||The OFFICIAL Coldplay FanFic Thread 2||CUZ WE IZ COOL

[Viva_La_Coldplay]

-

[The Doctor]

Hot, hotter, hottest

 

 

 

Guy’s POV

 

I hate mornings, why do I have to wake up this early? And who is standing in that door?

“Hey, who are you again?”

He turned around so I could see his face.

“Sorry Guy, I didn’t know I woke you.”

“It’s nothing Fran.”

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing special, just the sunrise.”

“Dude the sun is already up since 4!”

I got out of my bed and went to Fran.

“Who’s that guy there?”

“I don’t know but he was already there when I woke up.”

“He’s crazy.”

“Yes he is, do you know what time we have breakfast?”

“Same time as yesterday I think.”

“Key. Gonna take a shower then.”

Fran took some clothes and disappeared. I went back in my bed and tried to sleep again.

No, I can’t sleep, better look for a pair of trousers. I got some on and took a cigarette, my lighter and went outside.

 

Chris’ POV

 

God why is my roommate so hot? Really I think I have a crush on him.

Fuck is that that Guy dude there coming to me? Hopefully he don’t start fighting again.

“Hey, what are you doing here so early?”

“Thinking, that’s easier when I’m on my own. And you smoking I guess?”

“If you dare to tell it to anyone I’ll kill you!”

“Hey calm down you! They’ll be mad at me to you know!”

“And would they be?”

“For reasons that you don’t have to know.”

“Tell it.”

“No.”

“Then you shouldn’t have started about it.”

“Bitch.”

“I heard that.”

I turned my face away and tried to ignore the smell of his cigarette.

 

“Are you 2 here already for a long time?”

“Long enough to finish a cigarette.”

“Guy shut up. Hi Fran.”

“Hey Chris. Really from what hour are you up? You were already sitting here when I just woke up.”

“I don’t know, didn’t look at my watch for time.”

“I see. Well are you coming to breakfast or staying here?”

“I’m a bit hungry so yes where is that breakfast table?”

 

[coldplayer#16]

Oh, hey guys, it's been a while, but how about a Halloween story?

 

Halloween

SUCKS!

 

Part 1

 

 

    Halloween as always in England . . . well, Halloween Eve. Jonny was minding his own business, walking down the street, trying to get to the Bakery to see what his bandmates were doing for the next day. It was rather dark out, too, a bit eerie for one's liking. It didn't seem to shake Jonny too much though, that is, until what he thought was paranoia kicked it. He thought someone, or something, was following him, and his pace kept increasing almost to a run.

 

    "Hello there," Jonny heard, a figure in front of him. Jonny yelped, his paranoia taking over. "Oh, no, no, don't be afraid," the person said, "I just need directions."

 

    "Wh-where to?" Jonny stammered, scared out of his mind still.

 

    The stranger pulled their phone out and opened it up to a map, "It's here," they said, pointing to the red marker on the screen, "I'm so bad with technology and can't find my glasses."

 

    "Oh, no problem," Jonny said with a smile, "You wanna go down the street, turn left, and then take your first right."

 

    "Thank you so much," the stranger said, putting the phone away and shaking Jonny's hand. The person's hands were like ice, Jonny shivered at the touch. The stranger laughed, "It is rather cold, isn't it?"

 

    "Yeah," Jonny said, "I'd better go, my friends are waiting for me."

 

    "Same here," said the stranger, "thanks again!"

 

    "Not a problem." Jonny walked on, still at a rather fast pace, scared still he'd be caught by something.

 

    Mean while, just at the end of the street, our stranger friend had rid himself of the big, heavy jacket and hat he had, revealing the dark, slick hair he had, the yellow eyes, and the dark red Henley shirt and tattered jeans he wore. He knew just how to work that ridiculous phone and had 20/20 vision, and his teeth were a pearly white with sharp canines. He knew he was a sick, hungry vampire, and his next target, Mr. Jonny Buckland.

 

 

Part 2

 

 

    "That was beyond weird," Jonny said, "he didn't seem like he was lost, he just came out of nowhere and-" Jonny cut off short in his thinking out loud. He was stopped by a sudden swoosh by him, something rusting in the bushes.

 

    "Who's there!!" Jonny snapped. The bushes rusted again, a bat flying out of them, fangs out and heading straight for Jonny. The guitarist yelled and ducked out of the way, the bat changing into his proper undead form.

 

    "Hello, Mr. Buckland," the vampire hissed, licking his lips, "tell me, what's your blood type?"

 

    "Why should I tell you?!" Jonny snapped, shaking as he spoke.

 

    "Becuase, if you happen to be my type, I'll let you live." The vampire flashed his fangs and was ready to jump at Jonny, knowing he would enjoy him more than the business man he had taken care of earlier, the one he got the phone, jacket, and hat from.

 

    "I'm not going to tell you anything, you crazy monster!" Jonny started running, he was so close to the Backery, yet to no avail.

 

    "I like runners, you know?" the vampire said, appearing in front of Jonny, "they make things more fun." He licked his lips again, face inches away from Jonny's, "It really makes my job easier, making you blood flow like that . . . oh, I'm getting hungrier just thinking about it!"

 

    "Please, not me!" Jonny begged, "please! I know a great guy just down the road that keeps in shape and that no one likes, I doubt anyone would know he's gone!"

 

    "Pfft, he's a meat head!" the vampire snarled, "besides, unlike that dopey business man I had earlier, I intend on keeping you alive, you'll join me as a vampire."

 

    "What if I don't want to?!" Jonny snapped.

 

    "That's a pity, isn't it?" the vampire said, pushing Jonny to the ground, "You have no choice, but to be fair, I will tell you my name." The vampire extended his fangs and hissed again, "It's Marshall."

 

    Jonny's screams were unheard in the somehow still night, Marshall taking his full enjoyment in eating his victim. He was enjoying how Jonny resisted him, how he struggled and tried to get away. It was entertaining. Marshall made quick work of the guitarist, Jonny was knocked out in about 5 minutes, sucked dry of his humanity and nothing left but the body and newly sharpened fangs.

 

    "I bid you a fond farewell, Jonny," Marshall said darkly, "good luck finding your first meal." Marshall flew off just as Jonny gained conciseness, hungry and also unsure where to go from here. He went on as he planned, just a few doors down was the Bakery. Jonny walked in and hissed at the bright light.

 

    "Jonny!" Chris yelled out with excitement, hugging his friend, "Where've you been?! Cool costume, by the way."

 

[Viva_La_Coldplay]

-

[The Doctor]

Hot, hotter, hottest

 

 

Guy’s POV

 

During breakfast I noticed that Chris was looking the whole time at Jonny, actually I think he was more drooling at him. Yeah when your cereals fall out of your mouth you’re drooling so hard. So I’m sure he’s gay, great we have a gay in the group. I’m glad I don’t share my room with him.

We’re going on bivouac today. Great I love that kind of things: staying up the whole night while looking at the stars and singing songs by a fire. No that’s what the rest is going to do…

“Hey Guy did you hear that we have to cross a lake before we can make the camp?”

“No and what was your name again?”

“I’m Kirby.”

“Oh, well key then. You probably don’t know how we have to cross it?”

“Not really, guess we’ll have to swim.

But we have to be ready in an hour I thought they said.”

“Hmm, thanks for saying.”

She appearance for going of the room when she turned,

“What do you expect for the bivouac Guy?”

“I don’t know, what do you?”

“Campfire and singing songs there. Maybe some others that do what some do at camp”

“Haha just what I thought. So what group do you think you’re in?”

“I don’t know yet, depends on the boys of the whole group.”

“Oh so I’m not good enough or what?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Why do I think it then?”

“Because you didn’t hear it right! You’re the one I’m talking about!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

She came closer and sat down next to me on my bed.

“Do you know how fucking handsome you are?”

“People say that a lot but I don’t know if it’s true.”

“It is.”

“Real..

She putted her finger on my mouth and then came closer.

“Really” whispered Kirby in my ear before kissing me. When her lips said goodbye mine went back to hers, not able to think that we both had to be at the meeting point. Her hand came under my shirt, got me surprised but I continued kissing her. I carefully brought my hand under her top and tiptoed up to her bra.

“Guy, maybe we should do that tonight.”

“Why, now is perfect for me.”

“Because we have to leave to that lake now.”

“Oh, well let’s go then.”

 

[Miss Lestrade]

Look at Me, I'm a Musician

Just for clarity, this is AU, and it does take place in 2011, not when they're kids.

 

 

 

 

 

The man sat with his legs crossed in front of him. His slim form seemed to blend into the wall behind him, and he wore plainly colored clothes and faded jeans that slipped a little low on his waist. One of his converse had a hole on the right side that his best friend Will continually berated him over. Get new shows, Guy, he'd say. Your feet are gonna fucking freeze off during winter. Guy would shrug and smile, sucking on his cigarette.

 

He sat there, as the early evening brought its chill and pale violet colors into the air. He clutched his instrument close to his chest, feeling along the frayed edges of the case. Before long, Chris, a lanky man with wild blond hair, came bounding down the street. His guitar swung on his back. Guy sat straighter, hiking up the waist of his jeans. Chris dropped to his knees next to his dark-haired friend and sniffed loudly, wiping his nose on his sleeve. His watery blue eyes were tinged with red.

 

"What?" Guy asked hesitantly.

 

"Sick," explained Chris, in a gravelly voice. "Don't worry about it."

 

Guy merely shrugged and looked around. "Where's Will and Jonny?"

 

"Taking the Tube? Should be here soon. I'm going inside, Guy, you want anything?"

 

Guy's stomach was unsettled from the beer he'd swallowed earlier. He knew he should have eaten earlier, but he was trying to save money for cigarettes. It was stupid. He felt a little twinge in his stomach. Chris would pay.

 

"Yeah, can you get me one or two of those little cheeseburgers?"

 

"Sure, mate," Chris grinned, squeezed Guy's stubbled cheek, and danced into the front entrance of the McDonald's. Before he left he dropped his guitar in Guy's lap and said, "Watch it." Guy agreed to watch it and took the second guitar into his arms. Chris's old acoustic was growing frailer by the day and he knew the man would be heartbroken if something happened to it.

 

"Guy," a crisp voice called. Jonny was the more privileged of the four and was currently attending UCL to study...something. He'd told them before, but Guy hadn't quite been listening. Jonny's hair was freshly clipped and his face was ruddy, perhaps from jogging down the narrow street. He had pulled his jacket off and stuffed it under his arms. In the other hand he was carrying the miniature keyboard he had lent Chris back in March. He had told the blond man that he could keep it, but Chris had refused politely. He was in awe of Jonny and could not stand the thought of losing or damaging the keyboard.

 

Chris came back carrying two paper bags and squatted next to his bassist. He dug through one of the bags and pulled out a Big Mac. "There's another one in the bag," he said. "And fries to share."

 

"Thank you," Guy smiled, mustering up genuine warmth to inject into his voice. He happily let he guitars lean against the dusty wall and placed the box on his lap. Chris popped fries into his mouth and looked at Jonny.

 

"How was school?"

 

"Fine. I got a midterm back."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"86."

 

"Fuck me," offered Guy, pondering how to begin eating. He licked some ketchup off his finger. "Good job, Jon."

 

"Yeah, that's great!" Chris grinned, sitting back on his heels. "Doctor Buckland."

 

"Please..." Jonny muttered, handing off the keyboard to his friend. Chris took it reverently.

 

Guy looked down the road, watching the people walking by. He noticed a pretty lady wearing boots and green stockings, and then he noticed Will's bulky outline. He sat up straighter, rushing to swallow his mouthful of food. Will trudged toward them quietly, his pale skin stark against the color of the city. He was holding his cheek, and his nose. There was dark dried blood under his nostrils and an equally dark bruise forming on his cheek. Chris groaned, and Jonny swore. Guy just looked.

 

"What happened?" Jonny inquired, moving forward. Will took his hand away, gingerly. "That bastard Phil," he murmured nasally. Phil was Will's volatile cousin and the two were close, but often disagreed. Disagreements often led to punches being thrown.

 

Guy relaxed slightly and turned his attention back to his meal. Chris hummed, and glanced sideways at him. He continued to survey the entire area and stroked his chin.

 

"Sorry I didn't bring my drum," Will began, defensively. "But I didn't think I could really play like this..."

 

"Whatever," Chris cut him off. "S'okay. You can stay."

 

"What are we playing today?"

 

"Dunno."

 

"Yellow."

 

"Fuck Yellow, let's do White Shadows..."

 

"Charlie Brown?"

 

"I dunno about that one yet, I need time on it, Jon..."

 

The four of them sat around for a while, rattling off song names. They'd play something eventually, and Guy figured that he might just make enough to cover the cigarettes without feeling guilty.

 

 

 

[Miss Lestrade]

Look at me, I'm a Musician

 

 

 

Guy felt as if the road to Jonny's house was trying to killing him. Every few seconds there would be a pot hole or a bump that would jolt his tired body and make him hit the steering wheel in frustration. He was feeling slightly ill again, and was beginning to regret even showing up. Jonny's place was cramped and hot and Guy told himself that as long as he was there for a little while, he could easily make up an excuse to leave early.

 

He parked angrily and dragged his bass out of the back seat. The air was beginning to chill considerably, and this was merely another factor that added to his growing annoyance at his situation. He jabbed the comm button and announced his presence.

 

By the time he made it upstairs, Guy could feel sweat dripping down his back. When Jonny opened the door with a flourish, all he received was a glower. Will, who was already seated on the floor with his beloved laptop, hardly glanced up.

 

"Hi," he said.

 

"What are you looking at?" Guy demanded, as if he were insulted with the lack of recognition. He wasn't. It was merely one of those days. But Will looked up anyway and narrowed his eyes.

 

"Are you trying to quit smoking again?"

 

"No," Guy muttered under his breath. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

Will and Jonny ignored him. "Chris is late."

 

"We should lock him out," said Will, his attention returning to his laptop. Jonny smiled and nodded, and they all knew too well that Jonny could never intentionally lock someone out who didn't deserve it.

 

Guy took an engineering textbook off the dusty armchair in the corner of the room. It may have been old, but Jonny's furniture was colored the nicest shades of maroon and faded light blue, and it was comfortable to boot. The blue chair was Guy's favorite. It was also Chris's favorite, which may have doubled its appeal to Guy.

 

Fifteen minutes or so later, the battle had begun. "Guy! Get out of my chair!"

 

"I don't see your name on it," said Guy, reveling in each sweet word.

 

"You Scottish bastard..."

 

Guy laughed and snorted while Chris chattered angrily about how he always sat in the same chair and Guy always played in a certain area, and how he was messing up the entire balance of the band.

 

He began to feel a bit better than he had before, especially when Chris finally relented and began to show them all the piece he had been working on. Jonny leaned back in his seat and tapped his fingers along to the beat, murmuring to himself. Will looked on uncertainly, his dark eyes unreadable. Guy just tapped his foot and listened, studying the sunlight that hit the side of his armchair.

 

It was always further into practice when it really began. Not Guy's harmless form of play, but something more sinister. He pulled his skinny legs to his chest and looked at Jonny the moment he felt it begin. Jonny looked back at him, his lips thinning.

 

"No, no, Will, stop."

 

"What?"

 

"That's not it at all."

 

"Chris, I'm not getting what you want me to do..."

 

"Well, not fucking that..."

 

Guy gave a particularly loud cough. If he had been searching for an excuse to leave practice early, now he had a legitimate one. "Come on, stop it," he murmured, rolling his head back tiredly. Chris turned forcefully toward him, his face red. "Chris," Guy leveled, "Stop it."

 

"You're taking his side?"

 

Will stiffened. Jonny sat up straighter.

 

"No, he's asking you both to shut up and just work it out. It's music, not...bloody politics or something."

 

Will tapped a drumstick against his jeans, making a tense tapping noise that echoed through the small room. "Well?"

 

"All right."

 

"Okay."

 

Guy looked around. He wasn't sure what he would do if Will simply decided that enough was enough and walked out forever. Perhaps he would go too, or not. But he didn't have much else to fill up his time, besides work. But that was boring and made him want to drink to fill up the time, so he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

 

 

[MXColdplayObsessed]

Sorry to those of you who actually like the Twilight series. I hate it and I just had to write this, but it's a Buckin story so the like or dislike doesn't matter anyway.

 

Twilight Can Go To Hell

 

 

"I want to go see Breaking Dawn."

 

Jonny looked up from his guitar to stare, horrified, at Chris. "No way in hell I'm letting you go get brainwashed by that filth! Have you lost your MIND?!"

 

Chris smiled. "Nope. I just want to see it! It's such a cute story."

 

"Yeah, riiiiight," Jonny said, his words dripping with skepticism and sarcasm,"I soooooo believe you. An ancient undying vampire that looks like he's 20 seducing a 16 year old or whatever, and she is the stupidest woman on earth, and her father is willing, willing to let her be turned into a vampire, what kind of father is that, and she can just run off to Italy just to see sparkly-pants Edward get verbally abused by more idiot vampires. And all those sappy love songs?! I don't know what Muse were smoking when they agreed to let their songs be used for those soundtracks, and they must've been drinking, smoking something, and on crack at the same time to write that imbicilic song Neutron Star Collision. And you want to go see this newest installment of crap, Chris? Are you MAD?!"

 

By this time, Jonny was standing face to face with Chris.

 

"But... but... it's such a cute love storyyyyyy!" Chris whined. "And you know how much I looooooooove love stories! I always end up crying, but they're so gooooooooooooooooooooood!!"

 

Jonny smacked his palm against his forehead. "You are SUCH an idiot."

 

Chris was puzzled for a second. "What do you mean? No I'm not!"

 

Jonny put his hands on Chris's shoulders. "Think about this: You don't have to see a movie to find a love story. You don't have to leave this building to find a love story. You don't have to leave the room to find a love story."

 

Chris looked confused for a moment. Then a smile started to appear on his face until it looked as though is face might split in half. "I see."

 

And that was all he was able to say because the next second their lips were pressed against eachothers, kissing like no tomorrow.

 

They broke apart for a second. Their faces were both bright red, partially from lack of air, and partially from surprise at what had just happened.

 

"Damn, Jonny!" Chris laughed, "Just... just... damn!"

 

Jonny grinned, and his face looked a lot like this (:sneaky:). That made Chris crack up all over again, and he nearly stopped breathing when Jonny said that he looked hot when he laughed.

 

"Jeez, Jonny! Why all the sudden *gasp* pervy thoughts? You've never *gasp* been like that *gasp* before!"

 

Jonny grinned again. "Well, we've been playing music together about, well, nearly 14 years. I loved you from the start, and so I have 14 years of pervy thoughts stored away in my mind. Duh, dumbass," He hugged Chris, "and speaking of ass, yours is pretty sexy, Chrissyboy."

 

"And I've noticed that during concerts you seem to be doing...... it with your guitar, too. Don't split your loves, J."

 

"Well I just pretend the guitar is you, Christopher Anthony John Sexy Martin."

 

"Oooh, three middle names. I feel bad for you, you only have one middle name. I now rename you Jonathan The Pervyest-Hottest Guitar Player Ever Buckland."

 

And so this went on, and even though Guy and Will showed up at the Bakery soon after this all started, they took one look at what was going on and left to get some beer and drink away all the trashy thoughts they were now having.

 

And at the Bakery, one thing led to another, and CM and JB had........................ and Twilight was never mentioned again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May your imagination run wild.

 

[Viva_La_Coldplay]

-

[The Doctor]

[size"4"]Hot, hotter, hottest[/size]

 

 

Jon’s POV

 

So making a raft eh? Why can’t we take those canoes from over there?

“Hey are you gonna help or not?”

“I’m already helping!”

Chris threw a mini tree to me.

“What’s wrong with you? You wanted to kill me?”

“No, you just didn’t catch it.”

“Because I didn’t see it coming, warn me next time you throw a tree to me .What are we supposed to do with it?”

“We have to make a raft with them.”

“But what with the canoes? Can’t we use them?”

“Err I don’t know Jonny, they said it so maybe we better make one.”

“I still think it’s a stupid idea.”

We finished the raft just like all the rest of pairs. Then everybody tried them out and fell in the water. Looked like Guy and Kirby are good friends if you ask me. After a while we were called by Esther.

“Come on everyone disband your raft again!”

“Wait what? Break them up? But we just made them!”

“Yes Jonny, and I say that you have to disband them.”

“But how do we have to cross the lake? Swimming?”

“No, how do you get that idea? We’ll take that canoes from over there.”

“So why did we have to make that raft then?”

“So you all had something to do before crossing the lake.”

Bitch. Ok, Chris and I broke our raft and took a canoe and got in the water with it.

“You or I in the front?”

“Can you turn this thing?”

“No, can you?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’ll think it’s time to learn it.”

“Yes, I’ll go in the back ok. If it’s too bad you may sit there.”

“Fine for me.”

 

Guy’s POV

 

Hmm, she does look even better from behind and when she’s wet.

“Hey what are you doing? You want our boat to turn over?”

“Nothing you can’t keep this boat right.”

“Oh really?”

I turned that way so we both fell out of the canoe.

“Why did you do that Guy?”

“I did nothing it was your fault! Oh and maybe you should put your shirt out before you’ll have to wear a wet shirt the rest of the day.”

“What? The sun shines so hard, it’ll be dry in five minutes.”

We got both back in the boat and went on.

SPLONSH!

“Looks like we’re not the only ones with troubles. Who fell Kirby?”

“It’s Jonny and that gay one.”

“Hahaha they can’t control a canoe?”

“Looks like that.”

“OK CHRIS NOW WILL I SIT BEHIND!”

“Fine for me, if you can turn this boat so we can get back in.”

“BWAHAHAAHAHA THEY CAN’T EVEN GET BACK IN THEIR BOAT!”

“Guy don’t be so mean. Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yes!”

“OMG BWAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

After another hour or something like that we finally arrived at our camping place.

“WE HAVE TO SLEEP HERE?”

 

 

[MXColdplayObsessed]

This idea has been bothering me for weeks, so I figured I'd post it since I'm having writer's block on My First Converse :D It's a morbid story, but it has a happy ending later.

 

Misery and Miracles

 

 

 

"A concert! A concert! To a Coldplay concert we go!

A concert! A concert! To a Coldplay concert we go!

Dressed in Converse, painted glow-in-the-dark!

A concert! A concert! To a Coldplay concert we go!

With our love and our voices to sing along!

A concert! A concert! To a Coldplay concert we go!

A concert! A concert! To a Coldplay concert we go!"

 

Violet sang loud and clear into the cool evening air from her mother's little red convertible. "Tooooooo, aaaaaaaaaAAAA-"

 

"Violet, please stop. If you want to have any voice left to sing along with at the concert, you will have to stop singing now." Her mom said quietly, "As much as I love your voice, and your little song, you are getting a little annoying."

 

"Alright, alright. Oh, don't forget, the next exit's in a mile."

 

She was on her way to a Coldplay concert. Coldplay! Her most favorite band in the whole entire universe was coming here, to Philadelphia! And she had front-row tickets, too, right at the most perfect spot for viewing the band and capturing lots and lots of confetti, and she would receive one of the famed MX light up bracelets.

 

She had decorated her Converse with glow-in-the-dark paint just for the occasion, putting all the symbols of MX on them and the concert date, July 15th, 2012. There was excitement in abundance and she just could not stop bouncing in her seat.

 

As her mom turned the car onto the last exit before the ride through the city, she became even more talkative and excitable, until the city came into view. And there it was. Peeking over the tops of the buildings, was the venue where Coldplay already was. Yes! She could wait no longer.

 

"C'mon, Mom! Let's go go go gogogogogogogogogooooooooooooooo!!!!!"

 

Sadly, the last stoplight before the venue parking lot turned red before they got to the intersection. Violet waited impatiently until the light finally turned green.

 

But as the car started through the intersection, Violet knew something was wrong. She looked to her right...

 

CRASH.

 

Another vehicle, a truck, slammed into Violet's side of the car. She was whipped around and felt something in her right leg crack. The truck just kept on plowing into them, and she was faintly aware of the screech of metal on metal and a scream. Was it her? Her mom? It was getting harder and harder to see; the cars around her spun and melted into the buildings, the world was tinted red; the sky above was an unnatural purple. Was she looking up? She felt things prickling into her skin, all over; something from the back of her mind told her it was the window glass. Then the world spun again and turned upside-down, so that all around her was dark and the glass bits fell with a tinkling sound toward the ground.

 

The universe went silent, as if every atom had stopped moving. She could see her own hand move and flip over so that it was palm up, but she heard no noise and felt nothing.

 

Forever came and went; eternity stretched into infinity; time stopped and slowed down, the seconds ticking by had minutes in between them.

 

Then the world exploded around her; the darkness was banished and was replaced by blinding white light. Something or someone was moving the truck and lifting the car. The last thing she saw was her mother being pulled out of the car before her consciousness was enveloped in inky blackness.

 

[coldplayer#16]

A quick, random little fic that I just threw together. Enjoy

 

Christmas Kisses

 

 

Mistletoe, oh mistletoe, what evil powers you have. Having couples kiss under you for years, even if it be unwanted. Now, it’s often a genuine mistake if it’s by accident, but the two people seem to be accepting . . . unless if it’s for a joke.

 

“Alright, all set up,” Guy said, hanging the Christmas decoration, “lets bring ‘em in.”

 

“Right,” Will said, “Chris, can you c’mere a second?!” Will asked, walking into the other room. Guy smirked and walked to the camera at the end of the room, concealed by its surroundings. His smirk grew into a smile, and he walked the opposite way, calling for Jonny. They knew just what would happen, and it would be a riot if all went to plan, and they’d get it all on tape too.

 

“What’s going on Will?” Chris asked innocently, being dragged by the drummer.

 

“I just need you to see something, okay?” Will said, holding back a smile. It would be out of character for him to start giggling.

 

“Alright . . .” Chris said, still feeling unsure.

 

“C’mon, Jonny, just a little further . . .” Guy encouraged, picking up his pace.

 

“Guy, what’s going on, what are you on about?” Jonny asked.

 

“It’s a secret, and you should see it first,” Guy said, swinging around and pushing the guitarist forward into the room. Will did just the same with Chris, and the two men ran into each other . . . right square under the mistletoe.

 

“Aww, look up you two,” Guy smirked, “kiss him, you know you want to.”

 

“WHAT?!” Jonny yelled in surprise, not expecting this kind of surprise.

 

“We’ll leave you to it, you two,” Will said, shoving Chris into Jonny, nearly getting the two to brush lips.

 

“Is this some kind of sick joke?!” Chris snapped, regaining his balance and spinning around to the drummer.

 

“. . . Kinda.” Will laughed, running out of the room. Guy did the same, and they knew just what would happen.

 

“Oh, can you believe this, I mean, they can’t just expect us to-” Chris raved, but was cut off by a hug. It was Jonny, no surprise.

 

“Uh, J? What are you doing?”

 

“Oh c’mon, we have our moments when we’re here alone, how is it any different now?” Jonny asked, “It’s just different because it’s the holiday, and Guy and Will have been so out of it. They’re more immature and they’ve just helped set things up for us.”

 

Chris laughed and wrapped his arms around Jonny, “True as that may be, why should we humor them?”

 

“They’re not here, so they won’t have to know,” Jonny said, leaning in and kissing Chris.

 

“I KNEW IT!!” Guy yelled, having seen the entire scene unfold thanks to the camera, “I TOLD YOU they were together!!”

 

“Yeah yeah, I was wrong for once in my life, get over it!” Will said, digging into his pocket, but a bet’s a bet, 5 quid, here.”

 

Will handed the bassist the wager, and Guy took it with a smirk, “Now, lets see if they- . . . where’d they go?!”

 

Chris and Jonny had disappeared from sight, they had run off to another room, no doubt that they were having some time to themselves.

 

Guy and Will didn’t think of this though, they ran out to the room, searching for where their bandmates may have run off to. They ended up in the same awkward situation they’d forced them into, knocking into each other under the mistletoe.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Will complained.

 

“Well, it is tradition, so . . .” Guy said, taking the idea seriously.

 

“No way Berryman! No way!!”

 

“Aw, why not?” Guy said, a sly look on his face, moving toward the drummer.

 

“Be-because it was a joke, to expose Chris and Jonny!! Nothing more!!!”

 

“Oh, who said it could only be used for that.” Guy said, pinning the drummer to the floor, “who said it couldn’t count for us too?”

 

Will didn’t know what to think, he caved once the bassist’s warm lips pressed up to his.

 

Now, remember how there was that other room where Guy and Will were watching Chris and Jonny? Well . . . Chris had seen the camera and knew he would lead his band mates on into this situation, and he and Jonny laughed at the sight.

 

“Go figure, huh Chris? Never knew Guy was-”

 

“I could tell,” Chris said, “and besides, they know about us know, they can’t hang it over our heads. We can hold this over Guy all we want . . . or, at least until he caves.”

 

Jonny laughed, “You’re evil, Chris.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Chris said, smiling, “but you still love me.”

 

“Hell yeah I do,” Jonny said, kissing Chris. They were happy together, and who cares if Guy and Will knew?! . . . Well, at least they knew it, and it wasn’t like poor Guy, who’d taken his friend by surprise and somehow had his shirt off . . . as did Will.

 

“Uh . . . I think we should leave,” Jonny said.

 

“Agreed,” Chris said.

 

END

 

[coldplayisawesome]

*pulls thread from depths of forum*

 

oh, look, a story by me to end the year with! :cheesy:

 

Rain of Love

 

 

 

 

The first few drops of rain fell from the sky and splattered over his skin. He pedaled a little faster as the number and frequency of the drops increased, but still Chris went on cycling down the road. He was miles away from his house by now. Rain was something he could handle, anyway, even if it meant soggy clothes and a sharp reprimand from his mother.

 

The rain came down heavier and heavier, until Chris could barely see the road before him. He pressed on regardless, determined to not let the awful weather ruin his bike ride. His shoes were starting to slip on the pedals and his palms were sliding off of the handlebars.

 

Then came the rumble. A deep rumble, one that sounded quite far off, but went on long enough for Chris to be concerned. Thirty seconds later he saw lightning dance across the sky, followed shortly by another rumble. He sped along the road until a bridge appeared in the distance.

 

The bit of dry land under the bridge seemed like a perfect spot to seek shelter from the storm. Chris rode over and pulled the brakes quickly as he noticed another figure under the bridge. From far away, it looked just like a lump of some sort, but as he rolled closer, he realized it was another boy. This boy wore a sweater with the hood up, his head buried in his knees, which was what made him unidentifiable at first.

 

“Hello,” Chris said as he stopped before the boy, water dripping off of his body and bicycle and onto the dry asphalt. The boy looked up at him with sullen eyes. “I didn't expect anyone else to be under here.”

 

“Neither did I,” the boy replied. Chris suddenly felt guilty, as if he had intruded upon this poor boy's moment of solitude – but he was just trying to escape the storm, and the bridge was public property anyway.

 

He swung his leg backward over the seat and stood beside the bicycle, hands still firmly gripping the handlebars to keep it steady. “Well, I'm just waiting out the storm.”

 

“'M hiding,” the boy mumbled.

 

Chris found this rather curious. He tilted his head and asked, “From whom?”

 

“My brother.” The boy seemed to burrow into his sweater and his chin rested on his knees as he spoke again. “I don't want to talk about it.”

 

Chris watched the boy for a few moments. The rain pounded the ground outside of their shelter, and the thunder sounded once more. Chris let his bike rest against one of the bridge supports, and he took a seat next to the morose boy.

 

“What'd he do?” Chris asked.

 

The boy shot him a spiteful look. “I said I don't want to talk about it.”

 

Chris shrugged and gave the boy a lop-sided grin. “Isn't that what people always say when they actually do want to talk about stuff? They just don't want to be the ones to bring it up. I brought it up.”

 

The boy kept his eyes on Chris for a few seconds longer; then he looked at his feet (or the ground – it was hard for Chris to tell) and scoffed. “I don't know where you learned that, but it's not true. I meant that I didn't want to talk about it. Especially not with you; I don't even know who you are.”

 

“I'm Chris.”

 

 

“That's your name. That's not who you are.” Chris frowned as he considered this. The boy looked at him. “I'm Jonny.”

 

 

Chris ignored the boy's introduction, as he was still stuck on what had been said before. He felt rather confused, and, oddly, a little vulnerable. “What did your brother do?” he asked again, this time knowing that it would make the boy angry. He wasn't sure if he really cared anymore what the boy's brother had done.

 

And sure enough, Chris noticed the boy's upper lip twitch in frustration. “Listen, you're really starting to piss me off. I hope this storm stops, so you'll go away.”

 

Chris narrowed his eyes. If he had been told something like this when he was younger, he no doubt would have been hurt, no doubt would have run away and cried somewhere he couldn't be found (was that what this boy had done?), but now all it did was make his blood boil. He felt the muscles in his jaw tighten.

 

“Well, I hope your brother finds you.” He may have been older now, too old to scamper off after one hurtful comment, but he still reacted in a childish way. He did it without thinking and he didn't even feel bad after.

 

At least, he didn't feel bad at first. The boy's lips trembled, and he rubbed at his left wrist as he stared out into the rainy distance. Something in Chris's chest constricted at the sight and shame weighed on his shoulders until he sagged into a position similar to the other boy's.

 

“You know,” Chris quietly began, “one time my brother poured orange soda all over my N64. I wanted to kill him. Except that I couldn't find him for hours. He'd gone over to the neighbors' house, 'cause he didn't want to be there when I found out what he'd done.”

 

“That's great for you,” the boy bitterly replied without looking up.

 

“If I had found him, I wouldn't have actually hurt him.”

 

The boy's head turned so quickly, Chris thought it might have broken off. “You're not my fucking brother, OK?” the boy snapped. Chris swore he felt a bit of spit fly at his face. “What happened to you has nothing to do with this.”

 

Chris tried to argue, but found no words to respond with. He kept his mouth closed, feeling helpless and, worse, useless. He crawled over to where his bike rested. He stood and dusted his hands on his still-damp jeans.

 

The rain had let up. Chris climbed atop his bicycle and pushed away from the wall. At the edge of the dry land, Chris looked back at the boy. He had retreated to the position he sat in when Chris first arrived, his head buried in his knees.

 

Without a word, Chris faced forward and rolled into the subsiding rain. He went back the way he had come, intent on going home and receiving his punishment (his mother would no doubt lecture his ears off, which he imagined would be quite painful) for getting his clothes all wet.

 

Along the way, he thought about the boy under the bridge. In retrospect, he could understand how he may have come off as nosy and annoying, but he hadn't intended to be. He was just a social person. He couldn't help that. He had shown what he thought was genuine concern for this boy's situation, and in return he only received malice.

 

Slowly, Chris's feelings of inadequacy morphed into anger. With every turn of the pedals, another bit of his even temper slipped away. Eventually, he found himself pedaling back to the bridge where he had found the boy.

 

The boy must have heard him coming. When Chris arrived, the boy already had his eyes on Chris, looking more annoyed than before. But Chris paid no attention. He only had one thing on his mind.

 

He slid off of his bike almost before it even stopped moving. He let it fall to the ground (another reprimand from his mother) as he stood before the boy, his chest heaving as he took each furious breath.

 

“That's not fair,” Chris yelled at the boy. Another childish start. “You can't just be a dick to someone who's only trying to be nice, OK? You're right; you don't know who I am. But I don't know who you are, either, but I still care. I only wanted to know why you were hiding. I was only trying to be nice. You didn't have to yell at me like that.”

 

Chris inhaled deeply as he finished his rant. He had said everything he wanted to say, and now, as he watched the boy attempt to react, he suddenly felt much smaller. He didn't want to hear what the boy had to say in response; he wanted to run away and cry somewhere he couldn't be found.

 

The boy, who had been hunched over still until Chris finished speaking, sat back with a straight face. “Sorry,” he said.

 

Chris felt something like disappointment wash over him. Sorry? That was it? He wasn't sure what he had expected – for the boy to suddenly decide to tell him what happened with his brother, maybe – but he knew it wasn't that. The apology didn't even seem genuine.

 

“Never mind,” Chris muttered, picking up his bike. He wheeled it around, ready to once more leave feeling utterly worthless.

 

But he was stopped by shouts in the distance. He and the other boy looked in the direction the shout had come from. Chris thought it sounded like a man shouting, “JON!”

 

The boy stood up and took a few steps backward, a few steps closer to Chris. “Shit,” he breathed, and Chris felt the air around them change. He could sense that this boy was no longer as tough as he had acted before. He felt exposed, just as Chris did.

 

More shouts were heard. The boy's brother (Chris assumed this was the source of the cries, anyway) did not sound happy in the least. Chris almost feared for his own safety as well as that of the boy. He suddenly understood what the boy had meant when he said that this was nothing like what had happened to Chris and his brother.

 

An idea popped into Chris's head and he sprang into action. He leaped onto his bike and grabbed the boy's arm.

 

“Get on,” he shouted, nodding to the back wheel. The pegs sticking out on either side of the wheel were small, but long enough for someone to put their feet on. Chris had taken his brother for rides like this before (and had been yelled at for it each time), so he knew that it would work.

 

Though clearly apprehensive, the boy jumped onto the pegs and held onto Chris's shoulders. Chris pedaled away as quickly as he could, his legs pumping furiously. He could feel the boy's trepidation in his grip, and Chris honestly could not blame him. The boy's legs must have been dangerously close to the fast-spinning wheel, his jeans maybe even closer, and the bumpiness of the road did not help the lack of stability. As they grew closer to Chris's house, the boy's grip tightened and he leaned into Chris a little more.

 

When they stopped in the yard, Chris gave the boy several seconds to hop off of the bike. Then he got off himself and leaned it against the side of the house. The boy remained in the same spot, looking a bit frazzled. Chris grabbed the boy's wrist, intending to drag him into the house (the rain was starting up again).

 

As soon as Chris's hand touched the boy's wrist, Chris heard a sharp gasp of pain. He looked up at the boy, who winced and tried to jerk his hand away. Chris already had a hold of him, though, and dread filled him as he turned the boy's arm and peeled back the sleeve of his sweater.

 

“What are you doing? Stop,” the boy shouted, though he sounded more frightened than angry. He fought more for custody of his arm, but it was of no use. Chris had pulled back the fabric enough to see several thin, red lines running across the skin of the boy's wrist. He felt a little sick.

 

He looked up at the boy in awe. He wasn't sure exactly how to react yet. “Did you...?”

 

“No,” the boy answered, quietly, and Chris knew where the cuts had come from – who the cuts had come from. He felt even sicker.

 

He let go of the boy's arm and stepped forward, pulling the boy into a hug. The boy stood still, probably unsure of what to do (was this even an appropriate gesture?), but Chris kept the hug going anyway. He thought he had done it to comfort the boy, but as the seconds went on, he realized that it was more for his own sake, that it was probably more of a comfort for him than it was for the boy.

 

When Chris pulled away, though, he felt even worse. Guiltier. This boy hadn't wanted to tell him about the situation with his brother, which he had every right to keep from Chris. After all, they were strangers; it wasn't any of Chris's business what went on in this boy's life. Chris had pried anyway, and having the information was something he no longer even wanted.

 

But maybe there was still a chance to make things better. A way for Chris to make it up to the boy for all of his nosiness.

 

“Have you told anyone?” Chris asked the boy, though he knew what the answer would be. Why would he tell anyone?

 

The boy shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but at the same time the front door of Chris's house opened and three boys a year younger than the two (Chris assumed he and the other boy were the same age) came tumbling out. The three younger boys cackled as they approached the two older boys.

 

“We saw you through the window, Chrissy,” one of the boys said. He was the shortest of the entire lot. He had dark hair and dark eyes (and, Chris thought, a dark soul to match). His name was Guy.

 

“It's almost cliché, hugging in the rain,” a second boy said. He had much lighter hair than Guy, though Chris thought he was hardly any nicer. He was almost as tall as Chris and the new boy. His name was Will.

 

Chris's brother said nothing. He checked his nails for dirt (or worse).

 

Guy smirked. “Don't get too touchy-feely, now. Not everyone's a queer like you.”

 

With that, the three younger boys took off, cackling. Chris watched them go and held back several different emotions, the strongest being depression and anger.

 

“My brother and his friends,” Chris mumbled, though he meant for the other boy to hear him clearly. “They're vile.”

 

“Your brother seemed nice,” the boy said. Chris's first instinct was to scoff, but he quickly became unsure of whether or not the boy spoke seriously. Instead, he said nothing. The boy spoke again, hesitantly. “Are you actually...?”

 

Chris folded his arms over his chest. “I've had girlfriends before,” he said. He did not mention that he never felt anything for those girls. It was something he preferred not to think about, let alone speak of anywhere near the vicinity of his brother and his brother's friends.

 

The boy nodded like he understood – and for a second, Chris thought the boy really did understand. More emotions struggled to break free from his grasp, ones he also preferred not to think about.

 

Chris made a split-second decision. It may have been a terrible idea, but since he put very little thought into it, he never considered the possibility of anything going wrong.

 

“MOM!” he shouted as he turned, sprinting for the front door, though he was fully aware that his mother would not be able to hear him.

 

As he bolted into the kitchen, where his mother stood preparing herself a glass of water, he was only vaguely aware of the other boy trailing behind him.

 

“Mom,” he said again. His mother stopped the flow of water from the faucet and faced Chris. He grabbed the boy's wrist again. “Look at this.”

 

He saw a look of slight fear etched into his mother's face momentarily, and in that instant he felt embarrassed. His mother's expression changed as he displayed the boy's slashed wrist, but his embarrassment lingered along with thoughts, questions of what his mother had been thinking.

 

She assumed a more adult appearance as her eyes fell upon the cuts. Chris remarked the boy's lack of protest this time, though his arm trembled fiercely. Chris felt his chest constrict again.

 

“Chris, what...” She exhaled what seemed to be a half-sigh, half-groan.

 

“His brother does this to him, mom,” Chris explained, sure of his words though he had no confirmation from the boy himself. “Can we help him?”

 

“I don't know what to do.” Her tone was apologetic; Chris noticed that when she spoke, she clearly directed her sentiments at the other boy. There was more trembling and constricting.

 

“Isn't there someone we could call?”

 

“Does your mother know about this?”

 

The boy shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but very quickly he closed it again. Chris though he looked a little embarrassed, too.

 

“I think that would be the first step, then.”

 

Five minutes later, Chris and the other boy sat in the back of the family car, while Chris's mother drove toward the boy's house (the boy had given Chris's mother vague directions and was now letting her know where exactly she needed to go at each turn).

 

When they bustled down a long, straight road and there were no directions to give, Chris watched the other boy silently stare forward. He felt a great deal of pity for the boy, but he also felt a great deal of hope. He wished the same were true for the boy.

 

To relay this (and to maybe give the boy a bit of hope if he wasn't feeling the same), Chris leaned across the seat and rested his hand in the crook of the boy's elbow. The boy turned and looked at him with worried green eyes.

 

“It'll be OK,” Chris told him. The boy blinked.

 

Chris suddenly had the feeling that his gesture had not worked as he had wanted it to and so he retracted his hand and sat back in his seat. As best as he could, he brought his knees up to his chest and glared out of the window beside him as a distraction, trying to resist the urge to let his eyes do what the skies had done and rain down on his face.

 

“This is it,” the boy said. “The green one on the right.”

 

The car stopped a few seconds after as Chris's mother pulled into the driveway. Catching a glimpse of the house, Chris thought it was the ugliest green he had ever seen. But he kept his mouth shut. He knew it was not polite to insult the color of another person's house.

 

The boy was preoccupied, in any case. A man, who looked almost identical to the boy (apart from the strange goatee he sported), stood in the front yard. The man had looked up at them as the car approached, and now he glared at the boy. Chris felt a shock of fear tingle through his spine.

 

Chris rolled down his window and stuck his head outside. This did not catch the man’s attention, but Chris then proceeded to shout, “What are you looking at?”

 

“Don’t,” the boy said, his voice just barely above a whisper. At that moment, Chris felt certain that the boy spoke to him, but felt less certain when the boy repeated it several seconds later. The man was storming up to the car. He looked very angry.

 

He stopped right in front of Chris’s open window and bent over so he could see inside. “Jon,” he said, and Chris recognized the voice from under the bridge, “dad’s been looking for you. He almost had a panic attack.”

 

“I told him where I was,” the boy said. Chris thought both he and the man with the goatee sounded much calmer than they should have.

 

“Yeah, and you weren’t there.” The man’s eyes briefly flickered to Chris (Chris felt unfairly judged for a moment) and then back to the boy. “Who’s this?”

 

“Chris.” With every second that passed, Chris felt more unnerved by the tone of their conversation. If this man really was this boy’s brother (and knowing what the boy’s brother had done), he couldn’t understand why the boy was acting so calm, or even how he was able to act calm. Chris might have broken down to tears by this point.

 

The man glared at the boy for a few moments. Nothing good could come of this, Chris thought. He was afraid now to leave the boy alone.

 

“Well, get inside so dad can stop freaking,” the man said.

 

“May I speak with your father?”

 

The man looked at Chris’s mother as if he hadn’t realized she was there (which Chris could understand, as she had been completely silent the whole time). He seemed to recognize the authority she held as an adult and Chris felt the same shift in the air that he had felt under the bridge. Once more, the tough façade fell away and was replaced with a sort of vulnerability, a fear. Chris wondered just how screwed up this boy’s family was.

 

“I’ll go get him,” the man softly said. His tone was almost uncharacteristic (though Chris had only just met the man, he already had him pegged as a heartless bastard – worse than Guy, even). With equally soft movements, he stepped away from the car and went into the ugly green house.

 

Chris’s mother unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door. “Chris, you stay in the car,” she ordered. Chris had little objection to this. He still felt afraid. She slid out of the car and shut the door. Chris turned to the boy.

 

The boy looked unsure of whether or not he should stay in the car with Chris; Chris's mother had not mentioned him at all. Chris hoped that the boy would choose to stay with him. Not only would it be safer for the boy, but Chris would have liked the company.

 

“I don't know what to do,” the boy said. He sounded oddly apologetic, like Chris's mother had when she had spoken the same words – but what did this boy have to be sorry for?

 

Quickly, Chris undid his seat belt and slid over. He recognized this perfect opportunity; laying his hand on the boy's arm, he once more uttered a reassurance. “It'll be OK.”

 

This time, he had achieved the desired effect. The boy looked at him, still worried, but not uncertain. This was what he needed.

 

“Jon,” the man hissed through Chris's open window. The sound made Chris jump, though it hadn't seemed to scare the boy as much. He must have seen the man walk up to the car. “I swear to God, I'll fucking kill you.”

 

Chris thought he should be shocked by not only the contempt in the man's voice, but by his bluntness. He found, however, that he could do nothing but quietly whimper and tighten his grip on the boy's arm, which had started trembling again.

 

Yet, when the boy replied, his voice was even. “I didn't do anything.”

 

“It's my fault,” Chris interjected. He was terrifically frightened, but he would have much rather taken the blame and suffered this man's wrath than let the boy do so. It seemed he had been through enough already. “Kill me.”

 

His admission was not as eloquent as he would have liked, but at the very least it got his point across. The man narrowed his eyes at Chris.

 

“Why would I waste my time on you?”

 

The words cut through Chris like a knife and he leaned into the boy. He couldn't tell if he did it to protect the boy or if it was a simple act of cowering.

 

The boy's father rushed over to the car and pushed the man aside. “Jon,” he said, “Come on out here.”

 

Chris looked at the boy. After a few moments, he reluctantly released his hold on the boy's arm. The boy climbed out of the car and met his father on the other side. Chris slid back to his original seat and watched their exchange (though the window was still open, they were too far and quiet for him to hear what they said). The boy's father demanded to see the cuts on the boy's arm. He spoke a lot and the boy simply nodded and shook his head every so often.

 

The two continued talking as Chris's mother returned to the car. Chris ignored her presence until he heard the car start.

 

“Wait, mom,” he said. “Can I talk to him?”

 

Chris's mother looked at him through the rear-view mirror. “I suppose.”

 

Chris rushed out of the car and over to the boy and his father. “Excuse me,” he said to the boy's father. “Can I talk to him?”

 

“Yeah,” the boy's father replied. He gave the boy a quick look and then walked away to join the boy's brother, who continued to shoot nasty glares in their direction.

 

“You aren't going to stay here, are you?” Chris asked. The boy narrowed his eyes slightly. “I have a bad feeling about this. I'm afraid you're gonna get hurt.”

 

“I don't need your protection,” the boy spat. “Quit being such a fucking pansy.”

 

Chris's mouth fell open as he tried to process what the boy had said. How was it that he could change so quickly, transition so smoothly from a terrified boy into a nasty jerk? Whereas the boy's brother had made Chris feel like he was sliced open, the boy's words made him feel like he had been chopped up into a million tiny pieces.

 

He wanted to run away and cry somewhere he couldn't be found.

 

At that exact moment, three boys a year younger than the two strolled by along the sidewalk. Chris turned just in time to see Guy kick a rock off of the pavement, aimed directly at Chris. The rock missed, but stopped only inches away from Chris's feet. Will cackled.

 

“Queers,” Guy sneered.

 

Chris's brother said nothing. The three continued on as if nothing had happened. Chris watched them go, and though normally he would have felt the surge of depression and anger, those emotions were absent now. He only felt confused. His brother and his brother's friends and no business around here; what were they doing?

 

Then Chris heard a soft laughter. He turned back to find that the boy was the source, his lips pulled back into a small grin and his eyes trained on Chris. This made him angrier than he had ever felt before (even that one time his brother and his brother's friends had smashed his guitar in the road and set it on fire, just because he had drawn little stars and flowers on the front).

 

Chris leaped forward, hands open and pressed against the boy's shoulders to push him backward. The boy stopped laughing instantly. He pushed Chris with greater force (Chris realized then that he would lose the fight, but he wasn't going to give up). Chris stumbled back a few steps.

 

They both went in again at the same time and clashed right in the middle. Chris had a hold of the boy's arms and was trying to push all of his weight onto the boy to knock him down. The boy was able to slide his hands over to Chris's abdomen and push him away – but Chris's hold was stronger than the boy (and Chris, for that matter) had reckoned, and as Chris fell to the ground, he brought the boy with him.

 

They struggled together for a while, flipping over one another several times in the process. At one point, the boy's closed hand flew and smacked Chris right in the nose (Guy would have pointed out that it wasn't easy to miss). Chris felt a slow but steady stream of blood run down toward his upper lip.

 

In what must have been a stroke of luck, Chris managed to knee the boy in the stomach (it has been a complete accident) and took the opportunity to claim the upper hand position. He straddled the boy's waist, and suddenly everything seemed to stop. The boy, quietly moaning in agony with eyes closed, seemed to surrender. Chris wasn't sure if he had lost the fight or won, if anyone had won, or if it was just a tie of sorts.

 

He stared down at the boy, still moaning, and he struggled to push aside thoughts about things he preferred not to think about...

 

 

 

 

Chris coughed to bring himself back. It was not all right to think about strangers like that, especially when they were still sitting so close and could at any minute look up and just know what he was thinking (Chris's motto in life: Don't think things you wouldn't say or do, because you never know who can read minds).

 

But the cough startled the stranger, the boy, and Chris saw the jerk in the boy's arms as he lifted his head from his knees and looked at Chris for the first time. Chris kept his thoughts clean.

 

“Huh?” the boy said, obviously an involuntary reaction.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Chris said. “I was just coughing.”

 

“I think you gave me a heart attack.” The boy put his hand on his chest and took a deep breath. “I didn't expect anyone else to be under here.”

 

Chris smiled what he hoped was an apologetic smile. “Well, I'm just waiting out the storm.”

 

The boy sat back a bit, calmer now. He smiled back. “Me too.”

 

Chris watched the boy for a few moments, that constricting feeling in his chest making another appearance. The rain pounded the ground outside of their shelter, and the thunder sounded once more. Chris let his bike rest against one of the bridge supports, and he took a seat next to the boy.

 

“Actually,” Chris started, “I was riding my bike to get away from my brother.”

 

“What'd he do?” the boy asked.

 

“Nothing, really. He and his friends make fun of me a lot.”

 

“Oh.” The boy told Chris about how he and his older brother used to fight when they were younger, but have since been able to get along quite nicely. He said that it might have been due to their closeness in age, but Chris informed the boy that his own brother was only a year younger. Age might not have had anything to do with it.

 

“I think my brother has hated me ever since I accidentally spilled orange soda on his N64,” Chris said. “His friends always hated me. They're vile.”

 

Then Chris told the story of the smashed and burnt guitar, as it had been one of the first few encounters he ever had with his brother's friends. Chris's brother had taken the guitar in the first place. Will was the one who suggested smashing it (though he hadn't sounded too serious about it). Guy lit it on fire without hesitation and then chucked part of the neck at Chris as he ran back into the house.

 

“Have you told anyone?” the boy asked Chris. Chris assumed he meant about the situation in general, but why would Chris tell anyone? It would only give them more reason to tease him.

 

“Apart from you, no,” Chris said. He had a brief thought that he liked talking to this boy very much, that if he was going to tell these stories to anyone, it would certainly be this boy (and he kept this thought right where the boy could easily read it, just in case). With more of a desire to establish a friendship than a desire to change the subject, he asked, “What's your name?”

 

“Jonny,” the boy answered. Chris went wide-eyed.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Do you want to see my birth certificate?” the boy quipped. Something about this response make Chris's stomach flutter. It would have been totally understandable if the boy had been confused by or angry at Chris's outburst (after all, the way Chris shouted it could have been insulting to some), but instead he chose to joke about it. Chris smiled widely.

 

“No,” he said. “I'm Chris.”

 

And thus, Chris thought, the friendship was established.

 

 

[coldplayer#16]

Oh, hello persons of the fanfic thread. So, remember when I wrote that one fic, Newbie? You don't? Well, if you haven't, here's a bit of a refresher:

 

Part 1

 

Part 2

 

And now:

 

Newbie - part 3

 

 

 

"Chris, wait!!" I yelled, running after him.

 

"Oh c'mon, Jonny, please?" he said, turning back down the stairs.

 

"Do you want to stay, Jon?" my mum asked, a puzzled look on her face.

 

"Well, kinda, I'd like to," I admitted, "I mean, I'd like to talk more with Chris and-"

 

"It's fine with me," my mum cut in, but I think since the Martins have just moved in and all, maybe we should give them some space."

 

"But mum, I-"

 

"No buts," she said, a stern look in her eye, "Now, Alison, I don't mean to be rude but I think-"

 

"I think it's a splendid idea," Chris' mum said, "I don't mind that we just moved in, this wouldn't be the first time this has happened. Whenever we move we've had a neighbor who wanted to stay and chat and they've stayed for dinner. It was always and adult though and I think Chris should have his turn to have a guest for dinner."

 

"Mum . . ." Chris said, whining almost with embarrassment. I couldn't help but laugh at the idea, and a small giggle escaped my lips. Chris glared at me and I covered my mouth, but I was still smiling. Chris just rolled his eyes at me.

 

"Well, I guess, if it's okay with you then who ami to say no?" my mum said. My hand fell to my side and my smile disappeared. My jaw dropped with disbelief at what my mother had just said. She looked over at me and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

 

"Who are you and what have you done with my mother?" I asked, not thinking.

 

My mum laughed, "You're a riot, Jonathan, but just mind your manner and don't do anything too silly. We're right next door if you need anything." My mum smiled and lookedover to Mrs. Martin, "If he's any trouble, just say the word and-"

 

"Oh quit it," Mrs. Martin said, "the joke's gone on and is over, I'm sure Jonny will be on his best behavior." Chris smirked and had his blue eyes locked onto me, which made me sink a bit and blush.

 

"I will be," I said, "I'll be over by 8, okay mum"

 

"Hang out as long as you want, just be home by 9." my mum said. She smiled and said thank you to Mrs. Martin, reminded me to be on my best behavior, and then left.

 

"That took way too long," I muttered.

 

"It's what we do, Jon," Mrs. Martin said, "embarrassing our kids is part of the job description."

 

"Right." I could see where Chris got his sparatic and random nature from, his mother was definitely part of it. However, her hair was a deep brown, like Claire had, but her eyes were the same piercing blue that Chris had.

 

"Why are you two still here?" Mrs. Martin said, "Go back to whatever you two were doing, since you both seemed so intent on whatever it was."

 

"Just guy talk, mum," Chris said, taking my wrist, "We'll be upstairs."

 

"Okay." Mrs.Martin returned to finishing up dinner and Chris bolted back up the steps. He swung his bedroom door open, dragging me in with him. He let my wrist go, swun around to one of the boxes that was half way unpacked.

 

"Where is it, where is it, where is it . . ." Chris muttered, digging through the newspaper packing and random objects. It took him a second and then he smiled, "Gottcha!" He pulled out a sign and grabbed a thumb-tack off of his nightstand. Why he had them there, I don't know, but he hung the signon the outside of the door and swung it shut. He locked the door and fell onto the bed.

 

"What was th-"

 

"Keep Out sign," Chris said, cutting me off, "My little siblings have a habit of walking in on me, whether it be homework or . . . something else."

 

"And the sign doesn't always work?" I asked.

 

"Nope, since Claire can just read and Ethan . . . well, he's just him. He can read and all, he just doesn't listen to me."

 

"Typical little brother," I said, thinking about how Nick almost never listened to me.

 

"Yep." Chris sat on the bed for a second and then smirked. He got up and walked over to me, pinning me to the wall, "Now, where were we?" I smiled back at him and wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling his warm, soft lips press up to mine again.

 

[Viva_La_Coldplay]

-

[coldplayer#16]

I've been writing a lot, so I give you:

 

Coldplay in Wonderland

 

Chapter 1:

 

 

       

"I don't want to go!!" Tori yelled, being dragged by her wrist. Her mother was making her go out on an outing with her aunt and cousins, Alice and Grace, and she had to face her worst nightmare; wearing a dress.

 

"You don't have a choice," her mother said, "you're going with that pretty red dress whether you like it or not."

 

"Mother, please, NO!!" Tori yelled.

 

"Victoria, you're too old to do this!" her mother yelled, "Now, go get in there and get dressed!!"

 

"It's too early to even be up, let alone try to-"

 

"NOW!!"

 

"Yes mum."

 

Tori sulked off and found the dress, a nice red one with the ribbon around the waist, and then some nice black flats with white stockings. The girl detested the dress, or any dress with a passion. She threw a massive hissy fit, on every occasion, ever since she was little.

 

She got dressed and went down the steps to where her family were. Her father was out getting the car started while her mother and brother were waiting. Her brother was younger, age 10, and she was 16. Her behavior was bad, yes, but it was early and the dress thing . . . I think you can understand her behavior.

 

"Mother, it's 6:30 in the morning, must we leave so early?" Tori asked, "I apologize for my behavior, but this isn't my cup of tea."

 

"I accept your apology," her mother said, "and it's an hour drive to your aunt's house, we want to be there early and have some time before the celebrations begin. Besides, you look lovely."

 

"Yeah, you actually look like a girl!" Tori's brother laughed.

 

"Shut it, Liam," Tori snorted.

 

"Both of you, stop it!" their mother said, grabbing a red ribbon from her purse, "Come here, Tori."

 

"Yes mother." Tori walked over to her mother and turned around, her mother's fingers running through her short, wavy hair and pulling it back. She took the ribbon and tied a bow in the girl's hair and then there was the sound of the car horn blaring outside.

 

"I hate having to talk like this," Tori said, "Proper isn't my thing, and neither is this dress!"

 

"You were perfect inside, and now why did you have to ruin it?!" Liam asked, poking his sister.

 

"Oh, like you're a perfect little gentleman."

 

"I am!"

 

"Yeah right!"

 

"Victoria! Liam!" their mother scolded. The two glared at each other and turned away to face the window on their side of the car.

 

Time passed by and soon enough the family was at their destination, the Kingsly family house. And surely enough, even if it be present day, there was a heavy Victorian feel to everything. Everyone spoke in a very polite and different manner than usual, and it was alien to Tori.

 

"Welcome, cousins!!" Alice chimed. She was Liam's age, 10, and Grace was 13. The kids went off to play in the garden while Tori went off and explored on her own. She took step after slow step, admiring all the flowers and then saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a rabbit, white fur, but the top of his he was was a dirty blond color and he had a gray vest on, a gold pocket watch strapped around him.

 

"And who are you?" Tori asked, bending down to the rabbit's level, "Are you going to lead me to Wonderland or something?"

 

The rabbit's nose just twitched as his big blue eyes were fixated on the girl. Then he nodded, bouncing deep into the garden. Tori looked shocked, and chased after the rabbit to make sure she wasn't seeing things. She was able to catch up to the rabbit as he entered through a hole by a big tree, his den probably.

 

"This is too weird," Tori whispered to herself, "Is someone trying to pull some sort of joke or something?!"

 

That's when a man appeared out of the hole, dirt on his cheeks and his hair a dirty blond. His hair was pulled back into a small pony tail, and he had big, floppy, white rabbit ears on his head. Tori stared at him in disbelief.

 

The man pulled a gold pocket watch out of and opened it, eyes building when he saw the time. He looked at the girl as he shut the watch and put it away, "Have you not read the book?" he asked, "or are you just dull?" Tori stared at him, eyes wide, mouth open. The man narrowed his eye and sighed, "Leave your mouth open like that you'll catch flies," he grabbed the girl by the wrists, "come along!" He jumped and fell down, taking Tori with him, and down and down they fell.

 

 

EDIT: Part 2

 

 

The two landed, not in the room with the bitter syrup and cake like in the original story, but in the woods. The rabbit fell first, breaking Tori's fall. He coughed and sat up, getting the girl off of him and making sure he was still able to see and function like normal. He sprang to his feet and brushed off his vest and pants.

 

Tori wasn't in quite as good a state, her vision was blurred by the dirt on her face and was trying to get up. She wiped off her face and her hand swung around and ended up on the rabbit's fluffy tail. The rabbit's ears shot up as Tori got her grip on his tail. She then tugged as hard as she could.

 

The rabbit let out an incredibly high scream and started hopping around. It was a natural reaction, and Tori watched him with an eye, the other one was still covered by dirt.

 

 

"What was that for?!" the rabbit yelled, his voice cracking.

 

"You ruined my dress and possibly my vision, not to mention dragged me down here for no reason!!" Tori said.

 

"You wouldn't come, so I had to make you."

 

"Who said you had to?"

 

"The Hatter," the rabbit said, "he also told me to be nice to you, which will be difficult at this point."

 

"Who said you had to listen to him?"

 

"You ask a lot of questions," the rabbit said, pulling out a hanky from his pocket, "hold still." He bent down to the girl's level and wiped away the dirt from her face and her eye, allowing her to see clearly. "Better?"

 

"Much," Tori said, "thanks."

 

The rabbit smiled and leaned in toward the girl, his nose rubbing up against hers, "Glad to hear." He backed off and helped her up, "Name's Chris."

 

"Tori," the girl said, "Now, where am I? And just what are you? Man-Rabbit?"

 

"It's a long story, I'll tell you later," he said, "anyway, we have to get to the Oracle!"

 

"Who?"

 

"Oh, sorry, um . . . You've read Alice in Wonderland, haven't you?"

 

"Yeah, but it's been a while."

 

"Well, this is kinda like Wonderland, very similar, but not quite what you know. And the Oracle . . . well, she's basically The Caterpillar, only she's not a he."

 

"Right . . . " Tori said, "Does she still smoke opium?"

 

"Sadly yes," Chris said, taking the girl's hand, "come along, she's not too far from here."

 

"Okay? Is she going to tell us to go to The Hatter?"

 

"Again, you ask a lot of questions," Chris said, "and probably."

 

[The Doctor]

[size"4"]Hot, hotter, hottest[/size]

 

 

Chris’ POV

 

For some strange reason, I guess the fact that neither Jonny or I can handle a canoe, we arrived almost 2 hours later than the others at the camping place. Everybody was already settled and lying in the late sunlight or playing soccer. While we were just swimming next to our canoe and trying not to get it down again.

“Guys? Is there somebody who wants to help us?”

“Why should we help you two? It’s much more fun watching you guys swimming next your canoe and trying to let it not sink.”

“Oh please, we’re tired of pushing this boat.”

The boat made a bit of a turn and I heard Jonny yelling:

“Hey Cel! Do you mind putting your shirt of and jumping in the water and help us?”

Cel had a well-if-I—really-have-to-look on his face and jumped in the water. A few moments later there were two other splonges and I saw Fran and Phil swimming to us.

“Thanks guys,” mumbled I.

“Naah,we just want to help or maybe rescue our friends.” Phil said.

Together we got our boat, which was upside down since an hour or something, out of the water. When we had all our wet stuff and the water out, almost another hour was passed. I was quite annoyed that the leaders didn’t even ask if we were alright since Jonny was shivering a lot. I went to him with a towel Phil had given me and hung it around his shoulders.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Sure? You don’t look like you are actually.”

He gave me a slight annoyed look that suddenly turned into some bright green eyes that stared at me.

“You are richt, I’m actually not feeling well.”

“What can I do?”

Jonny came closer to me and laid his head on my shoulder.

“Staying where you are and being yourself.”

I looked at him with amazement. Did he really just said that I had to be myself? I can’t tell him what I feel for him can I? Don’t think so. Not knowing what I had to do, I just threw my arm around him and started to tap slightly with my fingers on his covert arm. He moved a bit and I felt his breath in my neck.

“So, apparently I’m not the only one who’s thinking about us?”

I tried to see his face.

“What do you mean?”

“That..

Well I, euhh

I like you.”

“But?”

“Everyone says that you’re gay.”

“And is that bad?” My fingers stopped tapping.

“No, but is it true?”

“What would you do if I am?”

Jonny sat up and looked at me with big eyes.

“So it’s true or what?”

I took my arm away and looked in that pair of green eyes before I stood up and went away from the campfire and all the others. I had to think a bit about what just happened.

So, it looks like everybody knows that I am guy. Fine for me then I don’t have to tell it anymore, but I don’t like it that they don’t tell me that they think it. It makes things even worse I think. Maybe now when I want to talk with only Jonny they’ll think all other things, but is that important?

So deep in thoughts I didn’t hear the footsteps that were coming behind me.

 

 

[coldplayer#16]

Coldplay in Wonderland

 

Part 3:

 

 

The Oracle was just like The Caterpillar, only the opium was worse, you could barely make her out. You could just tell that she was pink instead of blue, and she did just what Tori had anticipated. She sent them to the Hatter, and just like in the book, he's a mad man.

 

"Where is the Hatter's tea party then?" Tori asked.

 

"Tea party?" Chris laughed, "I said this place was like Wonderland, not an exact copy!"

 

"Well then how do we find him? What's he got instead of a tea party?"

 

"A guitar. He makes the strangest music, I tell you, but it's beautiful."

 

"Right' but does he have a-" Tori stopped dead, she saw a smile in front of her, and nothing else but.

 

"Hello!" said the face, and Tori screamed, running behind Chris.

 

"WHAT IS THAT THING?!" she yelled.

 

"Hey Phil," Chris said, "and you're not funny."

 

The face laughed and disappeared, reappearing right by Tori, "BOO!" Tori yelped and went to Chris's side, her arms around him and she started shaking.

 

"Cut it out!" Chris said, raising a fist and dropping it down as hard as he could, bopping the invisible person's head.

 

The person fell to the ground with a thud, and his body finally showed itself. He wore dark pants that cut off just below his knees, revealing pink socks and he wore black shoes. His shirt was black and he wore a vest that was pink. His tie was striped, pink and black. The man's skin was fair, and he was like Chris, only, he was a cat. His ears and tail were, to no surprise, pink.

 

"Got me once again, Christopher," the cat smirked, "off to see your boyfriend?"

 

"Shut up," Chris said, "and he's not my-"

 

The cat disappeared and was suddenly in front of Chris, "Why'd I see you kissing him, then?"

 

"You're mad, Phil," Chris said.

 

"So is your sweetie!"

 

"He's not my boyfriend, you flying asshole!!"

 

"Oh, I don't fly, you fool," the cat said, "I float and evaporate."

 

"Whatever it is, I don't care, just let us through!!"

 

"Why should I?"

 

"The Oracle sent us!!"

 

Phil's eyes widened, "Why didn't you say so?!" The cat grabbed the girl by the shoulders, "I can get you there in a jiffy."

 

Chris took Tori from Phil, his arms wrapping around her, "Just get us there if you're going give us a lift."

 

"Fine, fine," the cat said, an arm wrapping around Chris' and Tori's shoulders, "Hold tight." Phil disappeared and took Tori and Chris along with him, and then they were off to see the Hatter.

 

 

Part 4:

 

 

 

The trio were there in the blink of an eye, and the Hatter was nowhere to be seen. Phil went to go look, calling for him, and Chris did the same. Poor Tori stood there, confused, scared, and feeling slightly sick. Chris turned and saw the girl, standing stiff as a board, eyes wide and looking green around the gills.

 

He walked over to her and waved a hand in front of her face, "Anyone in there?" Tori nodded slowly but was still stiff as a board.

 

Chris thought for a minute, and then it hit him, "Oh, that was your first time going with Phil, the whole evaporating thing, wasn't it?"

 

Tori nodded at him again, but not as slow this time. Chris gave her a smile and leaned into her, rubbing his nose up to hers again, "It's fine, you'll get over it."

 

Tori began giggling, and she began to loosen up, "Cut it out!"

 

Chris just smiled, "Works every time."

 

"What does?" Tori asked.

 

"Nothing, oh nothing," Chris said. He turned and walked around, "Hatter?! Where are you?!"

 

Tori ran up to him and hugged Chris from behind, "I'm sorry about earlier."

 

Chris' ears were up in surprise, "You're what?"

 

"Sorry, I mean, for grabbing your tail and being so short."

 

Chris laughed, "Don't worry about it!" He turned and hugged her, "You're too tense!"

 

"I- I am?"

 

"Yes, you need to relax a bit," Chris said, nuzzling the girl, "Smile!"

 

Tori began giggling again, "St-st-stop! That tickles!!"

    

Chris smiled and didn't give it up, at least not until Phil grabbed the back of his collar, "That's enough kisses, lover boy."

 

"Kisses?" Tori asked.

 

"Can't you tell when a rabbit's giving you kisses?" Phil asked, a surprised look on his face.

 

"I guess she can't," came a voice, "and he was just trying to make her feel better."

 

"Hatter!!" Chris cried, jumping to the voice. Tori turned and saw Chris standing in front of a man with a mix-mash of colored clothing on, his top hat red and looking like it was made of carpet, his jacket an odd green, and his skin was pale with big, green eyes.

 

"Now, who have we here?"

 

[coldplayer#16]

Coldplay in Wonderland

 

Part 5

 

 

 

"She's Tori," Chris explained, "our 'Alice'."

        

"'Alice'?" Tori looked confused, "That's my cousin, and if you were looking for her I can-"

        

"Yes, yes, that's good and such," the Hatter cut in, pulling out a tape measure from his coat pocket, "spread your arms."

        

"My wha?"

       

"Your arms child! Are you deaf, spread 'em! Like a bird!!"

        

Tori did and stood at attention for the Hatter. He took the tape measure and spread across her arms, then around her waist and then her side. The Hatter smiled and rolled up the measure, putting it back in his pocket, "Should be easy enough."

        

"What should be?" Tori asked.

        

"Allow me," Chris said, "you carry on with what you do best, Jon."

The Hatter smiled and went to gather fabric from the messy shelves, "Thank you, Chris."

 

"Now then," the rabbit said, "you know from the story the Hatter is . . . mad, right?"

 

"Yes, I remember that very well," Tori said, "but where's the March Hare?"

 

"You're looking at him," Chris said, "I take on both the roles of the White Rabbit and March Hare."

 

"Are you mad too?"

 

"In more ways than one," Phil said.

 

"Oh hush, you're no better, you crazy cat!" Chris spat, "Anyway, I am, yes, but 

not as bad as you think."

 

"Okay?"

 

"Look, what I was getting at was our Hatter, Jon, he's not just a hatter."

 

"I tailor and am a musician!" the Hatter sang, working on some sort of new creation."

 

"Yep," Chris said, "and he's also the reason Phil and I are like this."

 

"Half man, half animal?" Tori asked.

 

"Correct," Phil said, "an experiment gone wrong."

 

"Mostly right!" the Hatter protested, "You two were almost perfect!!"

 

"Minus the ears and tail!" Phil snapped.

 

"Cats," the Hatter muttered, "unhappy creatures, I tell you, never happy."

 

"There's still one thing I want to know," Tori said, pointing to Chris, "and that's why you were giving me kisses or whatever it was!"

Chris' ears shot up in surprise, and the Hatter walked over to the two, "It's not the same as you're thinking of it, my dear girl."

 

"It's not?"

 

"No, no, not quite the same." The Hatter put an arm around Chris' shoulder and turned the other man's head to face him, "Now, if I were to do this," he said, rubbing his nose against Chris's, "it's just a sign of affection, meant to be comforting, you know?"

 

Chris was blushing now, but Tori smiled and nodded, "Okay, so-"

 

"He meant nothing more than to get a smile out of you!" The Hatter said, "And it worked, didn't it?"

 

Tori laughed, "Yeah, it did!"

 

"Right, but if I were to do this," the Hatter said, pressing his lips to the rabbit's, "completely different, right?"

 

Tori stood there wide eyed, "I- I guess so."

 

"I KNEW IT!!" Phil exclaimed, "I knew you two were sweet on each other I knew it!!"

 

"Shut up," Chris said, blushing a deep red now, "stupid cat."

 

"Like you know the first thing about love, Philip," the Hatter said, "I was just demonstrating."

 

"You kissed him, and that isn't the first time, I know it!!"

 

"And if it's not?" the Hatter asked, "it needn't be any of your business what mine and Chris's relationship is, you've been snooping."

 

"So what if I have?" Phil asked.

 

The Hatter and Phil carried on their bickering, and Tori watched with curiosity. She turned her eyes away and saw Chris sitting in one of the chairs at the crowded table, pouting. Tori walked over and took the seat next to him.

 

"What's wrong?" she asked.

 

"The Hatter, that's all. I know he's mad but-"

 

"Are you really upset about that?"

 

"Not upset," the rabbit said, his head landing on the table, "embarrassed."

        

Tori smiled and moved over toward the rabbit, "Don't be, I know he was just explaining. I didn't mean to sound to harsh before."

        

"Thanks."

        

"Get up," Tori said, poking the rabbit's side.

        

"No." Chris said.

        

"Get up!"

        

"No!"

        

"I'm trying to be nice, please?"

        

Chris sighed and sat up, "What is it, what is it that you want to say?" Tori smiled and hugged him. The rabbit looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, "You humans are weird." Tori just held onto him, and Chris finally put his arms around her, "Are you actually going to say anything or not?"

        

Tori looked up and smiled at him, and Chris just looked at her, puzzled. Tori reached up and let her nose brush up against the rabbit's a few times, "I'm sorry?"

        

Chris just looked at her, a slight blush resting on his cheeks, but he laughed, "That was really weak."

        

"Sorry, I've just-"

        

"Relax," Chris said, nuzzling the girl, "I understand you've probably never done that before."

Tori began giggling again, "N-not really, n-no!" She began laughing, and the Hatter and Phil took notice. Chris was laughing too, he'd stopped, but Tori kept giggling.

        

"That's the thing I'll never understand about a rabbit," the Hatter said.

        

"What's that?" Phil asked.

        

"Nuzzling, I know it's something he does but . . . it just . . . it has an odd effect on a person."

        

"Lots of animals nuzzle up to each other to show affection, Jon."

        

"I know, I know, it's just when a rabbit does, you can help but laugh. Even when they've stopped, you keep giggling. I mean, look at her, perfect example."

        

"I think Chris is over doing it," Phil said, folding his arms.

        

"I do too," the Hatter admitted, "but she is new here, and I'm sure it must be scary for her."

        

"You have a point." Phil unfolded his arms and was going to break the two apart, but the Hatter tugged lightly at his tail.

        

"Leave them be," he said, "this is the longest I've seen Chris laugh in a long time."

 

 

EDIT: Part 6:

 

 

 

"Chris, stop it!!" Tori protested, feeling the rabbit's nose against her cheek again.

        

"Listen to you!" Chris laughed, "nothing but giggles! It's cute!"

        

Tori kept laughing, and the Hatter smiled, "Alright you two!"

       

 Chris turned to see the Hatter and Phil smiling at them, and his ears were up right in surprise. The rabbit flushed in embarrassment, but Tori was still busy getting over her giggles. She calmed down to just a smile when things finally hit her.

        

"Oh God . . ." she muttered. Tori's head hit the table, "What have I been doing?!"

        

"What do you mean?" Chris asked.

        

"Chris," the Hatter said, "let me. Tori?"

        

"I'm so stupid!" Tori cried.

        

"It's okay, you know? Chris is right, it was cute, besides, he's like a big pet bunny."

        

"I'm what?!" Chris yelled.

        

"No he's not!" Tori said, "He's part man! A man much older than I am . . ."

        

"Child, you forget you're with mad men, literally, bonkers," the Hatter said, "we don't care, and neither should you!"

        

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked, "we were just playing around!"

        

"It's a human thing," Phil said.

        

"Oh."

        

"Yes, well, c'mon, get up," the Hatter said, how about a nice cuppa?"

        

"Tea, that sounds pretty good right about now," Tori said, "yes, please."

        

"I'll put the kettle on," Phil said, disappearing.

        

"I'll find the tea," the Hatter said.

        

Once Chris was sure the Hatter was out of sight, he moved to Tori, "What's suddenly gotten into you?"

        

"It's nothing, I know I must be acting very odd by your standards but-"

        

"But nothing!" Chris said, "You change your mood to much!!"

        

"What?"

        

"Where are those giggles I was hearing just a minute ago, that happy smile on your face, the brightness in your cheeks? Gone! Why?!"

        

"It's just . . . something we humans do, Chris."

        

". . . Humans are weird."

        

Tori laughed, "So you've said."

        

Chris smiled and thought a moment, then he poked the girl's side, "Get up!"

        

"Why?"

        

"Just get up!"

        

"Alright, alright," Tori laughed, "what is it?"

 

Chis smiled and started nuzzling her again, "Where's that smile?"

 

"Chris, please!"

 

"I'm not stopping 'til I see that smile!"

 

Tori began giggling again, "Pl-please! Cut it out!" She was laughing again. Chris stopped and was laughing now too.

 

"That's what I wanted to see!"

 

"How long are you gonna keep buttering me up?"

 

"What?" The rabbit looked confused, and Tori just rolled her eyes. She got up and sat on her heels, facing Chris.

 

"You keep nuzzling me or . . . whatever it is you do. Why?"

 

Chris shrugged, "You're laughing, aren't you?"

 

"Well, yes but-"

 

"Then why complain?" he asked, leaning in to her, "You act like being happy is a bad thing."

 

Tori smiled and took advantage of the situation, letting her nose rub up against his, 

"I don't mean to make it seem that way."

 

Chris laughed, "You're getting better already!"

 

"Am I?" Tori asked, backing away and sitting back on her heels.

 

Chris smiled and rubbed his nose to hers again, "Yes, you are." He looked at her and laughed, "Lets get you washed up."

 

Tori's eyes widened, "Speak for yourself!!" she laughed.

 

"C'mon you," Chris  said, getting down from his chair and offering the girl his hand. Tori smiled and took it, letting him lead the way.

 

[coldplayer#16]

Coldplay in Wonderland

 

Part 7

 

 

I'll be slower with posting now, sorry for bothering you so much :sweatdrop:

 

Moving on, let's start the chapter!:

 

Tori was amazed at how big the Hatter's home was, and how many odd things there were. They were all fascinating!! However, the trip to the bathroom was short and soon enough Chris had a flannel in his hands and was running it under that water. One thing Tori had noticed was, for a rabbit, Chris was rather tall, as were the Hatter and Phil. Or was it maybe that she was shrinking? She hadn't eaten or had a single thing to drink, so why would she? Tori became so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't see Chris offering her a flannel, nor did she notice his hand under her chin, at least not until the flannel hit her cheek. The cool water scared her and snapped her back to normal.

 

 

"A little out of it are we?" Chris said, running the flannel underneath warmer water, "here."

 

 

"Thank you," Tori said. She went to wiping off her face, which still had plenty of dirt on it. The dirt was quick to come off, not bad at all, and she moved onto her arms. The dress had short sleeves, so her arms had plenty of dirt on them too. Chris was busy doing the same, getting the dirt off of white fur wasn't so easy though, he tried his best and got as much dirt out as possible, and then the Hatter called from downstairs.

 

 

"Chris, you better not be up to anything!!" he called.

 

 

"Oh that man!" Chris moaned, "Bring a girl here and the only thing he can do is pick on me!" Tori looked at him, confused, but Chris just left the bathroom, flannel over the sink, so she did the same and followed him back to the table.

 

 

"Come, come," the Hatter encouraged, "I promise I won't try anything."

 

 

"You know you can't do that," Chris said, taking his place.

 

 

". . . True, I can't!!" the Hatter laughed, skipping to his seat.

 

 

"You've been oddly well-behaved, Jonathan," Phil said, "why?"

 

 

Chris laughed at that, "Wrong!!"

 

 

"I have been!" the Hatter said, "and I've been trying to, honest!"

 

"It's paid off," Tori said, "I was expecting worse."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

 

"She's referring to the book, J," Chris explained, "That hatter is worse than you."

 

"Not by much," Phil said.

 

Tori let the men bicker, she poured herself a cup of tea and fixed it as best she could. Things were so odd in this world, so strange, but she tried the tea at least. It was a very bitter flavor, and Tori shot the cup away from her mouth and began coughing.

 

"Hatter, did you do something to the tea?" Chris asked, seeing Tori having a fit now.

 

"No, don't think so," the Hatter said.

 

Tori hiccuped, feeling her body shrink. It happened again and again, and she shrunk.

 

"Hatter!!" Chris yelled.

 

"I know, I know," he said, digging in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a sucker, and just in time, Tori was awfully small now, Her dress was very big on her, her shoes had fallen to the floor and her socks were massive. Her hiccups didn't stop, but she stopped shrinking.

 

"Is she okay?!" Chris asked, slightly confused as to what was going on.

 

"She's fine," the Hatter said, "I anticipated this, and that's why I took her measurements."

 

"Huh?"

 

The Hatter picked up Tori from her chair and put her over his shoulder, "She's younger, Chris, about four years old."

 

"What was in that tea?" Phil wondered.

 

"I dunno," the Hatter said, "But she's little now, so, a smaller dress is in order. Again, lucky me, I took her measurements."

 

"Hatter, that's when she was-"

 

"I know what I'm going, fools!" the Hatter snapped, reaching over by his sewing machine, "here it is!"

 

"A new dress?" Tori asked.

 

"God no!!" the Hatter said, "I saw how much you hated that thing, I'm no fool, so I fashioned these." The Hatter pulled out a shirt and pants that fit the girl perfectly, even in her little form. "They should stretch and fit to you, no matter how you change," the Hatter said, pulling off the girl's socks.

 

Tori smiled, "Thank you."

 

"Of course, my dear." The Hatter smiled, but looking at the girl, his look changed to a pensive one. He reached behind the girl's hair and undid the ribbon from her hair, "Much better. Now," the Hatter said, picking up the little girl, let's get you changed." The Hatter took the girl into the other room while Chris and Phil were alone at the table.

 

"I'm not drinking this," Phil said, "I don't trust it after that."

 

"Same," Chris said.

 

"Alright," the Hatter said, "Don't think of me as a creep or anything, but-"

 

"You're the Mad Hatter, you'll forget this anyway, won't you?" Tori asked, her big eyes looking up at the man innocently.

 

"Yep," the Hatter laughed, "Probably, besides, you're little now anyway. Not like I never saw my sister running around the house without a dress as a kid."

 

"You have siblings?" Tori asked.

 

"I'm like you, from the surface," The Hatter explained, replacing the girl's dress with the shirt, " I don't want to talk about it."

 

Tori just smiled at him, but then she yawned. This was a lot to take in for only about an hour's time, and all that had gone on was a lot to take in. So, the girl's brain shut her body down for a while, a nap would work. The Hatter smiled back and finished up with the trousers and socks, taking the little girl back out to the table.

 

"Chris," the Hatter said, "carry her upstairs, to your room, and let her have a nap."

 

"A nap?" Chris asked, confused.

 

"Just please, do as I ask, I'll explain everything later."

 

"Alright." Chris said, walking over to the small girl. He picked her up and put her over his shoulder, like he'd seen the Hatter do, and Tori curled right into him. He was warm and soft, something that any little kid would cling to. Tori yawned again and nuzzled herself into Chris' neck, letting herself drift off.

 

"Hatter . . . " Chris said, slightly worried.

 

"That's normal," the Hatter said, "off you go!"

 

Chris was uneasy about the whole thing, but Tori was comfortable. She figured that since she was so small, it was okay to be kind of cute and cuddly with the rabbit. Tori lifted off of his shoulders and smiled at him.

 

"What?" Chris said, looking confused.

 

"Thanks," the girl said, rubbing her nose against his.

 

"For what?" Chris asked, blushing.

 

"For staying mostly sane, and being nice to me."

 

"No need to thanks me for that," Chris said, smiling, "why wouldn't I be?"

 

Tori put her head back on the rabbit's shoulder, "I dunno, I can't say much for the Hatter, but Phil seems rather bitter."

 

Chris laughed, opening one of the doors in the big hall, "He's rough around the edges, but he's not so bad."

 

"Mmmm . . ."

 

"Tori?"

 

The girl yawned and curled up in the rabbit's arms. Chris felt odd, he knew he shouldn't have been nuzzling her as much as he did, or at all even, but the fact that Tori had done the same was alien to him. And now, with this cute and innocent look about her . . . Why was she acting this way? Chris' thoughts were cut off short, he felt the little girl come off his shoulder again and she was staring at him.

 

"What's running through your mind, you keep fidgeting."

 

"Sorry," Chris said, "just a little out of it. . . . More than normal."

 

Tori laughed and let out another yawn, rubbing one of her eyes, "The Hatter said to go to your room?"

 

"Oh right," Chris said, "Despite there being so many rooms, the Hatter's room is off limits, Phil just kinda finds a place to sleep and my room . . . God, I feel like this hall keeps changing on me!"

 

"Does it?"

 

"Sometimes."

 

"How odd."

 

"Mad Hatter and a house to match," Chris said, opening another door, "here we are!" Tori looked around and it actually seemed like a pretty normal room, the furniture was a little odd, but then again so was everything in the house. She yawned again and rubbed both eyes, and Chris just smiled, nuzzling her again, "Why are you so sleepy?" Tori giggled and hugged him. She didn't really give him an answer, and Chris knew he wouldn't get one.

 

"Right well," he said, putting the girl down on the bed, "you stay here and the Hatter will probably come get you when you're up, okay?"

 

"Why can't it be you?" Tori asked.

 

"The Hatter's better at telling when someone's awake, not to mention quicker on his feet."

 

"How does that work?" the girl laughed.

 

"I dunno, he's just fast!" Tori just smiled at him, and Chris gave her a weak smile back, "Why have you taken a liking to me?"

 

Tori looked surprised, but her eyes sank and she yawned again, "I dunno, you were the first person I met here and the only one I really know . . . sort of."

 

Chris smiled at her, "Whatever," he nuzzled her again, "get some sleep, I'll stop with my silly questions." Tori laughed and hugged him again, her short arms could only get around his neck. Chris smiled and out an arm around her, "I thought you were tired."

 

Tori smiled and kissed his cheek, her head hitting the pillow and drifting off. Chris was stunned, his ears were upright and eyebrows raised. He shook his head and looked down at the little girl sleeping in front of him.

 

"Curse my gentle nature," Chris sighed, not knowing what to think. He pulled a blanket over Tori and looked around. He hugged her and lightly kissed her forehead, which caused the girl to stir a bit. Chris nuzzled her and the girl let out a soft laugh, rolling over and curling up with the blanket.

 

"You'd make a good dad," Chris heard from behind him.

 

"You know perfectly well I won't be able to have bunnies with someone else, Jon," Chris said, "why are you bringing it up at a time like this?"

 

"You're cute, you know?"

 

"So what?"

 

"I'm just saying," the Hatter smiled, "come, I have quite a bit to explain to you."

 

[coldplayisawesome]

The Window of Opportunity

 

 

 

(Jonny's POV)

 

Oh, yes, how my face grows red when so intently he stares in my direction. I don't even know what he's looking at – is it me? – or why, but I can sense his gaze and for some reason it embarrasses me. I'll bet he's not even looking at me. If I were him, I wouldn't look at me, either.

 

But, of course, I'm not him. He's far more outgoing, far more open to other people than my shy self. Perhaps that's why I become so embarrassed when he looks over this way; I feel too exposed. I can't tell whether or not he's actually watching me (I sit right beside the window, last class of the day), but I can tell he's searching for something, and I don't want him to find it in me. Or maybe it's something I don't have at all; I don't even want him to bother looking. I hate to disappoint.

 

 

So, when the bell rings and he heads toward the window – toward the opposite direction of the door, toward me – I lock up, sit with my hands clasped on my desk and hope that I blend in well enough with the chair and desk. I keep my eyes forward, but through my peripheral vision I can see him approach.

 

He is indisputably looking at me now. He is staring, gazing, eying, watching. Waiting.

 

I'm not gonna say anything. I'm not gonna say anything. I'm gonna keep my eyes forward and my hands clasped and I'm not going to say one word.

 

And neither is he.

 

So, in the silence, I wonder, Is it a staring contest if the participants are not actually making eye contact? Because I'm not looking back at him, but neither one of us has blinked in about a minute. Everyone else has left the room, including the teacher, and I should really be on my way to my locker and on my way home, but if I get up now his eyes are just going to follow me and there will be no way I can pretend he's just looking out the window. (I know I said 'indisputably' before, but he really could be looking just enough to the left or right of my head to qualify as staring out the window. He really could.)

 

But there's only so much I can take, you know? I put up these walls around myself, but he seems to have come equipped with a sledgehammer and there is almost no protection left against his powerful gaze. So I start to crack.

 

It starts with one tiny whimper. A sort of I really want to go home now whine, just barely audible even in the quiet room. And I realize then just how ridiculous this all is. Why haven't we said anything yet? Sure, there is a window a few feet to my left, but he definitely came over here to look at me, and I know for a fact that I have already acknowledged this. I can pretend all I want, but I really would have to be completely daft to not understand that he is staring at me. So, I know he's staring at me, and he has to know that I know, and yet not one of us has uttered a single word or word-like noise apart from the tiny squeak that slipped from my throat.

 

“This is pointless,” I say.

 

“Is it?” He smiles, briefly, as if he's embarrassed about it. “What point would you like it to have?”

 

“You're the one who came over here.”

 

“Yeah. I know what point I'd like. I want to know what point you'd like.” His voice is so soft; he speaks as if he's in some sort of a trance (while staring at me?).

 

Another whimper escapes me. “I just want to go home.” And my eyebrows scrunch together, which is really not a comfortable facial expression at all, but nothing about this situation is comfortable. Not for me, anyway.

 

Chris, on the other hand, he seems to be enjoying this, enjoying my pain. I don't understand him at all. Why is he looking at me?

 

But his smile soon fades and he no longer seems to be taking any pleasure in watching me suffer. He bows his head and fiddles with his hands (a forfeit from our unofficial staring contest?).

 

“Sorry,” he says.

 

I know what he's doing. I know exactly what he's doing, what he's trying to get me to do, and I do it anyway. I glance over at him – not just with my eyes, but with my entire head – and I watch as he flicks his eyes up for a second to see how his plan worked. He almost smirks, but his lips fight hard against the twitch.

 

“Do I have to want a point? Can't we just get your point done and over with?”

 

He shrugs, keeps his head down. “You can leave whenever you want.” Thus ensuring that I won't be leaving any time soon. He really knows how to play this.

 

“You really know how to play this, don't you?” And it's obvious that even though he looks at me with such an innocent expression, he does know how to play this, because if he wasn't playing it, I never would have said that. I never would have said anything at all.

 

“I'm not – This isn't a game to me,” he says. “You're the one who's doing all of the pretending.”

 

Really, I can't argue with him. But I can try. “You came over here first and you didn't even say anything. You were trying to get me to talk first.”

 

“I came over here to look at you, which I did, and I think I did it rather conspicuously. You sat there and acted as if you couldn't tell that I was staring at you.”

 

“You could have been looking out the window,” I mumble, which earns a laugh from him. My entire face goes red.

 

“The great thing about that,” he says, a grin stretched wide across his face, “is that you actually believe it could be true.” He leans forward in his seat, and I resist the urge to cower back. “You don't think you could be more interesting to someone than a window?”

 

I don't have an answer for this. OK, well, I do, but it's not one that I'm going to say aloud, because right about now is the time I realize that he and I are slowly moving closer to each other and I really wish the teacher would come back and yell at us for staying so long past the bell, because this is really scary and my heart is beating faster than it probably should and my face feels like it's been shoved into a five-hundred degree oven and left to bake for an hour.

 

Time moves way too slowly, yet before I know it we're at the point where Chris's eyes start to flutter shut and I guess I should probably close my eyes, too, because what we're about to do – aghhhh – what we're about to do is kind of awkward when one or more parties have their eyes open. It's awkward enough right now as it is.

 

So, I close my eyes and almost instantly our lips meet. It feels weird, but not; weird like this is not what I expected to have happen at all when I woke up this morning and thought about what might happen during the day, but not-weird like this seems to be a good fit, his lips and mine, and I don't think I'll regret this when I look back on the day as I go to sleep tonight. Which, actually, is weird, because I've never kissed a boy before, never thought I would, and certainly never thought I wouldn't mind it.

 

But the truth is I actually like it, and I like the way Chris smiles as he pulls back (I couldn't keep my eyes closed when it ended; that would have been even more awkward), the way he doesn't meet my eyes after, but keeps his gaze trained on my lips, not looking with desire, but what appears to be awe (no, Chris, I can't believe it either).

 

“Point–” I start to say, but my voice cracks and I clear my throat to correct it. “Point made.”

 

“I don't know.” He shakes his head. “I think I could have been a little clearer.”

 

He raises his hand up and brushes his fingertips against my cheek. A little part of me still wonders if he really hadn't been staring out the window the entire time.

 

“Maybe we could try it again tomorrow,” he says. “I know you said you wanted to go home, and school did end about ten minutes ago, so.”

 

I'm not sure exactly what to say (his fingers are still pressed against my skin), so I don't say anything at all. I just watch Chris watch me, which is just as awkward as it sounds. He laughs again, shakes his head.

 

“You can put your walls up all you want, Jon, but it doesn't matter. You might be able to see a pretty picture through a window, but there's an entire room to be found behind a door.” He sits back and gives me this really smug grin. “Besides, I already kissed you. You can't just go back to pretending that you're not what I'm aiming for.”

 

“Well... what makes you so certain that I want you aiming for me?”

 

“You don't hide because you don't want people to find you. You hide, because you want there to be someone who cares enough to go looking.”

 

We maintain eye contact for a few moments longer, until he turns and grabs his books off the desk and stands up. He leans over me and presses a kiss to my forehead.

 

“I'll see you tomorrow.”

 

And I sit there, just watching as he starts to leave. This is what I wanted at first, for him to just stop paying attention to me, but now as I watch him go, I find myself detesting the very thought. I snatch my own books and bolt toward the door, where he already lingers, just about to leave the room.

 

“Wait!”

 

He stops immediately. He might have just been playing this again, but at this point I don't care. He steps outside the room just as I catch up so that we're not both trying to fit through the doorway at the same time. We start to head down the hallway, eerily empty now that classes have been over for a good fifteen minutes, and since I'm on his right carrying my books with my right arm and he's carrying his with his left, I decide to just swing my left arm a bit and magically our hands touch, fingers entwine, and I can't help feeling that maybe I am a little more interesting than a window.

 

 

[coldplayer#16]

Coldplay in Wonderland

 

Part 8

 

 

 

Forgive any typos . . . moving on:

 

The Hatter took Chris by the hand and led him down the hall, "You know why I asked you to bring her here, right?"

 

"Yes, I know," Chris sighed.

 

"And you know perfectly well how we can't just stay here and keep her as a guest," the Hatter took off his top hat and pulled out a letter, "we have work to do."

 

"Do we have to do this though? I mean, I-"

 

"People are suffering, you know that! We have to do this, and you know it!"

 

"But she's young!!"

 

"She's old enough!!" The Hatter snapped, his eyes flaring red from their usual green.

 

"Calm down, J," Chris said, "your eyes are-"

 

"I know," the Hatter said, looking down in embarrassment, "I just-"

 

"Shhh," Chris cut him off, "did you hear that?"

 

"Hear wha-"

 

"SHH!!"

 

The Hatter listened and Chris was right, there was a noise, foot steps, from inside Chris' room, "She's awake."

 

"Oh no, we must have-" there was a thud from inside, and Chris moved the Hatter aside and opened the door, "Tori?"

 

The girl was on the floor, she'd tripped and managed to hit her head on the dresser, "Oww~w."

 

Chris laughed, "You goof," he picked her up and sat her back on the bed, "why are you up? I thought you were tired."

 

"I am," the girl yawned, "I just can't sleep."

 

"Was it me and the Hatter?"

 

"Kinda . . ."

 

"Oh," Chris sank, "sorry."

 

"Child, what else is on your mind?" the Hatter asked from the doorway.

 

Tori looked at him, "Nothing, I just-"

 

"I know you're lying," he said, "I can read body language."

 

"Body language?" Chris asked, trying to wrap his mind around the idea.

 

"It's a human thing," the Hatter explained, walking over to the bed, "not to mention, a mad man knows all."

 

"How does that work?" Tori asked, rubbing an eye.

 

"It just does," the Hatter said, "now, what else is bugging you?" Tori looked up at him,

her eyes turning to the Rabbit.

 

"I'm not a mind reader," Chris said, "why're you looking at me?"

 

Tori sighed, "It's just strange."

 

"Here?" the Hatter asked, "I know it's odd but you get used to it."

 

"I meant being little again," Tori said, "I know sort of what to expect from here."

 

"Oh, well, you'll be back to normal in no time," the Hatter smiled, "I'm sure you'll be fine once you get up."

 

"You don't seem very mad," Tori said.

 

"I'm under my best behavior," the Hatter snarled, "believe me."

 

"He's right," Chris said, "buti think maybe we should leave?"

 

"Yes, yes," the Hatter said, taking off his hat, "I agree, just one quick thing," the Hatter reached his hand into the hat and dug around inside, "I know it's here somewhere . . ."

 

"Chris, what is he doing?" Tori asked.

 

"His hat is like a bag," Chris explained, "only bigger and . . . a hat. Don't worry, the storage bit is no where near his head, so it's nothing weird."

 

"Exactly right," the Hatter said, "which makes it very difficult to-" there was a snap and the Hatter stopped, his eyes swelled with tears.

 

"Mouse trap?" Chris asked.

 

"Worse," the Hatter muttered, "mini-bear trap."

 

Chris cringed, "I told you not to leave those in there!"

 

The Hatter pulled out his hand and saw his three fingers in the trap, "Cover her ears."

 

The Hatter inhaled and Chris pressed his hands up to Tori's ears, and the Hatter began swearing like the mad man that he was. He was screaming at the top of his lungs and bouncing about, trying to get the trap off of his fingers, but it didn't seem to be going well. Tori couldn't help but laugh, she could still hear him a little, and his movements and muffled voice were both very funny. She was laughing, and the Hatter only stopped when he smashed himself into the wall.

 

"Hatter?!" Chris ran over to him, the Hatter had slid down the wall so his cheek pressed up against it and his legs were the only things keeping him up. The Hatter's legs gave and he hit the floor.

 

"You thought that was funny?!" the Hatter snapped, "this really hurts!!"

 

"Sorry," Tori giggled, "I just-" Tori stopped and saw the mad man was smiling, "what's with the smirk?" The Hatter tried keeping himself, tried to talk, but he could only let out little peeps and giggles.

 

Chris put two and two together, "Wait, you were just-"

 

The Hatter burst out laughing, "You two are hilarious!!" The Hatter was rolling around on the floor now, his arms around his waist, "You- you actually thought that I was-" he couldn't control himself, he just kept laughing and laughing.

 

Chris rolled his eyes and got him up, "C'mon, let her sleep."

 

"A-alright," the Hatter said, calming down.

 

"I'll meet you downstairs, and for God's sake," the rabbit said, opening the trap, "leave these things closed if you're gonna have 'em in your hat!"

 

"Fine, fine," the Hatter said, shoving the trap back in his hat, "can't get someone to laugh, jeez." The Hatter flicked his hat up and it landed back on his head, just as it was before, and he walked out of the room.

 

"That man, I swear he's-"

 

"Fantastic!" Tori yelled, "He was just brilliant!"

 

Chris turned to her and laughed, "If that's what you wanna think."

 

"He's mad but he knows how to make someone feel better!" Tori laughed.

 

"Yeah, at his expense though."

 

"He's okay, right?"

 

"He'll be fine," Chris said, "I'm pretty sure that trap was just teething him anyway."

 

"Traps can do that?" Tori asked, looking at the rabbit wide-eyed.

 

"Here they can."

 

"Oh."

 

"How the heck did you manage to hit your head, that's my question."

 

"I dunno," Tori yawned, "I was half-asleep, you don't tend to see things straight and I just tripped and hit the dresser."

 

"You didn't hit to hard, did you?"

 

"You tell me," Tori said, pushing back her bangs, "is it red or bruising or . . . something?"

 

"It's a little red, but a small bruise will be the worst result."

 

"You sure?"

 

Chris smiled and kissed her forehead, "Possitive. Now, get some sleep."

 

Tori smiled and hugged the rabbit. She fell back onto the pillow and pulled the blanket over herself. Chris smiled and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

the rabbit turned and saw Phil standing directly in front of him, "You softy."

 

Chris blushed, "So what if I am?"

 

The cat held up a letter, "New orders from Will, because he wasn't clear enough before."

 

"With what? He was very specific!!"

 

"He forgot a few things," the cat snarled, "like how you shouldn't be clingy to a 16 year old girl."

 

"I-I'm not being clingy!!"

 

"Oh really?" the cat chimed, "Tucking her in, hugging her, nuzzling her," he leaned in toward Chris, "kissing her."

 

"It was on the forehead and that's it!!" Chris snapped.

 

"Uh huh, unless if I have it wrong, I'd say you were-" Phil didn't finish his sentence.

 

If there's one thing you should know about rabbits, it's to never, ever piss them off. You will get hurt. Chris dropped backward, landing on his back and rocking backward slightly. He propelled his legs forward and rammed the cat in the stomach, sending Phil flying across the long hallway.

 

"CHRISTOPHER!!" a voice called, "Get up you mad rabbit!"

 

"I'm sorry," Chris said, "I just . . . he pissed me off, Jon."

 

"I heard, I heard," the Hatter said, hugging the rabbit, "c'mon, I'll put the kettle back on, I think we all need a good cuppa."

 

[Viva_La_Coldplay]

-

[coldplayer#16]

Coldplay in Wonderland

 

Part 9

 

 

 

Again, forgive any typos . . . and now, let's move on with this Buckin chapter:

 

Chris nodded weakly at him, leaning on the Hatter. The Hatter smiled and put a hand under the rabbit's chin, lifting his head up to face him. The rabbit's ears hung and he looked upset. The Hatter smiled at him and nuzzled the rabbit, "Buck up, bunny boy!"

 

"I hate that nickname," Chris snarled.

 

"Oh, stop being so pissy!!" The Hatter looked at the rabbit and thought, "What's gotten into you now?"

 

"Phil," Chris said, "He just, I mean, I-"

 

"Oh right, the clingy thing," the Hatter said, "I have to agree with him."

 

"What?!" Chris was surprised. The one person who he thought would side with him wasn't.

 

"You were getting a little close" the mad man said, "she's a lot younger than you."

 

"I was just trying to be nice!!"

 

"I know," the Hatter said, "but now that she's settled in a bit, let her go for a while, I was told the same."

 

Chris sighed and his shoulders tensed up, his ears drooping, "Alright, fine."

 

The Hatter smiled, "Come here, you goof ball." The mad man hugged the rabbit again, nuzzling his neck. Chris laughed and felt the Hatter stop, replacing nuzzling with kisses, and the mad man worked his way up from the rabbit's shoulder to his cheek.

 

Chris squeaked, "H-Hatter, please!" His voice trailed and became weak, now about to give into the mad man, "what if Tori-"

 

"Let her see," the Hatter said, kissing the rabbit, "let the cat tattle on us, what will He do?"

 

"I-I don't know! What if Phil does tell Him tho-"

 

"What'd I just say?"

 

The rabbit sighed, "Fine, but not out here, somewhere else."

 

The Hatter smiled, "You're finally talking my language." The mad man picked the rabbit up and took him to one of the rooms. Which room it was, he didn't care; he knew the house would send them to his bedroom, which was usually off limits to anyone but him, but this was an exception. The mad man went back to kissing the rabbit's neck, the door slamming behind him.

 

"Those two, I swear," Phil muttered, "better check on the girl, just to make sure she's okay."

 

Phil disappeared and let himself into the other room, where Tori was, only to see she was still asleep. It was no surprise to the cat, quite a relief actually, he was worried the Hatter and the rabbit would have woken her up again. The cat let out a sigh and the floated over to the bed, hovering ever so slightly above it.

 

"She seemed so violet before," the cat said to himself, "now she's-"

 

Phil shut his mouth, the girl's nose crinkled and she began to move. She let out a soft moan, and Phil managed to duck under the bed. Tori sat up and took a deep breath, letting out a moan afterward. She didn't bother looking around, she yawned, grabbed the covers, and curled up into a ball, falling back to sleep.

 

Phil popped up on the opposite side of the bed and looked at the little girl, confused. He hadn't woken her up? How did she just roll over and . . . the question seemed silly once he thought about it. He did it all the time, cat naps, of course. The cat let out a yawn and streched, he felt rather sleepy as well.

 

"Well, if I'm gonna be here, may as well not freak her out too much." The cat reached into the small pocket of his vest and pulled out a small vile full of an odd liquid. It was a light, slightly off green color, and it had a small fizz to it. The cat flipped the lid off and sucked the liquid down, and he put the lid back on, placing the empty vile back into his pocket. His body changed, the man-cat changed back into his original form, the black fur coating his body, stripped with pink, and is eyes went from a dark brown to a lighter one, nearly yellow.

 

"Much better," the cat said, jumping onto the end of the bed, "now then . . ." The cat went around in a small circle, letting himself fall onto the bed. He shut his eyes and drifted off.

 

Now, I cannot being to tell you what happened with the rabbit and the Hatter, but the two ended up falling asleep as well. Only . . . it was different. Chris' hair was down, his tie and vest were flung onto the floor, his shirt open and exposing the white hair on his chest. His trousers were open and sagged around his waist. The Hatter was cuddled up next to him, his jacket and hat on the floor, and his shirt and trousers in a similar state as the rabbit's were. I shan't go any further in description, but I will say that it was a while after Phil managed to fall asleep when they were finally out.

 

[coldplayer#16]

Coldplay in Wonderland

 

Part 10

 

 

 

Time passed and soon enough, Tori woke up as her normal self. She saw the cat at the foot of the bed and was confused. It took her a minute to even realize her dress was gone and replaced with the red shirt and dark trousers. She was bear foot. The girl swung her legs around and sat at the edge of the bed, which made Phil wake up.

 

"Where'd you come from, little guy?" Tori asked, picking up the cat. Phil was about to say something, but he didn't get the chance. He let himself fall to his feline weaknesses, Tori began scratching behind his ears. Phil didn't dare utter a word, he let purs escape his lips as a sign of affection instead of telling her to stop. He never got affection from Chris or the Hatter, but then again, he never was in his usual, cat body.

 

"No collar, huh? Funny." Tori heard footsteps from outside the door, "Finally."

 

The door opened and Chris was in the doorway, his tie loose and half his collar up, his shirt untucked and his hair still down. His eyes widened once he noticed the girl was awake, "Morning."

 

"Morning," Tori said, "What happened to you, you look like hell."

 

"Gee, thanks," the rabbit said.

 

"What happened to your neck? It's all red and-"

 

"You ask a lot of questions," Chris said, "stop."

 

"Sorry," Tori said, getting up, cradling the cat in her arms. She hadn't stopped petting him, and Phil was still purring. He finally looked up at Chris and winked, telling him to keep quiet.

 

"And you said I was clingy," Chris muttered, holding the door open for Tori.

 

"What?" she asked.

 

"Nothing, oh nothing," Chris said.

 

Tori smiled and went back to paying attention to the cat. She cuddled him and Chris couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t get attention from Tori and yet . . . why was that stupid cat getting so much more attention?! What really got him was when they came back out into the dinning room, Tori kissed the cat's forehead and Phil just kept purring.

 

"What on earth do you think you're doing, child?" the Hatter asked.

 

"What do you mean?" Tori asked, "you never told me you had a cat."

 

"I don't," the Hatter said, "that's Phil."

 

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Phil is-" the girl didn't finish her sentence, the cat changed back in her arms. Tori fell over with the extra weight suddenly on her arms.

 

"Told you," the Hatter said.

 

Tori looked up and was face-to-face with the now, mostly human Phil. The cat's ears sank and he had a blush run across his cheeks, letting out a nervous laugh.

 

"Sorry?" Phil said, getting off the girl and helping her up. Tori wasn't amused. The cat's tail hung, his ears were down and he was red with embarrassment. Tori was red as well, but not quite for the same reason.

 

"Phil, I suggest you run," the Hatter said. 

 

The cat could see why, Tori's fists were clenched and there was a vein on her neck that pulsed slightly with anger. He turned and tried floating up and out of her reach, but Tori was just a little faster.

 

"YOU STUPID CAT!!!" the girl yelled, yanking Phil's long, pink tail.

 

The cat yowled and fell to the ground. Tori let go of his tail, still slightly red in the face. Phil got himself together and crawled up, and he let instincts get in his way of judgement.

 

Phil's nails extended and were sharp, and his canine teeth were as well. He was pissed. 

 

"Ph-Phil, easy now!" the Hatter said, trying to get the cat to think logically.

 

"You little bitch!" Phil yelled jumping at the girl. The Hatter tried grabbing him, but Phil disappeared and reappeared behind Tori. He had his hand up, ready to claw at the girl, but Chris managed to kick him out of the way before he got the chance.

 

"If you wanna fight, fight me!" Chris yelled, "you've already caused me too much trouble."

 

"Why should I fight you, dear Christopher?" Phil chimed, "You said it yourself, I'm too much of a trouble as is. At least, to you." 

 

The Hatter thought a moment and grabbed Tori, "Phil, calm down, you made her mad and got what was coming to you."

 

"Excuse me," the cat hissed, evaporating to the Hatter, "I got what was coming to me?!"

 

"I'm sorry, okay?" Tori said, "just don't lie to me!" 

 

"Someone has a short fuse," Phil said.

 

"Speak for yourself, flea bag!"

 

Phil held up his hand, his nails inches from Tori's nose, "Do you really wanna test me, brat?"

 

"I can take you," Tori said, moving away from the Hatter, "I've handled plenty of cats back home. Plenty of bites and scrates!"

 

The cat smiled wickedly, "I'm no ordinary cat, you stupid girl."

 

"Yeah, you're right," Tori said, "you're dumber than the average cat." Phil hissed and swung at the girl, but Tori managed to dodge him, "You're aim is also way worse!"

 

"RIGHT!!" Phil yelled, going for the girl one more time. Tori thought fast and grabbed the kettle next to her, swinging and just missing Phil.

 

The cat had his head down and didn't see the foot coming at him, Chris giving him another hit to the side, "ENOUGH!!"

 

"Stay out of this, bunny boy!" Phil coughed.

 

Chris grabbed the kettle from Tori, "This water's still hot, you know?" 

 

"You wouldn't dare!"

 

"TRY ME!!!"

 

"I'VE SEEN ENOUGH!!!" roared a voice, and with a load crack, the group were gone.