Draco: -_- I'm sick.  Time is the only good thing that has come out of today.  So…I hope you enjoy this new chappy.  I'll try to get another one written and up ASAP, but I've got 3-4 other stories I need to update on, too.  Just a quick reminder that this is the last call for fanfics and fanart based on Sweet Delight if you want to get a character insert.  Lyrics © Semisonic and the character of Dai that I mention belongs to Lyrad and will show up later.

* * *

"I can hear you singing to me in my sleep."

And he could feel his senses go numb.  All he could feel was his heart pounding as the blue of his eyes brightened to overflowing.  Tears made his vision swim.  Aya's colors went strange, neon.  No one cared about them.  The stage held their attention.  Good.

"I'm sorry."

What?

Suddenly the people didn't matter anyway.

He didn't care about them, either.

"A-aya?"

The hands that gripped his arms loosened slightly, and Omi saw an almost pained expression cross the redhead's face.  He couldn't tell if it had been from him speaking or the fact that Aya seemed to have just remembered the crowd.  Then again, it was gone so fast, had it even been there?  It was hard tot ell as the tiny grimace disappeared completely, and violet eyes barely darted from side to side.

"Come on," and Aya moved.

But Omi wouldn't.  "A-aya.  I…"  He shook his head in confusion.  "I can't.  I was looking for Ashley.  She's done a lot for me.  I…I mean…  I can't just…"

Words didn't seem right as the punk stared at him.  Nothing seemed right.  The world had rushed back all at once.  There was music playing.  People were dancing, laughing, singing along.  He should be singing along.  Hell, shouldn't he just be singing?  So why wasn't he?  Why was he standing here, miserable, nervous, and frightened, staring up into the pale, beautiful face that had abandoned him just a few hours ago?  What was wrong with this picture?

"Why did you leave?"

The question came out odd, cracked, and Aya met his gaze looking slightly startled.

"I know Heather had to be here.  She didn't tell me then, but she explained later.  So what's your excuse?"  He brushed at his tears and looked away.  "Why did you leave?  What did she say to make you run away?"

Aya looked around and sighed.  "She told me to stop hiding."

"So…you ran off to hide some more?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Well, I want to understand!"

"Omi…"

"She's right, Aya!  You have to stop hiding!  Stop hiding from me!"  Omi wiped his eyes viciously with a shaky hand.  "I want to know you!  She's not the only one who cares, so why is she the only one you trust?  Do you have any idea how much it hurts when you're so close to me one minute and so far away the next?  Do you?"

The redhead just stared at him.

"You act like you're always alone," Omi sighed tiredly, "but you're not.  You don't have to be anyway.  Why can't you understand that?"  He felt a new round of tears welling up already, and clenched his eyes shut against them.  "I'm just tired, Aya, tired of feeling like you don't care half as much as I do."

Then his eyes shot wide, and he let their contents spill, as the older boy pressed a pair of warm lips to his own.  Omi's stomach fluttered, heart skipping a beat, and it took a moment for the world to start yet again, but when it did, he felt a blush rise, burning into his cheeks.  The kiss wasn't any different from any they'd shared before, except for one minor detail:  they were in public.  But, where Aya had always hidden his affection before, he didn't seem to care now, like the hundreds of eyes turned up to the band onstage couldn't see them if they wanted to.

And suddenly Omi felt himself let go.

* * *

Sighing, Omi sat up, letting the streets pile at his waist as the sweat dried on his skin.  He stared around Aya's room and hugged his knees to his chest.  Then he looked down beside him.  Smiling softly, he took in the halo of red hair spread over the patchwork pillow.  Aya had never seemed so peaceful.

Turning his eyes back to the room, he took in the fact that it didn't look as clean as it had the first time he'd been there.  It seemed as if Aya had been bringing things in, but not bothering to put them away.  His desk, for instance, was strewn with papers, and an old acoustic guitar was propped up in the corner made by the desk and wall.  Somehow the chaos seemed to be I perfect order, but the mess was rather endearing.

Carefully, Omi climbed out of the bed and pulled on his pants.  With a quick glance to check that his love was still sleeping, he slipped into the hallway to look for a bathroom and found one not far from the little room.  On the way back, eh stopped to look at the photos that adorned the wall.  They told a definite tale of change, some showing Aya and his sister in the backyard of a quaint, little, country house, others just picturing the punk sitting alone on the front porch here, and still others of the redhead trying not to smile as Heather made faces at the camera.  She really was like part of the family.

Brushing a thing layer of dust off of one of Aya's old school pictures, Omi went back to the bedroom.  Red hair still blanketed the pillow, and the little goth watched the sheets rise and fall for a moment before wandering over to the desk.  He didn't care to touch anything, all he wanted to do was look, but his eyes caught the corner of another photo sticking out of an envelope and he couldn't help himself.

There was a little note, dated a couple days after he'd moved, that read:

Hey Ran,

I got the party pics developed and just thought you might like copies of a few.  You got the best, as usual, so don't go showing them to Yotan or Ken Ken until I can afford to make more, okay?

Smooches!

Dragon

Omi was struck by the fact that Heather used Aya's real name yet neglected to sign with her own, but he didn't think about it long.  Heather's locker had held a few of the party photos a while back.  There had been a cute one of her and Megan, one of Aya helping move a table, and another she said Aya had taken of Omi himself curled up in a chair and looking very scared of a very drunk Ken.  With a smile, he picked up the pictures and started flipping through them.  A couple in, he found one of Heather grinning broadly with Aya and Ashley both in headlocks.  Aya wasn't looking at the camera, but Ashley was pretending she couldn't breathe.  Trying not to laugh out loud, he continued through the rest.  Then he pulled the last one and almost dropped them all.  When he'd seen the photos of the spin-the-bottle game, he hadn't been surprised to find one of Aya and himself.  It was natural among the others, though the layers of fingerprints on the edges had been the thickest he'd seen.  But the one in his hands now seemed somehow strange.

It was a completely candid shot, and he wondered who had taken it.  Everyone he would've guessed was in the picture.  Heather was spritzing Ken with that water bottle of hers, while Megan, who he remembered had been rather trigger-happy with the camera that night, laughed hysterically behind her.  Even Ashley, though he didn't recall meeting her then, was playing video games with someone on Heather's pair of old Sega Game Gears.  The focus, however, was none of them.

On one side, there he was, talking to the singer of a local band, another junior boy named Dai that he'd met at lunch that day.  And there, on the other side, was Aya.  The punk was watching him.  In the photo, you could tell, and Omi could remember, that he had been talking rather animatedly about music then, and maybe that had amused Aya somehow.  Behind him, the redhead had a very soft, but very warm, smile on his face and Omi felt tears started up again.  Heather had told him Aya smiled for him, but he'd had trouble believing it.  Now he had proof, and he couldn't even believe his own eyes.

"Omi?"

The blonde spun with a gasp to face the older boy.  His tears caught at the sight of his lover propped up tiredly in the half-light of the room.  Aya blinked sleep out of his eyes, ending with one eye closed and the other squinting at Omi through the blur he'd failed to rid himself of, and almost succeeded in stifling a yawn.  Putting the photos back on the desk behind him, the little goth laughed softly.

Noticing the pictures, Aya pushed himself into a sitting position.  "I was thinking of hanging some of those," he said in a tone so oddly conversational that Omi almost forgot what he was talking about.

"Oh," he smiled and walked back to the bed.  "That's cool.  Your room's kind of…blank."

"Yeah.  I know.  Heather always bugs me about that.  But that's not why I want to hand them."

Omi blinked.  "Oh…then…why…?"

"Well," he looked down and fiddle with something on the bed as if it were extremely important all of the sudden, "to tell you the truth, I have a lot of pictures of my friends scattered around, but," with a shrug, he turned violet eyes back to the boy beside him, and met startle blue eyes with a strangely casual smile, "I don't have any of you."

And Omi thought his heart might stop.

"A-aya?"

"Omi," the punk stopped him with a finger to his lips, then stood to pull on his own clothes.  "Do me a favor, koi."  He came around the bed and kissed the smaller boy on the forehead before heading for the door.  "When no one's listening, don't call me that."   And he walked into the hall.  "Call me Ran."

Then Omi found himself alone to wonder, through those all too familiar tears, how many strange little miracle could happen to him in one day.