Okay. This archive is quickly becoming therapeutic for me. I can write something off the top of my head (please forgive any typos), and work out my kinks, then get back to my "actual" stories.

Most (if not all) of these are based off of my other Sky High fic, Loving Peace. Enjoy!

Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you.

Your lucky numbers are... 3, 8, 65, and 23.

Magenta sat straight up, gasping for breath.

Come on, Maj.

Her lungs just wouldn't work right lately. They got all out of rhythm, and made her head spin and black spots dance before her vision. Her eyes watered and she fought back the panic.

Breathe for me, sweetheart, come on. Please?

She choked back a sob because she was a freaking punk for Christ's sake. People like her didn't sob all alone in the middle of the night, on the verge of hyperventilation.

There's my girl. Shh. You're alright now.

Slowly, she snapped the hair band off her wrist and tossed her hair up. (She was always so freaking hot afterwards. She didn't know why.) Then she fell back onto her pillows, breathing heavily but much slower than before.

She didn't know why Lash had affected her as badly as he had. She'd covered up the bruises his fingers had made around her neck with make up, but she could still feel them, when she turned her head too sharply, or clasped a necklace.

You're not worthless, Magenta. You're not.

The nightmares had come every night since Homecoming. (If it could even be called that after all that had happened.)

Lash's hands around her throat, her airways cutting off and her eyes bulging, tearing up. Her worst insecurity brought to the forefront and mocked. The thought that instead of a high school bully, he really was evil, really could kill her.

I wish I could hurt him, put him in the goddam hospital for that, Maj. Or worse. But I can't, all I can do is glow.

Well… there had been one night the nightmares had stayed away. The night it had all happened, when they'd all crashed at Layla's house. Wedged between her best friend and her… significant other… Magenta had felt perfectly safe and tranquil. Zach's arms had been around her waist, his chest to her back, his gangly legs tangled up in hers. She'd been pressed into Layla's side, and at some point before they fell asleep, Layla grabbed her hand and Zach pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

She bit her lip, considering, then decided there was no way she could get to sleep again without doing what she'd done since these damn things started.

She picked up her cell phone, the light glowing dimly in the dark. She hit the second speed dial button (the first was Layla) and waited.

He answered on the second ring. "Hi, beautiful." His voice was thick and crackly with sleep.

She sighed, relief flowing through her. He was so corny, but it always came out sounding somehow sincere.

Best of all, she didn't have to say much if she didn't want to.

"Another one?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

That's how it always went too; the embarrassment would hit her and she would realize exactly what it was she was doing- calling someone in the middle of the night over a stupid dream- and she'd blush bright red and consider hanging up and never looking him in the eye again.

He always cut her off, though. "No, I'm glad you did."

"…Oh. Okay."

Quiet, and then, "He's locked up now, Magenta. They all are. You're safe."

"I know."

"Want me to come over?"

He'd only done that once, when it was really bad and she'd still been panting on the phone, unable to catch her breath. She'd scared him so badly he'd gotten to her house in five minutes, when it usually took ten.

She loved having all of her friends in one central location; she saw them first thing in the morning on Ron Wilson's bus, and they were all in perfect walking distance. Layla, Will, Zach, Ethan. Warren was the only one out of reach, and he didn't talk much anyway, unless it was to Layla.

"No. No, I'm okay."

"You sure?" He asked, a joke in his voice. "I can always glow for you. Chase all the monsters away."

She knew it bothered him that he hadn't had some macho super power to defend her with.

"All I can do is glow." He grumbled.

"No," she said carefully. "That's not all. You can hold me… You know, like you did in the vents. And that night."

He was quiet for a moment. "That doesn't exactly make me a hero, Maj."

"It does to me." The words flew off her tongue and she bit it so hard she tasted blood. Seriously, what the hell was she thinking? Ugh. Zach's corniness was rubbing off on her.

He didn't seem to mind, though. There was a smile in his voice. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Let's get some sleep, kid."

This is something they did, too. They left their phones on, plugged into chargers so they wouldn't die, and fell asleep listening to the other breathing. Just in case she woke up again.

"Okay. Night." She yawned, her lungs starting to regulate again. She rolled onto her side, the phone cradled next to her cheek, and closed her eyes.

"Night," he said.

It wasn't love, what they had. Certainly not the all-consuming, never-let-you-go, we-were-made-for-each-other love that Warren and Layla had.

They weren't even officially dating. Half the time they were bickering.

But he made her feel safe and wanted and cared for.

And this time, when she dreamed of the vents, she dreamed of kissing him.

I've been wanting to write that one for awhile now. It's short, but I like it. This story is rated M because of possible smutty drabbles, and possible language. It is not a full story, and therefore will be updated sporadically, whenever I feel the urge.

In the meantime… review? Lots?