Amu stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Staring.

She couldn't help it. As she locked the doors, turned on the shower, and stripped of clothes, her eye caught the large mirror on her left side.

A mirror would never lie about your complexion.

The pink haired girl came closer to her, step by step, as she continued to stare. She was wearing only her white garments, covering her feminine parts, but still exposing enough skin to see. The reflection imitated her; every move she was making.

What people see is what you really see.

The reflection lifted her arms up to the face. It began to examine itself, surveying every part. The pores were so large and the nose was so pointed in an irregular form. The cheeks were pinched, stretching all its fat away from the unnoticeable bones. The fingers began to trail down to the stomach, pulling away everything as if trying to rip it off. Nails dug into skin, hurting Amu too. The thighs were next, and it wobbled continuously. No matter how hard the reflection tried to tug or pull at every imperfection, it still existed. It was still there, numerous and thousands of them. Many that Amu could name and many that Amu wished she could change.

Amu couldn't help but pity the reflection. It was upsetting. Not only to it, but also to her. She wished she could change it. She wished she could do something about it. Anything, anything at all.

But nothing came to mind. No matter how hard she tried. No matter how hard she wanted to change. Everything she hated about her reflection was still there. It has mocking her. Mimicking her about her ugly and unworthy she was to even live.

What did I do to even deserve this?

She didn't mean to do this, but she did. She broke down at that point. Enduring every emotional pain she had in her, finally stressing and releasing it. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell until no sound ever made it out, anymore. What if she punched the wall? What would happen? What's the worst that could happen besides looking at her bleeding hand that was so short and wrinkly-looking?

You're so disgusting looking and no were near beautiful. You will never be as smart as Nadeshiko. You will never be as pretty as pretty as Rima. You will never have a voice as beautiful as Utau's. And you will never, ever compare to any girl.

It's no wonder Tadase doesn't me.

Although Amu was alone in her empty house, and the water streams blocked her noise, she didn't know that one person was watching. One person came by just to see her, just to see if she was in healthy condition. He had always cared for her, since the day they had met each other.

And he came.

Getting used to the windows in the houses, he climbed in one of them, expecting to see Amu lying on her bed, usually reading some Japanese fashion magazine or doing her homework. Sometimes she would fall asleep and he would take advantage to climb in and examine her room, rummaging through her private areas. At rare days, he didn't bother to be stealth, and he just barged in. It was one of those days.

He didn't find her there. So he waited.

If anyone came in, who wasn't the girl he was looking for, he would quickly climb out. No problems there.

But as a couple minutes passed, he began to worry. He began to wonder whether Amu was in danger. Or maybe she didn't come back from school yet. Or maybe she in the house and…

He smirked. She was probably in the bathroom. He could recall the last time he was there, when both Amu and he were caught. They weren't really doing anything, nothing at all, but somehow, it seemed inappropriate. He never got the idea why.

The boy, or legally—a man, began to walk to the door and slowly opened it, trying to reduce any groaning or creaking. He stuck out his head, only to reveal an empty hall. Then, he proceeded to the living room. No one there. Then the dining room. Nothing. From his memory, the bathroom was on the right side.

Sure enough, he could hear the silent tinkling of water drops, with… some different noise. Anyone could have easily overlooked the sound, but of course, his ears were different. They weren't like regular humans, rather like cats. His attention was drawn towards the noise, in a split second, putting it all together.

Running to the door, he turned the knob. When it didn't open, he pulled continuously. It still wouldn't open.

Amu's in trouble.

"Amu! Amu!" He wildly screamed as he was tugging on the door knob. "Amu! Are you in there? Open the door! Stop doing this!"

This had happened before. I need to get in there.

Amu could have sworn she heard someone call he name. Why would anyone call after her, anyway?

"Amu! Open the door! Now!"

It can't be, she thought. I must be going crazy. I must be…

He didn't know how he did it. He didn't have the slightest clue how he got the door open; everything was just a blur. He knew he just needed to get into the bathroom. He ran into the bathroom, finding the girl he was looking for up in the bedroom, but this time, sprawled helplessly on the ground.

"Ikuto?"

"Yes, I'm here. I'm here for you."

"Don't leave me."

"I know. I know. I'm here."

Neither did Ikuto or Amu know how they got into this position. All they knew was that it was comfortable. Ikuto was cradling her in his arms, as she shivered uncontrollably, releasing every drop of painful tears onto the black shirt with the lingering scent he always had. Ikuto smelled the familiar shampoo of her pink hair, relishing everything that was to take in. His gentle hands stroked Amu's bare back, attempting to soothe her. She pulled in closer and he smirked.

"You're wasting water," Ikuto teased.

No response came out of Amu.

They sat there, letting the darts of raindrops cascade in the background. They continued sitting there for about some reasonable minutes. This was perfect. They both knew it. And none of them wanted this to end.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Ikuto's closed eyes revealed to a beautiful sapphire. He looked down at Amu, while her eyes avoided contact.

"What?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Why are you asking me this?" He knew. He just had to keep on asking.

"Just answer it."

Ikuto had been watching over Amu every single day, whenever he got the chance too. He had noticed how skinny and gaunt she's been looking. He noticed how isolated she felt from her group and how she just wanted to hide her skin from people. He noticed how she stopped hanging out with her friends. He also noticed how every time she flipped through the pages of the fashion magazine, she had this yearning expression.

It wasn't long that he realized that she was in the verge of anorexia, low-self esteem, and depression.

"This happened before," Ikuto said.

"I know. You didn't answer my question, though."

"Yes, I did. Don't you remember?"

"I was upstairs…"—she stammered a little—"…in my bedroom."

"Yes." He waited patiently as he gently picked up one of Amu's bleeding, delicate hand.

"I was sitting on my bed…"

Ikuto repositioned to let both of his hands examine her fingers. Some shards of the broken mirror were pierced deeply into the skin.

"You were there…"

"Yes I was." He slowly took out the pieces, hoping not to inflict any pain.

"I was crying… I wished I was like those girls… Those girls in the magazine…"

She didn't flinch as Ikuto plucked one out.

"They were so perfect… They were so skinny…"

You're too skinny, he thought to himself.

"I punched the wall… you were there… you helped me… like what you're doing now…"

"Go on." He continued his procedure.

"I was crying… I asked you if you think I was pretty…"

He waited.

"You said… no…" she sniffled.

"Do you remember what I said after that?"

"You said… 'You are beautiful.'"

Ikuto ripped off a piece of his shirt.

"You were lying… Everyone does…"

He wrapped the shirt around her hands, like a bandage. He'll wash off the blood later.

"Then I asked… 'Am I skinny?'"

"Do you remember what I said?"

"You said… you said…" Amu couldn't find the memory for it.

"'You're too skinny.'"

"You were lying."

"How do you know that?"

"The mirror told me I was fat."

"Did you know the mirror was lying?"

"The mirror doesn't lie. What people see is what you really see."

"That's not true."

"A mirror would never lie about your complexion."

"The mirror always lies." He fastened the bandage into a knot and stroked her bony body.

Nothing was responded from Amu.

"You're brain will lie too."

"I don't have a brain. I'm not smart."

"It's lying."

And they sat there, once again, enduring the raindrop pattering.

Amu finally looked up with her shiny, now puffy eyes. The amber twinkled beneath the light. "You still didn't answer my question."

"You know the answer."

"No I don't. You were lying."

Ikuto came closer to her. "I don't know why you bother with him."

"Who?"

"Tadase."

"He will never like me."

"I know someone who does."

"You're lying. Answer my question." Her eyes were piercing into his, demanding.

Ikuto stared back, back into this little, innocent child, who had lost her courage and her heart to stand up for herself. The girl, who he once knew as cheerful and adorable, had become self conscience of herself.

"I'll tell you the truth."

"I'm ready to hear it."

He kissed her forehead and angled his head where their eyes met. "You were always the same."

"So I will always be ugly."

"No."

Amu waited.

"No, you are something more than that. You are something no one can ever compare to. You are you. You are Amu."

"I am disgusting." She looked away.

Ikuto tilted her head back to where it was before. "No."

"Then what am I?"

"You are beautiful. You will always be beautiful. In my heart and in my mind, you will always be beautiful. You will always be beautifully the same. Do you understand?"

Amu stared for a while. Just staring at the handsome man who claimed to believe she was always beautiful. And yet, she still couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"You're lying."

Ikuto knew he couldn't change her mind, maybe one day—but not at this point. Amu would still eat very little amount and claim she's fat. She will still compare her grades to everyone in the school. She will still compare herself to everyone around her, no matter what. But he knew.

He knew he can always have the ability to say this, over and over again, and that he'll keep trying, no matter how long it takes. He will say this over and over again.

"No. No I am not. You will always be beautifully the same. Do you understand?"