This is short, yay. And unedited. And I did not make up Maybe Angels. I just changed the name of the place. Woohw. Isn't that fun.

Chapter two: Skitsophrenics Are Weird

The boy stood upon the desk. His hair was neon blue, and his eyes were a brilliant green. His arms were balled into fists on his hips,
chest puffed up like a strutting bird, singing his lungs out.

"Six lane highway runnin' up to my back door! IT WON'T TAKE ME WHERE I WANNA BEEE! I took the I95 down to Esuroula, and I all found was a
SWEAR! I SWEAR THEY'RE OUT THERE, ISWEAR, MAYBE ANGELS MAYBE ANGEELS!" It was about this time he was hit in the head with a pencil.

"Dude, you are so loud, Chris." The blond haired pencil thrower muttered, scribbling in a notebook with a pen at Chris' feet. Chris pouted,
looking down at him a frown marring his handsom face. He plopped down, his feet dangled over the edge of the small desk, back and right side
facing the blond boys face.

"You're mean, Harda. I was giving you atmosphere music. It's good for studying, you know." He looked at him through permenatly half-lidded
eyes, nodding with a solem look. Harda rolled his eyes but refused to look at Chris.

"Whoever said that did not mean screaming banshi music. 'Specially not sung by _you're_ tone deaf voice." He muttered, hiding a smirk with
his bangs. Chris looked hurt and slid from the desk onto the floor.

"Fine, be that way." He sniffed, glancing at the two rows of cherry wood bookcases lining opposite walls in the small room. He walked up to
one, pausing with one finger under his lip as his right hand fingered the books, stopping and pulling on out. He opened it with a creless
air and leafed through it.

"What's this?" He asked, eyes flitting across the page. Harda stood and walked briskly over to him. He took the book from his hands,
snapping it shut.

"Nothing." he muttered, bangs, again serving as a good hiding place, this time for the slight blush on his face. "Just some poems." He
grumbled, putting it back in its place with an almost reverant air.

"Oh," Chris' eyes widened almost inpreceptably. "You write poetry? I've never seen it!" he cried out, attacking him and latching himself
on to his arm.

"Can I see it, can I can I pleeeeease?" Harda frowned.

"No, Chrissy." He answered, detatching himself from Chris' grasp, stocking feet padding against the floor as he walked back to the desk.
Chris, stiffling a giggle, reached back and plucked the book, once more, from it's position. He let out the giggled and spun about and ran
out of the room. Harda whirled around, frowning and chasing after him, shouting.

"Give that back, you! I said you can't read it!"

"Too bad!" Chris called back over his shoulder, slamming the door to the adjoining rooms in his face.

Chris poked his head out a moment latter, pushing Harda to the floor. Chris cried out and ran to the dizzy looking, kneeling beside.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you okay?" He asked, frantically, putting the book down. Harda smirked and made a grab for it, hugging it to his chest.

"Mine." He hissed, glaring at Chris. Chris looked decidedly frightened at this and ran away. Unfortunatly, he wasn't looking where he was
going and promptly ran into a person.

"Wow. Happy to see me, aren't we? I mean, I know I've been gone awhile, but geeze. . . ." The dark haired boy smirked, ruffling Chris' hair. He was a few inches taller then Chris, but shorter then Harda, with strangly cut black hair framing his face with bangs and side bangs, then trailing down his back an inch or two past his shoulder blades. He had bright blue eyes that twinkled brightly down at Chris, hands carrying a large suitcase. Chris squealed and threw his arms around his waist.

"Zeeeet!" He squeaked, giggling. Harda smirked, holding the book at his side and smaking the guy playfully on the back.

"Welcome back, Emperor Nurget, how wast thines trip?" He asked, grinning. Chris giggled and 'Emperor Nurget' stared at them like they were

"Um, I'm going to go over her." he pointed to the door to the bedrooms and tried to walk that way. unfortunatly, Chris had not disengaged
himself from his waist and was dragged along with him.

"Keeheeheeheehee," Chris giggled, rufusing to walk so his feet dragged along the ground. "This is fun! Free ride!" He squeaked and Zet

"Chris, kindly let me go." Chris buried his head in his stomache and shook his head frantically, giggling along with Harda. Zet twitched

". . . Chris, if you don't let me go, I'm going to have to hurt you."

Chris head snapped up and he glared evily at him.

"Who are you going to attack? I'll kill you." Zet sweatropped and looked nervous.

"D-Detest?" He squeaked, and Chris glared harder at him. "Harda, help. It's Detest." Harda sighed and grabbed Chris around the waist.

"All right crazy boy, time for your medication." He grummbled, dragging the violently protesting Chris into the bedrooms. Zet stood there
for a moment, then shook his head, slowly.

"Skitzos are weird." He mummbled, fallowing the two a moment later.