"Fucking hell."

You get caught in a rain storm; the streets are empty, the stores are empty, the only place you can go is to the little hole in the wall for a coffee shop across from you. You make a mad dash for it, slipping once on the slick road and soaking yourself to the bone.

Inside is nice and warm. You shake your hair about like a dog for a moment, getting water droplets on the table before you. You remove your jacket, and grin when you discover that you shirt has been spared the rain's infliction. You take a seat-


-and promptly jump clear out of your skin when you notice me, and wonder why you hadn't seen me when you first came in. But of course you hadn't; I have a habit of blending into things, if I'm quite enough. I noticed you- that is what matters.

How could I not? You with your pale flesh, your beautiful scowling eyes- strikingly green, hateful eyes.

Yes… I've been waiting for this moment for ages.

You turn those eyes on me and frown. "Hey."

I cock my head a little and smile. You and I are one and the same; lone souls fighting the rest of the world. We would be perfect together. I wonder if you know that.

Your frown deepens and you turn to flag down a waitress. You're very rude, but I don't mind- it won't last long.

She takes your order; all you ask for is coffee. No wonder you're so thin. I interrupt and tell her to bring us some raspberry scones as well.

You glare at me, but I know I've perked your interest. Why else would you still be sitting here, allowing me to butt into your business?

She brings you your coffee and places the scones on the table and asks us if we need anything else. You say no.

I take one from the plate and offer it to you. "Scone?"

"I can't afford it," you say. I smile. "Then it's a good thing I'm paying." That was all the reassurance you need. You grab it from me –always the rude one, I see- and eat it in three bites, washing it down with coffee.

I absently nibble at one, while you finish off the rest.

We sit in companionably silence for a moment. That was probably the first meal you've had in a while. I want it to sink in; the fact that you haven't had anything in your stomach in ages and I was the one to help you. You needed it and I gave it to you.

I hint that I've got more food at my place, and it's not too far from here. You glance at me bleary eyed and your head lolls a bit. You've stopped glaring at me and just sort of stare. Do you find me attractive?

I smile. "You look tired. Would you like to rest for a while?"

"Yes," you say. "Yes, I think I…" You try to stand but your legs don't seem to be listening.

"Here, let me help you." I stand you up and you lean heavily against my shoulder. I toss more than enough money on the table, and we leave.

By the time we make it to my car, I can't differentiate between the rain and the sweat perspiring from your delicate flesh. I sit you down in the passenger seat, your gorgeous chocolate-brown hair sticking to the back of your bare neck. Your eyes dilate, and you open you mouth slightly to speak only to find your mind too nebulous to form coherent speech.

"Whas… wrong with me?" you slur. I lay a hand on your knee as if to pat it reassuringly. "You got sick, Grant" I speak loudly and clearly. "I'm going to take care of you."

Your eyebrows knit in confusion, and you glance at my hand. I squeeze your knee, to show you it's alright. "I'm your friend," I whisper soothingly. You still stare at my hand, but you've relaxed considerably.

Lazily I let my hand slide up your thigh, but by now you are too far gone to notice. I pull into my apartment complex's parking lot, and hear the sound thud of your skull making contact with the car window.

You'll be out cold for a few hours.