"Ullvyoo"

I couldn't really help it, you know. Someone like that around all the time, you'd have fallen for him too. He didn't really talk much, not to other people, at least. But when it was just me and him, I could never get the boy to shut up. He just had so much to say, and he was this funny, smart person, but he rarely showed it in front of other people.

Sometimes, though, he couldn't resist, and this absolute gem of a remark would escape from his mouth, leaving all of us in gigglefits. He loved poking fun at people, in a good-natured way, and as we laughed, he would grin widely. His eyes narrowed to dark slits and crinkled at the edges, but they wouldn't stop sparkling till we wiped the tears from our eyes.

But most of the time, quiet little Archie was like a lost puppy among us, and I was more than glad to take him in and keep him.

After Michael got sent home, we were made each other's room mates. Now, that was just really, really awkward, as you can imagine. I'm this major slob, so keeping my side of the room presentable would be hard. He seemed perfectly fine, though.

"Hey, roomie," he said, giggling a bit. I snorted, but I could feel a slow grin creeping up one cheek.

"You're really lame, you know that?" I ruffled his hair, and he ducked away. "Go get your stuff, Archie."

I barely got any sleep that night.

He'd actually fallen asleep facing the wall, with his back to me, so that was okay. But then he rolled over, and now I could see his face. And since, well, this was the only chance I had to stare and stare and stare without him noticing, I did. I even turned on the lamp on the bedside table separating our beds to see him better, to watch the angel sleeping.

I was pretty much a wreck the next day, but that's not part of the story.

The night before the finale, neither of us could sleep. The lamp was on, its orange light bouncing off the walls and onto us; if I looked at him a certain way, it looked like he was glowing. That was probably the most normal thought I'd had all night. So many interviews, all asking me my thoughts on tomorrow, and my head hurt slightly.

I didn't want to think about it, because Archie would definitely win, and I would be second-best. I hate being second-best. I felt bad for thinking that; he deserved to win. In fact, I felt so bad that I'd picked up the phone and dialled Archie's number to vote for him earlier that evening.

The air in the room that night felt very different. For once, neither of us really knew what to say, I guess. Suddenly, he rolled over to face me and spoke.

"Cook?"

"Yeah, Archie." My throat was dry, and my voice came out all gravelly. I didn't take my gaze off the ceiling.

"I just wanted you to know that... I think-- I think you're a really cool person, and, you know, you're really cool and all." I tried hard not to burst out laughing. "I'm kind of, you know... Honoured, I guess, to be sharing the stage with you? 'Cause you're really, really good, and...yeah. I hope you win." He finished, and only then did I let a grin break out across my face.

"Aw, c'mon, Archie. You're going to win, no competition. There are waaay too many people out there who want to marry you." He snorted and spluttered incoherently, and I laughed.

Finally regaining his composure, he said, "I'm too young to marry someone.

"You're not, though," he added. "You're definitely old enough to marry."

"Eh." I shrugged at the ceiling. "Not something in the near future."

"Why? You don't... You don't like someone?"

No way I was getting into this conversation with him, no way.

"No. Well, yeah. It's just-- It's complicated, okay?"

He fell silent. And then I felt bad for speaking that way to him. We were quiet for a while, the tension in the room worse than before. He must've felt that he should divert my attention to something else, because he spoke again.

"Are you nervous?" It was a small, timid, shaking voice that showed all too clearly that he was.

"No, I lie awake in bed for fun." I never, never outright admit that I am feeling nervous.

"I'm scared," he said, ignoring my sarcasm. I just about melted.

"What have you got to be afraid of?"

He shifted a bit under the covers; it could've been a shrug, I don't know. He didn't say anything more, and I, on my part, wasn't about to push him. I watched the second hand of the clock on the wall go around five times, agonisingly slowly. I was not the person Archie should be telling all this to, because I felt the same way, and I didn't want the walls I'd built to crumble. But then he was very obviously unhappy, and I wanted to fix that. Me being me, since I didn't know what to do, I just plain didn't do anything.

The boy must really hate silence, because he broke it again.

"It's just... I'm scared that if I don't win, I'll let a lot of people down. I found out yesterday, my dad told me, there're people betting on us. Like, who's gonna win and stuff. It just makes me really nervous."

Well, this was news to me. It rather pissed me off, because Archie and I aren't racehorses.

He was terrified of tomorrow because he didn't know what was going to happen, and I was dreading it because I thought I did. Things were so different for us, yet here he was confiding in me. Then I realised I was looking at this wrong. I saw it as one competitor telling the other about how scared they were, when what it really was was a seventeen-year-old boy confiding in an older person, one he considered a friend, because he was scared.

He probably had no idea that this particular friend of his had these stupid, stupid feelings for him.

"Look," I said finally. "You did great last night, you were amazing. What happens after that is really beyond your control, unless you hack into the voting system or something, not that I'm suggesting it." He smiled. "You did your best, you know you did, and you should be really effing proud of yourself. I'm really proud of you, just so you know, if it means anything.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, whichever way it goes, you'll always be special. Just let it be. People will love you and your voice, buy your album, stalk you, whatever. You have nothing to lose, Archie. Whatever happens, you'll be famous. You know what? You already are! It's all good, relax. And, you know, whether or not you get it, girls will still want to marry you," I grinned.

I expected him to at least smile at my remark, but he just picked at the corner of his pillowcase for a while. Slightly hurt, I wondered if he'd tuned out or something.

"I guess I never really looked at it that way," he said quietly, surprising me. "We both win." He smiled a wobbly sort of smile that didn't fool me one bit.

I got out of bed, surprising the both of us. Two steps and I was at the side of his bed. I knelt down on the carpet. He lay completely still, blinking up at me. His face was inches from my own; he looked so perfect that he could've been a Photoshopped picture, but at the same time, he had never looked more real. I could see the shadows his eyelashes made on his cheeks when he turned his gaze downward. The orange light harshened every fine line under his eyes, making him look a lot older than he was.

My fingertips moved up to touch his cheek, the spot that dimpled when he smiled. It was cold. The poor boy, the angel, was cold. My index finger moved all on its own to stroke his cheek once.

"It's gonna be okay, Archie."

My own voice and his wide-eyed stare broke my trance, and I suddenly became aware of what I was doing. My hand jerked back immediately, burned. I stood stiffly, turned to return to my bed. Then he spoke.

"Promise?"

I froze.

"What?"

"You promise that everything'll turn out okay?"

I sat heavily on my bed, facing him. One corner of my mouth crept upwards.

"Promise." He smiled at me sleepily, and I smiled back.

"Goodnight, Cook," he said, rolling over to face the wall.

" 'Night, Archie." I smiled like a crazy person at the back of his head.

"Ullvyoo."

I think I stopped breathing.

"What?"

"Nothing." A little too loud, a little too quick, and that confirmed it for me. I rolled over too, and grinned into my pillow.

I know what he said.