AN: Shorter than I would like, and very random. It doesn't make a lot of sense, I can admit it's bad writing. But writing is writing is writing is a llama. Yeah…

Toby had tried to stay away from Rick. He had heard the rumors, he had heard what Rick had done to Terri, and he knew how much everyone hated the pale boy. Toby had stayed away like any sensible person would, after all, he was already unpopular; he really didn't need another reason to be shunned. But J.T. was always so busy with his new friends, and all Toby had wanted was a little attention. Rick was there. When nobody else was there, Rick was.

It made sense that they would find each other. Both were outcasts and both were lonely. They had other things in common too. Video games and nerdy things that had always been beyond J.T.'s grasp. And Emma. They both loved her.

In the end that was what united them. The love for a girl that they never believed would love them back. A girl so good and so beautiful that they couldn't help but fall. But it wasn't their love of Emma that kept them together.

It was the way Rick would read scripts he had written, to Toby. They were random scenes that never fit together, but always managed to capture raw human emotion. And Rick didn't just read them, he felt them, he was his characters, and he was passionate. Rick lost himself, swept away by the pure poetry coursing through his veins, and somehow he always managed to take Toby with him. Rick wanted to write plays one day, and Toby had no doubt that they would be wonderful. Toby would listen to Rick speak and all he could think of was how he wished things sounded like that when they came out of his mouth.

When Rick lost himself to his writing he was beautiful. He wasn't crazy, he wasn't violent; he was perfect. And Toby just wanted to reach out, grab that perfection, and never let go. So he does. It's as simple as gripping Rick's wrist, pulling him forward, and claiming that mouth as his own. It's awkward and quick, and when he pulls away Toby realizes just what he's done. The fear seeps in, and Toby tries to speak, but he freezes and just stares.

And then Rick smiles.

The short time that Toby spends with Rick is the best in his life. He's happy. Really, honestly happy. He doesn't need J.T. to give attention out of pity, and he doesn't need Kendra to tell him what to do. Toby has Rick, and Rick lets Toby be Toby. Nerdy and kind of clueless, but in an adorable way. And in between the kisses and gropes there's poetry. Pure poetry that comes from Rick's mouth, and enchants Toby. It might be love, but Toby never does find out.

Toby wants to find Rick after the competition. He wants to tell Rick how wonderful he was, and how he shouldn't mind any of the students; they're all stupid and ignorant. But he doesn't find Rick until it's too late, and when he sees the gun in Rick's hand Toby knows it's over. And he wants to grab the gun and shoot himself, but Emma is grabbing onto him and crying, yet all Toby wants to do is hold Rick one last time before the body heat goes away.

In the weeks that follow Toby denies his connection to Rick. He feels ashamed, yet he knows that Rick would understand. He always did. But every Sunday he goes and visits the grave and puts down fresh flowers. He sits and talks and even though he knows Rick doesn't hear him he does it anyways. Nothing he says ever sounds as beautiful as Rick, but he tries.

On Monday he will return to school and pretend he never cared for Rick. He'll pretend he didn't love him, and he'll pretend he didn't lose his virginity to him. And he knows Rick understands. It is, after all, a matter of self-preservation.