A/N: I love feedback and let me know what you think about the characters so far.


There's an earthquake. Oh crap no! This is not happening. What on earth do people do when there's an earthquake?! I live in an apartment complex! Do we even have a basement? Am I doomed to die young? Goodbye world!

Ok, why the hell am I thinking with the logic of Chris?

I open my eyes for the second time this morning and Chris is persistently jumping on my bed. My bed is a single. How he manages to bother me in so many ways on it without falling off and getting a concussion is beyond me. And why on earth did I think there was an earthquake you ask. Well, stranger things have happened and I have been told I am particularly more melodramatic in the mornings.

Yes, it was Chris who told me that.

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle," he chants alternating with his jumps like jump "Kyle," jump "Kyle", "If you don't wake up right now Mark's gonna think we got mobbed or killed on our way to meet himmm."

I briefly consider pushing Chris off the bed. I am not one to ponder thoughts of murder but I have only been living with Chris for 8 months and I am already in danger of having to see a therapist.

"Morning are for sleeping, not jumping. Jumping, bad." I turn my head back into my pillow feeling that I have properly admonished him.

"I'm gonna squish you," he gleefully states. He says it with what I like to call a manic cackle, like a madman.

"You wouldn't," I say opening one eye, but I know he would.

He prepares for lift off and I deftly slip out of the bed as he belly flops on to where I had been not a second before with a surprisingly strong impact. He lets out an "oof" and makes the springs scream like unoiled hinges. I wince at the sound.

I use the word deftly loosely in this case considering my legs got tangled in the sheets leaving me to stumble butt first onto the floorboards with one of my legs still stuck on the bed. We need to get a thicker carpet.

Chris bounces back like elastic and throws my hair into further disarray when he ruffles my hair as he passes me and retreats from my room. "Be quick!"

I sigh and pick myself up rubbing my tailbone. I get ready quickly because what Chris said about Mark is true. He really would think we were killed. Let's just say he's overprotective. On an extreme level. A level where he is constantly freaking out about how there is a possibly we could have been mauled, murdered, or decapitated during the ten minute walk from our apartment to the campus café.

Yes, that probably makes him sound like he's crazy but he's really not! This is all just a side affect to the fact that his parents work and own a prestigious horror movie production and their idea of family bonding when Mark was little was to bring him to partake in Paranormal Activity and cover him in fake blood. I have heard those things can traumatize a child. Or turn them into an emo goth. I'm not sure if I am thankful that he got the side affects of the former.

Me and Chris walk through the door of the café and are immediately engulfed in a breath stealing hug. Picture being tackled by a bear, yeah, not exactly comfortable.

"Oh thank God you both weren't eaten by werewolves or making a pact with the necromancers. They would have tried to take your life's blood to create their undead army!" The fact that's it's the month of Halloween doesn't seem to be helping Mark's … problem.

I pat his back and uncomfortably soothe him with, "It's okay, it's okay"'s. On a general premise I am not a very touchy feely guy but with the company I have today it's mandatory that I got used to it.

"Hey big guy, enough love here," Chris wheezes.

He abruptly lets go realizing we're dying from lack of air. "Sorry, sorry!" His face is all scrunched up with worry.

Mark is the size of a shit house. He's a whole foot ball team on his own, not that he would play with his fear of hurting people much to our school coach's pleas. Mark is all muscle and bulk; not exactly someone you'd expect has a complex.

"I got us a table before I- well- I- i- it's over here."

He does the whole waiter thing with one arm outstretched as if to say "this way" before he notices how awkward that is and stabs his hands into his pockets.

"So is it time for the annual escape Halloween escapade already?" I ask.

Mark nods solemnly. Every year Mark's family holds a huge Halloween party at their house. And it is huge. I'm serious, there's a guest list and bouncers with stunt men and celebrities. Mark's pretty much freaked out of his own house for the whole month it's being set up.

"They're turning my room into a swamp this year and one eyed clowns have their innards spilling out from my closet." Chris and Mark shudder in unison.

"Clowns," Chris winces, "their lips are smiling but their eyes say I want to eat your first born child."

Okay, then. Time to change the subject. "Sooo, what's the excuse going to be this year?"

"Maybe you can go on a date with Kyle again," Chris suggests.

Last year Chris thought it would be great to distract Mark about Halloween by setting us up. It had been the first time meeting and we went to the movie theatre. Chris didn't tell me about his, ehem, problem so we went to see a horror movie. You can guess how well that went.

Mark starts to blush and I send Chris my most powerful glare.

"I was joking!" He's wasn't. "Why don't we just throw a completely un-scary party at our place?"

"No."

"Why not, Kyle?" he whines.

"Remember what happened last time?"

"You mean when the stripper crashed the party and you were so drunk you- "

"You promised we would never speak of it!"

Mark looks back and forth between us like this is a ping pong match but decides to speak up against me. "Please Kyle. I have no where else to go." His lower lip does the whole pitiful trembling thing.

"Oh, god. Fine!"

He flies across the table to clasp my hands saying, "thankyouthankyouthankyou," God, he's like a giant teddy bear.

"You've got a soft spot for him," Chris teases.

"Shut up."