Another loose lock of hair fell in front of his eyes.

His fingers brushed it away gently, but it only fell again.

The tip broke on the end of his pen as he wrote.

"You know, it doesn't help that you won't get your hair cut.."

A boy sitting on the floor next to him spoke aloud.

He ignored him and continued on with his business, once more pushing away the bothersome hair.

"Please Ryan, you don't eat..you don't sleep.."

The boy picked at the carpet as he said this.

He rubbed at his eyes, tired as anything.

"..."

The boy, glanced at the armchair.

He used to see him differently.

Not so much a skinny, mess of hair and ink stained hands,

but a friend.

His back quivered, his hands flew across the page.

"damn.."

He whispered.

"...out of paper.."

Finally he turned to look at the poor boy,

his face was a light pink and his eyes a dark red.

In the silence, the sounds of tears hitting the floor could be heard.

He reached his hand out,

his mouth opened as if to say something.

Comforting perhaps,

maybe a, "Are you alright?"

or, "Do you need tissue?"

The boy's shoulders began to heave,

a sob escaping his lips.

He pulled his hand back and he only watched.

Tear after tear fell.

His eyebrows came together.

They hit the floor.

He couldn't imagine what could have possibly caused this.

A whine.

"Hey.."

The boy looked up, his face a mess of wet and red.

"How about..a movie?"

The boy shook his head and stood, his eyes averted.

He stood as well.

The boy turned around and walked into the next room.

His white converse were kicked to side on the way, they had long since turned a dark gray.

He looked around.

He shut his eyes.

He opened them.

He look towards the door of the next room.

He knew what needed to be done.

The next morning,

he came down the stairs,

the boy was reading a novel,

his hand held a crushed tissue.

He walked into the room.

The boy didn't acknowledge his presence.

He took a couple steps forward,

his new shoes pinched so bad.

He lifted the boy's chin.

The boy's eyes fell on a well dressed brunette who looked like he had finally eaten.

His shirt was clean.

His pants were ironed.

His shoes fit.

As for His eyes, he still looked as if he hadn't slept.

He leaned forward and kissed the boy with the tear streaked face.

The boy's cheeks flushed a deep red.

He spoke three words.

"Get a haircut."

Another kiss took place.