I found this pic on my iPod, and it inspired me to write.

Fang alighted on the windowsill easily, peering in at the dark room washed with moonlight. He entered the bedroom silently, like a shadow, via the open window. He wondered why Max had left it open, she was usually so paranoid about little things like leaving windows open while sleeping. Maybe she had left it open just for this purpose. So that if Fang came back, he would have an easy route back into his abandoned life.

He had screwed up, big time. Leaving the flock in a rush of stupid arrogance, thinking he could single-handedly gather an army strong enough to help conquer the evil in the world. Him, a single bird kid, versus the entire evils of the known world. Yeah, right.

But he had stuck to his decision, for awhile. Trying to survive on dumpster diving once again, trying in vain to avoid the rain underneath canopies of bare branches. It was hard enough to survive with six other mutants helping you keep your spirits up, and Fang wondered why he was stupid enough to leave his good life with the flock.

Nudge, his loyal little chatterbox, with her silly material loves and serious ideals.

The Gasman, a cackling little terror, with a great twist of humor and intelligence hidden underneath a boyish face.

Iggy, the amazing pyro who'd kept the flock on their toes with his constant experiments, and filled their stomachs with his delicious cooking.

Angel, his sweet little girl, being laced with evil thoughts by an unknown source.

Total, the comforting little furball with a flair for dramatics.

And Max. Oh, Max. His sarcastic, beautiful, amazing, cynical, tough, gorgeous girlfriend. Why had he ever thought he could live without her for twenty whole years?

Still completely silent, Fang came out of his memories, touching down on Max's carpet softly, and moving around her room. It was roughly the same, but for a few differences. Fang noticed the differences immediately, because they were largely concerning him.

The hole in the wall where he had punched through the plaster in frustration when Max beat him twelve times in a row at checkers. It had been previously left alone, a fond memory of triumph for Max.

Now it was re-plastered, and repainted. Fang didn't need to be told why. He could see where that would be a sore memory for his abandoned Maximum.

The photos of the flock at the County Fair in silver frames around the room were still there, but for a few. The Picture, the one that had first captured Max and Fang sharing a kiss, was missing from its place of honor hanging above Max's messy desk. Another shot, one of Max and Fang sticking their tongues out at each other, was also gone.

It was apparent in these changes, and a few others, that Max was trying to forget Fang, thinking that he would never return to her. Fang gazed around again, drinking in Max's scent that pervaded every corner of her bedroom. He padded over to the dark oak desk, and looked around on it, careful not to shift any of the papers and junk that was littered across its surface. Hanging above the desk was a big corkboard, on which was pinned many photos of the flock, flyers for air shows, a big calendar, and taking up almost a quarter of the board, a big black piece of paper, with silver letters inscribed in a huge version of Max's handwriting.

WHY? the sign read. There were faded spots that Fang suspected were dried tearstains drizzled across the paper. He immediately felt guilty. He had made Max cry, probably numerous times since his disappearance. He was the cause of Max's sorrow. Fang tried to drag his mind away from the awful guilt spreading through it, and scanned Max's calendar instead.

The calendar was a personalized one, with a large picture of a flock member for each month, and several group photos for the remaining months. Fang gently took the calendar off of its pin, and thumbed through the year. It was obviously fairly new, made in the two months of his absence.

January was a picture of Angel, smiling sweetly at the camera and clutching Celeste.

February was Gazzy, a wicked grin across his face, and a suspicious-looking bunch of wires clutched in his hand.

March was Iggy, juggling a frying pan full of crepes, a milk jug, six plastic cups, and a piece of bacon twixt his teeth.

April depicted Nudge, her curls held back by a silver sparkly headband, and dressed in a pink sweatshirt, black skinny jeans, and soft boots, flying about six feet above the grass.

May was Total, grinning a doggy grin at the camera from underneath a plaid blanket.

June was Dr Martinez, holding a tray of her chocolate chip cookies in one hand, and smiling a knowing smile.

July was Ella playing soccer, her ponytail flying and her arms out for balance like a professional as she smashed her foot into the ball.

August was Fang himself, dressed in his normal black, leaning against a brick wall, with his dark hair flopping into equally dark eyes, and smiling a secretive Fang-smile back out at the real Fang.

September was a picture of the flock flying in formation at an air show, their hands connected to form a star with a little black dot that was Total flying in the middle.

October was a disgruntled Akila stuffed into a jack-o-lantern, with Total howling indignantly behind her.

November was Max and Fang sitting on a bench under the autumn-toned leaves of a maple tree in the park.

December was Max herself. Fang drew in a small breath as he gazed at her, draped in a flowing white dress with tank top straps, and her wings unfolded, her wingtips brushing the ground. Max's face was radiant with happiness, and for once her hair was completely smooth and shiny, tucked into a tortoiseshell clip with tiny strands framing her face.

Fang had to replace the calendar before he dropped it, his hands shaking with emotion. Now Fang dared to look in the direction his eyes had been avoiding out of guilt.

Max was snuggled into her bed, the purple comforter draped around her lithe form. Her hair was splayed across the white pillow, and her tanned face was relaxed, but laced with telltale streaks that showed that she had cried herself to sleep. Fang now walked over to her as if drawn by a magnet, his eyes riveted on her face. He reached out with one hand as if to caress her cheek, but stopped himself. No. Fang had to truly decide if he would stay again before he gave himself back to Max.

Wrenching his gaze away from the beauty that was Max, he cast his eyes about the room again to find something to help him make his decision. Fang's keen sight found an iPod touch in a black case, plugged in to the outlet just below the re-plastered hole in the wall. He stepped over mounds of clothing and papers scattered across the sea foam-colored carpet to get to the iPod. Fang crouched down and picked it up, clicking the little circular button to start the iPod up. He waited for a moment before being rewarded with a view of the battery symbol and the white numbers telling him it was 2:30 in the morning. Fang pulled the charger out of the bottom of the iPod, and was met with a new picture. A Manga girl with pale blond hair, white wings and blue eyes lay on a field of snow, a tired expression on her face and a bloodstained bandage on her upper arm. Above the girl was a plain black script. Fang read it, and paused, shocked.

Sometimes you need to run away, just to see who will come after you.

Oh, the wisdom of iPods. Fang gazed at the screen of Max's iTouch, not quite believing the message inscribed in glowing letters on the photo saved as her wallpaper. He assumed she was trying to find a reason for his departure that could soothe her pain. Fang slid one calloused finger across the touch screen, and was greeted by a number pad and the words 'Enter Passcode'. He immediately knew what Max's password would be, and typed in the four numbers. 3264. On the number pad, it spelled out

FANG.

3624 was always Max's password when she wrote in numbers. Likewise, Fang's password was 6294, which spelled out MAXI. Max hated to be called that, so obviously that was Fang's choice. Fang stared at the screen that displayed her apps. There was one for the weather, one for YouTube, one for her Notes, another for Music, and several others for games like Tap Fish, Pets Live, Cube Runner, Cut the Rope, and a wallpaper app. Fang cast around on the pages of apps until he found one called Mood Pad. Writing messily with his pointer finger on the touch screen, he tried many times to write a short message to Max. Finally, he got frustrated, and exited the app, instead entering one called Glow Draw, which had smaller lines to draw with. He drew a broken heart, one shard labeled F and the other labeled M. Beneath the heart he wrote in the tiniest writing he could manage, Fang wrote,

I'm always here, although you may not know it. –Fang

Fang saved the picture to her photos, then figuring it might be days before she opened the photos app again, resolved to leave that as the open app, so when Max unlocked her iPod, it would be the first thing she saw. Then, Fang realized that he could draw on pictures with Glow Draw, and found Max's wallpaper. He doodled a glowing aqua line through the words, and wrote over the Manga girl with wings,

That's not why I left.

Fang plugged the iPod back into the wall, and turned it off again. He stood up, and made his way over to the bed again. He had decided what he was going to do.

"Good bye Max. I love you this much," Fang whispered sadly, spreading his arms apart to their widest distance. He suddenly dropped them again, and turned to the window. He had one foot on the sill and was about to put the other up beside it when Max murmured something in her sleep.

"I love you Fang." Her words were heavy, and Fang was sure she was still asleep. Still, if one had looked at him when he heard Max speak to him for the first time since Akila and Total's wedding, they would have sworn that either the moon was sparkling directly in his eyes, or

Fang was crying.

Mwa ha ha…. Yet another attempt made by my imagination to thwart my update for Race for the Cure! But it won't work… Or maybe it will.

Hmmm…

I will try to update that, if you're reading this, Wingedgirl36. XD I'm just…. Working up some inspiration for Percy and Trest's fight scene! Yeah, that's it!

Peace out,

~TMI~