Fiction_Online

"Damn it, this isn't good." Robbie laughed, lying on his back in the shaggy green grass of the park.

"What?" I asked looking up from my sketches of people.

He held up his cigarette in-between his fingers, "This, we should quit."

I snatched it from his hand and took a long drag, "What? And take away my worse habit? It's the only one that really gets my dad going." I laughed, "I wont give it up."

"You only say that because you can't give it up. You're more addicted then me."

"I could quit, easy."

"Then do it." he taunted taking the cigarette from my hand and smashing it out on a stone. "No more, smoking." He challenged, "I bet you wont last a week."

"I quit you quit." I pulled out my pack and laid it on his. He nodded in agreement and took both packs. We found a trashcan on our way down the path towards home and quit.

Of course the days after weren't nearly as easy as throwing them away, but after a week and a half we were feeling better. I'm willing to admit that I was addicted, badly addicted. I was in so much agony that I didn't know what to do with myself. I tried locking myself in my room, I only ended up cleaning, then trashing, then cleaning again (my dad thought I was on meth). I then tried to sketch, something that brought me calm joy, but failed to do more than cubist impressions. It wasn't until I started running that I gained control of myself. I suppose the fact that I was a borderline ADD case didn't help me to stay still.

I encouraged Robbie to run with me, but he rarely did. Instead he took some sleep aids and stayed locked up in his room with the music up. I came on some occasions and laid by his side, we weren't official yet, but we were close friends. Quitting together brought us in to the relationship phase, mainly because we couldn't be around anyone who smoked for almost three weeks and could be with other friends.

I learned a lot from Robbie those few weeks. He mumbled about growing up in Adamsville, he was the original outcast. He talked about always being picked on, and never really having friends until Rabbit came to town. Rabbit was from Los Angeles and came to town when he was ten. I couldn't imagine Robbie being alone for ten whole years until Rabbit came. He told me something he hadn't ever told anyone, or so he said. "My dad isn't my real dad, he's my step dad. Mom doesn't like to talk about my real dad. He use to come home drunk or not at all. But when he did he beat us both pretty bad."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"No, don't be. It taught me the best lesson of all, bad people are still people and they'll die. We found him on the lawn in a snow storm, frozen blue."

"That sucks."

"It did, but now I look back on that with incredible fondness. "I knew the memory made him sad, his voice changed and became shaky.

"Milton." I sighed.

"Come again?" he giggled slightly.

"My first name is really Milton." I stated, smiling and laughing along.

"You mean your name's not-?"

"Nope, that's my middle name." I cut him off.

"Poor bastard." he laughed some more. The soft giggles from us both escalated into a fit of laughter that lasted several minutes.

"Why would you ever admit something like that?" He laughed grabbing his thin sides.

"Well it seemed appropriate, but you cannot tell anyone, not a soul." I warned.

"Wouldn't dream about it, our little joke." He smiled, "Where did your parents ever get Milton?"

"You know the Great Uncle Milton bit you're always seeing on TV?" He nodded, "That's my Great Great Grandfather Milton to you." I laughed.

"God, you poor thing." He slapped my thigh, in the kidding sort of way, but it lingered there along with a gaze filled with an emotion I'd never seen. He quickly withdrew after a few extra seconds and cleared his throat.

I knew what was going on. I knew he was a little off the path with in the first month I got to know him. I knew I knew but I also knew that he didn't know that I knew (I've always wanted to throw something like that in). "That wasn't incriminating." I teased.

"What?" He tried to act innocent, but I could see him panic.

"Oh, the guy over there, I think he just walked off with that lady's purse." I laughed, "What did you think I was taking about?" I smiled.

"Oh, the same."

"Really Robbie? I was looking at a lady behind you." I pointed out the window.

He startled at this and looked behind him. I took the chance and leaned in. I managed to time it just about right, so when he turned back our lips touched. He jerked away, not something I expected. I immediately got scared. Did I read him wrong? I didn't think I could, I read him just like I read all the girls I'd ever kissed, dated, and flirted with. I got really scared.

"What was that?" He asked, relaxing into the bed again.

"Oh, did I read that wrong?" I knew I was pale.

"Ummm, ah...mmmm... nnawh. I don't think so." He shook his head.

"Well then." I leaned back in and touched his lips with mine. I felt his hand pull my body closer to his then move to my chest. With an extreme force they propelled me backwards.

"Oh, no." He swallowed and sat up, "We're friends." he stammered.

"Yes and no, right?" I kissed his arm, "Damn it Robbie, I got a little impatient waiting for you to move."

"Waiting for me?"

"Yeah, I thought for sure you were going to at the park, and behind the school, at the concerts, you name it and this was there. Don't kill me for admitting it." I laughed at his confused expression.

"It's not that it may not be there, it's just I've never kissed a Milton before." He smiled shyly and turned a few different shades of red while turning his eyes away.

"Well what?" I avoided his grinning face, mared with mischief.

"Who are you, Angel of Death?" He smirked. The way he eyed me was uncomfortable. I could seem to hide behind my witty comments. "Come on now, speak up." he coarsed.

I made eye contact with his beautiful greens and felt that popular crushing feeling in my chest, "I..I....um...ah, th-they made me, ah, do it?" I pointed to the others that were gloomy behind their food.

"I bet they did, just shows ya how much they care." He smiled flicking his eyes in their direction and then back at me. "But that's not the inquiry that we're conducting at this time." He kept the persistant stare directed at my eyes, but I wasn't looking anymore, "What's your name? You can make it up, I don't care." He tried and quickly added, "I don't think Death, or Angle, quite fits."

He made me giddy. I was turning hot and red by the nanosecond, I could see me making an ass out of myself right there.

When I didn't answere he shrugged, took a bit of a chip and offered me the bag, "Want one Angel boy?" He asked, "With the right highlighting you'd make a good Molko."

"What?" I laughed a little, taking a chip.

"Placebo? Brian Molko?" He tired. I had heard of them, but not them, so I just shrugged and shook my head, "Damn, you must be from Iowa!" he exclaimed.

"Why would you say such a thing?" I laughed, I was from Pennsylvania.

"Well, every state has heard of Placebo, accept people from Iowa." He laughed.

"I've got this theory," Rabbit started in, "People from Iowa spend so much time counting corn, sheep, and cows that their creativity plumits as a part of evolution." He was excited.

"That's not a theory," Tim responded, "That's fact." The whole table errupted with a laughter that I joined, but didn't really understand, I had yet to go to Iowa. "They can only draw staight lines." Another fit bursted up, although the comment wasn't that good.

"Yeah but they have more head around there!" Rabbit laughed more and more, turning red. I was swiftly joining him.

Eventually we died down but not before we drew the complete attention of the lunch room. It wasn't until then that I really looked at Robbie, I studied him while he packed up his bag. He had no make-up on, a black dress-shirt with a solid black tie, black slacks, and bracelets covering the part of his arm that the shirt tried to reveal. It was still possible to see the white bandage under his watch, which was loosly attatched.