Part One: Leopold and Leob

"A superman ... is, on account of certain superior qualities inherent in him, exempted from the ordinary laws which govern men. He is not liable for anything he may do." - Nathan Leopold

Chapter One

The American Ornithological Society

"When he says he loves me, it only means he loves me at that particular instant. Like his promises, which he never keeps. Why does he torment me like this, when he could finish it off at once?"

-Eva Braun

Because I can't live without him, I know it means I can't die without him. Because it is impossible to live with him, but must be the answer to die with him. Because we cannot exist together peacefully in the wake of the zombies, we must exist together peacefully in the wake of no one, in the wake of the halcyon of death.

All I have ever done is love him, love him with all my heart. From the day we met, I knew I felt something different, something beyond friendship. Who are the zombies to deny me this? Who are the zombies to stand in between me and the one I love? It's hard enough already for us to be happy together. Though I know we are perfectly compatible, it doesn't stop the occasional rain from falling. Why do the zombies find it necessary to make what is already a challenge even harder for me and my love?

He explained it to me one day. "They're a test put here for us to pass," he whispered into my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

I've always felt different from the zombies, the "other people" and "humans" as I used to refer to them, but it never occurred to me that I was superior. Though once he explained it to me, it made perfect sense: Why I had never related, why I had never fit in, why I had never felt like I had anything in common with any of them.

In fact, I never felt like I could relate to anyone or had anything in common with anyone until I met my love.

I may not be able to call myself happy at this time, but I am not able to call myself unhappy, depressed or lonely, either. Though much is to be desired, I only desire it vaguely, since I know it is all coming to me soon. Years, even months ago, I was not in as high spirits as I am today. The unobtainable is finally drawing close. The happiness and fulfillment I have always dreamed of draws closer with each passing minute. It's just hours away now.

I would never have realized any of this without the help of my love. He is the reason in my life. If it weren't for him, I would be continuing my mundane day-to-day life, searching for happiness in places where it is not. Searching for happiness in mere human places.

Today I will follow my love into the great, empty hall, where we can just sit and be together, and finally be at peace. I love him like I have never loved another. We are two of the same kind. The only two of our kind. We are deserving of each other and no one else: This is our destiny. It is our destiny to consummate our love in death.

Mere hours now.

*

Girls had just never done it for Nathan Leopold, and he supposed this was further validation of that realization.

First he had been confused when his father's pornographic magazines stashed in the bathroom cupboard did not cause a reaction, and now that he knew that a girl, naked and offering sex,

did not cause a reaction, he was no longer confused.

He just wished there was someone who would make his dreams come true, without judging him. Nathan knew he was superior to most people, as they had shown him through the years and because what all his friends and family told him. It got old after awhile. Oh, Nathan with the good grades. Nathan with all the money. Nathan with the good clothes, Nathan who's always reading a book. Nathan, the living encyclopedia. Instead of, What do you want for dinner? Where do you want to go to college? How much money do you want this month? What car do you want for your birthday? he wanted to sometimes hear, Listen to me. Do as I say. You've got to obey me or you'll pay.

But no one would ever come along who would do that, much less someone who he'd be comfortable letting know that he wanted them to be like that in the first place.

And he knew it would definitely never be any girl. What about a female physique or personality would make him feel inferior? Nothing. Muscles, cologne, and hair: That could. The strong hands of a man could put him where he belonged; not on top, but on the

bottom.

His feelings for Dick had been growing over the last few months of knowing him. He was stupid to think anything would ever happen, though. Richard Loeb? Love him? Be with him? He doubted it would ever happen. He didn't even have anything to offer his acquaintance. Plus he didn't seem like the kind of man who would give Nathan what he needed...

He sighed as he crawled into bed. He might as well be friends with him, he was a fun guy, and just not do anything embarrassing or that he might regret. As long as he watched himself, nothing bad could come from just being friends with Dick, right?

January 1998

"Hey," Eric said suddenly. "Stop sucking my cock for a second and look at this."

Dylan obediently wiped his mouth and sat up.

Eric rebuttoned his jeans and crawled into the front seat of his old Prelude. "Is that van seriously just sitting there, Vodka?"

Dylan climbed back into the front seat after his friend. "Looks like it," he responded, cracking a grin.

Eric turned to him, looking delighted. "Wonder what's in it?"

Dylan nodded. "Yeah, and I wonder how easy it'll be to find out, Reb."

Eric opened his car door. "Come on then." He stepped out of the car, closing the door behind himself and waiting for Dylan to join him.

Dylan stared out the dingy windshield at the orange sun as it set behind the mountains. At the cracks in the parking lot pavement, at the worn yellow paint stripes.

"Come on," came Eric's muffled voice as he tapped on the window.

How could he not? It was what Eric wanted, but more importantly, what would make Eric happy with him. And happy Eric had a better chance than loving him back than an angry, disappointed Eric. Dylan had learned this.

So he got out of the car, eyes falling on a beautiful smile as it spread its way across Eric's flawless skin. Dylan smiled back nervously and began to follow Eric as he made his way towards the abandoned van.

Eric slipped his fingertips between the window and the top of the van. "Fuck," he said. "I can't get my hands far enough in there to get it down."

"Let me try," Dylan offered. He slid his fingers through the small space, all the way to the second knuckle. "I think I can get it down," he said. He started to slowly push the window down, but couldn't get it very far.

Eric bent over and picked up a rock. "Let's just break the fucking window."

Dylan could remember when he first started to crush on his best friend like it was yesterday. It was only about three months ago when he had made the actual realization, but he was more than sure that he had subconsciously and occasionally consciously liked Eric the whole time he had known him, or at least always felt something different for him.

The day in November when he first realized that he liked his best friend, had been an impromptu snow day. Eric had called him, indignant that school had been cancelled. "There's like, not even three whole fucking inches out here," he said when he called Dylan. "Those fucking pussies just cancelled school because we haven't had a holiday in a few goddamn months. Why the fuck don't you come over, Vodka? We can play some video games or something. My mom's making fucking quesadillas for lunch."

Pleasantly excited as he always was when Eric asked him to do something, Dylan grabbed a few video games and two sodas and began the bike ride to Eric's, since his mom didn't think it would be safe for her to drive in this weather.

Dylan had always been somewhat nervous around Eric, always excited to see him, always eager for his approval, always a few minutes early whenever they were supposed to meet, always going out of his way to do little favors for him -- he glanced into his hands. Like this bottle of soda. He had never thought anything of it, maybe because he didn't let his mind broach those kind of thoughts.

Until that November day.

He rang Eric's doorbell as he stood, shivering, on the snow covered porch. Eric answered the door, smiling at his taller friend as he let him in. "It's fucking cold out there," Dylan shivered, handing Eric his soda.

"Thanks," said Eric, his tone pleasantly surprised, making his way back to his bedroom, Dylan following. Eric shut the door behind Dylan as they entered his immaculately clean room.

"The medicine not helping with the cleaning much?" joked Dylan.

Eric chuckled, shrugging. "Guess not. But I don't see how being fucking clean could ever be a problem. That's retarded to me. Like, you clean too fucking much, take these pills."

"Are you even taking them?"

Eric nodded, but he was facing his TV as he took a drink of the soda Dylan had given to him, so Dylan couldn't see his face from his seat on Eric's bed. "So what the fuck do you wanna do, man?" Eric asked him, taking a seat in his computer chair, swiveling it around to face Dylan, propping his elbows up on his knees.

Dylan shrugged, surprised by his friend's question. Usually Eric decided what they did, and it was done without question. Simply probably because --

"I mean, we could play something. Or think of ideas for missions. I dunno man, it's up to you."

Dylan, sure he was still giving Eric a strange look, tried to wipe the expression off his face. "Wanna just watch Natural Born Killers again until lunch is ready?"

"Sure," said Eric, getting up to find the VHS and put it in.

"You might want to rewind it," laughed Dylan, as the images of Mallory's mom burning alive flashed on the screen.

Instead of laughing like Dylan expected, Eric instead abruptly turned around to face Dylan. "I fucking hate my mom."

"What? Why?"

"It's the same shit over and over and over. Every fucking day, and I'm so fucking sick of it. I'm gonna fucking blow someone's brains out."

"What did she do, Reb?"

"She fucking woke me up early this morning just to tell me there wasn't school. Like, if there's not school, I want to fucking sleep in, right? I was like, what the fuck mom, now I'm awake and can't go back to fucking sleep."

Dylan nodded supportively as Eric paused.

"And then when I told her that that was great and to go away, she asked me if I wanted goddamn waffles for breakfast. I was like fuck no, I don't want any fucking waffles for breakfast. I want to goddamn sleep in."

Dylan stared at his friend waiting for him to continue.

Eric stared back at him and finally just shook his head and turned back to jab at the rewind button.

Dylan sat up straight from his reclining position on Eric's bed. "No dude. Go ahead and tell me, I wanna hear it."

The room now silent except for the rewinding of the tape, Eric turned back around to look at his friend again, an odd expression on his face. "Take it easy, faggot."

Dylan looked hurt for a moment, but then realized Eric was smiling, and chuckled nervously back.

A voice came calling down the hallway. "Quesadillas are done, Eric."

Dylan made his way to get up to follow Eric into the kitchen. "No, Vodka, it's cool, I'll go get the plates and be right back." He shut

the door behind himself swiftly.

Dylan bit back a hopeful smile as the door shut. It was strange to Dylan that the boy who was now fixing him a plate of lunch had moments ago gone on a rant about how much he wanted to kill his

own mother.

Moments later, Eric returned, kicking his door open because his hands were each holding a plate. He handed one to Dylan and took his seat back in the swivel chair after he pressed play on the VCR. "She might be a cunt, but my mom knows how to cook a good quesadilla."

*

Dylan stepped out of the way as Eric backed up and threw the rock at the window. The window broke into shards and they shattered down onto the ground and into the front seat, with a sound similar to breaking ice.

Eric cautiously made his way over to the van and pressed the button to unlock the rest of the doors. He opened the side door to avoid being cut on the broken glass.

"The fuck," Eric breathed. "Vodka, come here."

Dylan came closer. "Oh shit," he said. "What the hell is all that shit?"

"I don't know," said Eric, glancing around. "Let's get it all in my car real quick and take it somewhere else to look at."

"All right," said Dylan, eyeing the equipment.

"I'll sit in the car and keep a lookout, you bring it over and put it in my backseat."

Dylan nodded. As Eric made his way back over to his car, Dylan began to carry the equipment to Eric's backseat.

Why did Eric get to keep lookout? Was it so Dylan could take the fall for it if they got caught?

Dylan made a second trip to the van.

Was it just his personality? Did he not mean it in a responsibiliy-evasive way?

Dylan made a second trip back to the van, glancing at his blonde friend in the driver's seat as he turned around.

So gorgeous.

He closed his eyes and shook his head briefly. They weren't going to get caught, it didn't matter. There was no one fucking around. That's why they'd come here, wasn't it? If he didn't get caught sucking his best friend off, why would they get caught

stealing shit out of a van?

He made his third trip back to the car.

"That's enough, let's go," said Eric, opening the passenger's side door for Dylan.

Dylan shut the back door and got in as Eric turned the car on.

*

Later that November night after he got home, Dylan crawled into bed, the pleasant memories of earlier that day with Eric fading fast. Now returning was that ever familiar feeling of loneliness, especially now that he realized the reason he had been feeling so lonely lately was because the one person it turned out he had wanted this whole time was someone he could never have.

To his dismay, he felt a single tear leak out of his right eye and down his cheek and into his ear.

He had no hope, really. No future plans. His grades had been steadily getting worse the more he hung out with Eric, the more time he wasted at work and making stupid pipe bombs. Mostly just to impress Eric, he realized. How his friend managed to keep his grades so high while he did all he did in his spare time Dylan would never

understand.

But Eric was such a puzzle, and it was so appealing to Dylan. He had his rough, hateful side that he demonstrated whenever no consequences would arise, and no one was ever safe from his tirades; his deceptive, manipulative side he saw him use on girls and teachers and his parents; and then, there was the seemingly sensitive side that was nice to Sara and Kim at work. The seemingly sensitive side that got Dylan's plate of food for him, that let Dylan pick the movie, that picked up Dylan for school.

But there was no chance that even if that seemingly sensitive side existed that it would have any kind of feelings for Dylan the way he thought he was developing them for him. No, he wasn't developing them, he realized. He had just been ignoring them for months. Maybe he should just give up. Surely Eric would just be freaked out and then want nothing to do with him, and something was better than nothing at all. There was no reason to go chasing after Eric Harris, he should know enough to know that it would never happen. He knew you couldn't reach for the stars if you were afraid to fall the whole way back down.

*

Eric pulled onto the shoulder of the highway. He glanced around at the setting sun and the mountains to make sure there were no nearby houses or cars.

"You wanna finish the job now, Vodka?" he asked, leaning towards Dylan and hooking a hand behind Dylan's ear, toying with his hair as he kissed the corner of his mouth.

Dylan smiled into his friend's lips. "Anything for you," he whispered.

"I know," breathed Eric as he pushed Dylan's head downwards.

*

Dylan reached into his locker for his science book. He jumped when he felt something come into contact with his ass.

"What the fuck?" he yelped, turning around, only to see Eric laughing behind him.

"Sup man?"

"What the fuck?" asked a nearby student with a white ballcap

on. "Are you guys some kind of faggots?"

Eric grabbed Dylan's hand. "Yes, yes we are. Come to class

now, baby."

Dylan felt an uncomfortable lurching feeling in his stomach as

the hot skin of Eric's hand came into contact with his own larger one. Eric pulled him with surprising force down the hallway and away from the boy with the white ballcap, who was staring at them, looking unsure of whether to laugh or not. Dylan barely had time to grab his science book.

Eric let go of his hand after they had walked a few yards, laughing. "I think we actually got him to believe that," he said, turning the other way to go to his class.

Dylan stared at him as he walked away and still didn't move when the tardy bell rang, his stomach still lurching.

*

"Let's look at this shit now," Eric said excitedly. "Maybe we can fucking sell this shit or something."

"Why don't you put some of it in the trunk so it doesn't look as

suspicious?" Dylan asked as they began to examine some of it.

Eric nodded. "That sounds like a good idea." He grabbed an armload of equipment. "Get my door for me?" he asked Dylan.

Dylan got out of the car and walked around the front to get Eric's door for him. "Pop the trunk, too," Eric said as he got out. Dylan pressed the button and they both made their way to the back of the car.

Suddenly a light shone in their faces. "What you boys got there?" came a voice out of the dark.

Dylan's heart fell as police lights started flashing a few feet behind Eric's car. They apparently hadn't heard the car pull in behind them.

Dylan wondered how long he'd been watching them.

*

"All right, I've got it posted," said Eric, laughing. "That was a badass mission. We need to get more supplies and plan better ones though," he told Dylan as he spun around in his chair to face him instead of the computer.

Dylan nodded. "Sounds about right, man."

Looking suddenly delighted, Eric turned back around. "I've got to show you some sweet porn I found the other day."

Dylan laughed "What is it?"

"Some fucking hot as hell girl on girl."

"I'm not really into that, Reb," Dylan said, his mouth working faster than his mind. He realized what he'd said after it came out.

Eric paused too and slowly turned around, a confused but playful expression on his face. "What are you, gay?"

*

Nathan smiled at himself in the darkness. He was actually spending time with Dick, just the two of them, drinking. Sure, they were in a dorm room, but only two boys were there this weekend, and they were asleep.

Dick laughed and leaned back into Nathan's shoulder, his whiskey bottle in his hand. "You're so funny, Nathan," he chortled. "You should write books or something..."

Nathan laughed slightly. "I think we need to be heading to bed soon," he said. "I'm not feeling too great."

Dick burped and turned to face Nathan, his mouth touching his

neck. Nathan swallowed nervously.

"That's too bad," said Dick, his lips moving against Nathan's

skin, his breath hot, his smile apparent.

"You're drunk," breathed Nathan, too weak and nervous to talk, his heart pounding in his chest.

He heard Dick laugh, his voice reverberating into his own shoulder, his whiskey breath wafting up to Nathan's nostrils, reminding him yet again of the fact that this wasn't the real Dick. He was merely drunk. "Let's go to bed," he whispered. "Is the couch fine with you? I didn't ask any of the guys if you could use their beds, and I don't want them to come back and be upset with me Sunday."

*

"I really just wish people didn't exist," said Eric quietly, his eyes not leaving the television screen. "I wish that we had never been born or made or evolved or what the fuck ever. I see people every day do and say things that fucking contradict each other. It just pisses me off to no end. I wish everyone could be just like us, Vodka. If everyone were only just like us. I wish it could just be me and you, in some fucking rainforest somewhere. Starting all over. No technology, no laws, no rules, no traditions and socially accepted morals or any of that bullshit. Just us and some bows and arrows and an axe or some shit. We could just cut down some trees for a fire every night and shoot something for food whenever we needed it. And we wouldn't have to deal with fucking anybody else or any of their shit. Just me and you, Vodka." He paused, and Dylan saw his eyes close. "Just me and you."

Dylan stared at his friend in his rare moment of serenity. He lightly clasped the hand next to his. "Maybe someday it can be just you and me, Reb," he said softly.

Eric turned to him suddenly, jerked out of his reverie. "Yeah, maybe," he said, clutching Dylan's hand tighter and leaning forward to kiss the taller boy who sat next to him on the bed. "You wanna get the light, Vodka?" he whispered.

Dylan nodded, standing up to flip the switch. He sat back down to be immediately ambushed by Eric, who began pulling on his belt as he kissed him. "You want it to be just me and you, Vodka?" he whispered as he pulled Dylan on top of him by the waistband of his jeans. "You wanna fuck me, Vodka?"

Dylan breathed heavily into the mouth of his best friend as he kissed him.

"Do you?" breathed Eric as he successfully finished undoing Dylan's belt and began to unbutton his jeans.

*

Nathan crawled into his bed under his blankets, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Dick was just drunk, he whispered, trying to ease his thoughts. Nothing he said or did meant anything.

He drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

He woke up later to the sound of a door slamming and someone stumbling through the hallway outside his room. He sat up and saw the shadow of someone lean through the doorway. "Nathan?" came a whisper.

"What are you doing, Dick?" asked Nathan. "You need to go to sleep."

Dick made his way over to Nathan's bed, pulling the covers down.

"That's what I'm doing," he said as he crawled into the bed with his friend.

*

Dylan bit his lip to keep from moaning as Eric's warm hands traveled up his shirt and his kisses moved to his neck. "I know you'd do anything for me, right? So just answer this one question, Vodka." He roughly unzipped Dylan's jeans and shoved his hand inside, grabbing him, causing Dylan to grab his friend's shirt in pleasure.

"Yes," gasped Dylan as Eric rubbed him.

"Yes what?" whispered Eric, kissing him again.

"I want to fuck you," Dylan choked into Eric's neck.

Eric abruptly pulled his hand out of Dylan's jeans and pushed him off. He got up onto his knees and shoved Dylan down on his back. He stood above him, a knee on either side of his head. "Earn it," he breathed, undoing his pants and propping Dylan's head up with a pillow.

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