A/N: Uh…I really don't know. This was inspired by a song randomly, and it just painted itself, like always. It's a strange little drabble, but I really like it. I want to write a chapter story, and look what happens instead. Ah, the woes of being an author.

Disclaimer: I disclaim ownership of Naruto, even though their names aren't even in here. Well except for just now…

Warnings: It's weird. That's basically it. I apologize for errors. It's 2am and I wrote this quickly. Not BETA'd.

OoOoOoO

His smile died on his lips. Take him away? Bad influence? Sinful?

The words wouldn't comprehend in his ears, and they made his heart flutter funny. He didn't understand. His hands felt clammy, and they were somehow sweaty but cold at the same time. He glanced at them to make sure they hadn't somehow turned to ice. What had they ever done to deserve this? Why couldn't things ever be left alone, in their perfect state? Apparently life just never worked that way. The metal words devoid of all feeling echoed through his mind again and again, each time feeling more sickening as he started to understand exactly what was meant by them.

He would be taken far away, he knew he would. They would drag him and gag him with lies and fairy tales never come true, just to get him to move from his perfect spot. Just to make sure nothing would ever stay right for too long. That couldn't be allowed. Sinful.

As the event went on, it had become quite clear to him what he had to do. They had to somehow run away, escape this complicated spider web of despair. The spiders were hungry, they wanted their meat. As he focused back in to what was being said, he heard it; the sentence that made his small heart quiver and attempt to stop beating in his ribcage. Death. What?

Kill him? Kill his only reason for clinging to this pale illusion of a life? Laying in a bed staring at the ceiling with nothing but the wind to talk to. Never.

His mouth felt fluffy, his tongue too large or too small; too something. His neck itched, but he was afraid that if he moved his hands they would fall off like icicles. The big one, the toughest voice, said it again. Repeated that things about death again. The other would be killed for crossing the bounds, for reaching over that terrible wall and pulling the boys lost soul free of its binding. Such cruel creatures, these people seemed to be. He knew this, and still he had let the other one close. He'd let that pale boy reach over and grasp his small hand to save him. The paleness always reminded him of the moonlight, which was the times they would often meet. The moon never told their secrets.

Their skin was always so different looking, his darker hue against the pale beauty. So perfect in a strange way. Which was of course why it had to be destroyed. They would kill him, send the dogs on him, send the men of the village to hunt him out like some animal. No.

He could save him. He knew somehow, he could. Just stall, stall somehow for some ounce of time. Mutter something about the raven angel being somewhere he's not, send them the wrong way. Then run, run as fast as he could. He would make it.

The beady eyes of the large one squinted even smaller at his words. The man must think he was crazy for giving up his love so easily. He could almost feel a small on his face, but no. That was only for him to see. The men, they all rose like zombies from the dead, ready for their hunt. They were out the door within a few minutes, making plans of attack. Now he must go, before his caretaker came to bring him somewhere safe. Before they noticed he was missing.

The grass was so cold on his toes, but it felt nice. The moon stared at him, as it usually did, and tonight it was looking openly, a full circle to welcome him. It would help light his way. Where could he be? He must know he was being hunted, so where could he be hiding?

A soft crunch was all it took and he was there, through the bushes in an instant, ready for the warmth he knew he would find. Arms wrapped around him and held him tight, suffocating him, but he didn't care. His plan worked, they were here, with the moon their only witness. His angel's breath was hot on his neck, and it made him shudder from the contrast of the cold night mixed with it.

The kisses were sharp, needy, across his collar bone. But gentle, always gentle. It reminded him of his days laying in his bed, doing nothing. But here he did nothing but feel. His angel liked it that way, to take care of him. He trailed his fingers through the silky hair he adored, pulled out a piece to look at. So black. He let it go and watched the wind take it as he felt the kisses trail across his stomach.

Dogs. He heard them. The warmth stopped, the sweet sound of breathing stopped, and they froze, afraid of making even a ghost of a sound in that moment. How? So quickly too. The wind was blowing away from them, towards those beasts. He should have known.

The cotton of his shirt scratched his stomach when he stood up, it didn't feel nearly as good as the soft whispers of breath had. The pale hand clasped his and he stared yet again at how perfect it was. Even with the hatred that approached he smiled gently and caressed the soft cheek he knew so well. He was much shorter than the other one, but frailer too. How he hated being frail.

Life was frail. In moments the dogs would be here, and so would the people. The hand would be torn from his, the soft flesh of his savior torn right before his eyes, and he knew it would be over then. Everything would be gone forever. A sweet miserable bed awaited him. Soft and empty. A perfect place for an empty soul to rest. Never again. The bed would have to go on being lonely without him. Their eyes met, and the other one knew without asking. He did speak though, and it was alright, because his angel always had a way with words.

He would always remember those words, and they went through his mind now as they ran, hands clasped, dogs barking, wind burning his cheeks in spite of their love. He didn't know the wind could be jealous.

I know a place that we can go to, a place where no one knows you. They won't know who we are.

His sweet words were like a melody playing over and over in his mind as they escaped from it all, attempted the impossible of keeping something perfect. His angel whispered it again, how sweet the words sounded. It was close now, the moment of decision. Fly together, or fall together. He liked to think they flew. Maybe they were still flying.

The edge seemed scary when they reached it. A giant rock jutting out into the unforgiving ocean. He heard the barks, mocking them each second they stood and waited. Why wait any longer for their happiness? His hand was squeezed, and the dark eyes that told their stories together met his own.

I know a place where we can hide out, and turn our hearts inside out. They won't know who we are.

Was that the last thing he heard before they fell into bliss? He couldn't remember anything else. Would heaven be what he hoped it would be? Would there be angels like his own? Maybe the other angels would be jealous of his own, just like the wind was.

Maybe it was the wind that tried to save them, whooshing past them in an icy sheet as they fell together, and he could hear the dogs in the distance, from somewhere up above. The rocks would be there, they would represent the cruelty of being alive, of feeling what it was like to die. After that would be their peace. He hoped.

It hurt so bad, everywhere. He couldn't even see the black hair or pale hand, he couldn't feel the warm breath on his skin. Maybe heaven only wanted its angel back, and they were going to leave him here, drowning forever in this salty prison. So cold, maybe his body was ice too now, like his hands. If he moved he would break.

But there it was, that spark of a thought. His place to go to be happy, forever. Away from the restraints of the shell he'd been placed in. Away from anything but his savior. Finally, there was peace. He could hold that hand forever. Maybe it'd look even more perfect in heaven.

OoOoOoO

A/N: What'd I tell you? In any case, please tell me what you thought? That would be wonderful of you. If I know what you think, I can write more of these sorts of things. If that's even a good idea…Ah well. Review loves, please. I will adore it.