A/N-Don't cha just want Graverobber so bad?


I want him-Graverobber, but I'm not a Z addict, I don't intend to become one. His smile is to die for, but I go on living. I'm not familiar with the sort of life he leads. I don't really want to be-familiar, I mean. I'm afriad of rejection. I hang back in the shadows and watch how he lavishes attention on the others; a grope here, a pet there a brief kiss all the way over there. They take his affection as a consolation prize to the Z they can't afford. I write scrupulously in my notebook, taking down all of his actions; his smirks, his hair today.

Amber Sweet comes around and I immediately feel short and fat; who wouldn't? She's perfect because she has the money to be. Amber can score all the Z she wants and pay for it however she wants. I'm certain I'd look like her if I had all that money.

I'm not going to compare, I'm just going to say that I don't look like her. I see the look in his eyes when she offers to 'pay' that way. It's like he's just won the lottery. I just don't want to know how I measure up. I guess if I looked like that. . .but it isn't my world, I'm not liked that. I wouldn't want him like that anyway. He administers his poison to the living bodies who are able to pay. He's finished and starts to leave-probably off to score some more Z. We all know how he does it. He didn't get his name for nothing. I follow suit and pack up my notebook.

Suddenly, he spots me. We totally have eye sex. His stares me down.

"What have we here?"he muses out loud.

I know I don't have the look of a Z addict. I've never had surgery, by choice. I get my highs from watching him. Then I realize he's got that look. The one he reserves for Amber's sort of payments. My heart, the only one I've had since birth, skips a few beats. I'm backed up against a brick wall, his hands are on either side of my head, imprisoning me. I can smell him. He smokes. I swallow hard and look at the ground. I'm not used to seeing him up close.

He takes his finger and puts it under my chin, tipping up my face to look up at him. I blush under his examination. My skin isn't perfect. I just had to take care of a blemish this morning. Under his gaze, I feel my self-imposed wall begin to crumble. My knees feel weak. He dips his head down and kisses the side of my neck-just a touch of his lips to my skin. It comes to my mind that I should probably smack him or something, but my senses have fled.

"I have to go," I mumble and duck out of his reach. It occurs to me he may have seen me before, but were that the case, he'd have acted on it. Gravy's a man of action. I remind myself that I don't want him like this. I'm not a part of his world, maybe he could visit my world sometime.

I hurry off without a backward glance. Some day, maybe. For now I'll just stick with the status quo. He's out of sight, but not out of earshot. The tuneless whistle I hear haunts me all the way home.