Rain beat down on the window harshly, keeping a rhythm for the bass notes seeping up through the floorboards and the thoughts aimlessly floating through Davey Havok's head. The bass, the rain, and his thoughts all held a melancholy, morose feel that seemed to surround the singer's lean frame and drown him in a sea of subfusc energy, clashing with the dirty white sheets wrapped around him. The obnoxious green face of the clock taunted him, reading 7:47 PM. Their show should have started forty-seven minutes ago, but instead he was laying here, in his bed, in the boarding house that his whole band lived in, staring up at the ceiling monotonously.

Davey had every reason in the world to be happy. His band had just released their 4th full-length album, which had gotten a great response from the fans. The band itself consisted of three of his best friends, Adam - who he'd known since high school, and the only remaining original member besides himself, as well as Jade Puget on guitar, a boy who always brought an original sound to their songs and had quite possibly the most beguiling brown eyes ever, and Hunter, the enigmatic bass machine who seemed to never run out of energy. They were all great guys, and all very vital parts of the band as well as Davey's life. They had a great fan base, people who were really dedicated to the music, people who actually cared. These things usually made him happy, but right now all he could focus on was the rain, the notes, and their show for tonight being cancelled.

There had been a brawl at the club they were supposed to play in the night before, and the manager had called earlier to cancel. A lot of damage had been done to the club and it may take as long as two weeks to get everything back in order. It irritated Davey that these people couldn't see how they were destroying their own scene. Most of those kids, he knew, only saw the music as an excuse to segregate themselves from the rest of the world - something else to listen to while they got drunk, just like the rest of the world. Times like these, he really hated people.

The bass notes had abruptly stopped, but the rain and his dark thoughts continued. The rest of the band was seemingly unaffected, for the most part, by the show's cancellation. Adam and Jade had promptly left to go hang out with Nick 13, most likely to play video games. Hunter...well actually, all Hunter had done was retreat to his room and play bass. He'd been uncharacteristicly mellow lately.

Davey rolled onto his side, and glanced at the clock again. This time there were no obnoxious, bright green numbers staring back at him, and after a moment he realized all the electronic noise in the house was completely gone. However, the sound of someone ascending the stairs was audible and a moment later there was a knock on his door. Davey mumbled some sort of noncommital response to the knock, and the door creaked open. Hunter's bleached-blonde head peeked around the door.

"Hey," he greeted the singer, accompanied by a small grin. "I guess the storm knocked the power out." Davey nodded dully in response, so Hunter scampered into the room and closed the door behind him. He walked a ways into the room then took a seat on the floor, looking at Davey curiously.

"So, whatcha doing up here?," he asked after a short period of silence. Davey shrugged and Hunter's smile faded a bit. "Sucks that the show got cancelled, huh?" Another silent shrug. Hunter sighed and looked at the floor, distractedly playing with a misplaced safety pin. Davey rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, which was progressively getting darker as the cloud-covered sun sank further towards the horizon. He knew he was being cold towards the bassist, but he just didn't feel like being social right now. He felt like being left alone with his thoughts. Apparently Hunter wasn't having any of that though, he got off the floor only to move to sit on the side of the bed.

"Wanna go bowling?," he asked, tilting his head. Davey shook his head without looking away from the ceiling. "Wanna...go to the mall and make fun of Hilfiger clones?" Davey shook his head again, evoking another discouraged sigh from Hunter. "Wanna lay in bed and wallow in your unhappiness and completely ignore your bassist?"

Davey groaned at the tone in Hunter's voice as he gave the last suggestion. He sounded like a pouting three year old who was being ignored by his mother. "I'm sorry, Hunter," he finally gave in, dropping his eyes to look at the blonde. "I don't feel much like being around people right now."

Hunter snorted, sounding amused. "Yeah, so what's new?," he quipped. "Lately you never want to be around people, unless you're on stage."

"That's not true," Davey objected quietly. Actually, it was true, and he damn well knew it. He hardly ever wanted to go anywhere anymore, especially places that involved a lot of people. Perhaps he was just becoming more disillusioned with humanity. He chalked it up to his reoccuring dark summer mood.

"Yes it is," Hunter argued back. "All you've done the last few weeks besides practice is sit around and mope like some sort of gothy teenage girl." He flicked the safety pin at the wall and it went skittering onto the floor.

"Sorry I can't be a fucking ray of sunshine all the time," Davey snapped back at the other man, suddenly slightly vicious.

Hunter rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Don't do that, I hate that. I'm not saying you have to be a ray of sunshine. For God's sake, I'd be downright petrified if you were. I'm just saying it would be nice to hear you laugh once in a while."

"Nothing to laugh about," Davey mumbled, his tone losing any venom it previously held.

"Plenty to laugh about," the bassist retorted. "Anything that's too serious to joke about, isn't worth paying attention to."

"So that's your secret to being so damn chipper all the time," Davey muttered darkly, obviously not 'getting' the joke that was life like Hunter did.

The sound of Hunter's laugh rang through the otherwise still air, but it was short lived. "Either that, or I just tell myselfit could always be worse," he explained. Then his voice dropped to a quiet, questioning tone. "What makes you so sad all the time, Davey?"

Davey opened his mouth to give the sarcastic reply that would hopefully convince the other man to leave him alone, but instead all that came out was a distanced "I don't know."

The room fell silent again, matched with the darkness that had taken over this part of the world, completely uninterrupted by any unnatural light from streetlamps outside. Hunter stood up and retrieved the safety pin from the floor, then returned to the bed and stretched out next to Davey. "All right," he continued, playing the metal between his fingers thoughtfully. "So what would make you happy?"

Davey pondered this question for a while, and found that any answer he could give wouldn't be any better than the last one he'd given. Maybe it was the darkness, or the sound of the rain, or sheer loss of all hope...but he thought that perhaps Hunter could understand. "Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with you? I mean really wrong? I can't help but think that no one understands. I feel so different, all the time. Like...I could be in a sea of people and I'd still be completely alone."

He was almost convinced for a moment that Hunter wasn't there at all, that he'd only been speaking to himself and the darkness. More likely, he decided, Hunter just didn't know what to say to that.

"You are alone, Dave," he finally responded, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. "You are different, but it's not wrong. It's never been wrong. There's no one else that understands, because you're beyond their comprehension completely. You're cursed, but blessed at the same time..."

"Are you trying to say I'm on such a high plane of existance that no one else can possibly imagine the thoughts that run through my head?," Davey asked, sounding doubtful.

"Something like that," Hunter replied, a hint of a grin showing in his tone. "I mean that your thoughts have such an irregular pattern to them, that most people just don't...get it. You have an insight that no one else does, and it makes you unique...which people, some people, like...and some people will hate you for. You just have to look for those that are worth sharing your insight with."

"Like you?," Davey asked quietly after a moment.

Hunter smirked into the darkness. "Me? I'm not even capable of forming coherent thoughts of my own most of the time, don't go looking for me to understand yours."

Davey rolled onto his side to face the bassist, even though in the dark he could barely make out his form. "Seriously, Hunter. I'm sorry I've been so vacant lately. I shouldn't block you guys out like I have been."

Hunter shrugged. "Everyone needs their solitude from time to time. I was just...worried, I guess."

"Are you happy?," Davey asked, suddenly turning the conversation around. He propped his head up on his elbow and looked intently at Hunter's hardly visible face.

"I'm...I...why do you ask?," Hunter stumbled over his response, taken by surprise.

"Returning the favor?," Davey suggested. "You've been somewhat distant yourself lately...I just was wondering if something was bugging you."

"I'm okay," Hunter said, without much confidence.

"Liar," Davey accused. "You're just as much a gothy teenage girl as I am."

Hunter snorted. "Never."

"Well...what's bugging you? What would make you happy?," Davey asked curiously.

"Who decided we were going to sit around and evaluate our mental health, anyway?," Hunter questioned rhetorically before really replying. "I don't know...seeing you happy, I guess."

"In that case, I think we're both fucked," Davey told him monotonously.

"No. Maybe that's the problem," Hunter mused, with no direct explination to what he was talking about. "It's really dark in here." Davey sat up wordlessly and blindly felt around his bedside table, knocking the alarm clock off of it and nearly spilling a half-empty glass of water before finding what he was looking for. He struck a match on the back of the book and lit a pair of black candles, illuminating the room with a dancing yellow glow. Then he turned around to face Hunter.

"Did you really mean that?," he asked, quietly and inquisitively. Hunter sat up as well, then looked down at the safety pin he was still playing with.

Hunter glanced back up at Davey for a second. He traced the singer's silhouette, the glow of the candles softening the lines of his form. Finally, he met his eyes and replied, shrugging slightly. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

The corners of Davey's mouth turned up very slightly, in some ghost reflection of a smile. "Thank you, Hunter, that means a lot...it really does," he said quietly, almost a whisper.

Hunter shrugged lightly, seeming sort of uncomfortable. "Anytime," he told Davey, also quiet. It was understandable that he was a bit uncomfortable. Though they'd been working together on the band for quite a while now, they'd never really talked, just talked, about much at all. This was unfamiliar territory to them. Usually if Davey had a problem, Adam would be the first to notice and talk to him about it.

Davey sighed audibly. "I just...God, I don't know. I want a puppy," he said exasperatedly.

Hunter laughed and gave Davey an odd look. "A puppy?"

"Yes, a puppy," Davey told him. "They're...lovable, and energetic, and cheerful, and...I don't know. I like them."

"I'm lovable, energetic and cheerful," Hunter deadpanned.

The ghost of a smile that Davey had earlier widened, and he chuckled very slightly. "I think you'd become rather uncomfortable in a collar," he told the bassist, who was now grinning widely.

"I'd do it, as long as it makes you laugh again," Hunter said, serious this time. The honesty of the conversation became a bit thick for him again, so he continued before Davey could respond. "What kind of puppy?"

Davey sucked his lipring into his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully and glancing towards the ceiling. He may have appeared to be picking a breed of dog, but in reality he was mulling over Hunter's first comment. Did he really care that much, that he would be happy if only Davey himself were? Was a simple thing such as his own laughter really capable of cheering Hunter up? The idea of making anyone happy was quite foreign to Davey, he usually failed at even making himself happy, much less anyone else. Unfortunately, to make Hunter happy, he obviously had to be happy himself. Then again, was that the motivation he needed in the first place? Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a safety pin to the forehead. He glanced at Hunter, confusion written in his hazel eyes.

"Is it really that tough of a question to answer?," Hunter asked with a slight smirk. Davey blinked the confusion away.

"I guess not," he said, tilting his head. "It could be, though. I mean what if I got the wrong puppy and I tried to make it happy, but I couldn't? What if it just wasn't right?"

Hunter grinned. "Davey, I'm sure any puppy you chose would be ecstatic to belong to you."

Davey looked doubtful. "I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't be good enough for the puppy. Maybe he would deserve a better owner, one that was less screwed up and depressed all the time."

"Isn't the point of having the puppy to cheer you up, anyway? The puppy makes you happy, you make the puppy happy? ," Hunter asked, fairly sure he wasn't referring only to this nonexistant puppy anymore.

Hunter wasn't the only one catching the double meaning behind the conversation, but Davey played innocent for the time being. He wasn't exactly sure what the whole discussion alluded to, except that Hunter was a lot deeper than he let on most of the time.

"Jack Russel terrier," Davey finally decided.

"What, like Wishbone?," Hunter asked. "I kinda figured you for a bigger dog, maybe a great dane or something. Something more powerful, or refined-like."

Davey shook his head. "Nope. I think a Jack Russel would be great. I don't care what it looks like, I'm going for personality here...they're energetic, lovable, and cheerful."

"And loud," Hunter added. "And require a lot of attention."

'Sounds like someone else I know,' Davey mused before replying. "Well, sometimes you have to take the good with the bad. I think it works out nicely in this case."

Hunter shrugged, looking a touch pouty. "Yeah, but I mean, it's not a great dane..."

"I don't think my puppy would have an inferiority complex just because he wasn't a great dane," Davey told him, grinning widely. "If he's a good dog, he's a good dog."

"It's not always that easy, though," Hunter argued pointlessly. "It's not all that clean cut. I mean, maybe you think he's a good dog, but really he just pretends to be a good dog to make you happy, when really he's just rotten to the core, and he puts on this cute, fake, puppy-mask of good-dogness to fool you so that you'll love him."

Davey waited a beat after the tirade to respond. "Hunter?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think dogs are that complex," he told the blonde, trying not to laugh.

Hunter groaned inwardly. "I know. Forget it," he said. "What would you call the dog?"

"Well, I couldn't really decide that until I knew the dog. You can't just decide on a name and expect the dog to fit it, you know?," Davey explained. "I mean, you have to really know the dog..."

"So when do you know that you know him well enough?," he replied, arching a dark eyebrow, the simple question laced with undertones.

Davey froze for a second. Yes, it was apparent that they had been talking not about a dog, but about Hunter. And now - well enough for what? The expectant look Hunter was giving him didn't help to make his assumptions any more innocent. 'Oh, fuck,' Davey thought, then took a deep breath. Looking back at Hunter evenly, he answered. "I guess you just feel it."

Hunter watched Davey's eyes carefully, certain now that he hadn't missed all of the symbolism, despite outward appearances. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips, and Davey's gaze followed the movement before flicking back up to meet his own. 'Oh, fuck' Hunter thought. "So..." clearing the throat. "...what does it feel like, then?"

'Bam,' thought Davey. 'What else do I need, a written fucking invitation?' He dropped his head a little and laughed very softly. Hunter raised his eyebrows, either questioningly or expectantly, and Davey leaned towards him. He pressed his hands flat onto the matress to support his weight and tilted his head just a bit. Their eyes never broke from each other's as he moved closer. He heard Hunter exhale softly, then his eyelids dropped closed as their lips met, hesitant but not awkward and feather light.

Hunter leaned towards the singer, increasing the pressure of the kiss very minutely as he raised a hand to entangle his fingers in the other man's hair. Davey squirmed closer to him, letting his thin lips part to slide the tip of his tongue over Hunter's mouth. Hunter whimpered very softly, his opposite hand snaking around Davey's waist and pulling him closer. Davey seconded the action, wrapping his arms around Hunter and deepening the kiss. Their tongues fought a playful battle for space between their mouths, and Hunter's hands moved over Davey's back and through his hair. They broke regretfully after a moment, and Davey dropped his head onto Hunter's shoulder, breathing a bit heavier than before.

"Wow," Hunter muttered, burying his face against the singer's hair. "You must treat your pets very, very well." Davey laughed, geniunely, and Hunter smiled.