"No, no I'm not. You aren't real..." "but what is reality, Draco? 'Reality' isn't real," Dorian interrupted emotionally, "this," he proclaimed, putting his hand over his heart, "real is. Real is it, Draco," he finished, lowering his voice conspiratorially. Draco was speechless, he had never imagined that this so-called figment of his imagination had such depth and emotion. Removing his sunglasses for the first time, Dorian looked with pleading, pale green eyes at Draco, "believe not in me if you will, but believe you are my friend," he said dejectedly, tilting his head slightly.

"Why can't you just stop causing me so much trouble? Why are you always destroying everything that you come in contact with?" Draco inquired anxiously. The Mad Prophet sighed, replaced his sunglasses, shook his head to fix his shoulder length raven hair, and responded rather stiffly, "Chaos is, therefore we must." He straightened his ankle-length black trench coat, looked at Draco, and, cocking his head, asked, "Do you smell....oranges?" Draco looked at Dorian incredulously, blinking in disbelief. Dorian glanced expressionlessly at Draco before crossing the room to the window and looking out into the night. "Oranges," Dorian said. "What about them?" huffed Draco, his brain hurting from trying to piece together the Mad Prophet's puzzle. "They smell. They do. Not like apples. Not like pears." Again, Dorian removed his dark shades, his pale eyes flashing mischievously.

Dorain busied himself putting his shades in a pocket in the coat, then looked up at Draco. "I know nothing of pears, and very little apples of, but oranges. Ah, oranges...so...citrusy....oranges hold no knowledge, no answers, for people questions who answer none." His eye twitched and he sniffed officiously. He paused, then began to make a strange gurgling sound in the back of his throat before continuing. Draco looked on, baffled. "Apple is you, and I am an orange," Dorian started again finally, "I know almost nothing of apples. I hold not the answers for questions have you, although I search for the break to prove reality is not real. Madness I am. Am I. I am."

Draco looked at Dorian. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, man?" he inquired, annoyed and confused. "Fake I am. But I am, regardless. Madness." All of a sudden, Draco understood what Dorian had been trying to tell him, in his own round about way. Despite the fact that Dorian was not real in this 'reality,' he might be real in another reality all together. He was also telling him that even though Dorian might not exist, he was still here, and he was his friend, loyal to the end. Draco looked at the black-clad wierdo that had been haunting him for the past three months. Yes, Dorian had been a nuisance, but not on purpose.

There had been nothing more in the world that Dorian had wanted than to be Draco's friend, and God knew Draco needed one, forever the lonely geek. Draco stood completely still for a moment to let the knowledge sink in. He remember something, and just as he did, the doorbell rang, catching both of them completely off guard. Dorian, who was naturally paranoid, dove behind the desk that he had been standing next to. The top of his head peaked over the desk and he looked at Draco. "It's just the doorbell," Draco reassured him as he collected the papers and books he needed. "I knew that," Dorian mumbled from his perch behind the desk.

"Ah shit, they're gonna be pissed if I make them wait," Draco mumbled as he scurried to get the last of the dice and papers. "Please, Dorian, whatever you do, don't do anything to embarras me. Behave." Dorian smiled his childish smile, replying, "Don't I always?"

Once he was satisfied that everything was all set, he went down the stairs and greeted the other role players. "Hey, guys, sorry about that. I was doing some last minute preparations." They all sat in the living room drinking soda and eating sandwiches for about fifteen minutes before going up to Draco's room. Once they entered the room, they all took their places around the circle and Draco, who was the StoryTeller, sat in the center, three D-10 dice in hand, one for each player. "Where were we?" Draco asked, looking around at the other role players. "Last week, Dorian was leading Joey, Rain, and Ramona through the cave to the werewolve's haven," answered Christian. "Right," Draco responded, "now I remember."

Dorian smiled at the knowledge that this time he was the leader. "Roll to check for blood points," Draco commanded the other players. As the other three rolled for their blood points, he wondered how his character could become such an important aspect in his life. How did something that started out as a made up Vampire character of the Malkavian clan for a game become such a realistic entity in his life? "Yes! I got five blood points. I'm halfway there," Jared exclaimed. "Two. Can I re-roll?" asked Christian, who's character, Ramona, was of clan Gangrel. "Yeah, sure," Draco responded, dazed as a thought hit him. Did any of the other have the same problem with their characters? DId Christian ever see Ramona? Did Jared have any encounter with Joey, his clan Ravnos? Did Maria ever have a meaningful conversation with Rain, her frightening Tzimisce? Was Maria afraid of her sharp-toothed, red eyed, deformed monster of a vampire?

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Christian leaning over and whisper, as inconspicuously as possible, to someone...someone who wasn't there. Draco was relieved, suddenly. He wasn't alone. He had lost his grip on reality, but now he knew he wasn't the only one.