Hello! My sister re-read the Molly Moon books the other day, and I was inspired to do something like this. Rocky's feelings in this are sort of what I was thinking when reading the fifth book, because I was like, 'No! Why Rocky gone? D:' so I thought with Micky Minus getting closer to his sister, Rocky would feel slightly left out. Anyway, if you'd prefer it to be, you can see this fic as just a strong friendship, or you can see it as slightly romantic. Whatever floats your boat, I intended it either way. I haven't read them in a while, forgive anything I may have gotten wrong. :)

Oh yeah, copyrights go to Georgia Byng. I just realised I need to put disclaimers on all my other stories as well...

Rocky Scarlet had a nice voice. It was deep, rich in tone, and when used summoned out all the best feelings of people. His words seemed to sing and dance, even in the most sombre of moments. He said things in such a way that he could sound polite and cheerful no matter what he was saying.

And Rocky Scarlet's voice used to be one of the things that Molly admired about him. He never had been sure whether she genuinely liked his voice, or if she just favoured it because it sometimes came in handy when voice hypnotism was needed. Either way, he was glad she liked it. But now, he wasn't so sure.

He knew he and Molly would always be friends; the bond that they had was not something that could be broken. But it could always be weakened. And sometimes it felt as if she had drifted off, slowly moving further and further away from her friend. It hurt Rocky like crazy.

And there was only one reason Molly had drifted away.

Micky Minus-now-Moon.

Of course, Rocky couldn't blame her. Micky was her long-lost twin brother, seperated at birth and whisked off into the 26th century. Micky had been tortured there his whole life, until Rocky and Molly had gone to great lengths to rescue him. Now, Micky and Molly were inseperable. He would sit on the bean bag Rocky used to sit, and play the video games there with Molly that Rocky used to play.

On sunny days, he and Molly would go outside and play with Petula, before eating a picnic of tomato ketchup sandwiches and soya sauce ones with three cartons of orange juice. Molly had invited Rocky to join them a couple of times, but he would politely refuse and choose to do some meditating with Forest, hanging with Ojas, or just playing guitar on the lawn.

Molly used to love listening to Rocky play.

Now she prefers to spend her time discussing their all-so-powerful hypnotic powers with Micky.

Sure, being able to hypnotise, stop time, time travel, mind-read and morph is pretty cool, but they sure as ever didn't have to go on about it all day long. Why couldn't they just act normal for one day?

So whenever the all-powerful twins had their picnics, Rocky would listen to them chatting, and secretly despise Micky.

Definitely, Rocky thought that Micky was a nice guy. There wasn't really anything not to like about him. But something Rocky could not quite describe snagged at him from the corners of his consiousness; anger, hurt, heartbreak, jealousy. It tore away at the very edges of his soul, so much in fact that Rocky had to fight the urge to wring Micky's neck with his bare hands.

Yet he handled these urges very calmly, by meditating or playing his guitar. They were the sort of thing that allowed him to escape from the perfect-on-the-outside reality around him and be left alone with his evil, Micky-hating thoughts. On occasion, he would become so caught up in 'auming' (the Hindu sound of meditation, Ojas had said, often counfused with 'om') or strumming he would almost forget about the world around him, composing songs and tunes so beautifully crafted, so creative and catchy, that hours would pass before he actually noticed his arm ached and his fingers hurt.

Often, he became so buried deep inside himself Rocky came to the conclusion that it was something to do with the fact he could hypnotise; no normal person should be able to experience that.

So one day, during one of his meditation sessions, his thoughts drifted to Molly. And while thinking, Rocky came to a desision; he no longer needed Molly Moon. If she insisted she had broken the once brotherly-sisterly relationship with Rocky, he would not mope about it. He would hang out with Ojas and Sinclair, visit Happiness House, ride on Emrit, but he would stay clear of Molly Moon and Micky Minus.

Rocky did not let these thoughts cloud his head at night though. At night, he would lie on his bed, awake, staring hopelessly at the ceiling and wondering why he hadn't managed to upkeep his and Molly's friendship. They had spent all fifteen years of their life together. She had only spent the last four years with Micky, and over those years Rocky's situation had grown worse. He would look back to the days where he and Molly had adventures; the days when they were inseperable eleven year olds who had discovered how to hypnotise.

And Rocky would let a single tear spring from one of his chocolate-coloured eyes and roll down his cheek. Just this one night. Then he groaned, and rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head and wondering why on earth he deserved this, after saving hundreds of lives, and, in some cases, the entire world. Rocky felt utterly hopeless. He was jealous of Micky Minus. He desperately wanted him to leave his sister alone for one day, one day, so that Rocky could have Molly back. It felt as if his heart was being wrenched from his chest and torn into thousands of pieces at the fact that Molly no longer cared about him. After all they had been through together.

He sat up, not able to sleep. Running slender fingers through his curly-black hair, he glanced at the clock on his wall. 12:15. Rocky pulled himself from his bed and slipped some pumps on loosely. Usually, he would get his guitar and let his own calming voice make him feel better, but he wouldn't risk waking anybody up.

He needed a drink. Gently shutting the door behind him, he tiptoed along the corridors and downstairs into the kitchen of Briesville Hall. Moonlight streamed in through the window. He grabbed a glass from the shelf and agressively poured some water from the tap into it. His throat felt as if someone had rubbed sandpaper against it. The water in the glass made his dry mouth water.

Rocky was just about to hold the glass to his lips when he heard the door open and a sharp intake of breath. His hand jerked as he jumped, surprised, and water flew everywhere. He turned to the door to see who the intruder was, and saw none other than Molly Moon. "Oh, Rocky, I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean to startle you," she said, awkwardly glancing at the water that was now all over the floor. Rocky just looked from Molly to the empty glass in his hands to the puddle on the tiles.

"I'll clear it up," Rocky stated, not saying anything else as he took a tea towel off the worktop and lay it on the floor for it to soak up the liquid. Molly moved over to him, leaning against the oven and watching Rocky as he worked. She watched him as he rinsed out the glass he was about to use, get some concentrated orange juice from the fridge, and as he poured it into the glass. Then he placed it on the counter next to Molly and wiped the floor down one more time, before chucking the tea towel carelessly into the sink.

Molly smiled as she took the orange juice and drank it in one go. "Thanks," she said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "How did you know?"

"We've been best friends since before we were one. How would I not know what you like to drink?" he replied, not meeting her gaze and trying very hard not to think about the fact that Molly thought he wouldn't know what she wanted to drink. She blinked at his statement, then gave an awkward nod. "Point taken," she said, as Rocky poured some water into the kettle and switched it on.

"So, I'm guessing you couldn't sleep?" Molly tried. Rocky nodded once, slightly, as he reached for a mug and a tea bag.


"Me neither," she admitted, helping herself to another round of orange juice.


"Sooo..." she started. Rocky did not say anything. "Micky's going out tomorrow."

"And?" Rocky asked, failing to mask the hope in his voice, although deep down he had to fight the urge to ask, so the only reason you want to talk to me is because Micky's gone?

"And we haven't been seeing much of eachother lately-" she continued.

That's an understatement.

"So I was wondering if-" she was suddenly interrupted when the kettle whistled. Rocky hurriedly switched it off and poured the boiling water into his mug. Molly opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again decisively. "G'night, Rocky."

"Night," he sipped at his tea.

She nodded, hovering, half-expecting him to say something. When he didn't, Molly smiled briefly and left the kitchen, feeling Rocky's gaze bore into her back. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, staring back forlornly at the ajar door of the kitchen. I've got to say something, she thought. Should I?

"I was wondering if you'd like to go for a meal on Friday?" she cupped her hands round her mouth and shouted, not too loudly, as to not wake anyone up. There was a pause, as she waited, hoping. Then Rocky's handsome face appeared in the doorway, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"But won't Micky be back then?" he asked.

Molly shrugged, smiling. "So?"

Rocky grinned. "Okay," he said, disappearing back into the kitchen to finish his tea. "Good night, Molly."

"Night, Rocky," she murmured under her breath as she trudged back upstairs.

When Rocky went back to bed that night, he did so with a smile on his face. And for the first time in a long time, that smile was caused by none other than Molly Moon.

What did you think?

Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)