[Tristeza]

Though it was usually uneventful, Ash could always remember his way back home, letting his eyes roam through the people on the bus, on the streets, either just for the sake of observing or, if he was feeling particularly nasty, unwinding from his personal grief by making snarky mental remarks about their appearance or general attitude. This time, he didn't even remember if the neighbour had grumbled at him or not after he closed the front door behind him.

Those eyes... those purple eyes came back again and again to haunt Ash's thoughts, sucking his attention from everything else. Loran? Where was he from? Why did he change schools at the end of the school year? Who the hell was called Loran? Then again, his first name was Ashorai. First child, unfortunate enough to be born on the last year of his parents' hippy fad. At least it was only the name that stuck on from those days, nowadays they lived in the suburbs, with 9 to 5 jobs, perfectly middle class. The irony. Not that it mattered to Ash, not st that moment. He was going to figure out where this guy had sprung up from, if it was the last thing he did.

Hours of web searching and social networking later, even the sun had given up on watching over the boy's fruitless search. No trace anywhere, no one had ever seen him in school or out, no twitter, no facebook. Who the hell doesn't have facebook??? Sighing out of defeat and frustration, Ash threw himself on top of the bed, mismatched eyes fixed on the ceiling. His white shirt was half unbuttoned to let out some heat of the day, snickers strewn on the floor, only his jeans remained properly fixed. Almost with a mind of its own, the paper found its way to his fingers and was brought into Ash's sight. Who was this guy? Why the hell was he so curious about him? He was so... strange... and... handsome... "Loran..." Ash whispered, without realizing, lost in his memory of the brief encounter in the afternoon.