The Moon.

She was crying again. She usually cried when the nights were dark and the moon was big. And just in case you were wondering, the moon tonight was as big as ever.

She sat on her striped blanket and stared out the window as she wondered. She wondered about Friend. Her best friend. She wondered where Friend was. Where could Friend be on a night like tonight? A night with tears and a big big moon. In case you were wondering, Friend was at a party with dancing and songs and other fabulous things. Friend was dancing with a cute dark-haired boy and attempting to keep the alcohol she'd been drinking from finding its way onto the boys shirt.But did She know this? No. She thought her friend was doing something smart and pretty. Nope. Friend never did anything smart or pretty like she thought Friend did. Friend was a failure; and she tried to help Friend. They helped each other. But tonight, She was alone. She had tried calling Friend over and over and over. Friend was obviously too busy to care about her. Friend would feel terrible about all this later.

Finally, her phone rang. In case you were wondering, it blasted an extremely unfittingly joyful tune. She sprinted to her desk to get the phone, nearly positive She would hear Friend's voice once She answered.

No. It was a man. Actually, She always thought of him as more of a boy. She mumbled out a motonous. "Hey." After She heard his greeting.

"You okay?" He asked. He was such a nice person. He was far nicer than Friend ever was, in case you were wondering.

"You don't sound so good."

"I'm fine." You could practically visualize a lie-detector flipping out as the two words poured from her lips.

"Do you want me to come over?" He could tell she was nodding on the other end of the phone line. She didn't speak because she didn't want him to catch a trace of her tears. They both hung up and she decided to freshen up a bit. She hoped to fix her dripping eyeliner and her bloodshot eyes before he came over. He already knew she was crying, but she just wanted to be safe.

The low "Ding-dong" of the doorbell was enough to give her a heart attack. She slowly stalked down the pink painted hallway of the apartment ahe shared towards the door. She smoothed down her Toy Story t-shirt, which, in case you were wondering, She had been wearing for the past four days. They mumbled the usual greetings, and then he took a good look at her. He saw her tear-stained face and her spidery crimson eyes. He walked in and wrapped his arms tightly around her small frame. She stood there, limp in his arms, feeling awkward and out-of-place.

And for some reason, he just wanted to hug her more. The way she was so seemingly unwanted, made him want her more. He gripped her tight, refusing to let go. She placed her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm loosely around his neck. He smiled and slowly let her go, now satisfied with the greeting they shared. She looked at him, they met eye-to-eye (they were both fairly short) and he smiled again. In case you were wondering, his smiles were fucking stunning.

"Come in." She said softly, in a slightly happy tone as she led him to the living room area. It was basically a tiny section of the apartment with a TV and a couch, so they figured it was kinda like a family room. He plopped on the couch and She delicately sat down. She looked at him.

"Tell me a story." She demanded. He nearly rolled his eyes.

"The magical kingdom?"

"Yes. Please."

It was always the same story. The princess and the princess' friend and the prince. She and Friend and him, the storyteller. He knew She knew the story by heart, be he would still hold her tight and tell it over and over until she was fast asleep. It began with a "Once upon a time", and ended with a "Happily ever after", the rest wasn't all that important; it was just for her.

"And they all lived happily ever after."

And by then, She was fast asleep in his arms. Friend wouldn't be home until tomorrow, she was spending the night drunk out of her brains at the dark-haired boy's house. The next morning, while she was still asleep, Friend would come home and the storyteller would yell at her. Friend would spend the day feeling like shit and she'd make up a story so she wouldn't feel sad. Friend loves her so much, she just has odd ways of showing it.

She blows out the candles soon. Another year closer to dying. Another year closer to Friend not being able to handle life alone. Another year closer to the end for them both.