Thanks for the reviews everyone! All the support is awesome. &, uhm, btw, just thought I'd mention that the romance will not be between Lyre & Siam. Haha. before anyone gets any ideas. 'cause that'd just be icki & wrong. & updates should be weekli (I hope) so bear with us for the boringness of the first coupla chaps.

I Shed Myself: excited yet cautious? Lol. Hopefully a good combination!

Okey-dokes: awww, fabulous? –happy moment- & I haven't seen the grudge, so I wouldn't really know…mmm…

Nefarious nature: lol, not crak. But probabli loads of freakishness…

Imames: ick. We watched psycho in eng and meh, I kouldnt stand it. it was just…yuck. & I argued tons with my teacher about it and then in the essay I was all posh and like "I abhor it with a passion" . haha. not that u really needed to know that –giggle- & intrigued is good. Hehe. Hopefully it kame soon enough

Mellowdy: it's 'cause she's a silli lil girl.

Toxic-noodle725: goth next door? I'm confuuused.

Codyismypup: -gives you cookie- but the boy is mine. Growl.

Driew: crazi in a good way. That's good!

xxreixx: thankies bout the summari. And, lol, don't we all. Specially with milk. They're awesome with milk.

Fredtheflyingfish: lol yeah, the name izzz kinda ironic.

Heloise: lol! Why've they annoyed you?

K. B. Hanna: uhm, we write a chapter each. Hehe. & then we intertwined lil bits In later chapters (in other words kelli cleaned them up. Heh) &, mm, the stuff in this fic isn't as descriptive as I usually go for, 'cause then it would kinda clash. This one was done by me (Hotkitty) but we started writing this a lil less than a year ago. So our styles have changed since then. & yeah, the first few chaps arrrre pretty slow. Writing a collab is harddd. Hehe. & it took us a while to actually get properly into it, specially since this fic was an experiment more than anything else. Uhm, lyre's age is mentioned somewhere in the last chapter. And I think it's reiterated here somewhere. Lol! The update word is just so redundant. But it's so tempting to use in reviews, too. –sigh-

SlideShow: Hey there whoretastic. Welcome to the show. I was talking to the kell man, and I used ur word, lawl. Stole it, just like that. Bet ur fuming like some hawt baloney on a stik now, huh? Or a sausage. Ur an effing haraaaam sausage. And u stink. And thanks for reading. Hav a parti. No one'll come, 'cause no one loves you. but hey, have one anyway. & I know what hip is, k? & ur a freak 'cause you love lyre andand –pause- he's never love you. –dramatic music ensues-



Floor boards creaked; shuddered, beneath my feet. I ignored it, the chill that cut through rabid air and seared and tingled bare flesh. Goose-bumps crept over my arms and I instantly regretted not pulling on a jacket, or a cardigan, or something warm.

Darkness swept through, the only light that which emanated from my candle -a dull, flickering orange. Instinct told me to just pull back and go to bed but curiosity got the better of me.

The noise rang through again and I tip-toed to the end of the corridor. It was coming from the door; I was sure of it. Pushing it open, slowly, I peered through to be met by a soft, brownish light that flickered off bare walls.

I opened the door fully.

Then pulled back; cupped a hand over my mouth.

It reeked.

A dull giggle cut through the room and I let my attention catch on the figure. He was hunched over the floor, a big pool of thick, black stuff coating the floorboards and emitting that weird smell.

It was sticky, that much I could tell, and it clung to his grubby little hands. Lyre drew circles in it, over and over again, and he was muttering to himself. "Pony," he announced. "Pony go 'round and 'round and 'round and 'round and…"


He looked up, immediately, and regarded me for a moment. There was a silence, and then I spoke, "Lyre…what…" I hesitated, continued, "What are you doing?"

He lifted up an index finger, which was coated with black, then raised his eyebrows suggestively, "Kinky, eh?"

What the fu -- "What?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Never mind."

"No," I repeated, "what are you doing? Tell me, now."

"What does it look like?" he answered, a "duh" in his voice. He spoke to me as if I was the kid and he was…the adult. I was so not a kid. Noticing my silence, he continued, "I'm drawing circles in paint."

Because that was a totally normal and natural thing for an eight-year-old boy to do in the middle of the night.

"But…why?" I offered lamely.

"'Cause -" he dipped his hands in the paint again, rubbed it against his fingers, and let out a shrill giggle. It sent a chill through my spine. He sounded like a girl. "'Cause," he repeated, drawing out his words, "it's just so fucking hawt."

"Lyre! Mind your language." He was only eight -eight-year-olds weren't meant to be this…freaky.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" he exclaimed, laughing all the while at the put-off expression on my face. "Anyways," he added, stopping suddenly and drinking in my appearance. He arched an eyebrow. "Why are you here?"

"I heard a noise."

"You came to seduce me, didn't you?"

Lord, kill me now.


"You're a paedophile," he announced. "That's why you came here in the middle of the night in your nightie -which, might I add, makes you look hawt - to see me. You want to seduce me." He nodded, satisfied with his theory, and dipped his hands in the black paint.

I replied, incredulous. "I did not come to seduce you, you twisted -"

His head shot up, suddenly, and he looked at me all creepy like, then waggled his eyebrows, "Bring it, babes."

Ew. Ew. Ew.

"I won't tell my mum," he added as an afterthought, then lifted up his grubby hands. "That nightie turns me on, by the way."

He did not just say that.

"I'm not here to seduce you," I defended. Why didn't I just leave already?

"'Course you're not," he waggled his eyebrows again, "'cause you've already succeeded in doing that, babes. Now wait while I finish drawing this pony, then I'll be right with you." He offered me a toothy grin, stark white teeth catching candle-light. It looked almost…menacing. "I'll have you screaming my name for weeks after this."

How did he know this stuff?

Well, I, sure as hell, wasn't going to stay around to find out. I turned, pulled open the door, and bolted.

His voice rang out behind me, shrill and clear, "The condoms are in mum's underwear drawer!" he told me. "She likes to keep them oxygenated!"

I reached my room, slammed shut the door, and locked it. That night, I couldn't sleep.


Morning came all too swiftly and I lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling, counting all of the little white tiles. I was on eighty-six, fourteen more and I'd reach a century.

"Si-am," a shrill voice…shrilled out. "Siam, dear, please do come down. It's already seven o'clock." She said this as if it were an outrage to sleep later than seven a.m. What a lovely woman. Hell, I wish my mum could be that lovely -waking me up at seven instead of letting me sleep in until the usually midday on school-less days. Because sleeping in until seven was a crime now, wasn't it?

Oh yeah. I was bitter.

I shoved myself out of bed and got dressed, then brushed my hair and looked around for a mirror. There was none in my room, so I walked into the bathroom across the hall. I started. Well, there obviously used to be a mirror -above the counter, where the mirror was supposed to be, a brown wall stood out. There were various shards scattered about the counter; had this happened recently?

Deciding to ask her about a mirror as soon as I got down, I picked up my bag and made out of the room and down to where I remembered the kitchen to be.

I reached the door, about to open it, then stopped upon hearing Ella's voice.

"Yes. Yes. One must always use the frying pan rather than the bowl, much richer texture, you see… yes, you agree Mr. Fuzzyboomboom?" I heard a gasp. "That makes me so happy…does it make you happy? Oh, do stop that…you know, I'm a mother now; it wouldn't do for my son to see us talking like this…"

It probably wasn't the best time for me to come in. Deciding to leave, I pivoted, then stopped dead in my tracks. Lyre was there, leaning against the foot of the banister…leering at me.

He grinned, teeth bared, "Aren't you going to have breakfast, sexy cakes?"

Ignoring the name, I replied, calmly, "Your mum sounds…busy. It would be rude to disturb her."

Lyre shrugged, then pushed himself off the banister and made his way to the kitchen, purposely brushing past me. I raised an eyebrow at the gesture and he ignored it, then barged into the kitchen.

"Feed me cow-shit, cow!"

His mother answered, "Lyre, do let Mr. Fuzzyboomboom finish his breakfast. Then you're next…" I walked in, nervously. Her face lit up upon my entrance. "Oh, Siam. Absolutely marvellous that you're here. You can put something in for Lyre whilst I feed Mr. Fuzzyboomboom." A big, wooden spoon hung from one of the cupboards and on it, in big, black writing it said, "Mr Fuzzyboomboom", accompanied by a messily drawn face and a moustache. "He finds it difficult to use his hands, you see."

I nodded, as if I totally understood her. All along it had been…a spoon.

"Actually," Lyre proffered, his legs perched on the table. "I want to make breakfast today. For both me and Siam."

"It's Siam and I, dear," his mother corrected, then proceeded to attempt to feed the spoon.

"Me and Siam," he retorted loudly, as if announcing something, and stood up, pulling open some of the cupboards to draw out the cereal. He turned his attention to me. "You like it hot or cold, babes, 'cause I can make it either way?"

Was he talking about cereal?

"Cold's fine," I replied. "Thanks." I tried to muster as much as a warning in my tone as possible. I was his tutor and he was eight. There was no attraction there.

"Whatever works for you, babes." He poured in the cereal, then handed it to me. "But next time, I'll make you sweat so bad that cold'll be the only option."

"Yeah, you do that."

He waggled his eyebrows again, then dug his spoon into the cereal. It made a clanging noise against the bottom of the plate and milk spurted everywhere. However, this only motivated him further and he hit it harder, almost in a rhythm.

About to tell him off, I opened my mouth but was cut off, suddenly. "Don't you think my son is just sooo musically gifted, Mr. Fuzzyboomboom?"

Okay, scratch that. I proceeded to eat my cereal. When I was nearly finished, the doorbell rang. Lyre's face lit up immediately.

"Siam, do get the door, please. I'd rather not leave Mr. Fuzzyboomboom unattended. There's no accounting for how big a mess he'll make if I leave him to feed himself…"

I shot up immediately, glad for a chance to get out of there, and hurried toward the door. I flung it open, then stopped dead in my tracks. My breath caught in my throat.

He regarded me, surprised for a moment, then spoke up, "Hell, Lyre. Five inches and a sex change. Get. In. There."


Noticing the confusion, he spoke again, "I'm guessing you're new."

"Yeah…" I offered, lamely. He didn't reply and I noticed the box in his hands. Deciding to break the silence, I asked, "What's in there?"

He looked to the box and smirked. I almost squealed when I saw the dimple. "Cookies."

"But…" I hesitated, "why do they get them delivered?"

"Some people would rather not go into town—so I deliver. Ella doesn't like going to town. It upsets her."

I paused for an awkward moment, wondering about this. Perhaps she lived so far out of town for a reason.

As I gazed at the boy in front of me, I couldn't help but wonder why someone like him would take on such a job—at his age, where he looked to be at least eighteen or nineteen, he should have had a more satisfying job. But who was I to judge? I was tutoring an unhinged little boy.

Maybe I was just curious about this particular stranger. Something about him sparked my interest.

"You're from town?" I asked him, more so to break the silence.

He lifted an eyebrow at my attempt at making conversation. "Yeah," he nodded slightly, "I am." I felt his gaze travel my form; he was examining me. My cheeks felt hot. "Where are you from?" he asked. "Not from around here, I can tell."

I swallowed. "Yeah—no. I'm from a small town—you probably haven't heard of it."

He shrugged, "Doesn't matter." He smirked. "Oh." He indicated some paper that was on top of the box. "Can you sign the documents now?"

I grinned sheepishly. No wonder he had been waiting…I signed, quickly, then he handed me the box. It was quite heavy…how many cookies could the little boy eat?

Suddenly, I heard a door behind me open and heavy footsteps. Lyre bounded toward us, snatched the box and regarded the guy with a look akin to glee. "Cookies!" he exclaimed, then hugged them and held them close. "My cookies. Yum-yum-yum."

The guy bent down, a few black bangs falling into his face. He brushed them away and ruffled Lyre's hair. "Don't eat too many, though. Save some for your mum, and…"

"Siam," offered Lyre, before I could speak, then he added, almost possessively, "my tutor."

I ignored him, turned my attention to the guy. "And you are?"


His name was so…hot. Almost as hot as him. Almost.

Before I could reply, he left, closing the door behind him. I pivoted, about to say something to Lyre, only to find that he had already gone. Shrugging, I made back into the kitchen where Ella was mopping up Mr. Fuzzyboomboom's "mess."

Suddenly, I remembered a question that I had been planning to ask her. "Mrs. Fosters?"

"Yes, dear."

"Why…" I wavered, formulating the words. "Why aren't there any mirrors?"

She let out a shrill giggle. It startled me. "Simple, dear." She regarded me, as if I was stupid for not knowing. "Looking in mirrors…upsets me. Truthfully, I've realised it upsets most people -just gives you an excuse to pick out faults and be upset. So I decided to get rid of them altogether." She nodded to her words. "After all, what's the point in making yourself purposely upset?"

"Yeah…" I nodded, complacently, and proceeded to eat my cereal, just as Lyre bounded into the room holding a book, cookie crumbs splayed over his face.

He waggled his eyebrows. "Maths," he stated. "M-A-T-H-S."

Ella squealed with glee and began to clap.

Lyre ignored her, his attention fully on me, "Let's begin then, Tutor. I'm just sooo excited."

"Yeah." I was anything but, but I decided to be complacent. After all, I was getting paid. "Let's begin."