Title: Of Streetlamps and Dark Alleys
Author: Pyro
Archive: Please, but do let me know.
Notes: Angst, and whatever else I can think of.
Disclaimers: I don't own GW, I just play with 'em.
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I am of the dark. I don't mean it in that Goth, spooky way. I've just always had a slight affinity for it. At times, it was my only hope of survival. Other times, it was my greatest weakness. If I hide in the dark, I don't have to wear my mask. When I come out into the light, the jester is in court. To me, the dark is like a child's blanket; warm and comforting. Sound ridiculous? You haven't heard anything yet.

He is the candle that pierces my dark. Candle, Hell, he's a floodlight. It is an odd change of rolls, this one. He is usually the one who locks himself away. But I am the thief, the one who hides. I know that he is more than what he seems, I know he has a heart that he has buried. And thief that I am, I am determined to retrieve his heart and give it back to him.

I realize that I have been walking down the road towards the school. I know he is in our room, typing away at that thrice damned laptop of his. I sometimes get this insane urge to shut the thing on him, but I remember a little thing called self preservation, and always refrain, but just barely. I sigh, and kick the dead autum leaves that litter the ground. A sudden noise alerts me, and I look up.

He is standing under a streetlamp, the light making a halo around him. The one I have come to think of as an angel, whom I would gladly die for. i walk up to him, stoping just outside the circle of light. He looks at me, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. Then he reaches out and clasps my hand in his, drawing his other arm across my shoulders in a brief hug. I smile to myself. Perhaps the light isn't as cold as I had thought.

end?