I really must find something to do so that I'm not bored all the time. Because then things happen and when the happens you end up with something like this. Which is backwards.



"I'll m-miss you."

Michael's voice was broken and shattered through the middle by a harsh, shuddering breath. Brown eyes puddled with tears as his hands fidgeted at his side. Acid green eyes stared at him intently, shining with moisture that stubbornly refused to be shed.

"I know," the green eyed boy, Aaron, replied quietly, voice even and drawn like his jaw was clenched in an effort to hold back tears. "I know."

There was a moment when neither spoke, Aaron playing with the handle of his suitcase while Michael looked off at the terminal where Aaron had to be boarding soon.

"We ..." Michael broke off with another shuddering breath, followed by a sobbed-out almost-laugh that is more self-deprecating than anything else. "We'll see each other again, right?"

Aaron was silent, staring at his feet clad in his old, familiar combat boots, tightly laced up to his mid-calf. He tightened his grip on the handle of his suitcase and shrugged helplessly. "I ... Honestly, I don't know," he said, paused and dropped his tone to a hushed whisper before continuing, "But we'll keep in touch, right?"

Michael smiled and gathered the smaller boy in his arms for a hug, holding him tightly to his chest and sighing into the tufts of black hair at the base of his neck. "Of course, we will."

Aaron awkwardly returned the hug, resting his head on the leather-clad shoulder and sighing sadly before pulling away. He didn't say anything as he turned his back on Michael and walked towards the terminal with his suitcase in tow, and neither did Michael.

Before he was swallowed by the crowd he stopped and turned around to see Michael still staring at him, smiling wetly through his tears and Aaron smiled back.


It was hot.

It was too hot. It was way too hot. But neither boy seemed to care. Hands scrabbled and thighs quivered, slicked with sweat and other fluids. Moans and pants and breaths fell to mingle in the small crevice of space between their parted lips.

"Do-does it hurt?" Michael breathed, hand trembling where it was intertwined with Aaron's on the bed. His whole body quivered with effort.

One eye cracked open to reveal a sliver of darkened green. Aaron shook his head, wrapping his legs tighter around Michael's bare waist in search of friction denied by sweat. "N-no ... fine, just move ..."

Michael did and from then on it was a blur of movement and disjointed memories. The bed was warm and Michael was warm and there was thrusting and moaning and cries of pleasure and Michael was everywhere, around him and inside him and in the very air he was so desperately taking into his lungs.

It was over too quickly and Aaron lay awake afterwards, head pillowed on Michael's chest, listening to his gentle heartbeat. He sighed and tangled their legs together, curling further into Michael's side and letting himself drift off to sleep.


The rain was heavy and neither had an umbrella. They hurried along the empty streets, splashing through puddles and getting wetter and wetter by the second.

Michael grabbed at his elbow, pulling him under an awning, brushing the hair the was plastered to his forehead out of his eyes and laughing when Aaron stubbornly shook it back into place with a scowl.

"Are you cold?" Michael asked, shoving his hands into his pockets to warm them up and dry them off. Aaron shrugged silently, but Michael could see that he was trembling, hands red and cold and wet because he had no pockets to put them in. "C'mere," Michael grabbed Aaron's hand in his warmer one, intertwining their fingers.

Aaron's face erupted in a blush and he looked away pointedly, making Michael smile stupidly and squeeze their hands tighter.

Aaron allowed a ghost smile to creep along his lips and squeezed back gently.


The grass was dry and warm beneath Aaron as he lay down with a groan as the muscles in his back stretched out. He laced his fingers behind his head and turned it to look at Michael, who was sitting a couple of feet away, knees brought up to his chest.

"So what did you need to talk to me about?" Aaron asked, lethargic from the sun and the grass and the peace that surrounded them. "You said it was important."

Michael turned a gentle pink, stretching out his legs and fumbling with the grass absently. "Kind of important, I guess. I don't know." He took a deep breath and stared pointedly away from Aaron, who arched a curious eyebrow at him. "Remember a couple of days ago? When you dragged me to the bar even though we're underage?"

Aaron nodded slowly, eyeing him with a slight wariness in his green gaze. "Yeah, I remember. Well, as much as I can remember, considering how drunk I got."

"Yeah, well you were pretty drunk and you kind of ... said some things," Michael said, slowly, as if thinking over each word carefully to avoid a blowout.

Aaron arched an eyebrow. "Oh? What sort of thighs did I say?"

Michael rubbed the back of his head, wondering why the Hell he was so worked up over this. "You kind of said that I was unfair and that you hated yourself for things and then you kind of ... kissed me."

Aaron was quiet for a long moment, rolling onto his side so that his back was to Michael. "Is that so? Well, I apologize for making you uncomfortable. That's why I always go drinking with Gilbert when I go drinking back home. He'll keep me from making an idiot out of myself like that ..."

Michael chuckled awkwardly, moving closer to Aaron and rolling the teen back onto his back so that he can stare at him. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. Just a bit confused. Because I didn't know if it was the alcohol talking or you yourself."

Aaron stared back at him, the beginnings of a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He sat up with a sigh, pushing Michael away and reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. Finding one, he stuck it between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Well? Which one is it?" Michael prompted, looking slightly annoyed at the cigarette.

Another drag of nicotine and Aaron shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "It wasn't the alcohol, if you must know. It was me. I'm sorry, I'll leave now."

Aaron made to get up, but Michael tugged him back down by the wrist and into his lap, grinning dopily and kissing Aaron on the crown of the head and holding him tight as he blew smoke rings over the edge of the cliff.


The bar was crowded when they had arrived, full of drinking, laughing, slurring people among the tables and at the bar. But now it had dwindled down to mostly nothing, Aaron and Michael the only two left at the bar.

"Maybe you should ease up on the drinks there, Aaron ..." Michael suggested hesitantly, taking a careful sip of his water.

Aaron slumped against the bar and shook his head, ordering another drink as he forced himself back upright. "No ... Haven' gotthe buzz goin' yet ..." he slurred.

"I seriously think that you had enough, Aaron. Not to mention that you're not even legal drinking age yet," Michael sniffed and turned back to his drink.

Aaron laughed and turned around jerkily to face him, finger pointed right between Michael's eyes. "You ... You can' tell me how much I can drink, y'hear? You're not my mom."

"Yes, well, I'm merely a concerned friend. Sorry if that isn't good enough for you," Michael batted the hand away from his face and Aaron pitched forward, forehead resting against Michael's shoulder.

"Is not fair ..." Aaron muttered, letting out a sigh which fluttered against the leather of Michael's jacket. "You're not fair y'know? I try ... Try not to pay attention ... 'cause I'm leavin' in a year an' all but ..."

Michael stiffened and stood up, catching Aaron before he could fall to the floor. "Come on. I'm taking you home now. Up you get."

Aaron shook his head defiantly, pushing Michael away from him. "I hate m'self y'know. 'Cause I ain't s'ppose to like you. But ... I dono. You're too ... cute."

Michael looked affronted, opening his mouth to retort when suddenly he found his lips sealed by Aaron's own, cool hands coming up to rest on the back of his neck.

Aaron pulled away and Michael arched a curious brow, hands on Aaron's hips to keep him upright. "I thought you said that you didn't like me?"

Aaron shrugged. "I say things I don't mean only when I'm sober. I'm only honest when drunk," he said and tilted his head up for another kiss, which Michael obliged him, pulling him closer against him.

Michael pulled away, mouth opening to question what just happened, but Aaron just slumped against his chest, out cold for the night.


"How can you drink that shit?" Aaron asked with contempt, taking a long drag of his cigarette after a small drink from his cup of tea.

Michael arched an eyebrow, staring at his coffee. "What? This? Easy." To prove his point, he took the cup and tipped it back, finishing the liquid inside. "I guess it's the same way you can smoke those without throwing up," he gestured to the cigarette in Aaron's hand.

"I suppose so," Aaron agreed. There was a long moment of silence before Aaron spoke up again. "Don't think that this is because I like you or anything. Because it isn't."

Michael looked up from spinning his cup and watching the dredges of coffee splash about. "Huh?" he asked intelligently, "sorry, what?"

"I said that this," he gestured around them vaguely with his hand, "is not because I like you. So you shouldn't start thinking that or anything."

Michael nodded absently and went back to playing with his cup. "Yeah, sure. So why is this then? Because this doesn't really seem like studying to me."

Aaron coloured and took another drag of nicotine, blowing smoke into Michael's face. "I'm just bored and most of the people here are twice as boring as you are."

Michael chuckled. "In that case I'm honoured that you find me worthy of your presence outside of your necessities."

Aaron slumped in his chair, grumbling something that sounded like 'I hate you idiot' under his breath, which caused Michael's grin to widen even more.


"Michael ... May I talk to you for a second?" Aaron forced out through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes averted and his lips pursed.

"Uh ... Yeah, sure. What is it that you need, Aaron?" Michael asked, hitching his bag on his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest. "Come to give me another burn?"

Aaron coloured violently, his face contorting into a scowl. "Look, I'm sorry about that, but you really should learn to piss off when people tell you to!" Aaron snapped before apologizing again, massaging the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "But no, that's not it. I ... need your help."

"Oh?" Michael said, shrugging off the first comment altogether. "Help with what?"

"Maths. I'm ... not exactly the best in that subject and I need to keep my grades up or my father will get mad at me and I don't really want that ... So can you please help me?"

Michael shrugged. "I guess I could. After all, I got nothing better to do with my time."

Aaron nodded. "Thank you, really. I owe you." He turned to walk away before turning back to Michael, looking more irritated than before. "But I refuse to be seen with you in public unless we're studying! Understand?"

Michael laughed and waved him off, turning and walk back in the opposite direction.


"Hey!" a voice called somewhere behind Aaron, and he turned irritably around, coming face to face with brown eyes that were way too close for comfort. "You're him!"

Aaron blinked and took a step back. "What the fuck? Who am I?" he tore his cigarette out of his lips, blowing smoke to the side like it's the most natural thing in the world to do.

"You're the new kid! The scholarship boy that came a couple of weeks ago. We're in the same Maths class. I'm Michael," the teen, Michael introduced himself.

Aaron arched an eyebrow, feeling the sudden urge to knee the boy between the legs so that he wouldn't loom over him like he was. "Yes. Pleasure's all mine. Now piss off," Aaron bit out, blowing smoke in Michael's face.

"You aren't very nice, are you?" Michael said, ignoring the bite of Aaron's words.

"No," Aaron replied with a scowl. "Now kindly leave me the fuck alone!"

But Michael didn't move. He just leaned against the wall beside Aaron, following when Aaron left to go somewhere else. "What's the matter? Don't want to be seen around me?"

Aaron growled, and whipped around. "Look, leave, now, or I'll do something that I'll regret," Aaron warned lowly, empty hand fisting at his side. "Don't think I'm afraid, because I've taken on blokes twice your size."

Michael just grins at him. "What can you do shrimpy?" There's no malice, but Aaron refuses to believe that Michael wants to befriend him just for the Hell of it.

He lets out a small sigh, sidling up to Michael, pressing his body flush to Michael's bigger one, one hand settling on his shoulder as he craned his neck so the he could whisper into his ear. "I can do a lot more than your pretty little mind can imagine," he said and pressed the lit end of his cigarette into the bare flesh of Michael's arm, enjoying the pained hiss and the warm body jerking away from his.

Michael frowned at the circular burn mark on his arm, and Aaron just laughed, turning and offering a half wave over his shoulder, disappearing around the corner.

Michael's eyes narrowed as determination rose in his chest because he wanted to see beneath the porcelain mask that Aaron had erected around himself.


Heavy combat boots made surprisingly little sounds on the linoleum floor of the airport as Aaron stepped away from the baggage claim.

His eyes scanned around for something familiar, because his aunt or uncle or cousin or something were supposed to come and pick him up from here, so that they could take him to the damned school that he was being forced to attend.

He grumbled in disgust, walking in some random direction with his luggage in tow, not bothering to look around him at all.

It was only for two years. Just two, and then he'll be free and he would go back home, fall back into his old routines and forget about everything that happened here, halfway across the United States in good ol' California where he didn't want to be to begin with.

He sighed and fell onto a bench, suitcase positioned between his legs, scanning the crowd irritably and itching for a cigarette.

'Just two years. Not much can happen in the space of two years ... I hope.'


Hm. Yeah, so there you go. It's all backwards-like. I hope that didn't annoy anyone terribly, but if it did, feel free to yell at me through a review. I can't characterize, it seems, when I'm really bored and things are not in order, because I think Aaron did somewhere around ten whole three-sixties with his personality. Or maybe that's just me. Either way, I will honestly say that not a lot of time was put into this, so I will likely take it down later do edit a bit and then maybe I'll repost it, but only when I have a little more time available to me.

Read and Review.