A/N: Hello! Er... Well, this is my first attempt at Golden Sun fanfiction, so I apologize if it totally sucks. That said, I did work pretty hard on it. This idea sort of stuck in my head at about midnight last night, so I blame any and all stupidness on the late hour and the fact that I haven't had caffeine in about a week.


It's an Issac/Ivan fic, which means there will probably be boykissing and more besides. If that bugs you, leave now. This fic is set in the first GS game, because I haven't gotten through all of GS:TLA yet (i know, i'm sorry!). There is no specific "time" when it takes place, it just does. Also, this story is rated "T" because of the vague references to sexual... stuff. Oh, you'll see. It's only completely obvious. There will be higher rated material, but I'll be posting a link to it because I don't want to rate this fic "M", if only because I want to be able to list it on my C2.

Okay, enough of me talking. I'm sorry this chapter is short. The next one is slightly longer, and should be out in a couple days. The one after that will probably be still longer, and after that I'm not sure. This will probably be 3 - 5 chapters in length, but don't hold me to that. #grin# Please read and review! I'm anxious to know what everyone thinks!


Chapter One


A twig snapped.

"Who's there?" A suddenly very red Ivan yelped out as he whirled around, doing his best to disguise what he had been doing and knowing that he was failing miserably. His blush only darkened when he realized exactly who had been responsible for the sound. Isaac. Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. Why, oh why did it have to be Isaac? Of all the members of their little party, why did it have to be him? Ivan thought he could have withstood the good-natured teasing Garet would have given him, or even Mia's embarrassed avoidance; this was something far, far worse.

Ivan knew his little crush on their leader was probably inappropriate and most definitely not reciprocated, but he found it growing worse each day. At first, he had brushed it off as a case of gratitude tinged with a little hero-worship. Isaac had... helped him. Treated him as a normal person; as a friend. He hadn't told Ivan-- as so many had over the years-- that he was a freak; but that he was normal. Maybe even... special. And as if that wasn't enough, Isaac had then proceeded to help him find Master Hammet's rod. No offense to Garet, but Ivan knew deep inside that if Isaac hadn't been there, Garet would not have done quite as much. It was Isaac that he was forever indebted to, even if the other youth denied it.

If Ivan were to name his 'best friend', he would have to say Isaac (though he knew Isaac would say Garet, and though he would never admit how much that fact stung). It was natural to like him just a bit more, watch him just a bit more often, worry just a bit more when he put himself in danger; wasn't it? Yes, on all counts. But Ivan knew it had become more than that. People who are content being 'friends' don't spend their time thinking about how beautifully his eyes seemed to sparkle when he got a good idea; or how the sun turns his hair to pure, shining gold when it hits it; or how his smile seems to light up his face; or how he has really, really nice hands...

Friends don't think that way, Ivan knew. But somehow, he couldn't seem to stop falling deeper into his fascination with Isaac's subtle grace, his sharp sense of justice, his thoughtful, observing silences, his humor that seemed to appear at the oddest times, his ridiculous purple pants... It all became a part of his image of the golden-haired youth that he couldn't seem to stop thinking about. The same youth now standing in front of him, looking at once uncomfortable, intrigued, embarrassed and something else that Ivan couldn't identify.

"I- Isaac..." He managed to croak out before his throat closed up with shame and he decided to count the particles of dirt at his feet: If he had had even one chance in a million-- he had just totally, completely blown it.


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