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He dared himself to scream. No, this was all too much!

Jake could hear his heart beat faster and faster as he began to panic. No one was here. No one was here to save him from loneliness on this planet.

Blood covered his hands. Remnants of his friend scattered about in the small room he stood in. The iron stench filled his nose, making him gag. He tried to cover his face, but smeared the red liquid of life on his cheeks instead. What had he done?

Jake's crystal-like eyes pooled with tears, slamming his hand into the wall. The blow wasn't hard enough to break through the wall, but it caused his hand to throb in mild pain. As he clenched his fingers into a fist, he noticed the blood made a sun pattern with crimson rays drawn by his rubbed-raw finger pads. That's all he wanted to see right now; he wanted to see his sunlight again.

He wanted to see those peculiar, orange eyes again. He wanted to bury his hands in that golden hair. He wanted to feel that firm, hot body against his. He wanted to relive the moments they shared together. He wanted feel that excitement and thrill and passion they had for each other. He wanted to make his heart thump, thump; thump! If he could, Jake would do anything to get a second chance to see that man again. But no, Jake was alone. He was all alone, and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Why?"

Jake leaned against the wall. He slid down it until he was crouching. He knew he was locked in this room for all eternity. If he went back outside, he would just be slaughtered anyway. The world was at war. Outside the boarded window, Jake could hear bombs dropping. The building he was in shook constantly, as if threatening to collapse.

Jake English felt his nose and cheeks growing warm as his pooling, iridescent tears ran down his face and clouded his vision. He felt so horrible!

He let himself fall to his side, sobbing now. He was facing that head; the owner of those precious eyes he loved so much. Those orange eyes stared through his soul, but they were dead inside. There was no spirit to comfort Jake.

Something in Jake's stomach sloshed, and his throat burned from the acids rising through his esophagus. That decapitated head's fluids began to seep out further than it had done so before, as if it was being controlled and manipulated by its owner's spirit in attempt to communicate with that English kid.

Jake lay still, trembling as the blood and cerebral fluids from the severed spine coated the dirty side of his face. He choked, holding back his own fluids from his upset stomach. He pursed his lips; he didn't want to taste that blood from his dead friend.

He closed his eyes, waiting for something to happen. Instead, nothing did. Everything was the same as before.

How ironic, he would have thought, but Jake had already dozed off and began dreaming…

"…ironic," Jake said.

"You're the one to say, Mister Murderer."

Jake didn't have to turn to the voice. He was staring right in the face of Dirk Strider. He looked untouched; Dirk looked clean, glowing… perfect! But Dirk had his glasses on, making it impossible to see those peculiarly beautiful eyes of his. Jake had to remember that this was all just a dream.

"Dirk, I…"

"What's done is done,"

Jake shut his mouth quickly and looked down at his feet. Below them, he could see the room in which Dirk was dead and Jake was passed out on the cold floor. He started to tear up again, and he stared intently at the blonde.

"This is all just a dream, isn't it, Strider?"

"Think of it any damn way you want to, English."

"…" They sat in silence for a while until Jake itched to speak his mind.

"So what am I going to do now?" he asked, and then he chuckled. "I'm going to die sooner or later. I might as well just kill myself as soon as I wake up—,"

"Don't give me that pitiful laugh," Dirk's voice was cold as ice. "Don't you ever laugh like that in front of me,"

Jake lifted his glasses to wipe at his watery eyes. Dirk's tone of voice hurt. It hurt so much that his heart throbbed with pain. He sniffled, wrinkling his nose. There was no sympathy in Dirk's words.

"God damn it all," Dirk cursed, "Fuck this shit, English. Look at me,"

Jake looked up.

"Jake, stop being such a coward. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean there isn't a future for you," Dirk threw his dark shades to the floor. They cracked, the frame becoming bent and the glass shattering into a thousand and one pieces. "Jake… Don't stop living because of me,"

"N-no, I… I can't do it, Strider." Jake stuttered. "I-I killed you,"

"Because I was on the brink of death, I forced you to kill me." Dirk's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Don't you see, Jake? I made you kill me. My kokoro doesn't go doki-doki just because I'm living with you by my side. No, it's because you're the one to be beside me when I live… and when I die. You fulfilled my wish, Jake English. That's what I wished for every day. That you and I would be together until I'm gone… So why can't you see that now?"

Jake coughed, crying into his hands. He couldn't reply to Dirk.

"Jake, my time is over. You'll live longer. What you gave me was fun… so please, please…"

Dirk removed Jake's hands from his face. He cupped Jake's jaw with his large hand. Their foreheads came together and Jake shuddered as Dirk's sharp nose touched with his.

"My time with you was fun. So go have your own adventure," Jake could hear that Dirk was smiling through his words, "Explore the world, Jake English."

Jake slammed their lips together, pushing Dirk to the ground beneath them. Dirk sighed into the kiss, nipping on Jake's upper lip. They gasped together, opening their mouths to grant each other access. Tongues met, slippery with need, and fingers tangled together. Dirk wrapped his legs around Jake's, as if wanting to lock him in this dream forever.

English began to kiss every part of Dirk's body, even through his clothes. When he reached Dirk's pants, he unzipped the fly and kneaded the groin that lay before him.

"Jake,"

Dirk's breath hitched as the dark haired man slid a hand beneath his shirt and stroked at the abdominal and pectoral muscles. Each touch from English felt searing hot on his skin and Dirk just couldn't deny himself from acknowledging it with his voice. He caressed Jake with loving hands, weaving his hands into that dark mop of wildly styled bed hair.

Jake was having a blast; he'd never been so aroused in his life! He had just killed this man and yet he wanted to have sex with him in his dreams. How weird! He needed this more than anything right now. It was so much better to escape reality.

He reached into Dirk's boxers and was surprised… and disappointed. It was limp.

"Jake," Dirk directed Jake up his body to kiss his lips. He then said, "Just kiss me. Kiss me for now; that's all I want,"

"But why..? Dirk, I—,"

"My sugroinis isn't gonna react either way. This is a dream, Jake. It's time to wake up." Dirk rubbed a finger over Jake's neck. "Just kiss me, OK? Remember to kiss me and go on. It's your turn to write a story,"

Everything was starting to go fuzzy now. Jake could no longer see Dirk's face in full detail. It was as if he had no glasses on his face. Things began to fade into black now…

"Dirk!!" Jake shrieked, trying to grab onto something. "STRIDER!"

Before he knew it, he was back in that bloody room. He picked himself up from the ground and looked at Dirk's head. He held it now, shaking slightly. He wanted to replay everything that had just happened. He wouldn't have killed Dirk if he knew he was going to go crazy. Jake would never have fulfilled Dirk's wish, either… He didn't know which was better.

"I…" Jake paused, bringing the head closer to his face. "I… I love you too,"

He kissed those cold lips gently, noticing that Dirk's lips was still moist. He set the head down again, wiping the fluids from it on his shorts. He took his gun from his holster slung snugly on his hip and pointed it at himself. He didn't put his finger on the trigger, but stared at the barrel for a long time.

Jake remembered those words Dirk had said in the dream, but he didn't want to believe them. He was an explorer, sure he was, and wanted to go onto a fantastical adventure but this was too much for him to handle. He slowly curled his index finger around the trigger and peered around the room one last time. He inhaled shakily.

He was about to the pull the trigger when something caught his eye. Instantly, he put his gun into the holster again to investigate. There it was, shattered and broken; it was Dirk's glasses! Jake was so surprised. Why didn't he want to die right now?

Following his intuition, he picked up the largest shard of broken glasses and carefully hid it away in his short's pocket. This… this little piece of glass gave him some comfort and hope. He knelt down beside Dirk's head and closed the eyes. He kissed the eyelids and smiled. Maybe he'd die another day.

"Cheerio, Strider,"

Jake opened the door and left the room. As the door was shut, Jake swore he saw a blond man smiling at him in the ruined distance.

--BREAK--

Andrew Hussie stared down at the corpse splattered beneath the concrete bridge. Two pistols were placed neatly on the handle of the bridge. A pair of glasses lay on top of the pistols, creating a pseudo triangle. Two black boots were strewn on the walkway of the bridge. The wind blew gently, carrying a heavy raincloud.

Andrew shook his head and sighed as he turned away, writing down a name in his book.

"Some kids never learn, do they?"

He turned the page.

Description
He dared himself to scream. No, this was all too much!

Jake could hear his heart beat faster and faster as he began to panic. No one was here. No one was here to save him from loneliness on this planet.

Blood covered his hands. Remnants of his friend scattered about in the small room he stood in. The iron stench filled his nose, making him gag. He tried to cover his face, but smeared the red liquid of life on his cheeks instead. What had he done?

Jake's crystal-like eyes pooled with tears, slamming his hand into the wall. The blow wasn't hard enough to break through the wall, but it caused his hand to throb in mild pain. As he clenched his fingers into a fist, he noticed the blood made a sun pattern with crimson rays drawn by his rubbed-raw finger pads. That's all he wanted to see right now; he wanted to see his sunlight again.

He wanted to see those peculiar, orange eyes again. He wanted to bury his hands in that golden hair. He wanted to feel that firm, hot body against his. He wanted to relive the moments they shared together. He wanted feel that excitement and thrill and passion they had for each other. He wanted to make his heart thump, thump; thump! If he could, Jake would do anything to get a second chance to see that man again. But no, Jake was alone. He was all alone, and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Why?"

Jake leaned against the wall. He slid down it until he was crouching. He knew he was locked in this room for all eternity. If he went back outside, he would just be slaughtered anyway. The world was at war. Outside the boarded window, Jake could hear bombs dropping. The building he was in shook constantly, as if threatening to collapse.

Jake English felt his nose and cheeks growing warm as his pooling, iridescent tears ran down his face and clouded his vision. He felt so horrible!

He let himself fall to his side, sobbing now. He was facing that head; the owner of those precious eyes he loved so much. Those orange eyes stared through his soul, but they were dead inside. There was no spirit to comfort Jake.

Something in Jake's stomach sloshed, and his throat burned from the acids rising through his esophagus. That decapitated head's fluids began to seep out further than it had done so before, as if it was being controlled and manipulated by its owner's spirit in attempt to communicate with that English kid.

Jake lay still, trembling as the blood and cerebral fluids from the severed spine coated the dirty side of his face. He choked, holding back his own fluids from his upset stomach. He pursed his lips; he didn't want to taste that blood from his dead friend.

He closed his eyes, waiting for something to happen. Instead, nothing did. Everything was the same as before.

How ironic, he would have thought, but Jake had already dozed off and began dreaming…

"…ironic," Jake said.

"You're the one to say, Mister Murderer."

Jake didn't have to turn to the voice. He was staring right in the face of Dirk Strider. He looked untouched; Dirk looked clean, glowing… perfect! But Dirk had his glasses on, making it impossible to see those peculiarly beautiful eyes of his. Jake had to remember that this was all just a dream.

"Dirk, I…"

"What's done is done,"

Jake shut his mouth quickly and looked down at his feet. Below them, he could see the room in which Dirk was dead and Jake was passed out on the cold floor. He started to tear up again, and he stared intently at the blonde.

"This is all just a dream, isn't it, Strider?"

"Think of it any damn way you want to, English."

"…" They sat in silence for a while until Jake itched to speak his mind.

"So what am I going to do now?" he asked, and then he chuckled. "I'm going to die sooner or later. I might as well just kill myself as soon as I wake up—,"

"Don't give me that pitiful laugh," Dirk's voice was cold as ice. "Don't you ever laugh like that in front of me,"

Jake lifted his glasses to wipe at his watery eyes. Dirk's tone of voice hurt. It hurt so much that his heart throbbed with pain. He sniffled, wrinkling his nose. There was no sympathy in Dirk's words.

"God damn it all," Dirk cursed, "Fuck this shit, English. Look at me,"

Jake looked up.

"Jake, stop being such a coward. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean there isn't a future for you," Dirk threw his dark shades to the floor. They cracked, the frame becoming bent and the glass shattering into a thousand and one pieces. "Jake… Don't stop living because of me,"

"N-no, I… I can't do it, Strider." Jake stuttered. "I-I killed you,"

"Because I was on the brink of death, I forced you to kill me." Dirk's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Don't you see, Jake? I made you kill me. My kokoro doesn't go doki-doki just because I'm living with you by my side. No, it's because you're the one to be beside me when I live… and when I die. You fulfilled my wish, Jake English. That's what I wished for every day. That you and I would be together until I'm gone… So why can't you see that now?"

Jake coughed, crying into his hands. He couldn't reply to Dirk.

"Jake, my time is over. You'll live longer. What you gave me was fun… so please, please…"

Dirk removed Jake's hands from his face. He cupped Jake's jaw with his large hand. Their foreheads came together and Jake shuddered as Dirk's sharp nose touched with his.

"My time with you was fun. So go have your own adventure," Jake could hear that Dirk was smiling through his words, "Explore the world, Jake English."

Jake slammed their lips together, pushing Dirk to the ground beneath them. Dirk sighed into the kiss, nipping on Jake's upper lip. They gasped together, opening their mouths to grant each other access. Tongues met, slippery with need, and fingers tangled together. Dirk wrapped his legs around Jake's, as if wanting to lock him in this dream forever.

English began to kiss every part of Dirk's body, even through his clothes. When he reached Dirk's pants, he unzipped the fly and kneaded the groin that lay before him.

"Jake,"

Dirk's breath hitched as the dark haired man slid a hand beneath his shirt and stroked at the abdominal and pectoral muscles. Each touch from English felt searing hot on his skin and Dirk just couldn't deny himself from acknowledging it with his voice. He caressed Jake with loving hands, weaving his hands into that dark mop of wildly styled bed hair.

Jake was having a blast; he'd never been so aroused in his life! He had just killed this man and yet he wanted to have sex with him in his dreams. How weird! He needed this more than anything right now. It was so much better to escape reality.

He reached into Dirk's boxers and was surprised… and disappointed. It was limp.

"Jake," Dirk directed Jake up his body to kiss his lips. He then said, "Just kiss me. Kiss me for now; that's all I want,"

"But why..? Dirk, I—,"

"My sugroinis isn't gonna react either way. This is a dream, Jake. It's time to wake up." Dirk rubbed a finger over Jake's neck. "Just kiss me, OK? Remember to kiss me and go on. It's your turn to write a story,"

Everything was starting to go fuzzy now. Jake could no longer see Dirk's face in full detail. It was as if he had no glasses on his face. Things began to fade into black now…

"Dirk!!" Jake shrieked, trying to grab onto something. "STRIDER!"

Before he knew it, he was back in that bloody room. He picked himself up from the ground and looked at Dirk's head. He held it now, shaking slightly. He wanted to replay everything that had just happened. He wouldn't have killed Dirk if he knew he was going to go crazy. Jake would never have fulfilled Dirk's wish, either… He didn't know which was better.

"I…" Jake paused, bringing the head closer to his face. "I… I love you too,"

He kissed those cold lips gently, noticing that Dirk's lips was still moist. He set the head down again, wiping the fluids from it on his shorts. He took his gun from his holster slung snugly on his hip and pointed it at himself. He didn't put his finger on the trigger, but stared at the barrel for a long time.

Jake remembered those words Dirk had said in the dream, but he didn't want to believe them. He was an explorer, sure he was, and wanted to go onto a fantastical adventure but this was too much for him to handle. He slowly curled his index finger around the trigger and peered around the room one last time. He inhaled shakily.

He was about to the pull the trigger when something caught his eye. Instantly, he put his gun into the holster again to investigate. There it was, shattered and broken; it was Dirk's glasses! Jake was so surprised. Why didn't he want to die right now?

Following his intuition, he picked up the largest shard of broken glasses and carefully hid it away in his short's pocket. This… this little piece of glass gave him some comfort and hope. He knelt down beside Dirk's head and closed the eyes. He kissed the eyelids and smiled. Maybe he'd die another day.

"Cheerio, Strider,"

Jake opened the door and left the room. As the door was shut, Jake swore he saw a blond man smiling at him in the ruined distance.

--BREAK--

Andrew Hussie stared down at the corpse splattered beneath the concrete bridge. Two pistols were placed neatly on the handle of the bridge. A pair of glasses lay on top of the pistols, creating a pseudo triangle. Two black boots were strewn on the walkway of the bridge. The wind blew gently, carrying a heavy raincloud.

Andrew shook his head and sighed as he turned away, writing down a name in his book.

"Some kids never learn, do they?"

He turned the page.