’s shirt, or even when Brian takes a chance and grips Frey around the middle and pulls him up onto the table with him.

Frey decides the next minute that Brian’s fingers and lips have caressed too much soft skin because he suddenly pulls away from the kiss and slides off the table, jerking down his shirt. Brian is pleased to see that he looks flustered.

“Not- while I’m- busy,” he says insistently, pointing an accusing finger at Brian.

“Sorry,” Brian answers. He smothers a smile with his hand as he returns to his chin-in-fist position.

Frey looks decidedly annoyed at having been interrupted, but he just mumbles his complaints to himself as he recovers his charcoal and goes back to the wall, reabsorbing himself almost immediately.

Brian goes back to watching him. Frey’s pale skin is a stark contrast to his dark hair and blue eyes. He thinks he should start trying to convince Frey to spend more time outside again, even though Frey probably won’t listen. He misses Frey’s freckles and his laugh; they made him seem like more of a beautiful Italian boy than ever.

Frey wasn’t this obsessed artist until after he got sick. He used to pay more attention to Brian, although Brian knows he stills loves him. Things just aren’t the way they used to be.

Frey doesn’t say anything for the rest of the afternoon, except for a mumbled, “Brian distracts me…” And Brian didn’t know exactly to whom Frey was talking, but he didn’t appear to expect an answer. Frey doesn’t even respond when Brian tells him goodbye and to remember to stop soon and eat, except for a brief smile of recognition.

Brian accepts the smile for now and leaves. He’ll be back again tomorrow.