DISCLAIMER: I was downloading oodles of Silent Hill songs and it put me in a fic-mood. I don't own Boogiepop Phantom, but I do own Moroi and Korosu. If anyone wants to draw the "Pointing scene" with the pillowcase, I'd love you forever. I tired and failed. This fic is going to be subject to a name change as well. . .Just to let you know. I will announce the new name in forthecomming chapters. Enjoy chapter 4. For more information, go to valtiel(dot)com.

THEORETICALLY SPEAKING

Chapter IV

September 20th

Crouched under a sheet, veiled by a gutted pillowcase which now snuggled around silken black tresses. The girl slowly began to rise, corners of the sheet entwined together at the shadow of her throat.

" And slowly...it rises." She emoted with a dead sort of drama, coin coloured eyes focused sharply on the tall male by her bedside. "A universe of possibilities and wonder hidden..." Slowly, Moroi raised an arm, letting the sheet curtain over it. "In the expanse of it's voluminous cloak. Everything and nothing. The answers to all. With the grace of a predator and a prist...It lofts a hand. Extends a finger..."

The girl stretched out a finger, pointing it square at Korosu's chest.

"And points right at you. And you touch it. You're filled with a serene white light that burned away what was wrong. And you dissapear...With the Boogiepop."

Korosu stood, limp but mesmerized by the girl's dramatic fable. He could feel the soft pad of her fingertip, the slight rooves of the fingerprint causing unnoticeable friction as he ran his palm under it, an invitation for the "Boogiepop" to take him away.

His bare feet were on the bed's mattress now, and Korosu felt the warm, slender arm of his familiar companion drape across his back, the sheet enveloping him completely, in a warm cocoon of tranquility. The young man could feel the rise and fall of the Snailgirl's chest against his own as she breathed at a steady pace. The putrid fluorescent lights of his room, or as he called it- The Tomb- gave her hair a healthy, soft sheen.

" So..." Korosu swallowed back a strange hiccup of something nervous and unidentifiable to him. "that's the Boogiepop, hn?"

All stoic seriousness left Moroi's face and she replied with a bright smile. "Yes."

Korosu's black eyes blinked at the sudden, almost manic shift in Moroi's aura. "Your parents tell you about it when you were little?"

" Nope." Moroi wriggled out of the sheet and embrace like a snake shedding it's now useless skin. "My mother and father had other things to do that were better then taking care of me."

Well, that was awkward.

" Then...how..? School? Kids tell stories like that..."

" A little butterfly told me." Moroi answered casually, flipping through a stack of CD's on Korosu's dresser. Soon, the girl unleashed the sweetest of excited keens Korosu had ever had the prevalige of hearing. "You listen to Arasoi Nonakade?" Exclaimed the girl, taking a CD case into her two delicate hands, the fractured one already well on the path to healing.

" Huh? Oh, yeah. She's great, all dark and lilting and twisted, and her stageshows...whoa."

" And her costumes-!" Moroi gushed, looking at the cover wide eyed. "I've never seen her but-..."

" Yeah-..."

And then there was silence, as with any tragic story, when the conversation turns to the sad outcome.

" T-...then the killer..." Korosu found his voice first.

" Yes." She paused. "But at least Nonakade survived." Moroi raised her head to look at Korosu, giving a half hearted smile of encouragement.

" If you call being brain dead 'surviving'." Countered the boy in a dull tone.

Moroi paused again, her head slowly tilting to an angle. Her large, pretty copper eyes seemed strangely clear for a moment to Korosu as there gaze held his.

" You'd be surprised what people will do for survival."

Korosu appeared clearly perplexed, and the corner of Moroi's mouth quirked slightly in an offer of reassurance. She was alright, really.

" Sleep well Koro." Moroi gave her faretheewells as she placed the CD back on the dresser. "Have good dreams."

The Snailgirl left too quickly to receive a reciprocating farewell. 2