I am the master of run-on sentences.

I don't own any of this.

This is for everyone who reviewed my previous SS VR fic. Thank you all very much and I'm very glad that not only is this fandom not dead, but there are still those out there reading authors hard work.

'Fighting with best friends,' Richie thought. 'Really sucks.'

Fighting with friends in general is never a pleasant experience, but a fight with a best friend is worse. A lot worse.

The biggest problem with fighting with a best friend is that fights, true honest to god fights, rarely happen. There are arguments, plenty of them. Silly little petty things that are always small and they're usually laughing because they know neither will change their minds but it's fun anyway.

This was not a silly little petty thing. No, this was a fight, and the problem with best friend fights was that they hurt all the worse because they were so very very rare.

Fighting and it's blinding pain. hurt .torment and his heart is being torn into shreds and each shred is then shattered like fragile glass. Fragile glass that shines and sparkles and falls and rips. tears .shreds his insides. He bleeds from the pain and it hurts so much until the blood wants to come from his eyes as tears.

He knows, knows, Virgil feels the same as him because his face almost twists in pain, the look he knows he's wearing as well. Both of them know how much the other hurts but when the fight gets this bad neither cares.

They won't cry though, ever, and when it starts to get so bad they know they will cry, they think of the absolute worst scathing comment, say it, and turn and walk away, not even throwing biting remarks over their shoulders like most would during a fight because the silence says more than anything else and both can't think of anything else but to keep from crying. Richie knows this because him and Virgil will talk about it later and they both know how much it hurts, how they both feel exactly the same. The only difference is that Virgil will usually wait and hold his tears in until they forgive each other and he lets a few fall on Richie's shoulder when they embrace, whereas Richie will lie in bed at night, all night, crying, and feeling like a wimp, just like he was doing now.

He couldn't even really remember what the damn argument was about, though he had a feeling it was something about Daisy and Frieda and how they can never hang out anymore. Something about how the hell can they hang out with bang babies on one side and the League on the other and why the hell are you getting mad at me because it's not my fault.

They argued in the Gas Station of Solitude. It was where all of their very rare fights occurred. Except once where they went at in school and the shouting got so loud that the Vice Principal and Principal had come out to see what was going on and both had stopped just inside the circle of people that had gathered around the two, and everyone, everyone, was gaping in disbelief, and a few girls were crying, as they watched them, Virgil and Richie, Richie and Virgil, the two best friends ever, fight. Daisy and Frieda had told them later it was the single-worst day the school had ever seen.

It was an unspoken agreement afterwards to save any and all serious problems for the privacy of HQ, which while they could yell about Static and Gear things, and Gear and Static things, there, this sometimes unfortunately let problems fester and grow.

Richie sighed. Rehashing old fights never did any good, especially when the latest was still simmering in the recesses of his thoughts, and it was late. Not that he would get much, if any, sleep tonight, and even though tomorrow was Saturday, god only knew what would happen in the life of a super hero.

So he laid down, still crying, still calling himself a wuss, and why was he crying his heart out when he new it would all work out. It always did...

It still hurt.

Richie felt he always took these fights more to heart than Virgil. Virgil was quick to anger, and usually, usually being the operative word, quick to forgive, he always had been, and always - usually - would be, but Richie... Richie was a slow build up like a rubber band stretching, until finally one last thing, one wrong word, one wrong action, made him snap, and the reverberations lasted, and echoed long after the fight. It was because of this that the two had started talking about their fights, because 'I'm sorry's had never seemed like enough to Richie, and the guilt would eat away at him.

It had occurred to Richie that they fought like a married couple, and forgave like one, minus the kissing, but he'd never mention to Virgil that he wouldn't mind kissing and making up, literally.

He was pretty sure he was the only one looking for that in this relationship, or non-existent relationship, as the case may be - was.

He was also pretty sure he was the girl: taking fights too seriously, always crying, etc. etc., and so on and so forth.

He also thought too much, he thought, and realizing he had just thought again, he groaned, but he was always thinking so nothing new there.

Giving sleep up as a lost cause, he sat up and called Backpack and tried - and failed - to loose himself in work. He could for every other problem, but Virgil refused to go away. Ever. Even when he was immersed in equations and variables and well, everything, the teen was still there.

The only thing he could do was think. Think, think, think, and great , now along with Virgil, he had Winnie the Pooh in his head and the two were dancing.

He sometimes thought about writing it all down, but no matter what it was called, Diary, Journal, or whatever, that was still too girly for him. Blubbering? Fine. Irrational? Fine. Schoolgirl crush? Fine. But Diary's? Hell no. He still had some pride, dammit. Besides, he didn't need a diary/journal/whatever, that was Virgil's job. Even if the teen didn't always listen, the thought was there.

Thoughts thoughts everywhere, and no reprieve in sight.

And now Samuel Taylor Coleridge was in his mind, and was teaching Virgil and Pooh the minuet and the waltz and just the mere thought of Virgil dancing was enough to cheer him slightly. Very slightly.

He was still trying - and failing - to work with Backpack, and maybe if he kept trying he would succeed in accomplishing something by morning.

He didn't, but hey, it was worth a shot right?

Right?

...

Yeah, he was pathetic.

Review please. If you can.

If you're wondering in Winnie the Pooh, Pooh Bear often says 'Think think think' though I'm sure most all of you know that.

And 'Water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink' is a quote from Samuel Taylor Coleridge that I modified for my benefit.