The Lecturer

Life is a mystery. You never know what's coming until it's here. Then, once it happens, the best you can hope for is that it shapes you as person. After all, we're only the products of what's been thrown at us.

I like to think that this is what shaped me as a person. This seemingly insignificant event that happened quite some time ago (so long ago, in fact, that I'm surprised I can remember it) is what made me who I am today.

When I started school, I was just another hyperactive five-year-old boy. Loved recess, loved snack time. Hated everything else. Except for music class. Even back then, I knew what my calling was. Then I met another boy. He was quiet, reserved, and something seemed to pull us together. We formed this bond that no one else could understand. We spent every day together, playing all the little kid games that are prevalent throughout youth.

One day, we were at his house, playing some sort of video game, if I recall correctly. We were older now, fifteen or so. It was about the time that I told my parents I didn't want to become a banker, or anything like that. My passion was music. We were playing, but I was losing horribly. He was so much better than I ever could hope to be. It was all right, though, because I was a much better singer than he could ever hope to be.

I turned to him after one of the games, and noticed a slight twitch in his face. It was pretty subtle, and nothing to really cause any concern. But he looked at me and told me something that I was afraid to hear.

We stopped being friends after that. It was too risky. The only problem was that I hadn't acquired any other friends. I had no need for them. So, I had to go back to school and go through the day by myself. When I came home, I would mull over the day's events by myself. It went on like that for the rest of my high school career.

I still wanted to be a musician, but to please my parents, I went to college. So did he. We never talked, though our dorms where seperated by only one room. Every day I would see him. Every day I would be reminded of how alone I was.

College seemed to me like a place to meet new people. I went expecting to make friends, to find other people who I could rely on. I did no such thing.

Every day I would see him. In the hallways, walking around campus, even in a few of my classes. Every day I would be reminded of what a mistake it was to let him go. There would never be someone who I could trust as implicitly as I trusted him. There would never be someone who I was more comfortable around. But we couldn't be friends. You can't be in love with your best friend.

It was a decision we both agreed on, but it was a decision we both regretted. After five years of not speaking, I lost my self-control. It was nearly one in the morning, but something told me he'd still be awake. I knocked on his door, and he was there within seconds.

We talked for hours about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between. It was the happiest time I'd experienced since we had last talked.

I remember talking about our music careers specifically. I was still trying to make it as a singer, playing little gigs like my sister's birthday party, and he was producing these amazing guitar riffs in his spare time. The words spilled out of my mouth and before I knew it, we formed our own little band. We had to set our feelings aside as best as we could, and we promised to be nothing but friends.

After some time, our band grew two members larger. We were gaining some popularity around the campus, too. We even managed to play a few live shows at the local cafe. Things were going great.

The other two didn't know about our history. There was no reason to tell anyone that we were harboring deep feelings of affection for one another. After all, it would probably make things even more awkward between us.

See, it's basically impossible to forget that you're in love. Everything reminds you of it, from the way the person says 'Hello!' and smiles at you to the way the person laughs at your jokes. It's even harder when the other person is in love with you as well. And being best friends... I think you get it. It's awkward to the point that you just want to end all contact with the person. It's also awkward to the point that you just want to climb on top of the roof of your dorm building and scream at the top of your lungs that you love him. You love your best friend more than anyone will understand. You don't do either, because he is your best friend, and you want it to stay that way, but you can't be in love with your best friend.

And this is just one example of the hardships we all face. The hardships that test us and push us to our limit until we break down and cry. Or, maybe we push through and come out of it stronger than we were before. We can deny ourselves that happiness we want because we know it would complicate things to a horrendous amount, and that will become part of who we are. Or, we can give in to temptation and forget about what anyone else thinks, and that becomes part of who we are.We're all made up of what life throws at us. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. But it's all us.

A Borderline Confession- Discreet Emotions For Guitar Hero Jonnyboy



An easy task. By the end of the day, write a song. Choose some simple rhymes, throw in some cheesy cliches, and bam! Done. Easy, right?

Figures, I can't bring myself to do it. Gunning to the finish line wont create the music that I can actually feel, that is actually part of me. Honestly, even taking hours wouldn't do that.

If only I could get your image out of my head. Just for a minute. Kept it to myself all these years, my true feelings for you.

Love... I love you. My heart races when you're near. No one makes me feel like you do. Of course, I can't tell you. Perhaps one day, but not now.

Quick, I've got to get this song finished!

Really, you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Sometimes I imagine what we'd be like together. There was even a time when I almost told you. Unfortunately, I'm not brave enough. Very unfortunate. Whatever does happen, though, I'll always love you.

XIth century writers must have had this problem, too, huh? Young, handsome friends of theirs distracting them from their work.

ZOINKS, I've got to freaking finish this song!!

Anyway... I love you, Jonny! Bye now. 'Cause, you know, I have to write this song. Don't, uh, don't fall in love with anyone else, please. Even if she's hotter than me. Freaking heck, it's already 11! Gotta go.

Hugs and kisses!
If only.

Trouble (Finished)

CHRIS needs to tell Jonny something, but what Jonny has to say to him is much more troubling.

It's a slash fic!

---

For the first time in his life, Chris was dressed in a decent outfit, one that didn't make him look like he was homeless. A navy blue button-up shirt, perhaps the only one he'd ever owned, was clinging to his torso while his favorite pinstriped pants ran the length of his strong legs. He'd left his trainers and cap at home, exchanging them for black dress shoes and a black dress hat, which he had tilted slightly to the left, to match. The sleeves of the button-up were rolled halfway up his forearms, and he kept nervously messing with the skin they left exposed. He sat patiently- as patiently as he could, at least- outside of the three-story apartment building and under the poor illumination of the streetlights. A shadowed figure walked down the sidewalk. Just the figure Chris needed to see.

He remained seated, though, wondering if Jonny would even notice he was there. It was a test of sorts, because if Jonny didn't see him, then it probably spoke wonders of their relationship. The shadow moved closer until the poor illumination splashed over it and Jonny came out of the dark.

"Chris," Jonny said without any prior greeting. Chris looked up with his nervous eyes and was relieved for one tiny second, before the anxiety flooded back. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, I actually have something to tell you," Chris began, before Jonny grabbed his wrist and pulled him up.

"It might sound a bit selfish, but I think what I need to say is more important right now." Chris looked into Jonny's eyes and could see the seriousness behind the pale green. It worried him a little. "Come on, we can't talk here."

Jonny raced off in the direction opposite of where he had entered, and Chris followed as quickly as he could before the darkness swallowed them both. Chris could barely make out the outline of the other man, but managed to stay with him for several blocks. Once they were a safe distance away from the poorly illuminated sidewalk, Jonny stopped and spoke to Chris in a hushed voice.

"When I was out earlier... I ran into someone," he said, glancing around the darkness in a bit of a panic. Chris watch him sharply, pained to see Jonny in such a state, knowing that at that particular moment he couldn't help. Not until he knew what was going on, at least. "Someone I don't know, right, but he was a scary-looking guy right off the bat."

"What happened?" Chris asked, intent on using his reliability as the only form of help he could offer.

"He... I don't really know how to put it..." While Jonny searched for the words, a sickened feeling rose in Chris's stomach. There were a million ways for Jonny to end that sentence, and judging by the quiet voice and hurried tone, none of them were good. "He offered me a job."

"A job?" Chris dumbly repeated.

"I didn't take it, don't worry. Mostly because of what the job was." Jonny raised his hand to his mouth and bit down on his fingernail.

"What job was it?"

"An, uh..." Jonny chewed his nail a bit longer, then looked at Chris with fleeting eyes. "An assassin."

The words hit Chris, but they left almost no impression. "Assassin?" he asked, quite confused. Why would anyone hire Jonny as an assassin?

"That's what I thought, too," Jonny said. Then he hesitated, sighed deeply and continued, "It gets worse."

"How?" Chris asked, though he didn't really want to know the answer.

"I was asked to kill you." This time the words left a much deeper impression. A crater, almost.

"What?" was all that his jumbled brain could come up with as a response. This was nowhere near the way he expected the night to go. His eyes widened as he searched through the dark for Jonny's face. It had to be a joke, seriously. There was no way someone would even think to hire such a sweet and kind man as Jonny to be an assassin. And to kill him? It had to be a joke.

Jonny moved closer to Chris so that each could see the other's face. There was no hint of drollness in Jonny's expression, which led Chris to believe that he wasn't lying. Jonny painfully looked over Chris's face, and twisted his mouth in agony.

"I wish I wasn't telling you the truth. I wish that none of it had happened, but it did," he said apologetically. "Someone's out to get you, Chris."

"How do you know that guy was serious?" Chris asked. He was in so much denial. Sure, he could be a huge pain in the ass at times, but not enough to be wanted dead. And there didn't seem to be any other fitting explanation. He never hurt anyone. He never even tried to hurt anyone.

Jonny uncomfortably scratched the back of his neck, and said, "When someone asks you to kill someone else, and waves a hundred grand in your face, they're probably serious." Chris stared at the ground, frantically trying to comprehend this new information, and Jonny felt bad. "Come on, let's go back to my place. I'll make you some tea."

Chris wasn't going to move voluntarily anytime soon, so Jonny grabbed his arm and dragged him down the street, and Chris nearly forgot how much he liked when Jonny touched him. Then he remembered that he needed to speak with Jonny, but the words would not come out of his mouth, so they walked back to Jonny's apartment in silence.

Once inside, Jonny dropped Chris onto the couch and went to prepare a kettle. Chris could just barely grasp what had happened, but slowly he stopped caring, as he'd gone back to fussing over what he wanted to tell Jonny. When Jonny returned carrying two steaming cups of tea, Chris swallowed hard and his nervousness caused his hand to start shaking. He tried to hide it, though, and took the cup from Jonny with his other hand. The hot liquid slid down his throat and hit his stomach, but it didn't do much good.

"Why are you dressed up?" Jonny suddenly asked from his position in a chair five feet away from the couch. Chris's brain failed him once more, and he just stared blankly at Jonny. "I mean, you look good, it's just a little... out-of-character."

Chris felt his heart skip a beat at 'you look good,' and he soon had no control over his shaking hand. He took another sip of his tea, trying to coat his dry mouth so he'd be able to speak at least a few words.

"I... wanted to look nice," he finally said. "I thought this was the way to do it."

"Oh. Job well done, then." Jonny took a sip of his own drink, so he didn't notice Chris gasping amorously. He swished the tea around in his mouth, gulped, then said, "You wanted to talk to me."

"Yeah," Chris hopelessly said. "I came over here to tell you something."

"What was it?"

"It's not important," Chris dismissed, bowing his head down. He desperately wished for his hand to stop trembling, and for everything in life to be much simpler.

"Obviously it is, seeing as you waited outside for me." Chris knew he should look up, knew he should tell Jonny what he wanted- what he needed to say, but he had lost any sliver of courage he had before.

"It's not important anymore," he lied. He was still facing down, but he could feel Jonny's gaze piercing through his skin. Jonny was a good man, though, and didn't press on for answers.

"I'm sorry I ruined your night," Jonny said, and his sincerity cause Chris to look up.

"Jonny, you could never ruin anything for me," Chris said, and he knew that was as close as he would get to telling Jonny. For now, anyway.

"Oh." Jonny started laughing, which caught Chris by surprise at first. "Then I take back my apology."

Chris laughed along, which calmed him a little. Once the laughter was gone, though, a silence hung over the room. Chris fidgeted with his cup, and Jonny watched him, thinking and formulating.

"Maybe you should stay here tonight... if you don't mind," he added, and moved his seat closer to Chris. "Like, I know you're probably safe, but if something did happen-"

"I don't mind," Chris instantly replied, happy that the night was now going his way, even if Jonny meant it only platonically.

"OK," Jonny said, and Chris thought he saw a flicker of a smile, which sent his heart racing. "The guest room isn't really all that clean right now, but the bed is fine."

"Works for me." Chris stared into his now empty cup, blinked a few times, then looked back up at Jonny. "Um, I'm actually pretty tired now, so..."

"Right, I'll just get things set up and you can go sleep," Jonny said.

"Thank you, Jonny." Jonny nodded, then went off to fix up the room, leaving Chris alone with his thoughts. There were so many perfect moments for him to get everything off his chest, but it was just too hard to be brave. It also didn't help that whenever Jonny would smile or laugh or look at him with those stunning eyes, Chris would forget about everything else.

Eventually, Jonny came back, and he led Chris down the tiny hallway to the bedroom at the end. It was indeed a messy room, with piles of paper stacked up to about Chris's waist spread throughout, and bunches of boxes to go along with them. The bed looked inviting, though, and Chris gladly collapsed on top of it's oh so slightly wrinkled sheets, throwing his hat carelessly off the side of the bed and kicking his shoes to the floor, as Jonny shut off the light and closed the door.

-

Chris slept through most of the night, but when he woke up and stared around the dark room, all the events of that night rushed back into his mind. He had come to spill his feelings to Jonny, and instead was told that his life was at risk. It was certainly not what he wanted.

He tossed in the bed a few times, the blankets stubbornly clinging to his body and twisting with every movement he made. He tried to get back to sleep, but for some reason he couldn't, possibly because he had this song stuck in his head that would not go away, or possibly because he couldn't stop thinking about Jonny, sleeping soundly in the other room, and how he longed to let him know how he felt. Even if the feeling wasn't mutual, he still would like to admit it.

When morning came, Chris realized that he had at some point managed to fall asleep again, and he also noticed the huge amount of bright sunlight that white curtains let into the room. It was almost blinding. Chris stumbled out of bed and into the other room, not bothering to pick up his hat or shoes.

Jonny's door was closed, and Chris figured he was still asleep. He walked into the living room, however, and found that not only was Jonny already awake, he'd prepared some sort of breakfast and seemed to have finished his share.

"Help yourself," Jonny said, skipping the greetings altogether. "I made plenty."

"Uh, thanks." Chris tiredly rubbed his hand across his eyes and took a seat. The food smelled delicious; chocolate-chip pancakes soaked in maple syrup and buttered toast. Chris dug in, and Jonny wearily watched him.

"Should I call the police?" Jonny asked. "I didn't even think about that last night."

"I don't know, maybe," Chris shrugged, stuffing his face full of pancake. "Did you make these from scratch or something?"

"Yeah," Jonny shyly said. "But, I just thought that the police might want to know."

"They might," Chris agreed, though quite blasé. "You seriously made these yourself?"

"Why, are they bad?" Chris shook his head, and Jonny sighed in relief. "Oh, good. Anyway, maybe there's something they could do to help keep you protected or something. So no one... kills you."

Chris stopped eating, placed his plate on the table in front of him, and looked up at Jonny. "Tell them," he quietly said.

Jonny nodded, and said, "I'll be right back," before disappearing into the other room. Chris sat back in his seat and waited. He could hear the faint sound of Jonny speaking on the phone. It was odd to think that such a thing could happen to him. The idea that someone would want to kill him made him realize that he wasn't going to live forever. One day, he would die, whether or not it was murder. And maybe he'd die without ever telling Jonny how he felt, or maybe his feelings would have dissipated by then.

Several minutes later, Jonny returned, but rather than sitting back down, he walked towards the door and grabbed his keys and jacket.

"They want to talk to me down at the station," he said, turning around. "You can come with, or you're welcome to stay here, if you like."

"It would be better for me to go, right?" Chris asked. "Since I'm the one they're after."

"Probably." Chris stood up, started to walk away, then momentarily stopped, held up a finger to tell Jonny to wait, and went back to walking away. He came back out wearing his hat and shoes, and was out the door quicker than Jonny could open it.

-

"They're doing what?" Guy asked, bewildered. He and Will were sat down on Jonny's couch, though the two men were accompanied by Jonny and Chris, who were seated in chairs beside the coffee table.

"Bringing in a psychic," Jonny said, with little confidence. "It sounded a little odd to me, too, but apparently that's the way they've decided to handle this."

"Do they think it's a joke?" Guy spat. "Our friend's life is in danger, and they want a psychic to stop it? How does that even work?"

Jonny shrugged, feeling a little helpless since he was not so learned in the subject, and Guy seemed really intent on getting answers. "I really don't know, but I think they do. I hope they do," he added.

"I have to wear a vest, too," Chris said, with an emotionless tone. "Bullet-proof." Guy's expression changed from outraged to interested.

"Are you wearing it now?" Chris silently nodded. "That's pretty cool."

"It's kinda uncomfortable," Chris replied, and the conversation ended there. After a few moments of awkward silence, Jonny clapped his hands together.

"Right, we're supposed to meet with her today," he said, "Actually, I think she might be here in a few min-"

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Each man looked over, and Jonny stood up to answer it, while Guy said, "Hey, maybe you're the psychic."

When Jonny opened the door, he was quite surprised by what he saw. The word 'psychic' had him imagining some old lady, covered in earthy-colored shawls and beads hanging off her neck. The lady before him, however, was not old at all; she couldn't have been a day over thirty. She certainly wasn't wearing shawls, either. She just had on a plain white blouse, a pair of faded light-blue jeans, and some sneakers. She did wear a necklace, but it was only a simple gold chain.

"Hello... Mr. Buckland, I assume? I'm Melinda," she smiled, holding out her hand.

"Yes, I'm Jonny. Nice to meet you," Jonny said, nervously shook her hand, and allowed her inside the apartment. She stood near the door for a while, just observing the room. When her eyes landed on Chris, they widened.

"You are Chris," she said matter-of-factly, then swooped over by his side. She leaned in a little too close for Chris's comfort, and scanned him over. She didn't say anything, though, and soon moved to look at the other men. "My, my. What a handsome group of men. Perfect for some side-plot romance, hmm?"

She knocked her head back and laughed, though no one else seemed to appreciate her humor. Guy just stared at her with what looked like a hint of fear in his eyes, Will was busy maintaining his nails, and Chris was fidgeting in his seat. Jonny was the only one who really paid any attention to her, but her attention had turned back to Chris.

"Ah, but I see someone's heart is already taken." Chris looked up at her and promptly turned a shade of bright red.

"What? Chris!" Guy butted in. "Who??"

"Don't bother him. He'll tell you when the time is ready."

"Aw, what if he dies before he tells us?" Melinda looked at him and made notice of how he was quick to joke with his friend's life. Chris noticed, too, and sickly put his head down.

"Then you were not meant to know," she simply replied.

"So, you're, like, a legit psychic, then?" Jonny spoke up.

"It depends on what you mean," she answered. "I can't predict the future or anything. No one can. But I can see what is there, even though others may not be able to do so."

"You're going to help us."

"Aw, you're really worried about him, aren't you? How sweet." Chris looked up at Jonny, a tiny glint of hope shining in his eyes. "Of course, you are a very sweet man."

"He is," Chris agreed, and he felt that with every day he was getting closer to telling Jonny.

Melinda looked at him with knowing eyes and said, "I'm afraid I must be going now. It was nice to meet you all... Chris, Jonny..." She narrowed her eyes at Guy and Will for a few moments. "Your names are very simple... words, even..."

"He's Guy and I'm Will." Will hadn't even bothered to look up from his nails.

"Hmm, fitting. Well, goodbye, then," she said, and was quickly gone. Jonny watched the door as her figure disappeared, and Chris watched Jonny as his uneasiness grew. Surely, it wasn't obvious that he liked Jonny. Melinda was a psychic, after all, and she said she could see things that others didn't. There was no way anyone else knew. But he was still worried.

"What did she mean, 'fitting'?" Guy asked. "Is it because I'm male? Was she making fun of my name?"

"I don't think she was making fun of your name, I think she was making fun of you," Will said.

"Well, she was making fun of you, too," Guy grumped. The rest of their time in Jonny's apartment was spent hearing Guy go on and on about Melinda, in a way that made it seemed like he both didn't like her and liked her too much. None of the other men could tell which was true, though none of them really cared.

Once Guy, Chris, and Will had left for their respective homes a few hours later, Jonny remained alone in his living room. He threw himself onto the sofa, grabbed the book that was sitting on his coffee table, and began to read. He loved to read, especially science fiction books. He felt it was a nice escape from reality, which was exactly what he needed right now. His worry over Chris was stressful enough, but he had the added weight of not knowing what would happen to him, since he turned the job down and ratted them out- whoever 'they' were.

But his science fiction stories let him get away from all that. They were so far-fetched that nothing in them was remotely close to his life.

-

There were several attempts made on Chris's life over the next few weeks. Whoever had been hired to kill him must have known about the vest, because they seemed to aim for his head, though every shot missed by an eerily off amount. Melinda watched over everything closely, taking in all of the details of every event- where it happened, what time it happened, who else was around. There were small hints at each one of the scenes, all of which pointed to the initials A.Q.F.

"A.Q.F.?" Guy laughed when Melinda told them her suspicions. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"They're initials, I assume of the assassin who is out to get dear Christopher," she coldly replied. Guy had certainly not made a good first impression on her, and his attitude over the following weeks had not changed her mind whatsoever.

"Dear Christopher?" he scoffed. "You've known him for, what, three weeks? A month? Do you really know that much about him?"

"I think I know more than you do. I also know that while you act as though you think I'm some phony, you're really scared that I'm not. You're afraid that I'll see into you, reveal some deep secret that you've been hiding." Guy nervously swallowed, and said nothing. "Don't worry, I haven't found it... yet."

"You haven't?" Guy apprehensively asked.

"No. There's this sort of... fog around you, it seems. You're very, very mysterious. Must be why all the girls swoon over you." Guy blushed a little, and Melinda just rolled her eyes. "Plus, I'm not in the business of revealing secrets. Otherwise you'd know about Chris."

"Mel," Chris mumbled. "You said you wouldn't talk about that anymore."

"Sorry. There's nothing for you to worry about anyway, Chris. Even if your feelings aren't returned, everything will turn out fine."

"They're not returned?" Chris asked, a rather obvious hint of sadness in his tone.

"I don't know about that," Melinda said, shaking her head. "It's hard to tell. This... person... seems a bit confused to me. And rather oblivious."

"Oh." Melinda sighed and sat down beside Chris.

"Tell him, he's not going to get it on his own," she whispered. "If he likes you back, good. If he doesn't, his loss."

"Easier said than done," Chris whispered back.

"Yeah, spout cliches at me. That'll help." Chris twisted his mouth in frustration, and Melinda said, "Listen, you might not have a lot of time left here. I'm trying to help you as quickly as I can, but I can't guarantee you'll make it. If you die..."

"He'll never know," Chris finished in a hoarse whisper, his mouth consistently increasing in dryness. "I want to tell him, I really do."

"Then tell him." With that, Melinda walked back over to where Guy was seated. "I will find out, you know that right?" she told him. "I always find out."

Guy didn't respond, instead he just stared at her, shooting hatred with his eyes. She glanced around at Chris, Will, and Jonny, then left without saying anything else.

"Guy, why do you have to be such a prick?" Will spat. "Melinda knows what she's doing."

Guy looked at the other men with apologetic eyes, but still remained silent. He stood up, walked over to Chris, said, "I'm sorry, man," then patted his shoulder and exited the room.

"Seriously, what is his problem?" Will asked. Jonny looked to him, and shook his head.

"Leave him alone. This situation is tough, we all have to deal with it in our own way," he told Will.

"Yeah, well, he should learn to deal with it in a way that's a little less insensitive." Then, as he looked over at Chris, he noticed something not-so-peachy about him. His eyes were wide, and his face was extremely gaunt. "Chris, are you OK?"

When Chris didn't answer, the other two men rushed over to his side. Will placed a hand on Chris's arm, and felt that it was dead cold. He uselessly snapped his fingers in Chris's face, until Jonny smacked his hand away.

"Stop, that's not gonna help," he said. Then he leaned close to Chris, anxiously examining him. He reached out and touched Chris's neck to find a pulse. "His heart seems to be fine."

Just then, a huge gust of air was inhaled by Chris, and some of the color began to return to his face. He blinked several times before staring questioningly at Jonny and Will.

"What are you guys doing?" he asked.

"Chris, you just had some sort of, like... I don't know, what would you call it?" Jonny asked, turning to Will.

"You were out of it, man," Will said. "It was scary."

"I don't feel any different," Chris noted. "Are you guys sure you're not just imagining things? Or lying to me?"

"Chris, why would we lie?" Will asked. But he looked at Chris, and could see the fear leaking through his eyes. "I can't imagine how frightening this is for you."

"I don't want to die," Chris muttered.

"And we don't want you to die," Jonny said. Then, for everyone's sake, he added, "You wont die. Everything will work out. You'll be safe, just watch."

Chris looked up at Jonny and soaked in the image. He hoped Jonny was right, but he had a feeling that he wasn't. No matter how hard he tried, he just could not be optimistic. He knew the others felt the same, too. Not one of them actually believed that it would work out, they just hoped in fear. 

-

Melinda worked for hours and hours, barely getting any sleep, trying to put everything together. She was sure that A.Q.F. meant something, not just random letters initialing someone's name. Her senses told her that whoever was after Chris was someone who was close to him, though not necessarily his friend. Just someone who knew more about him than any stranger would. She toyed with the idea that perhaps the assassin was some deranged stalker, but deep down she knew it wasn't right.

She scribbled down all sorts of numbers and letters on what seemed like hundreds of sheets of paper. Nothing seemed to fit, though. And she couldn't stop thinking about Guy. Those big, dark brown eyes of his that hid a thousand secrets from the world. He was certainly the most handsome man she'd ever seen. She thought he might be gentle underneath his rough exterior.

She found herself absentmindedly doodling on the papers that were supposed to contain her work. Guy Berryman. Melinda Berryman. It sounded nice. There was something that told her not to feel that way, though. Not because her client was his friend, but because there were some sort of complications. She and Guy wouldn't actually work together. But he was so beautiful.

Suddenly, it hit her. Out of nowhere, the identity of the unknown killer was thrust into the front of her mind. She looked down at her paper, filled with drawings and writings, and was saddened by what she saw.

-

A few days after the incident with Chris, the band were sitting in the Bakery once more, waiting for Melinda. She said she had some big news that she needed to tell them. They were all sitting in various seats around the room when Melinda arrived. Chris and Jonny were chatting in one corner of the room, Will was fixing his shoelaces, which had somehow come undone, and Guy was fidgeting in his chair.

"Gather 'round, everyone," Melinda said, and the men did as they were told. "I've got some very important news."

"Yeah, you said that on the phone," Guy bitterly remarked. "Can we get on with this?"

Melinda shot him a look of disgust, and said, "I know who A.Q.F. is."

"Who?" Chris immediately asked. Melinda didn't reply, but kept her gaze on Guy, whose fidgeting had gotten worse. "Melinda?"

"Some friend you are," she said to Guy.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied in a squeaky voice.

"Yes, you do."

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" Will asked. Melinda turned to face the other three.

"A.Q.F. Switch the first and last letters. F.Q.A. Go forward a letter each. G.R.B."

"That doesn't mean anything," Guy shouted. "You can't prove..." He looked around at Chris, Will, and Jonny, who were all staring at him in disbelief. "Chris..."

"She's right, isn't she?" Chris' voice cracked. "Guy, how could you?"

"Chris, I..." Guy stood up, as did the other three. He walked over to Chris and looked up at him. "I didn't want to, but..." He and Chris stared at each other for several moments, Guy very apologetic and Chris very confused, until Chris finally decided to speak.

"I thought you were my fr-"

"NOW!" Guy bellowed, and suddenly black smoke filled the room. There were confused shouts and dusty coughs from every direction. After a short while, the dark fog began to settle, and it appeared that Guy had vanished. But there was still a giant stream of smoke emanated from Chris's open mouth, and his eyes were rolled back into his head.

"What the fuck?!" Will shouted. Jonny and Melinda just stood, horrified at the sight of Chris. Not one of them had the slightest clue what was going on. He was just standing there, hands limp at his side, torso slanted forward, and knees slightly buckled. The smoke was gushing from him like some sort of beast trying to escape its human prison. Soon, the smoke stopped completely, and Chris let out an exasperated breath before falling to the ground and seizing.

"What should we do?" Jonny asked, kneeling beside Chris's thrashing body. He stared, frozen in uncertainty. "Oh my God."

"He's having a seizure, we need, like, a pillow or something to put under his head," Melinda spewed.

"Right. I'll go find something. Jonny, just stay with him. Melinda, call an ambulance." Melinda nodded, stared at Chris and Jonny for a moment, then ran to her purse and grabbed her cellphone.

-

"We're afraid we don't know what's wrong with him," the doctor told Will and Jonny. They were in the small hallway just outside of Chris's hospital room. The doctors had run their routine tests at first, then after they didn't find anything they ran some non-routine tests.

"You don't..." Jonny dumbly repeated. The doctor shook his head.

"And there's more. It seems that whatever is wrong with your friend is... um... How should I put this? S... supernatural."

"Are you sure?" Will asked.

"Quite sure. So, um, there's nothing really that we can do for him. We'll keep him here for one more day, then discharge him."

"Thank you," Jonny muttered. "Is it all right if we go in there?"

"He seems a bit tired, but you can certainly talk to him for a bit." The doctor looked at them with apologetic eyes, said, "I'm sorry we couldn't be of more help," then left. Jonny and Will walked into the room and over by Chris's bed.

"Hi, guys," Chris said as Jonny pulled a chair up next to him. "Do they know what's wrong with me?"

Jonny shook his head. "They said it was something supernatural."

"What?" Chris asked in disbelief, then started laughing. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. They're letting you out of here tomorrow."

Chris stopped laughing, and looked down at his lap. "Guy's gone, isn't he?" he quietly asked.

"Yeah," Jonny replied, reaching over and grabbing Chris's hand. "Listen, everything's gonna be fine, OK? We'll figure everything out."

Chris lay in silence, relishing the feeling of Jonny's hand, and tried to believe him, all the while mentally beating himself. This was another perfect moment to let Jonny know how he felt, but he couldn't do it. Instead, he just held his secret tight in his chest, and held Jonny's hand tight in his own.

After a few minutes, Jonny started to pull back. "Get some rest, Chris. You need it." Chris sleepily nodded, then shut his eyes and nuzzled the pillow beneath him. He could hear Jonny and Will stirring, some footsteps, and just before the door closed, Jonny said, "We'll be back tomorrow."

"I'll be here," Chris said through closed eyes.

"Will, you're coming with me," Jonny said once they were back in the hallway.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"My apartment," Jonny replied, and the two began to walk to the exit. "We've got some cleaning to do."

-

The next morning Jonny picked Chris up from the hospital. They rode mostly in silence back to Jonny's apartment.

"I have a surprise for you," Jonny said as they walked inside. "Come on." He led Chris down the hallway to the guest room. Through the open door, Chris could see that the stacks of papers and boxes had disappeared, and had been replaced with some of his things.

"Those are my clothes," Chris plainly stated. "And that's my guitar."

"Yeah, and this is your room," Jonny added. "You're staying here for now."

Chris turned to Jonny with a softened look. "You did all this for me?"

"Well, Will helped," Jonny said, shyly bowing his head. Chris threw his arms around him.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jonny dismissed, and place a hand on Chris's back. "You better keep it clean."

"Don't worry mum, I will," Chris laughed, until he realized how weird it was for him to call Jonny his mom. Then he just awkwardly pulled away and walked into the room. He continuously spun around, looking at everything. "It's missing something."

"What?" Jonny asked as he followed Chris in.

"I'm not sure, but it just feels like it's- OH MY GOD." Chris stopped dead in his tracks, his hands held out towards the wall behind the bed. "Big Mouth Billy Bass."

"Excuse me?"

"That's what's missing," he replied, jumping up on the bed and placing his hands on the wall. "Right here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Big Mouth Billy Bass," Chris repeated. Jonny just blankly stared at him, so he shouted, "The singing fish!!"

"You want one of those in here, really?" Jonny laughed. Chris looked at him with wide eyes.

"Jonny, it would be perfect."

"Yeah, OK," Jonny said before leaving the room. Chris narrowed his eyes at the echo of Jonny's presence in the door. He flopped down on the bed and thought about how perfect it really would be. He remembered when he had one a few years back. Then he remembered how he actually had gotten so sick of it after a while that he threw it out the window and nearly hit an old lady.

"Aw, Jonny's always right," he said, then hopped off the bed and ran into the other room.

Later that night, when Chris was trying to sleep, he heard a noise at his door. He tossed in the bed to find that Jonny was standing there, watching him. "Jonny?"

"Hi," Jonny said.

"Did you want something?"

"Uh, I was just wondering... " Jonny ruffled the back of his hair and walked closer to the bed. "Would it be all right if I slept in here with you?"

"Um..."

"It's just that I was worried about you, and I couldn't sleep, but it's OK, I can go back to my room an-" Jonny blurted before being interrupted by Chris.

"No, it's fine. You can sleep in here," Chris said, smiling, though his smile wasn't visible in the dark. He moved to make room, and a few moments later he felt the bed move as Jonny laid down. They were facing each other, though the room was so dark that it was almost impossible to see anything. "Jonny, everything really will be OK."

"It keeps getting harder to believe," Jonny said, and Chris imagined the pained look on his face. What he wouldn't give to be able to reach out to Jonny, to pull him close and hold him in his arms.

"I know, but you're the one who keeps saying it, and you're always right."

"I don't know about that," Jonny chuckled, and Chris shook his head.

"No, you are," Chris told him. "Like, earlier, the thing with the fish."

"The big... Bob... fish thing? What was that called?"

"Big Mouth Billy Bass," Chris rattled with impressive speed. "It would probably drive me crazy after a while... Jonny?"

"What?"

"Will I drive you crazy after a while, do you think?" Chris sincerely asked, but Jonny just laughed at him.

"I don't think so."

"Good," Chris said, and smiled again. "Now, I think it's time for bed. Goodnight, Jonny."

"Goodnight, Chris," Jonny replied, closing his eyes. Chris really did mean to go to sleep, too, but he ended up keeping his eyes open for a few more hours.

-

When Chris lifted his eyelids the next morning, he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Nothing around him looked familiar, and it wasn't that he just needed to get used to waking up in Jonny's guest bedroom; he wasn't in Jonny's apartment at all.

Yet, he was still laying in the bed, and Jonny was still beside him, sleeping peacefully. Chris had to put an end that.

"Jonny, wake up," Chris said, tapping Jonny lightly on the arm. "Jonny, please wake up."

"What is it?" Jonny asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Then he looked around. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Chris replied. The closer he looked at his surroundings, the more he realized that there wasn't anything in the room besides the bed. Everything else was just painted on the walls. Chris got out of the bed and walked up to the nearest wall. He touched it, and found that the paint- or whatever it was- was still wet, and as he dragged his hand down, a trail of running colors followed. Then he looked over at the door. It was painted, too, and there was no real exit.

"We're trapped in here," Jonny said, having simultaneously made the same realization as Chris. He was also standing beside one of the walls, the same colorful liquid dripping from his hand.

"Wherever 'here' is," Chris said in hysteria. Suddenly, there was a massive boom of laughter from someone with a very deep voice, which caused both Chris and Jonny to look up. While the two were staring at the ceiling, a petite, dark-haired figure appeared in the corner of the room.

"Goodbye, Chris," Guy said, and everything seemed to slow down. Chris and Jonny looked at him, and he pulled out a sort of ray gun. Jonny threw himself in front of Chris, shouting, "NO!" as Guy skillfully aimed the gun. He didn't shoot, though; he wasn't after Jonny.

"How could I have not seen this?" said a voice, presumably the same one the laughter belonged to. Then another figure appeared, but it was not a man, or anything that Chris recognized, for that matter. It was a green-skinned thing, with gnarly teeth and ice blue hair. It was wearing what looked like a toga, and it's five feet were enclosed in black moccasins. He had appeared alongside Guy, but he immediately walked towards Chris and Jonny. "You two are in love. It's so obvious."

"What?" Jonny said, and Chris grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"You're in love with me?" he asked, a certain sparkle in his eyes. It almost immediately disappeared when Jonny shook his head.

"I don't think so," he honestly replied.

Chris looked down at the floor, and in a raspy voice he said, "So, when you held my hand in the hospital, you didn't feel anything? When we slept in the same bed together, you didn't feel anything?"

"You did?" Jonny asked, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion. Chris looked up at him, completely shattered. He'd never experienced such a feeling of rejection before. The massive laughter returned again.

"Oh, this is priceless!" the unidentified thing cackled. Jonny turned to face it, but Chris kept his teary eyes on Jonny. "So, he likes you, but you don't like him. Wonderful!"

"I don't see what's so wonderful about it," Chris muttered.

"Berryman, get over here," the unidentified thing ordered, and Guy slid up beside him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take our friend, here," it said, pointing to Jonny, "to the spot. Wait for me."

"Yes, sir," Guy replied, bolting for Jonny. Jonny tried to move, but Guy was too fast for him, and as soon as Guy grabbed his arm they were gone. Chris stood in shock and watched the place where Jonny had been only moments before.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," the unidentified thing said. "Just the man I've been meaning to talk to."

"You want me dead," Chris bluntly said. "You hired Guy."

"I sure did. Well, I had one of my people talk to him. You know, can't be seen out in public like this," it laughed, gesturing to its body. "People would freak!"

Chris looked at the thing. "Why?"

"Why do I want to kill you?" it asked, and took Chris's non-reply as an affirmative answer. "You're the only thing that stands in my way."

"In your way to what?"

"Conquering this lovely planet you call Earth," it replied. "You see, I've spent my entire life- 622 years, mind you- planning and researching. All of my studies concluded that there would be only one man in the entire existence of humankind that could potentially stop me. And that's you."

"Why me?" Chris shrieked. "How would I-?"

"Dunno, really. For some reason, you posses something that's fatal to my plan. So, you have to die."

"What if I just let you conquer the world? Would you let me live then?" The thing shook its head.

"That wouldn't happen. Whatever it is about you would force you to stop me." The thing walked closer to Chris, stopping only a mere six inches away from him. "And we can't have that."

"You aren't going to hurt Jonny, are you?" Chris asked with sad eyes. Even though he'd been horribly rejected, he still felt deeply for Jonny. He even thought that he'd be OK with his own death, as long as Jonny was unharmed.

"I'd like to spare your friend. It's not in my nature to harm innocent beings. However, it could be necessary," the thing shrugged. "After all, it would kill you to see him hurt, wouldn't it?"

"He doesn't deserve it," Chris said. "Don't hurt him, please. Shoot me, stab me, rip my heart out, whatever you need to do. Just don't hurt him."

The unidentified thing just stared at Chris, observing every little detail of his expression. Then he started to laugh once more. "Oh, it's a good thing he doesn't feel the same about you, otherwise we'd have a problem, eh?" Chris said nothing, just stared back. "Well, it's time we leave this place, then, I suppose."

It reached out its hand, which Chris discovered was slimy and gross, and grabbed his arm. And just like that, they were gone.

-

Guy and Jonny were facing each other, seated in chairs placed inside a small, green room. They'd been there for nearly an hour, but neither had spoken. Guy was messing with his ray gun, and Jonny was staring at the floor.

"I know what you're thinking," Guy suddenly said, causing Jonny to look up. "How could I do this? ... I didn't want to- I never wanted to. I still don't want to."

"Then why are you?" Jonny bitterly said.

"I don't have a choice," Guy said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"You don't have a choice?! You-"

"No, listen to me," Guy interrupted, his temper flaring. He saw that he had Jonny's attention, so he softened his tone a bit. "They did something to me, Jonny. I don't know what they did, but I can't think for myself most of the time. It's like I'm me, then suddenly I'm someone else, someone they've created, and I can't control my actions. I don't want to kill Chris, but I'm afraid that I might... and I wont even realize it." He leaned forward in his seat, and continued, "I already... those two times... I don't know, they must have had me plant something in him... "

"With the smoke?" Jonny asked.

"Yeah. I'm not sure how I did it, or what I did, but it was all me." Guy stared off at the wall behind Jonny, his eyes full of remorse.

"Why don't you get away from here, then?" Jonny suggested. "Leave these people."

"Jonny, that wont work. Whatever they did, they can control me from anywhere, and... and if I left, they'd probably find me. I don't know what they'd do then."

"Who are these people, anyway?" he asked.

Guy shook his head, "They're not people, they're aliens. I don't know what species they said they were; it's just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo to me. But they want to take over the planet, and from what I've gathered, Chris has some role in that."

"If they want to kill him, it can't be a good role, then. At least, not for them."

Guy nodded his head, then both men were silent for some time. Finally, he spoke again. "Listen, Jonny, I can't get out of here... but you can. If I tell you how, will you promise me you'll do it, and go somewhere safe?"

"Where's somewhere safe?" Jonny asked.

"I don't know, just find somewhere. Or, go see Will at least. Tell him what's going on. Will you do it?" Jonny nodded. "OK," Guy said, and he leaned forward and whispered the directions to Jonny.

-

"You're sure that's on tight enough?" the unidentified thing asked the female unidentified thing that was strapping Chris to a table.

"I'm not gonna escape," Chris said. "You don't have to worry."

"Eh, better safe than sorry," the thing replied. "Maureen, bring in our dear friend, Berryman, will you? I think he'd like to see this." The female thing nodded, and swiveled off to fetch Guy.

"Will it hurt?" Chris asked as the thing examined the ropes that bound him to the table.

"Probably," the thing honestly stated. "I wouldn't actually know."

"Oh." They sat in silence until Maureen returned, with a tired-looking Guy on her arm. He looked at Chris with a pain in his eyes, knowing very well that as soon as they wanted him to, he'd stop caring about his soon-to-be-dead friend. Chris saw the pain, saw his old friend being dragged unwillingly into the room to watch his death, but he couldn't bring himself to forgive Guy. Of course, he didn't know that it wasn't Guy's fault.

"Guy, you'd like to see your friend, yeah?" the thing laughed, and Maureen snobbishly joined in.

"Can we get this over with?" Chris whined. The thing stopped laughing, and shot a look at him.

"Ooh, impatient, are we?" he said. "Fine. Maureen, kill him."

Maureen released her hold on Guy, and walked over to the side of the table, where a control desk filled with hundreds of buttons was resting. She hit several buttons, but before her job was done, several bodies burst into the room.

"Is this a safe place?" Jonny asked Guy as he, Will, and Melinda ran in. All other heads in the room turned to them.

"No, not really!" Guy freaked.

"How did you all get here?" the thing asked, completely thrown off by the sudden appearance of this odd group.

"Guy told me how to get out, I just used the reverse to get back in," Jonny said.

"Berryman!" it shouted, and Guy cowered a little. Its nostrils flared, breath heavy, but it soon calmed down. "You'll be dealt with later. Maureen, finish up!"

"No!" Melinda yelled, running over to the table. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and composed herself. Then, in a strange, foreign accent, she chirped a mouthful of words that none of the humans in the room could understand. The unidentified things stood frozen as she spewed the words out. When she was finished, she collapsed her chest, trying to catch her breath.

Suddenly, Maureen changed from her green color to a sickly orange, her arms and legs swelling until she looked like an overblown balloon. Then she exploded, though strangely leaving absolutely no trace of her existence behind. Everyone turned their attention to the place where Maureen was once standing, completely shocked. The unidentified thing looked on in panic, knowing that a few moments later, the same fate would befall him. Sure enough, no more than twenty seconds after Maureen, the thing blew up and disappeared completely.

"What the hell did you just do?" Chris shrieked. Melinda ignored his question, but loosened the ropes and freed him from the table. She looked at him for a moment, then embraced him in a bone-crushing hug.

"I just saved your life, asshole, be grateful for once," she said, though with a hint of jest. Chris laughed and accepted her embrace.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Sorry to hear about Jonny," she replied. "His loss, remember?"

"Yeah, his loss," Chris unconvincingly replied. She let go of him, then walked over by the other three men. Chris followed her, and gave a hug to both Guy and Will, but stopped in front of Jonny. "We should go home now."

"Listen, man, I'm really sorry," Jonny began, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

"Don't be, it's not your fault," Chris said in a hoarse voice. "Can we go now?"

Jonny looked at him helplessly, and replied, "Yeah, let's go."

-

Things went back to normal in an oddly short amount of time. Chris had hastily moved his things back into his own apartment, but after only a few days the tension between he and Jonny dissipated. And, much to Chris's delight, Jonny didn't change the way he acted around him. They were still the best of friends, despite the unrequited love.

Of course, the press had a field day with the claims of supernatural attacks on Chris and a halted alien invasion, even suggesting that the singer had gone completely off his rocker. Eventually, it was all just passed off as a hoax, though the police records remained truthful.

One day, the five of them were all gathered in the Bakery, just hanging out. Melinda was a dear friend of theirs now, and since she had edged her way into their group, she began trying to edge her way into Guy's heart.

"Oh, I knew you weren't an evil man," she said, resting her hand on Guy's arm and pushing her body as close as she could into his. "You have such kind eyes."

Guy lapped up the attention, even though he honestly was not interested in her. Will, who was sitting right next to them, rolled his eyes in both disgust and jealousy. Not that he was really interested in her, either, he just wanted the female attention that Guy always received. Jonny was the only one who had any interest in her, but even then he only thought she was pretty.

And of course, Chris was sitting off in one corner, watching Jonny. He'd long given up trying to dress fancy, and had returned to wearing his Barack to the Future shirt, though he'd left the pinstriped pants on.

Yeah, everything was back to normal.

PPTH (Unfinished)

IT'S a House/Coldplay crossover! How cool!

---

Everything was going great. The band were performing somewhere in Europe, their one-too-many-eth concert of that tour. They were already half-way through the set list, the arena filled with the sound of Will slamming the giant bell and the audience chanting, "Oh-oh-oh-oh-ohhh!" Chris bounced his way over from the B-stage and began to sing the song that brought them so much over the past year.

They played beautifully, and by the end, the energy in the place was ricocheting off the walls and into the hearts of everyone present. It was like a never-ending circuit of enthusiasm. Once the final line was sung, Will and the audience continued their chants and Chris fell to the floor of the ramp like he always did. The girls on either side of him screamed in disbelief, and some of the guys did, too. Jonny and Guy carried out their impressive, "Oh"s, and within a minute or so they jammed right into the beginning of 'Lost!'.

But Chris never got up. A few seconds into the song, Jonny threw his guitar to the side and ran to his friend. Suddenly, everything stopped. Will and Guy watched on as Jonny tried to wake Chris, and everyone else in the arena held their breath.

-

The sound of a cane hitting the hard floor echoed throughout the lobby. Everyone's favorite doctor was in. House made his way past the nurse's station and to the elevators. Half way, he was greeted by a rather scruffy-looking, blond-haired doctor.

"32-year-old male," Chase began, shoving a blue folder in House's face.

"Oh, this sounds important," House cut him off, not stopping for one moment. Chase followed him to the elevator doors and pressed on.

"His heart stopped while he was onstage. He just collapsed, but everyone thought it was part of the act." House paused, hit the button with his cane, and turned to Chase.

"And why should I take this case?"

"He's the lead singer of Coldplay."

Completely unfazed, he repeated, "And why should I take this case?"

"Cuddy wants you to."

"... And why should I listen to Cuddy?" The door of the elevator opened, and the two men walked inside.

"The woman lets you keep your job, the least you could do is take one patient a week," Chase said. "Besides, I thought you liked her."

"What I wanna know is why you're so keen on this. It's not an extraordinary case, is it? So, either you really, really love this... Cold... whatever, or you're looking for a distraction," House said, using his infamous evasion technique.

"Cameron left a week ago. I'm fine. The patient, on the other hand..." House observed Chase's expression, knew he was lying, but grabbed the file anyway.

"If I cure him, I better get backstage passes."

-

Taub and Thirteen were already sitting at the rectangular table in House's second office when House and Chase walked in.

"We've got a case," House said, throwing several folders onto the table. Taub and Thirteen each grabbed one and began to look through the file. "Where's Foreman?"

"He's not here," Thirteen replied, coldly. "Is this Chris Martin, like...?"

"Like the living ball of energy," House finished. "The man runs around for a living, and everyone's surprised he has a heart attack."

"He's only 32," Taub said. "And it says he has no prior history of heart disease or-"

"Yeah, it's a complete mystery. He's also confessed to using sleeping pills more than he should. Think maybe the two are connected?"

"Sleeping pills could cause heart problems," Thirteen said, still leafing through the pages of the file. "It would also explain the low CS levels."

Chase, who had not made even the slightest noise since entering the room, indiscreetly coughed and said, "It could be Dent's."

"No," Taub quickly disagreed. "If it was Dent's he'd have some sort of physical mark."

"He has a mark on his left calf," Chase fought back. "It could be-"

"That's a birthmark," Taub interrupted. "Sleeping pills makes more sense."

Chase stood still, gaping for a retort. He quickly glanced at House for help, though he knew he wouldn't receive any.

"See? Even the kiddies agree with me."

"Wait," Thirteen said. She had the folder open to a specific page, and was pointing at something on the chart. "That's not a birthmark."

House furrowed his brow and craned his head over her shoulder. "You got a picture in there or something?"

"The history says he's only got a birthmark on his right shoulder blade. It doesn't say anything about his legs."

"Test him for Dent's," House nodded to Chase, heaving a defeated sigh.

Chase silently nodded, then turned, a smile cracking it's way onto his face as he opened the door.

-

"Is it serious?" Chris asked as Chase stuck a needle in his arm to retrieve the blood necessary to complete the test.

"It's a disease, of course it's serious," Chase replied, perhaps a little too snappish. "But it's not fatal or anything. It's actually curable."

"If I have it... how did I get it?"

"Well, there are a number of ways to get Dent's, but it's usually through contact with another person who has it. If you've had any sexual partners recently, we're gonna need-"

"I haven't," Chris interrupted. "Unfortunately."

"You're sure? Not even a one-night stand? Drunken hook-up or...?" Chris shook his head.

"I wish," he dully replied. Chase closed the vial he was holding and went to leave the room.

"Hey," Jonny said to Chris. "I'm gonna go get a drink, do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"OK." Jonny left the room, racing out into the hallway. "Excuse me, doctor?" he shouted after Chase.

Chase stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Um, OK. Go on."

Jonny took a deep breath and said, "Last week... we were at a party, the four of us. We all got pretty drunk." Jonny looked down at the floor, trying to find the right words, and Chase watched him, noticing his awkwardness. "Chris and I sort of... but I think he was too drunk to remember."

"Oh. Well, uh, we're gonna have to get you tested, too."

Jonny nodded. "Could you not tell him? If he doesn't remember, then he doesn't need to know. I don't want it to ruin our friendship."

"I'll keep my mouth shut," Chase said with a reassuring smile.

-

"Do you realize," House said, leaning over Chase's shoulder as he was testing Chris's blood. "You have dirt on a celebrity."

"What's your point?" Chase dumbly asked, fiddling with something on the machine.

"Are you going to do anything with that dirt?"

"Of course not, I made a promise."

House snorted. "You also took an oath, but that didn't stop you from killing a patient on purpose. Besides, you only said you wouldn't tell... Craig, or whatever his name is."

"Chris. And I'm not gonna tell anyone anything."

"It's a shame. You could make a lot of money if you happened to slip that info to some tabloid," House not-so-discreetly said. Chase shot him a look of hatred, just as the machine beeped. Chase checked the results, and House asked "Is it Dent's?"

"No," Chase said, clearly displeased.

House peered at the paper in Chase's hand and grinned smugly. "Looks like I was right after all.

-
"We're back to square one," House said. He made a thinking sort of face and added, "I think that's a song."

"Sleeping pills," Taub said. "We never ruled them out, they fit perfectly."

"Right," House agreed. "Everyone but Chase agreed. And he was wrong, so who cares what he thinks?"

Foreman nonchalantly walked into the room, and House watched him carefully as he sat down and grabbed a file.

"So, we just discharge him, then?" Thirteen asked.

"Yeah, you can go tell him he's free to go," House said, still watching Foreman. Thirteen and Taub both left the room, leaving House, Chase, and Foreman behind. "Boy, I'm sure glad you're here, Foreman. Otherwise we'd never have solved this case."

"I was busy. Forgive me," Foreman said, reading the file despite the fact that the other two doctors left to discharge the patient.

"Busy doing what? Avoiding Thirteen?" House pressed on.

"Yeah," Foreman simply replied. As he was reading, something caught his eye. "You're discharging this guy?"

"If you want an autograph, you better go get one now."

"You tested him for Dent's?"

"It was negative," Chase said. "Why?"

"His red blood cell count is a little low. Combined with the heart problem... it could be anemia."

House nodded to Chase, "Go stop Taub and Thirteen. And test for anemia." Chase got up without saying a word and left. "So, why were you late?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," Foreman replied.

"It's not my business why one of my employees didn't come to work on time?"

"It's not any of your business," Foreman repeated.

-

"The test was negative," Thirteen said to Chris. "We think your problems were just the cause of sleeping pills."

"You know, I always figured those were doing me no good," Chris laughed. "So, what, then?"

"We'll keep you here overnight, but you're free to go home tomorrow," Taub said. "Just stay away from the-"

"It's not the sleeping pills," Chase interrupted as he burst through the door.

"We ruled out Dent's, you were there," Thirteen said.

"Foreman thinks it's anemia."

"Anemia?" Chris asked.

"It's a blood problem," Taub explained. "Do you have fatigue, dizziness, anything like that?"

"Well, I get tired sometimes, but I just thought it was 'cause of the tour."

"He does look a little pale," Thirteen said. "Let's test for anemia, then."

Rebirth

Here's a thought to think about,
some knowledge for your head.
What would happen if you woke up
to find that you were dead?

Is there an afterlife? you ask.
Or maybe just dark space?
Well, I'll tell you what happened to me,
I came back as Guy Berryman's bass.

That's right, that sexy man
held me in his hands.
I opened my eyes to see
a crowd of 15,000 Coldplay fans.

They were dancing and singing
and having lots of fun.
But soon it was all over,
the concert was finally done.

So, I rode in a truck of sorts
with various other things,
like Jon's guitar and the microphone
into which dear Christopher sings.

Welcome to our group! they said.
We hope that you are well.
Then suddenly there was a giant crash
and people started to yell.

There was an accident, it seems
a truck smashed into us.
But everything went black right then,
I left without a fuss.

Did you die again? you ask.
Is that what happened there?
Yes, and what went down after
was quite extraordinarily rare.


When I came back a second time
it was more than I could stand. Oh!
Because, you see, this second time
I became Chris's piano.

What were the chances?
Two Coldplay lives in one day.
Chris ran towards me from the side of the stage
and soon began to play.

While that crazy man's dance moves
are sometimes cause of laughter,
we all know what happens to that piano
and I was dead again soon after.

Then I was my old self,
before I ever died.
It was all a dream, it seems,
so when I woke up, I sighed.

It was a wonderful dream, of course,
a lovely way to spend
my hours asleep, but all good things
must eventually come to an end.

When You Feel So Tired (Finished)

CHRIS is having trouble sleeping, but a house-sitting invitation from Jonny could change that.

It's a slash fic!

---

Chris laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could not, no matter how hard he tried, get the image of Jonny out of his head. He tossed and turned, but those green eyes would not erase from his vision. Like it wasn't bad enough that he was in love with him, now his sleeping habits- which were already nowhere near normal- were being messed up.

So, he got out of bed, poured himself a glass of water, and really thought things through. Really thought things through. He didn't just give things a once-over, he sat down in the plastic chair by his kitchen table and mulled over everything.

Jonny was his best friend, and had been since they first met. All they'd ever been was friends. But he was totally in love with Jonny, and had been for... well, he wasn't really sure how long he'd been in love with Jonny, but he only recently realised it. Like, the day before. Jonny was telling Chris a story, and Chris was listening like he always did. But something felt different to him, and he couldn't help noticing the way Jonny's eyes lit up when he talked, and the way he giggled whenever Chris made a joke. He suddenly had this strange desire reach over and hold Jonny's hand, and kiss that pretty cheek of his.

Not that it mattered, though; Jonny was probably not interested in him in that way... right? There's always that 'you never know' thing, but it seemed a bit unlikely to Chris. He looked blankly around the room. It was getting light out now. Still no sleep.

Chris left the chair with the table and went back to his room. The bed looked so cozy and warm, but as he laid down it felt springy and cold. The insomnia was driving him crazy.

A few sleepless hours later, Chris went to the Beehive. They were all supposed to meet there that day to see how it was shaping up. It looked no less skanky than it had the last time they checked on it, a few days prior. While he was standing and observing the work in progress, a friendly face appeared.

"Hi, Chris," Jonny said, and Chris had to fight the wave of ardency that washed over him as he watched the man walk up.

"Hi, Jonny," he beamed. Jonny looked at him with quite a puzzled look on his face, and for a few moments Chris feared that his emotions were seeping through his face.

"Did you get any sleep? You've got, like, really dark circles under your eyes." Chris felt himself involuntarily touch his eye.

"Uh... you know. All this excitement," he said, waving at the Beehive, "sometimes it's hard to sleep."

"It is kinda exciting," Jonny nodded. "When are the other guys supposed to come here?"

"I'm not sure," Chris shrugged. "To be honest, I don't even know what time it is now."

"It's, like, nine-ish," Jonny said. He took a deep breath and continued, "Are you doing anything this weekend?"

"Not that I know of, why?"

"I have to house-sit- well, cabin-sit for my sister and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. Keep me company."

"Yeah," Chris immediately said. "Sure." Jonny grinned.

"All right. This is gonna be fun. It's about an hour drive from here, so it's not too far, really. And we'll only be there for the weekend."

"Sounds good."

For the next hour, Chris and Jonny chatted about little things, and commented on the status of their new headquarters ("It's skankier than that girl who's always outside my apartment." "The one with that really ugly leopard-print tank top?" "Yeah, her." "...Is it even possible to be skankier than that?"), until Guy and Will showed up. Once they were all there, they decided to take a brief tour of the inside.

As expected, there were lots of construction-related objects spread about the place. Saws, hammers, nails, paint cans, paint brushes, bits of wood everywhere, and everything was covered in sawdust, it seemed. After spending only a few short minutes inside, the men were all covered in sawdust, too. But the atmosphere was full of intense excitement, and each and every one of them knew that fantastic things were going to happen there.

"You guys, this is gonna be so fucking cool," Chris said as he bounced along. "We're going to make the most amazing record ever, and it's all gonna be done right here. This is so fucking awesome!"

"Yeah, you say that now, Chris," Will said, "but once we get in here you'll hate everything we come up with."

Normally Chris would have taken slight offense to such a thing and laughed anyway, but this time he didn't give a damn. He really did feel like something great was going to happen. Of course, he did momentarily believe that his inklings were just a product of a lack of sleep, but he still was under the impression that greatness was soon to be upon them.

There wasn't much to do after their look around, so they all ended up going their separate ways. Chris walked back to his apartment, full of excitement, and thought about trying to take a nap. He was dead tired, and even though he was quite hyper, he figured he might be able to get some sleep now. He was wrong, of course.

-

Friday night, Chris waited on the step of his apartment building for Jonny. His suitcase was sitting patiently beside him. He wasn't sure how he was gonna handle an entire weekend alone with Jonny; the mere thought of it was both terrifying and exciting.

Eventually, a rather fancy-looking, blue Buick drove up the street. Jonny expertly pulled up alongside the sidewalk and stepped out of the car.

"You ready?" he asked as he stopped in front of Chris.

"Yeah," Chris answered, standing up and reaching for his suitcase, though Jonny had already grabbed it.

"I'll take care of this, you can just get in the car." Chris graciously nodded and sat shotgun. The trunk of the car slammed a few minutes later, and Jonny was soon seated next to him. He turned the key in the ignition and looked up in the rear-view mirror. After checking all was clear, he turned around in his seat and backed the car out of the space. Soon they were bustling along down the road, the sound of the radio dully playing in the background.

"Nice car," Chris said so awkwardly it was almost painful.

"Thanks. It's actually my sister's. I guess she decided to get a rental and lent me this while I'm watching her place."

"Why does she need you to watch her cabin, anyway?"

"I guess there have been some, uh..." Jonny cleared his throat and continued, "robberies in that area recently, and... Well, the thing is, it's a cabin technically, but she lives there all the time. But she's going away this weekend for something or another and wanted to make sure that someone could be there to fend off the burglars."

"Shouldn't that be something that you tell people before you ask them to cabin-sit with you?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to scare you off. I don't think I could handle staying there by myself, it would be so boring. Plus, now there's two of us to fend off the burglars. And we get to spend time together."

"I do like spending time with you," Chris boldly admitted.

"Good, because there's something else I've got to tell you."

"Which is?"

"There's only one bedroom."

"Jonny!"

"Well, there's a couch, too, if it bothers you so much. But we'll have to flip a coin."

Chris mock-pouted. "I'm being so nice, spending the weekend with you so you won't get bored, and you're not gonna offer me the bedroom?"

"Guilting me, are you?" Jonny asked, laughing, but at the same time rolling his eyes. "Fine, you can take the room."

"Aw, you're so kind, Jonny."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're making dinner."

Chris crinkled his nose. "Is that a good idea?"

"...You're ordering pizza for us." Chris laughed, and turned to Jonny. It was dark now, the streetlights were on, and Jonny's face was only half-lit. Yet, it had this astonishing beauteous effect. Chris's stomach flipped, and he knew he was definitely in for a long weekend. He was at least glad that they weren't going to be sharing a room that presumably had only one bed; not that he wouldn't have liked that, it just would have made controlling himself a thousand times harder. "Are you still alive?"

"Huh? Oh. Um... yeah. How much longer 'til we're there?"

"Chris, we've only been driving for, like, ten minutes. Bored of me already?"

"No, of course not."

"You know, if you want, you can take a nap and I'll wake you up when we get there."

Uh oh, dangerous territory. Chris shook his head. "It's OK."

"Uh huh. When's the last time you actually got any sleep?"

"Jonny, it's fine." Part of the reason he evaded the question was because he wasn't sure what the answer was. Despite his best efforts at getting some shut-eye, he had only slept maybe once or twice over the course of five days, and each time was only for an hour or so, before he woke up and stayed that way.

"I'm not blind! You obviously haven't slept in days. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong... just... different, I guess."

"What is it? You can trust me, you know."

"I do trust you, I just don't feel like talking about it right now."

"Fair enough. But when you do feel like talking about it, I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Now go to sleep."

Chris did as he was told, though reluctant, and rested his head against the window. He knew that sleep would not come to him no matter how much he wanted it. He closed his eyes, though, and pretended for Jonny's sake.

About forty minutes later, Chris felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"Hey, man, wake up. We're here." Quickly remembering that he was supposed to have been asleep, he mumbled groggily for a few seconds before opening his eyes and blinking sleepily.

"Hm?"

"We're here. Come on, we'll go inside, you can go back to sleep, and I'll get the stuff out of the trunk in the morning."

"Mm-kay." Chris continued his faux sleepiness and stumbled out of the car. He began to regret it, though, when he felt Jonny's hand on his back, leading him up the stone walkway. He kept his head down and his eyes closed as the jittery feeling in his stomach intensified. Before he knew it, the stone was replaced with carpet, and the dark starry night was replaced with a 60-watt light bulb. Jonny closed the door behind them as his sister greeted them with a warm smile.

"You're here! Good. How was the trip?" she asked.

"It's only an hour-long ride, it's not like anything exciting happened. In fact, Chris slept most of the way," Jonny said, pointing to Chris. "Which reminds me, he's still kinda out of it. He's gonna be taking your room, is that all right?"

"Yeah, of course. Um," she turned to Chris, "it's right down that hall over there, the second door to the left."

"Thanks," Chris mumbled, and received a smile from Jonny's sister. He followed her directions, and within no time was walking through the door into the decent-sized room. There was a bed, a few drawers and tables, and a lamp filling the space. It looked rather cozy. He prepared himself to lay in the bed, though he knew that it wasn't worth it. From the other room, he could hear Jonny and his sister chatting, and at one point she was laughing her head off.

"OK, well, I'm gonna get going now. Thank you so much for doing this," she said.

"It's not a problem," Jonny replied.

"Thank Chris for me, too, eh? I'll see you Sunday night, then."

"Have fun."

"You, too." Then there was the sound of the door opening and closing, the engine of a car revving, and eventually silence returned. Chris figured Jonny would have stayed out in the other room and gone to sleep, but he found that wasn't the case.

"Hey, Chris?" Jonny said, standing in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Um..." Jonny paused for what seemed like ages. "Goodnight."

"Night, Jonny," Chris replied. He snuggled down under the covers, fluffed the pillow a bit, and stared at the wall. Jonny closed the door as he left, and Chris whispered, "I love you."

-

The next morning Jonny tiredly shuffled into the kitchen. Chris was already seated at the table, an empty, used plate in front of him.

"Morning, Jonny!" Chris beamed. "I made some... well, I was going to make you some breakfast, but I didn't know where anything was, and I can't cook, so I just ordered some pizza."

"Pizza? What time is it?"

"A little after noon," Chris replied. "I would have woken you up earlier, but you looked so peaceful. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Oh. Well, thanks," Jonny said, absentmindedly running a hand over his bedhead. He really was grateful that Chris had let him sleep, since he'd been up half the night... but Chris didn't need to know that. He had problems of his own to deal with, and Jonny never wanted to be a burden. So, he sat down next to Chris, grabbed a slice of the delicious-smelling pizza, and filled his stomach.

"This is a nice place," Chris said. Jonny nodded and swallowed the last bit of the slice of pizza he was working on.

"Yeah, my sister's got a nice taste in houses. And have you seen the yard?" Chris shook his head. "You've got to see it. It's so... Come on!"

Jonny quickly stood up and pulled Chris to the back door. Chris smiled to himself as they stood on the porch, Jonny still grasping Chris's wrist, and looked out over the yard. It was huge, and green as far as the eye could see. Though he relished the idea of letting Jonny hold onto him forever, Chris wriggled his arm free and bolted down the stairs. He didn't stop until he reached what appeared to be the middle of the vast yard.

He paused, covering his stomach with his hand and trying to catch his breath. He wondered if Jonny had bothered to follow him, and a few moments later he felt the air move as Jonny stopped next to him.

"That was fun," Chris laughed, his wide eyes full of vitality. It amazed him how he could have so much energy without having slept very much at all for nearly a week. But he attributed his sudden surge of stamina to being around Jonny. He was like a drug, and Chris certainly liked the high he felt.

"Yeah, for you," Jonny laughed back. Chris admired the way Jonny's chest rose and fell with every breath he took, and the way he showed his teeth when he laughed.

"I'll race you back."

"What's the point? We both know you're gonna win."

"Hmm... fine," Chris said, and he collapsed in the grass. He stretched out, crossed his right leg over his left, and placed his hands behind his head. "Then we'll just stay here."

Jonny joined him, laying so close that Chris thought he was going to have a heart attack. He enjoyed every minute of it, though, and smiled up at the clouds as his heart continued to pound in his chest. Every now and then he'd glance at Jonny, who always seemed to be staring at the clouds very pensively.

"You're awfully quiet," Jonny said some time later.

"So are you," Chris replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not the one who's always talking." Jonny turned his head to Chris and told him, "That's you." Chris could feel Jonny's breath as he spoke, and it sent shivers down his spine.

"Good point. But sometimes, things don't need to be said. It's nice to just... enjoy the silence." Chris tried to convey his every thought through his eyes, and by the look on Jonny's face he seemed to be nearly successful, until Jonny looked back up at the sky.

"Oh my God, it's a giraffe," Jonny said in pure amazement. Chris couldn't help laughing and Jonny's ridiculous statement, though he looked to see the giraffe floating along in the sky.

"Oh, I see it! And it looks like it's eating that poor turtle."

"That's not a turtle, that's a frog. And I think it looks more like they're... I don't even know."

"Clouds are funny things, aren't they?" Chris mused.

"Yeah, they are," Jonny agreed, and he moved his hands from his stomach to the ground, grazing Chris's thigh as he did so. Chris was sure that it was an accident, but he couldn't handle it either way.

"I'm tired of staring of clouds, let's go back inside," he said, jumping up and jogging back to the house before Jonny even had time to respond. He rested in the kitchen, hungrily grabbed another slice of the pizza that was laying on the table, and waited for Jonny to return. Judging by Jonny's calmness when he entered the room and the fact that Chris was able to eat the entire slice, he figured that Jonny had probably walked back.

"Chris, you're too much," he said as he sat down beside Chris. "I don't know how you do it."

"I don't know either," Chris said, completely honest. "But I'm OK with it."

"Do you know how hard it is to keep up with you sometimes?"

"Pretty hard, I guess. If it makes you happy, I won't be hyperactive for the rest of the day." Jonny chuckled and nodded. Chris smiled, and wondered to himself what would happen if he were to tell Jonny everything. Oh, and how lovely it would be for Jonny to return his feelings.

He didn't tell him, of course, because he was far too frightened. Instead, they spent the rest of the daylight hours just talking about nothing, wandering about the house, and just generally enjoying each other's company. 

Later on in the evening, Chris and Jonny were sitting in the living room, reading excerpts from various books around the room in various foreign accents. It was so entertaining that at one point they were both doubled over, laughing. After a certain amount of time, Jonny found himself needing to use the bathroom, so he excused himself and left Chris alone in the living room. Not surprisingly, Chris was not there when he came back.

"Chris? I thought you said you wouldn't be hyper for the rest of the day," Jonny said as he walked around the house. He couldn't find Chris, though, even after he'd searched nearly every room. He checked the living room once more, and caught a glimpse of something outside the window. He looked more closely to see that it was a mop of hair.

"I see you found me," Chris said as Jonny walked out onto the front porch. Chris was sitting at the edge of the stairs, knees scrunched up to his chest, staring up at the sky. Jonny sat down next to him and looked up.

"Why'd you come out here?" Jonny asked. Chris looked over at him. They were both bathed in moonlight, but Chris's interest was purely in how Jonny looked. The light hit Jonny's eyes and the green shone brightly through the dark.

"I got tired of being in there," Chris simply said.

"Well, it is pretty wonderful out here."

Chris, still mesmerized by Jonny, slowly nodded. "Yeah, it's absolutely beautiful."

-

It was two o'clock in the morning. Unsurprisingly, Chris was still awake, though he'd changed positions more than once throughout the night. Everything was quite, except for one tiny little noise. It worried Chris a bit, since the noise came out of nowhere, and he'd been on edge since Jonny told him about the robberies. And the noise sounded like footsteps.

Then suddenly a head peeked into the room. It just stayed there, staring. Chris looked over at the doorway, and the head grew a body.

"You're awake?" Jonny whispered.

"Yeah," Chris said. Jonny took a few steps into the room.

"Couldn't sleep, either?"

"No."  For the longest time, the room was filled with complete silence. If it hadn't been for the tiny bit of moonlight shining through the curtain, Chris would have wondered if Jonny was even in the room still.

"Can we talk?" Jonny finally spoke. Chris sat up and left enough room for Jonny to sit next to him.

"Yeah, come on," he said, patting the empty space. Jonny walked over and sat down.

"You didn't sleep in the car." Before Chris could say anything, Jonny continued, "I know you didn't, so you don't have to lie or anything."

"I didn't sleep, no," Chris said, plucking at the comforter.

"Is there anything you need to talk about? Anything you want to talk about? I know yesterday you said you didn't feel like talking, but... I'm just worried about you." Jonny placed his hand dangerously close to Chris's. "Because you're my best friend."

Maybe the result of his tiredness and frustration, Chris let his emotions go and burst into tears. "I can't sleep, I've tried, but my body just wont let me do it. It's been this way since last Sunday, and I've only gotten, like, three hours of sleep." He felt ridiculous sitting there and crying his eyes out, so he hid his face in his hands.

"Three hours? Chris, how are you still alive?"

"I don't know! And the worst part is, I know why I can't sleep, but I can't do anything about it."

"What's the reason?"

"I've been, like... b-bottling something up, but I can't just let it out. But I also can't sleep because of it." And just then, Jonny realized why he'd had trouble sleeping. He was hiding something, too.

"Chris..." Chris sniffed and waited for Jonny, whose head was also down, to continue. "I love you."

Chris lifted his head, but didn't say anything for a long time, mostly out of pure shock. When he finally decided that what he heard was real, he leaned forward and tried to catch Jonny's eyes. "I love you, too," he said, and Jonny looked up. There was a sort of glimmer in Chris's eyes, and Jonny thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He reached over and wiped the tears from Chris's cheeks, then gently kissed him.

"I'll be right back," Jonny whispered, and rushed out of the room to do God knows what. Chris sank under the covers and stared into the darkness, thinking about how lucky he was and how great things were going. But he wasn't thinking for long, and by the time Jonny returned, Chris was fast asleep.

Jonny laid beside Chris as close as he could get, until their bodies were nearly touching. Then he moved his arm and carefully placed his hand on Chris's hip. He thought about staying up all night and just absorbing the intoxicating sight of Chris, but he found himself unable to keep his eyes open. Soon enough, he let his eyelids fall and joined Chris in the deep sleep that they both so desperately needed.

Death and All His Friends (Finished)

Things aren't going so well on Earth, so Chris and Jonny decide to leave. But their plan doesn't work exactly like they thought it would.

It's a slash fic!

---

It was May. The time of year when things warm up and blossom in preparation for summer. Brown turns to green, and gray turns to blue. Rain fills the world, but only for a short while. Then the sun comes out, and the children play in the streets, their parents watching joyously from afar.

It started in April. Five weeks of nonstop, no holds barred guerrilla warfare. Seemingly every country on the planet took part. Bombs dropped every few hours, and a dusty cloud of smoke clogged the air. Bodies, both dead and alive, were strewn across the ground. No one was safe, and after a few short days it became every man for himself. Even the children weren't protected from the violent attacks on mankind. The cause of the war was unknown, but by this point it was insignificant anyway.

Just down the road from a small bridge in London was a collapsed apartment building. The building had been home to many occupants, namely one Chris Martin. When the building was crashed into by a small aircraft, it fell in an instant. One minute the building was fine, the people inside sitting in the misled comfort of their dwellings, and literally two seconds later it was gone. A simple blink would have caused any onlooker to miss it. Of course, in a world like this, no one dared to blink.

Chris saw the whole thing. He had just returned from a trip down the road to see his friend, who he was afraid had been killed, and as he looked up at the building, preparing to cross the street, it collapsed. He threw the box he was holding (given to him by the aforementioned friend) and ran to help anyone who had survived. He could hear the cries of a few younger children, probably no older than five years, but they remained faceless throughout his search. A few other kind pedestrians lent their hands as well, but not even a group of the strongest men in the world could help the victims. It was a lost cause.

With nowhere else to go, Chris returned to his friend's house. On any other occasion, he'd have thanked his stars to be alive, to not have been in that building at the time of the crash. He wasn't thankful, though. Really, surviving anything in this world did no more good than dying. You might make it past one explosion, past one missed bullet, but there's no saying that another one wont find its way to you five seconds later. He forgot the box on the street, though by the time he remembered it had probably been snatched up already. People will take anything they can get their hands on when they have almost nothing left, even if they're not sure what something is. If they see it just laying there, and no one else has taken it, it's theirs.

It was just a box of mementos anyway. A few souvenirs remnant from the early days of his band. They were nice to have, but completely useless and an awful encumbrance in this age. He still had his band members anyway, and that was enough. As long as they made it through everything together, or perhaps stuck together in death, then Chris was satisfied. As long as they were together.

But two of his band mates he hadn't spoken to in weeks. Guy Berryman, the devilishly handsome bassist, was somewhere in the deserts of Africa, hiding from the Egyptian soldiers and turning tricks in the local village for food. Without his looks, he'd have starved or probably been killed in a matter of days. As a drummer, Will Champion had an acute sense of rhythm, and was able to lead a vast group of troops around the English countryside in hopes of defending his homeland. They'd been successful on a number of occasions, so Chris wasn't too worried about him. Regardless, they'd still not spoken to each other since just after the war started.

He and Jonny stayed together, though. They had to. Jonny Buckland, the sweet and generous guitar player, was the only person Chris ever really loved. He could deal without contact between Guy and Will and himself, but if he went a day without talking to Jonny he'd panic. It's not that he didn't think Jonny could survive on his own, just that he wanted to make sure that Jonny was alive at all times. If anything did happen to him, then Chris would definitely not take any precautions to stay alive. Hell, he'd probably walk out into open fire without thinking twice.

So he and Jonny stayed together, just down the road from each other. Every day Chris walked from his apartment to Jonny's, until it collapsed, of course. Then they shared Jonny's apartment. They rarely went outside, even though there was no guarantee that staying inside would be safer. They just didn't feel the need to make contact with the outside world.

“Jonny, do you remember that plan we came up with, last week I think?” Chris asked as he and Jonny sat on the floor of the apartment one day, eating what was probably their dinner.

“You mean... if things don't work out?” Jonny vaguely asked as he swallowed a bit of his food. Chris swirled his fork around in the bowl of rice he had. Rice was mostly all they could eat. All they could find to eat.

“What if we just did it now?” Chris suggested. Jonny placed his own bowl down on the floor and moved over to where Chris was sitting. He looked deeply into Chris's eyes and nodded.

“We... we could. What about Guy and Will?”

“I've been thinking it over, and... there's no guarantee we'll see them again, even after all of this ends. If it ends,” he added. “I just think that there's really no point in doing all of this anymore.”

Jonny sat silently for a few moments, thinking. Eventually he nodded again and said, “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow's good.” Chris shoved aside his bowl, too sick to eat now. Everything was so hard to grasp. Never in his thirty-two years of existence did he think that something like this would happen. That some situation would put him in such distress that he would even consider doing what he and Jonny were about to do.

The next day they took the five minute walk to the small bridge. The water below it was murky and had been tinted red with blood. Countless numbers of bodies had fallen into the river, but almost all of them had been carried away, leaving behind only a hint of color. Chris and Jonny both stood next to the railing, looking down. As far as either of them knew, the only people who had taken the journey down were those who had not done so on purpose. Until now.

“I can't believe we're doing this,” Jonny said as he grabbed Chris's hand.

“What else are we gonna do, Jonny? There's nothing left here worth staying for, and... I have faith. We'll be together forever now, and nothing can potentially destroy that.” Chris lifted his arm and kissed Jonny's hand. “We'll be safe, love.”

“Let's do it.” Chris climbed the step of the railing, and when he balanced himself he held his hand out to help Jonny up. Once Jonny stood beside him, Chris closed his eyes. Then he opened them back and kissed Jonny as passionately as he could.

“Just in case,” he whispered as he linked arms with Jonny. “Here goes nothing. On three?”

“One...”

“... two...”

Just as a giant van came bustling down the road, they both shouted, “Three!” and leapt forward.

-

The pearly gates of Heaven where nothing like Chris had imagined. Nothing bad, though; they were actually pearlier than he had ever dreamed. He couldn't believe he was actually there, that all those years of preaching he heard had not been incorrect after all. He stood, mouth agape, marveling at the sight before him. For a second he didn't realise that Jonny wasn't with him. He didn't think much of it, though, and just passed it off as nothing.

“Excuse me, sir,” a voice said. A boisterous man with long brown hair and an eye patch stood to the left of Chris, his hands clasped together in a friendly sort of way. He was wearing billowing black pants and a white shirt that seemed to ruffle a bit. He was also smiling, and his gap-toothed grin frightened Chris a little. “Welcome.”

“Thanks,” Chris said. He tried to hold back his thoughts, but it proved to be an impossible task in the afterlife. “Are you a... pirate?”

The man simply laughed. “No, but I get that a lot. Name's Pete.”

“Oh. I'm Chris.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pete said. “Listen, from the minute we've spent together chatting, and from the years I've watched you from up here, you seem like a nice guy.”

“Well, thank you.”

“But you don't belong here.” Pete placed a giant hand on Chris's shoulder and led him to a small podium. A paper was laying on top of the surface, and Chris immediately understood what he meant.“See this? This is my list.”

“I'm not on it,” Chris somberly said. “It's because I was with Jonny, wasn't it?”

“No, no,” Pete reassured him. “Love is love, we don't care about that.” Chris breathed a sigh of relief. “It's because you killed yourself. That actually is frowned upon.”

At that very moment, everything came crashing down on Chris. His mind was completely overwhelmed by the prior events of his life and now death. He and Jonny jumped so they could escape the horrors of the previous world and be together in the next. Now, because of that, he wasn't allowed in. And suddenly, Jonny's absence became so much more important.

“Where's Jonny?” he asked.

“I'm sorry, I can't answer any more of your questions,” Pete apologized. “It's time for you to leave.”

“Leave and go where?”

“I think you know the answer to that. Sorry, Chris.”

Everything turned white, and the picture of Pete and his pearly gates faded. There was just nothing. It was like this for what Chris felt was a few minutes. During that time, he thought about what had happened. He killed himself. He was in the afterlife now. He wasn't allowed into Heaven. Most importantly, he had no clue where Jonny was.

Maybe Jonny had gotten there first? And he would have been denied, too. So... wherever this next place was gonna be, which Chris was pretty sure he knew where, Jonny would probably be there when he arrived, smiling and being as gorgeous as he always was. Their afterlife wouldn't be as ideal as they planned, but they'd still be together.

The white flickered into black. There was still nothing. Nothing visible, anyway.

“Chris, Chris! My main man,” a booming voice said.

“Main man?” Chris asked.

“Welcome,” the voice announced, and suddenly everything was lit up. A man with fiery red hair and piercing yellow eyes, sitting recumbently on a sort of throne, spoke, “To my domain.”

Chris looked around. Hell was nothing like he thought it would be. It actually didn't seem so bad. There weren't any people being tortured, there weren't any giant parties of flames dancing around and heating up the place. In fact, there wasn't much of anything. Besides Chris and Satan, no one else was around. They were on some sort of platform, Satan sitting in his throne, and everything else was just darkness.

“This is it?” Chris asked, still looking around.

“I'm a very simple man, yes,” Satan chuckled. Chris thought it was odd for a man like that to do such a thing. “Now, onto more pressing matters. You're here.”

“Yes, I am.” Satan flashed him a devious smile.

“I know what you want to ask, Chris, and I have your answer.”

“Where is he?”

“Not here,” he laughed. “Obviously.”

“Where is he?” Chris repeated, trying not to lose his patience.

“A place I think you're very familiar with.”

“Where?”

“Why should I tell you?” Satan asked, crinkling his nose. “What's in it for me?”

“Right... I don't have anything. You can't take my soul, right, because I'm already here?”

“A very true point you've made, Chris.” He sat up a bit in his throne, which Chris could now see was black with red satin draped over the seat. “I can't take your soul. But I can do something else.”

Chris swallowed. Naturally, he was quite intimidated. “What's that?” Satan once again flashed his devious smile.

“I can challenge you to the most testing of games. If you win, I'll tell you where he is and maybe even let you see him. If I win,” he said, standing up and walking over to Chris, “well, you'll see.” He gave a quick wink.

“Fine.”

“Excellent,” Satan grinned.

-

“That's not fair!” Satan yelled. “You cheated!”

“I did not!” Chris yelled back.

“It's all that yoga you do. You had an unfair advantage.”

“How is that unfair? You're Satan, surely you could have made it so I'd lose!”

“I... I could have,” Satan replied. “But that would also be cheating.”

“I don't see why you'd choose to play Twister, anyway,” Chris said. “You could have at least challenged me to Monopoly. I'm horrible at that game.”

“Maybe I should have challenged you to shutting the hell up,” Satan retorted. “You'd have lost that one for sure.”

“I probably would have!” Chris agreed. “Anyway, will you please tell me where Jonny is?”

Satan sighed. “I still think you cheated... but fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Earth.”

“Earth?” Chris dumbly repeated.

“Earth. University College Hospital in London, to be precise.” Remarking Chris's vacant stare, he added, “He's still alive.”

“He...” Chris couldn't speak. His mouth had gone completely dry.

“He survived the fall. A group of people passing by saw you two, realized he was still alive, and took him to the hospital. I think he's still in a coma, actually.”

“No... no...” Chris repeated. “But we're supposed to... to be together.”

“You wanted to be together,” Satan corrected. “If you were supposed to be together, you'd be together.”

“So, what, then? I just stay here, and Jonny stays there, and we'll never see each other again?” Chris cried.

What is this? Satan thought. This kid comes in, crying about his lost love, and you're gonna feel sorry for him? Who do you think you are, Jesus?

“It looks that way,” he said. Dammit... if he doesn't stop crying I'm gonna have to punch him... Ah, who am I kidding? Then I'll feel worse.

“Is this my punishment?”

“I suppose so.” Don't do it. Don't feel bad for him. If you do it, I'll hit you.

Chris sniffed, wiping away the tears from his eyes. “But what about when Jonny dies?”

“What do you mean?”

“When he dies, wont he end up here, too? So then I'll get to see him.”

Without thinking, Satan said, “You could see him now.” Shit! Aggravated with himself, Satan closed his eyes and felt his hand smack hard into his face.

“I could?”

Satan took a few moments to accurately prepare his response. He wasn't going to make any more slip-ups. “It is possible for you to return to Earth for a short period of time to visit him. You wont be alive, mind, and no one will be able to see you, but it is possible.”

“You wouldn't want to let me go, would you?” Chris asked, the hope building up inside of him. To see Jonny again would be so wonderful, even if they couldn't interact.

“Rematch,” Satan said. “We play one more game, and you can go if you win.”

“Do I get to pick what we play?”

“Of course not!”

“Well... OK,” Chris said, defeated. “But just remember, you'll probably lose if we play Twister again.”

-

Forty minutes later, after a rousing game of Battleship, Chris was being sent back to Earth. His second victory had not come as much of a surprise to Satan, though he was still reluctant to send Chris back. In the end, though, his tiny portion of kindness got the better of him.

When Chris landed, he was on top of the bridge where he and Jonny had jumped. It was weird now to look at the water and think that some of that blood was his. He wondered just how long it had been since he died, and if the people who had taken Jonny to the hospital had taken his body as well. Probably not.

He only had a vague idea of where the hospital was. He'd never been there before, but he recalled passing it every day that he drove to his parents' house. His parents... they'd be so disappointed if they knew he ended up going to Hell. As he began to walk down the bridge, he felt a twinge of guilt. Of course, there was no way that they would find out. Even if they were dead, there was probably very little chance of them finding out Chris's whereabouts.

It took him nearly two hours to walk to the hospital. Along the way he watched the world around him, witnessed several murders and was oddly glad that he killed himself. The world was not meant to be in such a state. Or maybe it was. Maybe this was all some sort of divine intervention. He kinda hoped it wasn't.

The doors of the hospital were open, but Chris soon found that it didn't matter. As he was not alive, he was not tangible, and could therefore drift through any obstacle that got in his way. Like doors.

Jonny's room was on the second floor, tucked away behind the wave of injured people who surfed on the sea of stretchers lining the hallways. The room was nearly empty, save for Jonny's bed and the few machines he was hooked up to. Chris had no idea what any of the numbers or symbols on the machines meant, but he assumed that Jonny was at least alive. Several of his limbs were poorly wrapped in makeshift casts, and his face was torn with lacerations. Chris cautiously moved towards his body. Despite all the cuts and bruises, to him Jonny still looked beautiful. He reached out to touch the face of his love, only to be sadly reminded of the fact that he wasn't real.

“I'm sorry, Jonny,” he whispered. “None of this was meant to happen. We were supposed to die together. If I knew you were gonna survive... I just wanted everything to be OK.”

“It is OK, Chris,” Jonny's voice said. But Jonny was still unconscious, and his mouth hadn't moved at all. Chris shifted slightly closer to Jonny.

“Jonny?”

“Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault.”

“It was my idea,” Chris muttered.

“And I went along with it. Because I wanted to be with you. Neither of us could control what happened.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I don't know, I can't feel anything.”

“Where are you?”

“Turn around.” Chris turned, and behind him was Jonny, standing upright and looking as he had before they parted. Chris slowly walked over to him.

“Are you real?” he asked.

“As real as you are.” Chris took a second to think this over, before remembering that he wasn't real. Which meant Jonny wasn't either. He took a chance and threw himself at Jonny, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

“Oh, Jonny!” he said as Jonny returned his embrace. “Wait... what does this mean?”

“I'm not sure, but... I don't think I'll last much longer,” Jonny replied. No sooner than the words left his mouth did an alarming beeping noise protrude from the machines on the other side of the room. A few nurses dressed in their scrubs ran in and tried to preform a number of resuscitations, but to no avail. Chris and Jonny watched on as the nurses called time of death.

“I guess you were right,” Chris said.

Suddenly, everything went black. Chris spun around and felt the air surrounding him, but there was nothing there. Panic set in once again. He got to see Jonny, which was what he wanted, and he was glad that he did. He would have been upset to never see Jonny again after that, but he would have been much more OK with that if he had gotten the chance to say goodbye. After all, that's what he went back to Earth to do. Now he was just in this oblivion, alone and confused. He had been jerked away from the living world, and even though Jonny had died, they were still not together. Chris wasn't even sure where he was. Everything was pitch black.

Was he back in Hell? It would have made some sense, but he thought that by now Satan would have revealed himself once more. Or maybe he wouldn't get the chance to meet up with Satan again. Perhaps this was his Hell. Emptiness and confusion. He wondered where Jonny had gone to; if Jonny was also in total darkness.

Then, out of pure hope, he gathered his air and shouted a tumultuous, “Jonny!” But there was no answer. Chris sank down into himself as he lost his hope. He wanted to let the tears drop from his eyes, but they wouldn't come. Complete emptiness.

A gust of wind came from nowhere and ruffled Chris's curls. Chris stood still. Another gust rushed past him. He stood still. A third gust came and knocked him back until he was just flying. Flying through the darkness.

He landed a short while later, on the darkness, it seemed. There was something under his feet, but he couldn't see it. He felt it, though, and it felt solid and firm, almost like a road or sidewalk. Or floor. He moved his foot around. The sole of his shoe slid a bit, and he concluded that it must have been some sort of floor. But he still couldn't see it.

Another wind, or perhaps the same wind that pushed him, brought an object to his feet. It was a paper, folded horizontally and stamped with a Chris~. He bent down to reach the paper, but he couldn't grab it. He tried again. The paper just slipped through his hand.

His panic and confusion, along with his slightly tired state, caused him to easily lose his patience. “What is this, some kind of sick joke?” he screeched into the darkness. He didn't honestly expect an answer, and he didn't get one, either. His last attempt at grabbing the paper was a fail, and as soon as his hand passed through, the sheet set itself on fire. And just like that, it was gone.

The fire left a mark, though, on the floor. It was yellow and scuffed a bit. Chris realised this must have been the floor. Only a small portion of it was visible. He moved his foot into the spot, and as he did so the color spread. It spread as far as it could, until everything was yellow. Chris temporarily forgot his panic and chuckled at the coincidence.

He took a few steps and wondered if there was anything else to be discovered. The yellow was no more calming than the darkness had been. If only he had any small clue as to where his was, he might have been a bit happier.

A boisterous laugh emerged from the distance. The hope that Chris had lost slowly crept its way back into his body.

“Hello?” Chris called out.

“Hey, man,” a voice said. It sounded familiar, but Chris couldn't exactly put his finger on it.

“Who are you?”

“Come on, you don't recognize your good old friend?” the voice laughed.

“No, I don't.”

“Don't be so serious man, this is the afterlife, remember? Take a chill pill.”

“Do you know where Jonny is?”

“Jonny?” More laughing. “Of course. But do you know where Jonny is?” Chris had the sudden vision of a drunk man stumbling around somewhere as he conversed with Chris. Maybe it was his uncle.

“No, if I knew where Jonny was I wouldn't be asking you.”

“Of course you wouldn't,” the voice said. “Very reasonable argument. You'd like to see him again?”

“Yes, please,” Chris said.

“I think I can arrange that,” the voice replied. “Listen, I've been watching you some more, and you really are a nice guy. It's a shame.”

“What's a shame?” Chris asked. Then, for some reason, he knew exactly who he was talking to. “Pete?”

“Hey, how ya doin'?” Pete shouted in Chris's ear as he magically appeared by his side, causing Chris to jump a bit. “Pete's the name, yeah.”

“Can you explain to me what's going on?”

“Yes.”

“... Are you going to explain to me what's going on?”

“Not yet. Come on, we've got places to go.” Pete grabbed Chris's arm with his giant hand and pulled him away from his spot. In a fraction of a second, they'd traveled to somewhere completely different. This time there was no emptiness at all. They were in a sort of room still, but it was filled with stacks of oddly shaped boxes. Upon closer inspection, Chris realised these were guitar cases.

“Jonny,” he said without thinking.

“Hmm?” a voice said from behind a nearby stack. “Wait, someone else is here?”

“Jonny, I'm here!” Chris shouted. Jonny peeked out from behind the stack. As soon as he saw Chris his jaw dropped.

“Oh... Chris...” Jonny ran to Chris and held him tight. “I thought I'd never see you again.”

“I know, me too,” Chris said. “But we're here now.”

“Yeah, wherever 'here' is.”

“Oh, about that!” Pete chimed in. “You guys need to do something for me.”

“What's that?” Chris asked.

“Look at each other.” Chris and Jonny each set their eyes on the other and smiled. “Now think of one place. Just one place.”

The guitar-filled room dissolved and gave way to a small town road with a single building standing proudly. Pete had disappeared, too. Chris and Jonny walked up to the building, which they both had immediately recognized.

“This is our old dorm,” Chris said.

“Where we first lived together,” Jonny added.

“Is this where you thought of, too?” Chris asked, turning to Jonny. Jonny nodded.

“Enjoy, you two,” Pete's voice rang from the sky.

“What is this?” Chris asked.

“Your afterlife.”

“Our afterlife?”

“Chris, there is no such thing as Heaven and Hell. Sorry to break it to you, but it's true. There is, however, an afterlife. Until it's perfect, there may be some slight drawbacks and you might end up being completely miserable, but in the end you stay where your heart desires. And your hearts desired each other. That's what you got. Enjoy.”

“Thank you!” Chris shouted, but by then he was certain that Pete was gone. He turned to Jonny and smiled. “It is perfect.”

“Come on,” Jonny said, grabbing Chris's arm and leading him towards the entrance of the building. “Let's go spend the rest of our afterlives together.”