Highlight Reel

by ItalicsToBold

"Excellence is an art won by training and habituation." Be your own inspiration. "All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence." Share your best. "Excellence is the gradual result of always striving to do better." Strive for better.

I'm introducing something called Highlight Reel where I challenge anyone reading this to pull your best/favorite writing moments to serve as inspiration whenever you feel stuck on something you're working on. Whether its three or 100, its entirely up to you.

Its in no particular ranking as far as my absolute favorites go.

For those of you curious as to how this differs from "Progress," its to showcase your shining moments in writing that speak for the quality you're capable of.

If you do take on this challenge, I recommend numbering it so you can see for yourself the quantity of the quality ;) It can be as short or as long as you need it to be. This is mainly for you. Its intended to be introspective, though it helps others to get a feel for your style as well.

Now...

Without further ado...

My Highlight Reel! ^_^

Highlight Reel

#1

Drowning.

The sensation of water rushing through your body in a way it can't handle. It packs so much pressure, force, and fury that such a small body cannot contain it. It can break through dams, flood organs that were never meant for anything but keeping someone alive. Water damages, ruins, smears, and kills. It can tear apart families, take away homes, break hearts, and steal childhoods.

This pain was like that.

It was water and she drowned in it.

Kisa wanted to squeeze that trigger so badly, but was always terrified that hell would be waiting for her on the other side of that bullet. But what was the difference between a momentary lapse into limbo before crossing over into eternal damnation, and a life of isolation, wading through hardships like the walking dead with no spirit for anything? Hell was a dimension of brimstone, gnashing of teeth. Something that surpassed anything a human mind could ever fathom. It wasn't worth it. She kept telling herself this as she unlocked the glass, safety box that protected her mother's firearm. It was originally purchased for the sake of self defense. To defend against potential thieves that could break in due to the absence of a man in the household.

~ Trigger Happy

#2

"I'm tired of the back and forth, Rin."

"I love you. But this has got to stop."

"I can't keep letting you hurt me, hurt yourself. I...have to go."

"We're done."

Rin hadn't ever believed she'd hear those ugly words uttered from such a beautiful soul. She never thought he'd be the one to walk out, to give up. She thought he'd forever be her shield and defense and stance against fear and pain and insecurities. That the abusive childhood she'd fought her way out of would be beautified in the poetry of sex and long conversations. That what they had - no matter how few years it lasted - would be a photograph framed in rose gold, hung up for everyone to see and envy. To covet.

Not the crumpled sephia that lay in Haru's wastebasket with its broken and dilapidated frame. It was the talk of her belongings against the wall as she threw them. It was the whispered nostalgia and wistfulness in her tear-soaked pillows. It was the ballad that lulled her to restful sleep and separated her from dreams in the dawn of morning.

~ Unbreak My Heart

#3

He touched me in the dark.

He shoved his tongue into my mouth and fed me poison.

His poison.

And because I was so lost in that dark, I let it happen.

I let his lust and hatred for the world consume me. Until all the colors were replaced with black, suicide, and heartache.

~ Worth

#4

The prince was known around the school for stringing girls along, then tossing them aside like unwanted leftovers. No matter how great the rack, how curvaceous the girl, or how beautiful her eyes were; nobody held his attention for long. The dilemma? Everyone wanted it.

With people, their reasons varied. He was far from poor, and his fat pockets were a gold-digging pantydropper in itself. He came from a long line of the wealthy and successful. He never went without company or food a day in his life.

Then there was his good looks. From his velvety purple hair to his mysterious violet eyes, he was a total catch. Not only was he known as the Prince, but he was also unanimously declared the Swoon King. One wink of acknowledgement and it was an instant K.O.

~ Upside Down & Topsy-Turvey

#5

That trigger was just one lethal caress away.

With a fraction of a second spent hesitating, she squeezes it.

There's the confirming click of the spinning cylinder.

But...she's still breathing.

She had five more chances to think this through before she'd be lying on the floor, the life she could have had bleeding out of her cranium as her breath grew shallow and her skin turned cold.

With the next pull, a memory is released and plays tug of war with her subconscious.

~ Trigger Happy

#6

Rin tugs on the sleeves of her white sweater, shivering as if the cold rain was drowning her from the outside. And she couldn't be so sure that it wasn't. Not only did she feel like the room had dropped several degrees since her sun left her those years ago...but their place suffered leaky roofs every spring. Haru would grab a ladder and climb heights that Rin never dared to reach. And he'd fix the hole, dedicating his time and focus to its repair. Because he wanted to keep her safe and warm. He wanted to care for their place as he did for their relationship.

But, he wasn't around to fix the hole in her heart.

And somewhere in the world. Maybe among the lonely spinsters and widows of her neighborhood, there was someone waiting around on their couch for someone to come and fix their roofs. And maybe, their heart along with it.

~ Unbreak My Heart

#7

When I told him about my past, he made fun of me for it.

And I was too broken to tell him how much that hurt.

Especially when he called me a whore and I spent my entire life feeling like one.

My heart was already cracked with every time I was picked last. Every moment someone was chosen over me, in a world where no one ever reciprocated my feelings.

It was a mutually destructive existence.

And he said it was love.

~ Worth

#8

His command throws her into action, forcing her feet to move as she seeks higher ground, somewhere she can get away from the crossfire. The distant sound of dueling metal reaches her ears as she shimmies up the garland wrapped around the tree, sneezing when the silver material tickles her nose.

"I come to bring you to the room I have made for you, cat," Akito taunts, parrying his own scepter with its two jewels. "Its got everything in it that a banished prince could desire. Four walls and a floor."

"Go shove a hunk of cheese up your snout, rat king," Kyo throws back, leaping to miss a brush with disembowelment before elbowing the table leg behind him and creating an earthquake. The bowl of eggnog teeters and careens forward, smashing to the floor in a million fragments that scatter everywhere.

"Ah! Kureno," Akito hisses, his lip disappearing behind his buck teeth as he fights the urge to dislodge the foreign object plunged into his shin.

An auburn rat lunges over Kyo for the sake of reaching his master, standing on all fours to examine the wound and weigh the risk of its removal to leaving it in. Finding it difficult to work under the pressure of an able-bodied nutcracker and a girl with abilities unknown, Kureno opts to pick up Akito by slipping his arms under his, and dragging him back towards the mouse hole with him.

Unsatisfied with the turn of events, Kyo is quick to scuttle after them, stepping over the fallen cats and half-devoured mice that lay to waste on the parlor floors.

~ The Nutcracker

#9

So instead, whenever the sun falls and makes room for the moon to shine in all of its crowning glory, she snuggles up in bed with the picture of her mother cradled in her arms. Agony that tears her heart to shreds, makes her jaw ache, and sets tension into her back like sharp stone is her only company as the lunar bulb hangs high in the sky.

The coolness of glass, concealing her mother's photograph rests against her rosy pink cheeks as they share in beads of salt that roll down her face of porcelain, weathering away her cheerful expression until it is no more than a somber grimace.

But by the time the night ends and a new day begins, she is able to smile again.

Not because of her job.

Not because of her home or hot meals.

Not even because she's made new friends during the time she's spent right here at Shigure's.

But because she has this memoir of her mother. Because she has the familiarity of film behind glass that she wouldn't ever risk touching, for fear of ruining such a painful masterpiece. But it is the same glass that bottles and catches and remembers her midnight devastation.

Who knew something so cold could make her feel so warm?

~ The Comfort of Film Behind Glass

#10

A tear splashes into her lap, followed by the third coax of the trigger.

The moment she was hiding in the bushes, listening to Tohru - the girl she'd considered a sister - explaining the feelings she couldn't express on her behalf. She understood her, didn't she? Regardless of the rays of sunshine she cast, she was no stranger to the eclipses life presented. Why was she doing this again?

The mocking laughter. The fear. The pain. The tears.

~ Trigger Happy

#11

To make a long story short...it had seen better days. But this hideous piece of furniture made for better days between them. Kisses and snuggles and stories were swapped here. Love was made. Hearts were broken and patched up. And fights had met their end. But as much as she dreaded burning the midnight oil of term papers and research, the sight of him right here on this sofa brightened her day. And she was swept up in a renewed passion for him again.

~ Unbreak My Heart

#12

But I was swallowed up in darkness. I didn't care enough to say no anymore. I wanted it all to stop. Life and the questions and the worthlessness. I wanted to be something to somebody.

Pretty. Beautiful. Sexy.

So I took off my shirt.

I stripped off my bra.

And I sent it to him.

~ Worth

#13

Tohru peers down at the action taking place, wanting desperately to aid the boy she loves and to end it all before it truly become a bloodbath befitting of barbarians. She squeezes her eyes shut tight, terrified to see the result of what was to come, swinging her leg high to send her satin slipper sailing through the air until it meets its target.

"Oh," Akito groans, his head spinning as imaginary birds circle him. "I do love those Christmas parties," he murmurs before falling prey to unconsciousness.

Kureno looks from the shucked footwear to his king, deciding that now was no time to dilly dally, for they had much to do and he needed to be nursed back to health so that it could be done. Hoisting Akito upon his broad furry shoulders and onto his back, he wastes no time ducking beneath the covering of the mouse hole and vanishing out of sight.

~ The Nutcracker

#14

His lungs were punctured and blood filled them like plastic bags. He was heaving heavily, desperately craving oxygen. He'd taken it for granted in the past. Breathing was involuntary and natural. He didn't think about how his heart pumped to keep blood flowing through his lungs. He didn't think about the way blows to his epidermis and wounds that pierced his skin healed so rapidly. The anatomy and structure of his body never interested him. He simply considered it a weapon to defeat his formidable opponent, the rat. He never appreciated the beauty of his tanned skin. How the sun kissed him so lovingly. It was never overbearing that his skin burned crimson. It was never underwhelming that he looked pale as the ghost he was becoming. But it was always an even and warm shade. A breathtaking accentuation to his blood red eyes and sunset orange hair.

But now he was dying. Somehow the demise of a person turns them into a poet. Waxing philosophical and lamenting over the unfairness of it all. All the sights unseen and sounds left unheard. The memories that haven't been made and the tears he hadn't shed. It never occurred to him that it would be his last day on earth.

~ The Cat's Final Hour

#15

A gasp tears through her, parting her lips in a painful blow of air. It felt like she was trembling past the membrane of her skin, right down to the bone marrow. Everything in her was breaking and shattering and ripping apart. Gaps, rifts, and chasms were created with each rugged inhale and exhale as the gun slips out of her clammy palm.

~ Trigger Happy

#16

She jolts upward. And she cants her head, wondering if she was just hearing things.

That her broken heart was creating delusions for her to cope in.

"Please?" He says, softer this time.

And for the first time that night, she returns from the dead.

His voice is the strength she needs to save her heart from remaining buried six feet under.

~ Unbreak My Heart

#17

Kyo was a very conflicted man. He believed that Tohru's beauty was more breathtaking and precious than that of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa. She deserved to be on display for the world to travel far and wide just to get a look at her. The demure innocence her blue eyes held, her perfectly structured nose, the pink softness to her lips that made any man ache with desire and a craving for a taste of them. But the other half of him was petrified of the girl. When she breaks plates and snaps wooden spoons in half while cooking, it was obviously a cry for anger management. But he wouldn't dare suggest such an offensive yet plausible idea. Oh no, not unless he wanted to wind up like the shattered china that littered the floor every night. But even in spite of her fits and spontaneous raging, he found her irresistible. Maybe her kinder and gentler side made him want to stick around. Or the fact that he was her polar opposite in every way. Either way, he loved her, even though she was the girl of his dreams as well as his nightmares.

~ Upside Down & Topsy-Turvey

#18

There is so little solace found in the cold embrace of glass against the cheek of a weeping girl, protecting the only photograph she has of her now late mother. It glistens and catches her tears on its slick surface. It hears her secrets and confessions and guilt from not telling her mother to be safe the day she died.

She was like sunshine on a beautiful summer day, but even the sun hid behind the clouds sometimes.

She tells no one of the burden that weighs her heart down like a ton of brick. But she carries on, singing - albeit, off-key - laughing, spreading her trademark optimism, and being the sunshine on a dreary day among the Sohmas.

~ The Comfort of Film Behind Glass

#19

It had been a vortex that catapulted them into a long and chilly night in a wintry cave. But it was through that same medium that they were lead and ventured into Parthenia, a land where the snow melted with each step you took and breathed of candy canes and everything festive.

Tohru stuck close to Kyo as they stepped over powdery logs, keeping their hands locked the closer they got to suspicious territory and further exposed themselves to a land they did not know. But there was a tension in her nutcracker's soldiers, shame that riddled his form and broke her heart. She was oblivious as to why this version of Kyo was just as embittered as the one from reality. But if it was anything like the old tale, it was sure to involve politics of the kingdom and a temporary transfer of powers gone wrong.

But she only had a second more to speculate before getting knocked to the ground by that of a little boy, his hands pinning down her scrawny shoulders as his legs came to straddle her waist.

"Hey! Unhand her, you scoundrel!" Kyo shouts, bending down to snatch the boy off of his traveling partner.

"Whose side are you on? The rat's or our's?" The boy barks, his nails attempting to sink into Kyo's hands though failing to realize a nutcracker is a stranger to physical pain.

~ The Nutcracker

#20

And as the beads scatter and clatter against the blood soaked concrete, he looks up at his riceball one last time. He drinks in her crystal blue eyes, filled with tears that she didn't deserve to cry, and reflecting pain she shouldn't know. His gaze falls to the lips he never once tasted or felt. The lips that his rival won and he lost. As his eyes slide shut, the last thing he sees is Tohru. The last sound he hears is her cries; his name.

The sweet sound of his name coaxes and pleads for him to return. To not leave her behind with Yuki and Akito. To not leave her alone with her sorrow and grief. Even though he doesn't want her to mourn for him, he can't help but feel glad for it too. It meant that he mattered to someone...it meant that they cared enough to feel pain and miss him. It meant everything to him.

And as he gives control of his spirit, soul, and body over to eternity, he only has one desire in mind.

I hope you're happy Tohru. Even if it is with that girly rat.

~ The Cat's Final Hour

#21

I had high hopes for my eighteenth birthday.

It was supposed to be frills and thrills, sweet enough to give you a tooth ache and still come back for more. I wasn't typically the party type. But I had a handful of persistent friends that were both bossy and kind enough to drag me along for a day that was all about me. Which was a major deal considering my parents were constantly drowning in work as co-owners of a multi-billion yen company, and couldn't be troubled to spend more than money on me.

But the thing is, we were out from day to night. From shopping spree to club hopping. And for the night at club Venom, I donned my birthday sash and crown, slipped into the sexiest little black dress I owned, and wore my louboutin red bottoms. The ideal outfit for stepping out and showing up to any event illegally gorgeous.

But it took an hour...maybe two hours, for things to go sideways.

A man not much older than me took the stool closest to me, ordering me a drink from the eye candy that was the bar tender. It was a long island ice tea. Something I knew was alcoholic and was sure to fan the flames of the shots of tequila I'd already done with Uo. But through booze goggles, this man was everything I've been looking for my entire life.

His hair was the very shade of my favorite bird, like the refined dark feathers of a raven. And his eyes were a shrewd onyx, so flooded with mystery and classic intrigue that I wanted to stare into them forever. His body was slender and oh was it like a fine wine. I'm certain it would get better with time. He seemed like the type to age beautifully. I couldn't help but smile as the long day and tequila made my eyes heavy, though my body was waking up as he trailed his fingertips along my upper thigh and offered me an enticing smirk.

I allow a small sigh of pleasure to slip past my lipstick stained lips, wanting to encourage him to speak to me in more than just the whisper of his fingertips against my skin. I craved his secrets, his interests...his past. I could never help myself when in the presence of the tall, dark, and handsome. I liked my boys bad.

~ Stockholm Syndrome

#22

The cheap florescent lights that hold onto the ceiling of the bathroom I share dim and grow in brightness, again and again, like the lapping of waves on forsaken beaches, retreating to mix with nameless and blase' water. Its only six in the morning, but that meant nothing to the darkness that stretched and crossed the distance of my mind. It knew no time; no day and night or black and white. And the thoughts that demanded death by my own hands just happened to scream louder than all the rest. Maybe that's why there's no trembling to my hands and no skip to my heartbeat. There's nothing but a counterfeit calm that I drown in, though I barely register the unmerciful suffocation. A simple hot pink, disposable razor finds its way to my hands, the chipped bright and sunny nail polish blurring as the blade takes center stage in the foreground.

~ Slave To Your Mentality

#23

I clap once, throwing the room into darkness with my sound activated light switch, rolling over so that I lie on my stomach and stare at the shadowy outline of my hands in front of me. I feel cold without his warmth covering me or the headiness of being connected to him in a way no one else was allowed to. But I knew he had boundaries. And once sex was done, so was the contact. He would never touch me or talk to me or call me beautiful outside of it. So I settle for him sleeping beside me, keeping his distance, and not telling me goodnight as I massage the bruises left on my hands from practice in the ring.

Because I know he won't say it, I whisper it into the darkness, as the sound of his even breathing permeates the three inches of space between us.

"Happy Birthday."

~ No Strings Attached

#24

Three heads swivel in the direction of fear manifested in the body of a young girl, the same age as her angrier counterpart. She's clothed in a red and white striped dress, like she's been picked right off a Christmas tree, her auburn hair and tawny eyes standing out against those bright colors. And its with unrivaled relief that Tohru sees its Kisa, and is certain that even this Kisa is worth trusting. No matter what role she played.

"Kisa, go back inside," Hiro commands, his tone torn between tender and firm. "Its not safe for you out here. I don't want you getting hurt like last time."

"N-No Hiro," she says, shaking her head as she makes careful strides towards Tohru and Kyo. "The rat king cannot hurt me anymore. I won't let him."

"Don't be ridiculous! I can't afford to lose you to him because of some burst of bravery."

"I have to help," She says again, this time more exasperated for all the times she's sat on the sidelines. He had to understand that she could no longer let herself be damaged by their ruler. He was wicked, cruel, and wasn't afraid to rob their people blind if it meant feeding into his lust for money and power. Their quaint Gingerbread village had been desolate as families migrated North of trouble, leaving these two refuges behind among the ruins in hopes of finding someone to save them. Someone that could rescue these lands from darkness.

~ The Nutcracker

#25

"I call things as I see them. And I'm hopelessly blunt about the things that I notice. Like how heartbreakingly beautiful you look."

My pulse whirs to life with his words, my brain aware of the numerous girls that must have heard the same things he's saying now, but my body not really caring if I were the first or the last to listen.

I shrug, drawing attention to my bare shoulders while conveying nonchalance. "You know, they say that flattery gets you nowhere. But I happen to think it looks pretty good on you."

He smiles at this.

And I mirror his expression, completely blind to his hidden agenda as we continued on in our flirty banter. Eventually, the night dipped into early morning and my friends faded into the background as my mind grew drenched in fog. The club's deafening music drifted off into a lullaby as colors teetered between vibrant and washed out, the sensation of my body against his loud as we danced as intimately as two people could dance.

~ Stockholm Syndrome

#26

I never panicked in these instances where I marked up every free surface of my body. Not until he waltzed into my life. He ruined everything with his optimism. And his blonde curly hair that I sometimes dreamed of running my hands through. And the amber eyes that served to be a reminder that he was not a boy, but not entirely a man either. To let him fine-tune me and my damaged heart strings until unbroken song could be strummed or plucked. In the weeks that I've known him and since I found out we'd be in the same music class, I've wondered if he might just like me with how he looked at me.

~ Slave To Your Mentality

#27

But there was nothing wrong with my way of doing things…what Kyo and I had was good enough. He got pleasure and I got pleasure; it was equal, fifty-fifty enjoyment for the both of us. I didn't feel slighted…I just wish that sometimes – and only sometimes – we would talk about all the mess and the trouble and the pain in our lives instead of burying it with sex. But I had no right to ask it of him. It was our agreement. Its reality; its life.

~ No Strings Attached

#28

I lift the picture, my eyes tracing his features…how they mirrored my own…I didn't want to see it. I didn't want it to remain.

I take my lighter to it, flicking the metallic gear so that it ignites. I draw it to the edge of the portrait, my heartbeat dull and lifeless. I burn it needing to lessen my pain…craving relief of some kind.

The fire tears through the film. Yuki's expression dissolves in the flames; the picture slowly turning to ash. I step out from beneath the covering and drop it into the snow. Grey wisps spawn from the dying flame. The wind curls the smoky Polaroid, snuffing out its fire.

Destroyed…how I felt inside.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#29

"We have come to find out where the Sugar Plum Fairy is and to prepare to vanquish the rat king. It will require more than just our efforts to put a stop to him," Kyo explains, courageously stepping in front of Tohru to protect her from their gazes.

And it stunned them both to watch how those words sobered up the most joyous pair, and made the Major stand up that much straighter. Apparently they'd suffered their own effects of Akito having control over the kingdom that once rightfully belonged to the prince.

"Yes," Ayame begins, his hands falling to his hips, "He has taken from me my own brother; his blood has dyed the rat king's hands for more than a decade now. As for my friends here..." he nods his head in their direction. "He has stolen the Major's sight and Shigure's heart. Shigure's love affair with a maiden was forcefully brought to a close just as the Major's was."

So they've all been crushed by the oppression of the rodent dictator, and in some of the most painful methods of torment. The loss of family, a vital function, a love.

And it impassioned Tohru to personally see to the defeat of the rat king if it meant saving them all. She wasn't so sure that this was something that could be solved by talking things out. He didn't want to listen to reason.

"The fault is mine," Kyo admits, his shoulders pressing into his crafted ears. "I was impeached the moment they found the cat spirit within me. People hate the idea of the ruler being different from them...a monster. And the law of what they do to creatures like us holds true. We cannot lead anyone. And I've been turned into a nutcracker for deceiving them of who I really am. And I can't be changed back until I'm redeemed. But, I know that's impossible."

Unthinkingly, Tohru caresses his arm, concern etched into her kind face as her heart ricochets around her chest when something more than his character looks back at her. Like...the true Kyo was reaching to her thorough his eyes. And that little glimpse of him is enough. And his beads on her wrist would serve as a promise to him, a vow to all of them.

She would be the one to save them.

Everyone she loved depended on it.

~ The Nutcracker

#30

It was like being in an acid wonderland, a trippy place where nothing was the right shade, the room spun as my vision swam with each swift turn of my head. It was so quiet that my thoughts boomed. Like a song with extra bass and an overwhelming voice. And it would be quite the feat if I walked away from here with my sanity still intact with how the pain of silence was equivalent to grandma nails on a chalkboard.

~ Stockholm Syndrome

#31

It was on these weeknights that she wasn't a little girl playing dress up, but a grown woman parading about the stage in nothing more than lingerie or a thong. The brass pole she circled and grinded on and climbed became her most reliable companion in the years since she lost her mother, stripping as means of survival. She put up with men pawing at her, bowing just long enough for a horny, drunk patron to stick cash into the string clinging to her hips. She allowed men to call her Blue Butterfly, because of the same color gems that grew more and more dull as she lost herself in the burlesque soundtrack, paying her dues with her soul and body.

It was a lonely life. One where she lived in a tent to avoid submitting to a pimp that would lord his status and provision over her until the day she drank herself to death. It was all unfair, really. She had hopes and dreams of teaching elementary students...once. But those aspirations all died the moment her mother did and she took this sinful job she hated so much. It was one that offered her power and money she would never earn as an educator. And there was no chance of it now that she dirtied her hands and marred her record with tassels and high heels.

~ Look, But Don't Touch

#32

My mom was glowing - radiating, even as she was going through one of the most painful experiences. A nurse was stationed beside her in sailor moon scrubs, informing her that it was safe to push now. My mom increased her hold on Satoshi's hand, leaving white finger impressions and causing all the blood to rush to his hand as anxiety invades.

I smile, anticipating the first glimpse of my baby brother that wouldn't be far behind.

But then...

There's panic.

I hear words.

Words I knew from studying the medical side of things, because I wanted to be a doctor one day.

Words like breach.

Phrases about turning.

Sounds of fear and concern.

Shouts and yells.

And...a cry.

But not from the voice of a newborn.

It's feminine. Mature.

Its my mother.

Its cracked and broken, wrapped in raw ache.

I leave the room, afraid of what all of it meant. Too out of it to know what was being said or what was happening. I just have to go. To not find out for as long as I can avoid it. Because none of it sounded good. Not like the celebration I'd expected; not the tears of joy that I wanted to believe I heard instead.

But when I return to this very hallway, everything grows distorted.

Voices and faces.

Forms and hues.

It all runs together like a watercolor painting, drenched in the downpour of cynicism and miserable sensations.

I step inside just in time to see them covering a tiny body with a white sheet, and...all of a sudden I can't breathe. I stagger backwards, everything else around me tunneling as I back further away from this nightmare. I drag my feet back to the waiting area, my heart sinking to my shoes with each footstep I take.

It wasn't supposed to be like this...

We were supposed to go home in two days as four; we were never meant to be three again.

We should have never had to discover this pain. For thoughts of what could have been done to prevent this on repeat, like broken and scratched up vinyl.

A broken record.

~ No Strings Attached

#33

I inhaled; ecstasy passing from his lungs into mine. As if he was giving me a piece of his soul, his life, and I was giving mine in return. In the throes of this bliss, my heart still aches as if its undeserved. My guilt like steel bars, keeping me from fully letting go and enjoying this. Enjoying him. He breaks the kiss with a gasp for air and he stares at me in shock and disappointment. Disappointment, an expression that looked ugly on just about everyone, even Yuki.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#34

Even in Tohru's wildest dreams - and she had a great imagination - she had never pictured a place quite like this one. One where rocks defied gravity as they hovered over a chasm, perhaps floating over a magnetic field that kept them there. And as each one of them stepped onto one, it began to lower itself under their weight, which only made her cling more fiercely to Kyo out of fright. She was never one for heights and felt her knees buckle every time she recalled dangling from their Christmas tree a few days before.

Ayame and Shigure engaged in singing Christmas tunes like their very own human jukebox, disregarding the orders to shut up from Kyo and each sigh that left Hatori. It wasn't until they came across an abandoned shipyard smothered in fog that they silenced their rendition of Silent Night, uncertain of any pirates lying in wait to drum up trouble. For it wasn't uncommon for them to hitchhike on someone else's voyage.

~ The Nutcracker

#35

The moment the door closes behind me, I immediately search the room, looking for something that can give away the location or tell me more about his true identity.

The walls are completely blank. There are no pictures, paintings, or anything seemingly out of the ordinary. Except...the tick marks that decorate the wall closest to me. With each line, a new height and age are recorded, like this is his family home where he was measured throughout his childhood. Judging by his physical stature, he looked to be nineteen or in his early twenties. Based on the ages listed, this house is at least fifteen years old, which means it can't be in a district near mine as they all hold new homes.

The furniture was also outdated.

The bed I laid on looked to have been straight out of the twentieth century, composed of brass and a foofy mattress that was so uncomfortable, I felt like I was a princess and there was a pea somewhere beneath me. A mirror was attached to the ceiling above the bed, which lead to some hideous thoughts as to just what went on in this room before I arrived. A storage chest sat at the foot of the bed, two matching nightstands of the same wood material were on either side of me, dressed in dust like no one had touched them in weeks. The piece de resistance was an old dinosaur computer, presumably with crappy specs and ancient software.

I don't know what's more terrifying.

The fact that I'm nude and trapped in a psycho man's home, or the tragically old computer. Even if I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I wouldn't be caught dead with anything more than a year old. As if. With me, its either top of the line, state-of-the art, or not at all.

Obviously, this situation was far from desirable. And it would take a whole lot of brainpower, wits, and planning to stand a chance at outsmarting this man - whoever he was. While I wait for my parents to notice my absence and sic an expensive pack of private investigators on him. Yes, I will pretend to submit to him long enough that I can figure him out and leave.

~ Stockholm Syndrome

#36

So she relies on the saucy beat; she the sinner, and the music her salvation as she avoided piercing eyes and judgmental gazes. The compelling spin of strobe lights caress and coil around her half-naked body, covering swan white skin in hazy patterns that lure men in like the tide. She kicks a leg up, resting the heel of her stilettos on the knee of the amethyst boy, encouraging him to remove her garter with his teeth in a seductive lilt. His cheeks flush as he catches the insinuation, looking to the eager man beside him for assistance. The brunette sighs, removing her foot as she realizes that he must have been the shy one of the group. She was like that once...and she never wanted to go back to that again. But, it reminded her of the parts of her blackened soul she lost along with her clothes. The irreparable damage that had been done way back when.

"He means no offense, flower," the man says, waving his hands in apology. "He's a bit...mousy."

This earns him a sharp elbow to the ribs, to which he shoots a dirty look back at the owner. A brief exchange of conversation passes between them, stealing their attention away from the Aphrodite that stood not even a foot away from them. The Blue Butterfly begins to grow anxious the more this goes on. Time was money, after all. And this wouldn't stand with the club's owner, Akito-sama. Money was made through tips given to the dancer, cut 75/25 between the owner and dancer, as means of payment. It was far from fair, but it was how he operated; how this world operated.

"Hey!" The scowling, formerly silent boy calls.

She swivels in his direction, unaccustomed to patrons saying more than "Take it off baby," and "Don't be shy, Butterfly" mixed in with a few demeaning insults and expletives. She takes in the untouched liquor bottles, refusing to face him full on for fear of the disgust that was sure to be filling those striking red eyes of his.

"You don't have a place to stay...do you?"

Her blood runs cold as his question rendezvous with her ears, telling of a perceptiveness that doesn't quite match his tone of voice. And its then that she notices the hush that falls over the other two beside him, as if they were all waiting with baited breath for her answer. She runs a hand through her chocolate locks, a nervous habit that started the day she left her mother's grave site for the final time.

~ Look, But Don't Touch

#37

When I wake, there's cold and warmth that envelopes me. The coldness of his sheets, the warmth of his tanned skin from where his body melded to mine. I didn't really know what happened between the hospital and my ending up in his bed. But...there was this sadness, of sorts; the kind you can't shake no matter how hard you try. Though the ruin that was settling into my darkening heart is outmatched by the nothing that hollows me out, as if I were not more than a wooden doll. And I needed him to make me feel something, anything. To color me in red and orange instead of leaving me stranded in the grey scale.

His eyes become the only pop of color in a muted world, washed away with grey that doesn't let up, serving to be the only reminder that I was even human at all. It was hard to tell the less I felt and the more I emptied.

I decide to stop thinking, to try and stop time by silencing his words with my own lips, to take control and take him in as if nothing was wrong. But everything was wrong. And the air in the room felt dry as all the tears that refused to come. I leave red marks on his back, making a hiss leave his clenched teeth as we shared in pain.

He doesn't offer useless condolences, because somehow...he knows that's not what I need right now.

But when he doesn't fill the emptiness like I hoped he would. It only served to stir up tears, because of the hopelessness that ensnared my soul with a death grip. I wondered where Yasu went...where do all babies that don't survive entering the world go? Heaven? Paradise? And if I would meet him one day, how am I supposed to live this long without knowing for sure? Watching my mom with the guilt and regret that she feels, blaming herself day and night. How could I?

I tell him to go faster and deeper because I don't really feel it this time. He increases his speed until his hips are slamming into mine, doing just enough to eradicate a fragment of the numbness and loss that colors everything in monochrome. But then, the imaginings of what could have been take center stage. Flashes of moments I could have had if my baby brother hadn't died at birth. Teaching him about the stars that fascinated me; showing him how to box; telling him to refuse to settle for anything less than love, because this was all so screwed up. And boundaries were becoming more unclear the longer I perpetuated an inevitable heartbreak.

~ No Strings Attached

#38

Silence. Once again, deafening and unbearable silence floods the room. Even the bird shuts up. The only indication I had of him hearing me was his heart. How it sped up, like a metronome's tempo shifting from Andante to Vivace. I feel my sanity slipping away as second by second passes us by. It's been so long since he responded. He was the one that decided to start this.

"You, what?" His voice wobbles as fear weaves itself in and out of each syllable. It touched me that he cared enough to be concerned, but that wasn't enough to chase away the ever present guilt.

"I'm fat so...I...well, I don't like the way I look. So I came up with a solution to my problem," I explained, feigning nonchalance. I expected him to ask about it and wonder why I began such a thing. Or worse, tell me that I was beautiful and didn't need to do such a thing. Even coming from him I might not believe it. But instead, he delivered a confession of his own.

"I tried to kill myself the first time Akito forced herself on me..."

I suck in a harsh breath and the room begins to spin. Did I hear him correctly? He admitted to almost leaving the Earth prematurely because of her. The world seems to shift on its axis just because of those thirteen words. How different my life would be without Yuki and his solace. Being robbed of his love, his touches, his kisses. And worst of all, his very heart. The same heart that lulled me to sleep and separated me from my insomnia. Not feeling him against me and hearing him call me his Tanzanite. That was almost ripped away from me, just because Akito's selfish and lustful desires.

To shake off those thirteen words, I reach for his other hand, and hold it to my heart. My erratic heartbeat harmonizes with his pulse and trembles along with me. Tears spill out of my eyes before I can stop them, the embodiment and manifestation of my agony. They trail down my cheeks and splash against our joined hands, shattering the rhythm of our pulses.

No human should suffer this much. There's only so much a heart can take before it collapses and gives out. The body tries to heal and repair. It attempts to keep the life force going and acts as its protective barrier. But with enough heartbreak and loss, the pain penetrates the shield, and ravages you from the inside.

The rest of the night carries on without another sound from either of us. The suffocating weight of our utterances dispels the warmth and is replaced with a bitter cold. Our relationship is once again turned on its head, and we're both thrown for a loop once more. Both of us left to wade through the sorrow we're too young to know exists.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#39

"Guys?" She says, trying to swat away the heaviness that obscured her vision. "W-What's going-"

Her question is interrupted by the groan of the ship, the entire vessel leaning towards the left and sending barrels sliding across the ship's hull, the sheer force of it making her feet practically slip out from under her.

"Whoa," she cries, wasting no time to hug the bench and avoid all the hurtling objects tumbling over the edge of the boat and taking its wine into the sea with it. She shuts her eyes as the boom of thunder sounds much closer than before, high-strung from all the indistinguishable chaos that permeated the space around them.

"Hold on! Come on," Kyo shouts, gritting his teeth as the ship begins to flip further onto its side.

"I'm...trying..." Ayame says, giving a yelp when he flies back and darkness bares down on them. The ship capsizes, the torrent of freezing cold water challenging them all to hold on to one another as its murky bottomless depths wait to collect them.

"Clara," Kyo gurgles, his hand straining to latch onto hers as terror brims her beautiful eyes. She doggy paddles under water, maddened by her need to obtain the sanctuary of his hand. Just as their fingertips brush against one another and she thinks this nightmare will meet its conclusion, she's dragged backward by the pull of the current and smacks her head onto the side of the ship.

The last thing she hears before losing consciousness is a name she never expected to hear from lips composed of timber.

"Tohru!"

~ The Nutcracker

#40

While my body remains in the present, my soul is torn between here and back home. With my family in our massive house. We were distant; my parents were more concerned with the upcoming stock exchange, profit projections, scraping the bottom of the barrel and letting blue collar workers go if they failed to fall at their feet in reverence. While they had a surplus of work ethic, their relationship with me suffered a deficit and lingered in the red.

Whenever I finished my studies with my private tutor, I waited for her to be completely out the door before racing upstairs to reach my parents bedroom - two whole stories separate from mine. And knowing my parents would be away on business in Hawaii, shaking hands in between luaus, I jumped at the opportunity to go through their closet. There was a holed up sweatshirt that my dad used to wear before he struck oil and landed a major corporation, before making a wife out of his secretary and bringing her straight to the top. And as appreciative as I was for what long money did for security, abundance, and frivolity...it just didn't comfort me like the coffee stains and the smell of peppermints that still clung to the grey material that symbolized his alumni.

I was fine pulling it over my head and allowing it to fall to my knees. I was content in climbing into their bed and pretending they were there with me, and the source of the warmth was from them instead of their high thread count. But...with none of those things to be the parent to me that I never really experience anymore...

I'm lost.

~ Stockholm Syndrome

#41

She plays with her tresses, considering his words and turning them over in her head to try and find the catch. Sure, she would have to work for any and all of her living expenses, but...why would a man that stepped foot into this den of inhumanity and lust, want her to leave it all behind? That was what she failed to make sense of.

Her tongue feels heavy, like damp cotton as she surveys the three watching her with what seems like genuine concern and honesty. Why would they be so kind to a stranger? What has she done to deserve a hand out of the pit she put herself in?

It takes awhile, but she starts to shake her head in decline to their proposal. It exceeded her current standard of living, but this was all she had...it was the only way she knew to live anymore. And rejoining society above the surface instead of within the underground confines of this cage was daunting. And scary.

~ Look, But Don't Touch

#42

I come up behind Kyo in the kitchen, dressed in his black shirt, wrapping my arms around his waist as he pats rice into submission. I noticed that he always stuck with making rice balls, inhaling ten of them before I could I finish two.

"Breakfast with sex on the side. Sounds like my kind of morning."

He gives me a flat look, before his lips give way to the smallest semblance of a smile.

"Hmm... Talk about your cock-a-doodle do." I laugh. "Is that why its called that?" I muse, biting into a slice of toast I steal off a plate as Kyo takes a break to sip his milk.

"What?"

"Because it rises when the sun does, just like roosters. And roosters are also known as coc-"

"I thought you didn't like talking dirty," He cuts in, guzzling down the rest of his drink.

"I know this might come as a shock to you, but I'm good for more than helping you get it up by going all..." I waggle my eyebrows, "...hot and heavy. I know a thing or two about animo-logy and anatomy."

~ No Strings Attached

#43

The main estate somehow seems darker tonight. A chill ripples through the air, as if the remnants of life have escaped in that same breath. A maidservant - Kichi - finishes polishing the silver before searching the cabinet for tea leaves. After finding Akito's favorite, she pours them into a cup, and fills the tea kettle with scalding hot water. As the metallic container fills with hot water, she hums to herself. She rather enjoys her work here at the estate. Her fellow maidservants are kind to her and respect her. She likes to think of them as her sisters; protecting and advising her as she goes along.

Tonight is the first night she serves the master. She's never met Akito although she's heard the horror stories. She didn't want to believe them. She believed in giving people the benefit of the doubt, and waiting to form her own opinion of them, not sharing in someone else's.

After setting the tea kettle onto the serving tray, she grips it in both hands, and rolls her shoulders back. There's no need to be nervous. Who knows? She might actually be friendly.

Kichi reaches the double doors and shifts the tray to her hips. With a hand available, she raps on the door, simultaneously admiring her manicure. It was so nice of the girls to do that for me. I sure don't know how to pamper myself.

Nothing...Kichi frowns at the lack of consent or any form of response. She tries again.

The same result.

Kichi checks the clock overhead - 3:30 - the time Akito usually requests her tea. Kichi tentatively pushes the doors open and plasters on a smile. "Sorry to be barging in Master Akito. I just-" the sight before her snatches her breath from her reach and the tray crashes to the ground. The tea kettle spills and tea stains the wood. But none of that matters. Not the tea. Not the wood. Not even the girl.

Because in that moment, only one thing mattered.

Akito suspended from the ceiling, the life choked out of her by a noose she tied, and a suicide note attached to her kimono. The maidservant will never know Akito's personality. She will never know how well she did in her first day serving. She will never know what the head sounds like...she will never know.

The only explanation is in the note. And in it, is everything.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#44

Could the heartbeat of a non-judgmental soul make man and beasts lay down their swords? Could it be the same rhythm to launch a thousand ships and sink a thousand more? Could something that she found to be a burden truly be the salve for all their wounds, physical and emotional?

She did not understand.

"You have been brought here for the one purpose of freeing Kyo from his bondage, Tohru. He is the key to rebuilding this world into what it was always intended to be. All you have to do is be yourself. Everything else will occur just as naturally."

"But-"

"No," Hana breaks in, putting a finger to her lips. "Don't speak wrongly of yourself. You only sap yourself of your strength when you speak death. The nutcracker has a hollow center. Normally, there would be nothing there but a void. But this world and the one you'll go home to are one. Kyo's heart is within the confines of that ungainly exterior. For him to experience love...you just have to love him. Like you already do."

That's how to free him of his curse.

"Go now," she says, bringing her hands up to the ceiling and causing the tower walls to disintegrate into pebbles around them, only protected by the Sugar Plum Fairy that enables her and Momiji to stand on air. "They've gone headlong into a fight that only you can stop. Two of them are already gravely wounded. You must hurry."

Tohru keeps her eyes locked on Hana's purple ones, transfixed by the kinship that she'd ached for all this time. Grounded by the stability only she can give.

"Thank you," Tohru whispers, her voice lost to the wind as the environment around her blurs into grey.

"Don't lose faith. And you will succeed."

That's the last word of advice she receives before being transported in the cumbersome midst of battle, the air stale with blood spatter and lives spilled on the ground around them. It reeked with the overbearing stench of morbidity that passed between the rematch of sword against golden scepter, the test of the century of whether the rat could stand against the predator that was the cat.

Tohru ducks in the nick of time, a dagger whistling past her ear and landing in the wall behind her, narrowly missing her. She claps a hand over her chest in order to calm her racing heart, her eyes scouting the castle grounds for which of the two were mortally injured.

And in canvasing the creatures that littered the ground, she finds Shigure and Ayame propping themselves up with one another's backs, though Ayame was more like dead weight as his form was slumped due to his lack of consciousness. Blood seeped through Shigure's laceration in his ribs, his hand applying pressure to staunch the blood flow, though he paled with how much he'd already lost.

Hatori was caught between two rats, being ganged up on by them and others that rushed over to aid their comrades in the fight against the battle hardened general.

Tohru's attention is torn between the dying and the main event taking place in the middle of the pavilion. It took every fiber of strength she could muster to go to Kyo and Akito, fearing for her life and prioritizing finishing things once and for all in the same instance.

Kyo raises his blade high to block and cushion the blow of Akito's staff, metal grinding against precious metal, their eyes full of hatred for their opponent as they grappled for victory.

"Surrender fool, and I may give you a position among my ranks," Akito joshes, his buck teeth drawing the taste of copper from his lips with the brunt of the offense. "I might even let you have the honor of waiting on me hand and foot when you're not locked up in your room."

"You must be stupider than you look if you think I'd ever serve you," Kyo throws back, pushing back a fraction more until the tip of his sword slices a light red trail down his throat, though too shallow to kill him. "I will have my throne back or I won't have anything at all."

Akito cackles, a crazed look befalling him. "As if anyone would ever wish to see a filthy, wretched monstrosity as their king. You're worthless. No one will ever be able to look past the swine you truly are."

"You're wrong!" Tohru cries, her sudden appearance dominating their focus. "He's more than that!"

"Clara!" Kyo bellows, taken by surprise when Akito uses the distraction to his advantage and kicks him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him as his head smacks against the rock hard floors.

"Kyo!" She flanks to his side, her hand coming down to rest on his chest, panicking at the way light has long faded from his fiery eyes and is replaced with that of doubt.

"Well, isn't this just touching?" Akito jeers, resting his elbow on his scepter. "The ugly girl and the beast care for one another. Well isn't that just the richest thing you ever did see?"

"Clara...g-go," Kyo says, hating that her virgin eyes have been exposed to this nasty massacre. "You need to get out of here before he hurts you."

"I can't do that," she replies, her hand tracing his beaten face, tears welling up in her eyes at the mere thought of losing him. "I...love you."

"What did you just say, girl?" Akito snarls, all fun laying forgotten for the sake of words he couldn't have heard. He had to have been hallucinating. Those three words were never to be intended for such a putrid animal as the cat.

"I said...that I love him," she repeats, conviction honing her words like a finely crafted katana. She forces her gaze to clash with Akito's beady eyes, fortifying her. "I love him."

"Shut up," Akito howls, slamming his scepter down hard enough that the end of it fractures. "Don't utter such vile nonsense. He is the cat! He changes into a beast when you least expect it. And he'll only murder you. He'd murder us all if he had it his way."

"No he wouldn't," she argues, finding her way to her feet. "He may not have the best temper. And he hates leeks and the rain. He sometimes says the wrong things, even though he never means them. But underneath all of that...he is caring. He would never hurt me. The Kyo I know isn't a nutcracker at all. He loves just as deeply as any of us. Who are we to look down on him for who he is?"

"Poppycock! Blasphemy!" Akito screeches, clawing at his face. "Stop it! Stop it before I kill you myself, you peasant!"

"I love Kyo," Tohru says one final time, raw honesty lacing her words. "I love him with all of my heart, and I don't care that he is a cat. None of that matters to me...because I know that he has one of the biggest hearts out of all of us. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to convince him of that. But whatever form he's in - a cat, a human, a nutcracker - it will never change how I feel about him."

"You...you have ruined everything!" Akito rasps, the earth shaking terribly as he morphs back and forth between his true human countenance and this rat persona he'd adopted. "You were never supposed to break it!"

A jagged and painful screech is ripped from his lips, pain felt in every orface of his body and cutting past his bones into the marrow. He flashes between the two sides of him in rapid succession as a hazy rainbow of light drowns him and casts an unbearably bright light over them.

And in a burst of confetti that rains down from that light...he is no more.

Their world erupts in cheers as they all are changed, not a single person untouched by their chains breaking off them, leaving them to be free and unbound.

~ The Nutcracker

#45

I extend my arms like wings, flattening my feet to the floor like when it was ingrained into me. I remember all the bruises Madame Strict caused me. By pushing me to not just be good or great, but to be the absolute best. All the blisters and callouses and blood were preparing me to compete, to perform, to be accepted. If you'd told four year old me with big ballet dreams that I'd one day have to dance or die, I would have hung up my tutu before I ever started.

Steered by muscle memory, my feet spread apart before crossing, followed by open fourth position. I try to cling to the Pas De Deux streaming from the dusty record player. I try to command my goosebumps into hiding as his presence haunts every follicle and heartbeat. I try to dance my fear and anger and confusion away.

But it feels useless, because I can't keep myself centered. Or focused. I can't escape in the orchestra or the normally thrilling motions of Sissonne.

With the crescendo of the piece, I fall. The dynamic kicks in the moment I lose my balance and he lets me take the beating of the floor. My entire lower body tingles with the drop, though I have no time to so much as say, "Ow," before I'm whisked back up to my feet. And he stalks away to cut the music, lifting the needle.

"Now look what you did," he barks, replacing the record and starting it again. "Start over. And do it right."

I blink in surprise, observing him as he paces about the room frantically, hands twitching. I snap out of my stupor, picking it up from the beginning, though I feel the invasive weight of his stare on me in the instance his neurotic stroll stops.

I do the piece like I was Clara herself, only sans nutcracker. And when I actually start getting into it, reveling in how comforting it is for something familiar to pluck me out and into the calm, away from the eye of the storm...the music ceases abruptly.

"No...no...no!" He howls, his hands gruffly finding its way to his hair as his eyes flash in anger. "You need to do it in the right order!"

What...the heck?

He knew I changed the choreo from the original?

"Start it over," he demands, reactivating the turntable. "And don't pull anything else, either."

~ Stockholm Syndrome

#46

I spooned a portion of fruit punch and poured it into my Styrofoam cup. I spun around to search for some food when I slammed into someone. The contents of my drink splashed them in the face and soaked their black shirt. "I'm so sorry," I said hurriedly as I gathered together a bunch of napkins. "I didn't see you…are you okay?" The boy just watched me, his grey eyes fixated on mine. He said nothing, just listened to me ramble like an idiot.

He accepted my napkins and swiped at the red droplets in unnerving silence. It wasn't until now that I noticed his appearance. He had black and white hair – he's probably the cow – he was dressed from head to toe in black, and he had a ring on each finger, even his thumbs. My gaze dropped to his feet; intimidating boots with chains and buckles.

"Are you done checking me out?" he deadpanned, crumbling the damp napkins in his hand. Heat flooded my cheeks as our eyes met again. "N-No…I wasn't checking you out…"

He snorted and tucked his hands into his pockets. "You didn't even apologize," he pretends to sulk, jutting his lip out in a pout.

I twist my purple gem and look elsewhere. "…sorry…"

I hear him exhale and look up. He has a teasing look in his eyes, even though he's trying to frown. "To make it up to me, you should take me somewhere."

My mouth must have hit the floor at his suggestion. Seriously? What was with my cousins? They were creepy, hostile, perky, or psycho. I don't even know if there is such a thing as a normal Sohma.

I cross my arms and stare him down. "Why should I?"

He smirks as he fiddles with his rings, never once breaking our staring contest. "You look like a girl that would know a good place to eat…" Was he calling me fat?

I think about the fact I haven't met everyone, then remember the weirdos that I have, and decide to take him up on it. "Fine, I'll take you to New Leaf. But if you diss my diner, I will kick you in the balls."

~ Incognito

#47

Train Tracks

I hate rusted metal.

Every time I see it, I get angry.

Or any metal, really.

Its probably not fair to blame it.

It didn't get up and lay down beneath my mother's feet.

It didn't ask her to stand on it; to be hit.

It didn't ask for her death.

It didn't tell her to stop caring.

It didn't encourage her to forget my dad, to forget me.

It didn't make the train arrive. Or, maybe it did. I don't know.

But I can never go there again.

I can never hear the sound of trains without feeling angry.

I hate the metallic smell of train yards.

Or anywhere.

I can't forgive her for it.

I won't ever forget what she did.

Or why she did it.

But I will always hate trains.

I will always hate train tracks.

~ No Strings Attached

#48

I find myself sitting back down and he releases my arm. He looks like a child being sentenced to time-out as he stares at the table. "The things is, I have a weakness. For women...a Dad should never have to tell his daughter the reason he was fired was because he slept with his boss. Things went downhill fast after she caught me making out with a client I was defending and she fired me on the spot. She cited that I was constantly late and that I wasn't performing correctly at work rather than her being jealous."

Nausea punched me in the gut the more he went on.

I didn't get it, but in some twisted way...I did. In no way was I making excuses for him, but we all handled Makoto's death in the wrong ways. Mom nearly drove herself mad with worry over Dad and I, Dad had an affair, and I tried everything under the sun short of heroin. We were one screwed up family. But at least I had a better idea of why Dad did what he did. It still made me furious just thinking about it. But I could understand...to an extent.

He sniffed as he reached behind him for the box of Kleenex. "I have no one Rumi Roo. I've made so many mistakes. I know it hurt you that I didn't sign off on shared custody of you. But it wasn't because I didn't want you. It was because I didn't want you to see me like this. My downward spiral. You should never have to see me like this."

I rolled my eyes, fighting a tiny smile, as I reached for a tissue of my own. "We're all a hot mess. Well, actually, Grandma and Mom seem to have their crap together now. Grandma ran off and married someone."

At this he laughed. "Who?"

I shook my head and plucked another Kleenex. "No one knows..."

He nodded and the smile faltered, "And your Mom? Does she have a gentleman caller too?"

I groan and rub my temples. "Why are you so...old? Gentleman caller? Really. And yes, she does. Or, fiancee' that is. She seems really happy. I promise I'm not trying to taunt you."

His lips twitch slightly and he pushes the box of tissues aside. "Good. She ought to be. Your Mom deserves everything good in the world. She should get as far away from me as she can. I'd only taint her more."

I bite my bottom lip and although my thoughts protest, I reach across the table and take his hand in my own. He flashes a grateful smile in my direction as tears roll down his cheeks. "Thank you for doing this...I've missed you Kurumi. I've missed you and your brother both," his smile drops as he rubs his thumb across my hand. "I'm so sorry for how I've disrespected you and your Mom. I need help so...I'm seeing a therapist now."

A smile tugs at my lips, and this time, I let it. "Oh? You're seeing a shrink now too?"

He nods. "Dr. Kira. She's usually a family therapist, but she said that she would make an exception."

I cock my head to the side in curiosity. "Why's that?"

"She said I look so pathetic that she has no choice but to help me."

This time I laugh. I laugh for the first time in this house in a year. He laughs for the first time in months. We smile at one another for the first time since last year. And right when I'm about to head back home, we hug for the first time...ever. Now that the curse is broken, I can finally say that I've hugged my Father.

Even though things weren't perfect between us, and he needed to apologize to Mom if he hadn't already, I wanted him in my life. I wanted to help him find a new job and to see him during the holidays. I would still need time to warm up to him again and for him to regain my trust. But I missed him and loved him. I guess Rumi-Roo can't help it.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#49

Fruits Basket

Rice balls in fruits baskets.

Men masquerading as women out of fear, confusion, and insecurity.

Having two different sides. The one you share and the one you hide.

Unrequited love, long-nurtured and short term.

Lap dogs afraid to step out of line. Terrified of forming opinions and expressing opposing thoughts.

Bred fighters labeled as what they once were, never being able to shake their own past.

The misunderstood, quiet ones that remain observant and choose their words wisely.

The older brothers and older sisters that turned their backs, set the wrong examples. How they wish to go back in time and reverse things.

The inability to admit to love and feelings that have earned you rejection. The only reflex and defense you own is your anger; the very one that's been cultivated from when you were but a child.

Faking your way through life, painting on smiles, and hiding painful truths in order to be accepted. Never allowing anyone to know who is behind the cumbersome mask you wear day in and day out.

The hurt ones that channel their pain into revenge, fueled by cunning attitudes and broken mentalities. You feel warped and twisted, and sorely underestimated.

The forgotten. The ones with gifts and talents that go underappreciated in the shadow of another prized family member or friend. Those that always feel like the second choice. The last resort.

The martyrs. The ones willing to sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of those they love and cherish more than themselves. The protective and lonely that help others to have a better ending.

The bullied. The ones that get laughed at and mocked. The ones that possess a strength beyond imaginable measures, filled with a ferocity and a passion that helps them cope.

The ones that speak before thinking. The very people that appear to be the manifestation of a child's bad dream, when they are one of the kindest of souls.

The bold, brave, and beautiful. The fire starters that refuse to settle or conform. Though they have been knocked down by the worst moments in life, they couldn't live with themselves if they remained on the bottom rung.

The complex. The majority of people own intricate natures such as this one. They straddle indecision, their heart ripping them in one direction while their mind drags them to the next. They know not how to live or be in a way that doesn't feel wrong. The ones that sink further and further into an abyss that's too dark for hope to shine.

We are rice balls in Fruits Baskets. Different. Outcasts. Anomalies.

We are lost until we are brought out of the wilderness. We walk towards what we don't see.

We have warring personalities and sides that compete to reign supreme.

We have feelings for people that aren't always reciprocated.

We have varying perspectives born of the different walks of life we come from.

We have pasts and moments we are ashamed of. But we have those times to thank for the lessons we've been taught.

We know when to speak up and when to remain silent.

We have people that we thought the world of, only to have our beliefs crushed and stomped on.

We know rejection like we do an old friend. Or an old enemy.

We act differently with each person. We have new faces for every situation.

We feel screwed up. We feel like the worst people in the world.

We feel left behind and abandoned. We feel like there is no one around. That no one cares.

We give things up. We do what it takes.

We have been offended.

We have uttered words we wished we could have taken back.

We have exceeded our own expectations.

We are all multifaceted.

We should celebrate the good, endure the bad, and face up to the ugly.

Fruits Basket

~ Fruits Basket

#50

I close my eyes, my hand enclosing around the silver hanging from my neck. My fingertips touch its now tarnished grooves, unfastening the clasp I could open in my sleep. I peer out of one eye, then both, running my fingers over the picture encased in a locket I never took off.

My name is Rosa, and I'm a cliche sap. Not only that...but I'm a daddy's girl, from my bubblegum pink hair to the dark purple polish on my toes. Most moms want daughters for the sake of dishing about crushes, advising them on periods, and shopping for their prom dress. My mom wanted no children. I...was a mistake. A snafu. Something that was never supposed to be. I clench the trinket in my hand, biting my lip and cursing the tears springing to my eyes.

It was stupid. So, so stupid to be upset. I'm here, aren't I? Daddy stopped her from getting the abortion. Even though he hadn't meant to tell me all of this, he technically didn't. I'd eavesdropped one night they had one of their 'disagreements' as they put them. It was usually correlated to the company they co-owned. But it escalated - as it always does when you mix love, lust, and the workforce - and I came up.

To make a long story short, my mom threw me in his face, because of the only bad grade I ever made happened to occur around the same time. I'm a mistake, she said. Its his fault that I add to her stress. Since he played hero eighteen years ago, its up to him to deal with me. She wanted to end it all before it began.

And that?

That didn't hurt.

It killed.

And I've never looked at her the same way, since.

I release the heart in my hand and let it swing, the image of daddy and I spinning with the motion.

~ Stockholm Syndrome

#51

It feels like I'm swimming and drowning in blackness. I feel pain...so much pain, but I can't stop it. All I can do is cry and grit my teeth until the pain stops and the numbness starts.

Everything passes by in a blur of skilled hands and concerned eyes. I barely remember much about my trip from the ice skating rink to the emergency room. Well, the visual because of my memory, and it often took snapshots without my permission.

But what stuck with me more than IV's and monitors and a gurney, wasn't a thing at all.

Haru.

Throughout the entire process, he never once leaves my side, and he never once lets go of my hand. His pulse could be felt through the vise of a grip he had on my hand, steady with sharp peaks every few seconds. His pulse would kick up with the lift of his eyebrow, the worry that cut through his blank facade, and the barely noticeable trembling of his fingers.

And he was there and concerned, even when I tried pushing him away. I knew that I couldn't be with him, but I just wanted this...small moment. I just wanted to lie here, thankful for the silenced pain, and the warmth and roughness of his hand. I just wanted to rest here, looking up at him, and pretending that I belonged to him. That holding hands with him was a regular thing and I could do it any time I felt like it.

Even if I couldn't.

The trip seems to last only a moment before I'm carted into the emergency area and a doctor of some kind asks questions immediately; my name, my date of birth, my allergies, and whether I had any other pre-existing health conditions. And during this exchange, where Haru answers for me, I realize how much he knew about me.

But I also remember how much he didn't.

~ Incognito

#52

The kissing becomes more intense.

Deeper.

His hands become braver, venturing further.

The timidity I'd abandoned two drinks ago was buried beneath lust that raged through my veins and made my body burn. We manage to move to the alley, concealing such a dirty act from any night owls that might have been out at the time. My heart is beating like a wild animal trying to break free of its cage. And when he presses himself against me, I feel dizzy. I'd never been this close to a guy. Especially not someone I didn't see as a friend. But I wanted him. I wanted more. I needed something other than fabric against fabric, but to actually feel everything.

And then there's that sound again. The one that escaped my lips twice now, that I hadn't made before tonight.

I feel powerful and beautiful when I earn the same sound from him.

Its unromantic having sex against a brick wall. Its not slow and awkward like I imagined my first time would be.

But...

It was how we began.

~ No Strings Attached

#53

Yuki sets foot onto the stoop of Kurumi's Grandmother's house and knocks politely. Several thoughts race through his head as he waits and waits. He practiced his speech over and over. He even practiced on Haru the night before. But nothing could have prepared him to face the rejection that he just did. He didn't understand. Kurumi said she loved him and he could see it. He could see the affection in her eyes solely reserved for him. He could hear the softness to her tone where there was once edge. So why did she turn him down? Why now?

The door flies open and his heart flutters with hope of it being Kurumi. But instead its her Grandma. She dyed her hair again so that it was scarlet rather than bright green. Her blue eyes were defiled by the crease of wrinkles and filled with disapproval. She looked puny from the top, but her body flared out at the hips, and her shape was thicker from her thighs to her shin. She fluffs her hair and steps aside. "You coming in or what?" Her voice is gruff and demanding causing Yuki to straighten. He bows out of habit before stepping inside and following her to the living room area.

A man - not much older than her - is napping in a worn recliner, while an old black and white film is on the TV. Her Grandma plops down on the mint green sofa and goes back to her game of Candy Crush as if Yuki isn't there.

He stands there awkwardly watching the scene, wishing Kurumi would be home soon. Where could she be?

"Take a seat boy. We'll talk right after I beat this level," Grandma Rae's fingers tap the screen with rapid speed and she selects a booster. Yuki stiffly sits next to her and occupies himself with observing the photographs that adorn the walls.

One is of Kurumi and her Grandpa. He's dressed from head to toe in fishing gear and Kurumi is holding up a trout in both hands. She's grinning from ear to ear, one of her incisors missing, having just lost her last baby tooth the night before. The irony isn't lost on him. It intrigues Yuki because he was well aware of her hatred for fish.

Another is of Kurumi's Mom - Kichi - and she's dressed for prom, doing the generic couple pose with her prom date; a man that was her first steady boyfriend.

The last is more recent. Its a group picture taken at Kichi's wedding. Kurumi, as the maid-of-honor, is dressed in a beautiful lavender, and is standing on her Mom's right. Her Father is off to the side, with a small smile, and the rest of the Sohmas are making silly faces or just smiling.

"What did you come here for? Did Kurumi screw up?" Rae's questions snaps Yuki out of his stupor and he glances up. "Um. I...I apologize for not asking for your blessing. But I proposed to your Granddaughter this evening."

Rae snorted and tossed her phone aside. "Let me guess, she turned you down?"

Incredulous at her accuracy, he decides on nodding in acknowledgement.

She shakes her head, and slides her glasses off, rubbing the lenses with a nearby cloth. "Don't take it personally. She's just scared like her Mother was. Tell me, has she had a hard time telling you things?"

He bobs his head and stares down at his feet.

Rae slips her glasses back on and leans back into the couch. With a deep sigh she continues, "She's afraid of making our mistakes. Her Mom and I married idiots. But you, my dear, are not an idiot. You're very bright and you seem like quite the young man."

He flushes at her compliment and finds the courage to look up again.

"There's no need to be patient with her. Just knock some sense into her, she'll be alright...if that doesn't work, then she's not as smart as I thought. This better not leave this room...but I do love that girl. And I don't want our screw ups to keep her from being happy. You are what makes her happy. Don't give up on her, no matter how stubborn she may be. In the end she'll come around. Just keep at it."

As soon as the words leave her lips, the front door opens, and in steps Kurumi.

Her eyes land on Yuki and she bolts up the stairs faster than he's ever seen her run.

Yuki looks to Rae, wondering if he should go after her. And it isn't long before he runs after her, knowing that he should follow her, and always will for the rest of their lives. He couldn't let her go. After all, Tanzanites were rare. He'd never find another.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#54

"Did you pack a brownie in my lunch pack? Daisy was real jealous when she saw I had choco chip cookies."

Someina plants a hand on her hip, wagging a finger in her direction. "I hope you don't want a brownie so you can brag, Kaiko. That's not very nice."

Kaiko shrugs, sticking her lip out. "Well, she didn't wanna share a cubby with me in pre-school. Its fair."

Someina breaks into laughter, leaning across the counter to ruffle her hair, before looting through another pile for her Psychology text book. "Alright, little Missy. You can get two brownies. But I want you to eat the apple and not leave it in your lunch bag this time, okay? No more brown apples."

Kaiko looks to the ceiling, thinking this over before her obsidian eyes fall back to her mother's snowflake blue.

"Ok. But only 'cause they're red apples. Granny apples are nasty."

Someina was actually fond of green apples. Sour always tasted better than sweet; to her anyway. It was interesting how philosophical and deep discussions with her five year old daughter could get. Apples were quite the controversial subject.

She finishes packing her daughter's lunch by adding a grape juice box, and zipping it shut. She slides it across the granite countertop before spinning around and double-checking that her own backpack contained everything she'd need for her first day. Even though she'd already checked two times, she didn't do so out of a sense of anxiety for the first day of school. It was her last year of college and she knew this was the year she had to lock down connections with those outside of the brick and mortar of her university. It was a comfort she would soon be leaving behind to go play in a bigger sandbox. So, leaving a good and lasting impression on her professors through punctuality, glowing references, and great work ethic would be integral if she wanted to get her foot in the door of therapy and psychology internships.

The sharp squeal of bus breaks sounds from outside, shaking her out of her stupor and into action mode. Now was the challenge every year for the two of them, from now until they both finished school; getting ready on time, eating breakfast on time, and getting to school on time. Unfortunately, the bus was already on their street and they lived on the third floor of their apartment complex.

Quickly grabbing a furry crimson coat and Kaiko's cow backpack, she ushers her daughter out the door and carries her down the steps as she runs as fast as her legs can carry her. It was times like this she became painfully aware of how badly out of shape she was. The gym was calling her often these days.

Bursting through the entrance of the building, she dashes towards the bus and gets to the doors seconds before they close. Someina sets Kaiko on the black, rubbery steps of the bus, and slips her arms through the backpack. After passing off the lunch box full of milk brownies and a non-brown apple, Kaiko retrieves the red coat her mother forgot to give her, because she was distracted. This was the moment her little girl was heading off for the first day of Kindergarten. And there wasn't a thing she could do to slow down time so that she wouldn't one day grow up and take off. But she'd savor this moment when her daughter kissed her on the cheek before bounding towards the middle of the bus, and plopping down beside Daisy. It feels surreal as she steps back from the curb and watches as the glass door folds and the bus drives off until its nothing more than a speck in the foreground.

But her heart aches. Because Kaiko's father wasn't here to witness this. He wasn't anywhere nearby to watch as his daughter left for the first day of elementary school. He didn't know what she looked like or sounded like. He had no idea that she hated Granny Smith apples but loved Red Delicious. Or the fact she was a five year old with a vendetta against a girl named after a flower, but still sits next to her anyway. Her chest flattens beneath the weight of regrets and bittersweet feelings as she makes her way back upstairs, distantly wishing the elevator would be repaired sometime this month so she wouldn't have to climb three flights.

Nothing about Someina compared to the girl from five years ago. She was less delicate, though she still carried herself with the grace of a swan, all because of those years of lady lessons and ballet practices. Though she was still naive about what it meant for someone to make love to her, or to be in a serious relationship, she was no stranger to dates and boyfriends; not like she was back then. In the span of five years, she's been involved with the man that bagged her groceries, but was too immature to hold down a job; a man caught between two other women while trying to have an affair with her; and now...she was currently seeing a doctor. A rich, drop-dead gorgeous physician with a heart of ice that only she managed to thaw with her persistence and warm conversation. She tried not to find any flaws in the man, in hopes of him finally being the one to take her mind off the father of Kaiko. But there was one small problem with him. He just so happened to be a Sohma and a cousin of Hatsuharu's.

~ Blackout

#55

My dad formerly assumed the position of a government official. His long career of four years had been supported by his 'loving' family. It consisted of my sister, my mom, and I. But, he lost the re-election to a man whom ran extortion schemes frequently and gambled like there was no tomorrow. My dad was enraged. He had no other way to support us and couldn't get any jobs anywhere.

People did not hire the former mayor. They always told him he had too much experience to be working for them. My father couldn't get a civilian job anywhere – so, he enlisted. He was in the army until I was five and was dishonorably discharged for misdemeanor. His anger only worsened and he started to leave the house a lot. He would start drinking his weight in whiskey and beer instead of spending time with his family.

The night of my 6th birthday, my dad was worse than I had ever seen him. He had no job, he was inebriated, and he was furious. That night when my Mother was asleep he snuck into my room. I was so innocent then, I had no qualms of what he was doing at this time of night. I still remember smelling the alcohol on his breath, the murky depths of his eyes, his anger ridden voice. I thought he was there to wish me a late happy birthday when he did it. I hadn't known what he was doing, I only knew that it hurt. He promised me he wouldn't do it again. "Daddy was just sick, I won't do it again." He made a promise, and one week later he did it again. And then it was few and far between when he made his night visits. It went from once a week to three days to every night. And ever since, he has gotten his fill and I have been left empty.

My eyes flitted over to the clock and I raced out of the house in the direction of the school. So, It Begins...the first day of school at Kaibara High.

~ Bruised Heart

#56

Darkness devours me.

It crashes over me, like a tidal wave, dragging me beneath the surface. Further and further into the deepest depths of a trench.

And I feel closed in...locked up.

My chest is tight and constricting, like a weight on my chest that just won't go away. My breaths are short staccatos, the beginnings of a dramatic and painful sting, a soundtrack to my nightmare. A nightmare that I didn't have any person to free me from.

I just had to suffocate and drown until it was over.

Weeping at the feet of parents I never knew. Over and over in an endless loop until some miracle broke the cycle and brought me back into the world of waking and sunlight.

I never got to see their faces. Just their feet. One always wore a pair of heels; expensive, tall, and thin. If they were peep-toes I would notice a gold toe ring, and I hated gold.

I wondered if that meant something.

The other person's shoes were worn and a stark contrast to the woman's. Hers promised caviar, yachts, and good times. His screamed death, ruin, and deprivation.

~ Incognito

#57

I poke him in the ribs, attempting to slow my breathing. "Its not my fault. I didn't pick it. Let's come back to dares and do a truth. Its up to you because its your turn, though."

He removes his hands from his eyes, giving a small nod. "Fine. You gotta get my phone to ask me one."

My eyebrow lifts at this. "You want me to reach into your pocket and get it?"

"What's the matter with that?"

Nothing. I honestly didn't know what the big deal was, either.

I bend over Kyo, sticking my hand into his front pocket only to come back with a ball of pocket lint. Upon realizing this, I look to him in question. And...he smirks.

"Wrong pocket. Try the other one."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought it would be in his back pocket or something. It shouldn't be a problem for me considering what we do, but things felt different now. I was more nervous when it came to being close to him.

Thump. Thump.

I move to his other pocket, putting one leg over him, about to lift the other.

Thump. Thump.

But he takes my waist in his hands, leaving me in a straddle over his hips.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I try to pay no mind to the sound of my own heartbeat, retrieving the phone at last, only to be stopped from getting up.

"It'd be a lot more fun if you read it from my lap."

Oh. My. Gosh. Was he trying to kill me?

~ No Strings Attached

#58

His sigh of pleasure tells me that he shares in my sentiment. "I don't think I want to leave."

I roll over and he takes me in his arms. My heart is thudding and thumping in my ears so loud I almost can't hear myself. "We don't have to...you have me."

He flips over so that I end up on top of him, and I straddle his waist, and place my hands on his chest. His hands grab for my hips and he adjusts himself beneath me. "Yes...I do...do you remember what I told you Princess?" The new name he gave me used to bother me at first. I found it ironic that he used to hate being known as "The Prince" but I think he just surrendered to the title as time went on. I originally thought the name to be cheesy. But now I loved it...I knew that it held great meaning. From the adoring inflection of his voice to the love and admiration in his eyes. I knew that he treasured me and thought of me as precious. He reminded every day in case I'd forgotten. Every day until the moment we said 'I do.'

And now, being alone together, our dynamic shifts once again This time for the better. I'm closer to him that I'd ever been and I realized that I dropped my walls long ago. I told myself that I would never let him in again, but in my heart of hearts, I knew it was inevitable. The moment we kissed for the first time, he left his mark on me, and I belonged to him ever since.

I replay his question and roll it over in my mind. Its seconds before I remember. "That you wanted us to be eachother's firsts...but now-"

"Now, I want to be eachother's best. Its not my first time and it isn't yours. But the best time can be more special than the first. I want to feel you and for you to feel me...but I want what I do to you to stay with you forever. I don't want you to forget or regret a single thing I do to you." For the first time, I find myself blushing at his blunt statement.

I lean into him and kiss him on the nose. "I don't think I could forget..."

This time, he initiates the kiss, and takes my bottom lip between his teeth. A chill ripples up my spine and my breath hitches as his hands inch down to my thighs. I knew what was going to happen. And before I knew it, the idea of sleeping was forgotten. And even though we both had sex before, neither of us ever made love. Not until now. All we knew were perverse imitations and loveless movements. Neither of us knew the emotions that lovemaking stirred. Neither of us knew that our hearts being involved, along with our bodies, would feel this amazing. But it did. And this time, I didn't have to share him, and he didn't have to share me.

We just had eachother. And as he filled me, I felt whole for the first time, instead of empty.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#59

The girl that never left his mind had been his first, and he couldn't even remember it. Not the feel of her or the scent of perfume her body carried. Even the faint memory of her voice had drifted down the depths of his head. Into the abyss that straddled his two counterparts. All it had taken was one moment where he forgot to take his pills and it could be considered interchangeable with guzzling down cognac. Because it still lead him down the same road of amnesia that followed blackouts from drinking binges, or in his case - turning 'black.'

His girlfriend dips her head down and nips at his ear lobe, grazing his skin with her teeth in a way that demands him to draw in a sharp breath and his eyes to fall shut. There was no denying the effect Rin had on him physically. But they weren't ever really on the same wavelength, though they shared common interests. Even a few that involved activities with their clothes on. But there was one problem, he was one of those people compelled by those different from him, which might have been why this thing between them was purely sex and gratification.

He rolls over so that he lies flat on his back and Rin settles herself on top of him, giving him that seductive smile that always managed to pull him in like a magnet. It was interesting how his body was attracted to a negative when he himself was a negative; didn't opposites attract? Shouldn't they repel?

~ Blackout

#60

During biology class we were studying the types of cancerous cells that exist. I of course knew them like the back of my hand.

I knew all about chemo and locks of love all because of my sister.

My older and only sister was named Koko. It's kind of similar in spelling to Aiko. She had sleek, long, beautiful jet black hair that dipped down to her waist and cascaded in waves. Her skin was a slight tan and her emerald eyes practically danced every time she smiled. Koko always smelled of fresh flowers and rain - she spent most of the time reading poetry aloud or sculpting.

We were actually the best of friends...when she was well.

For a long time I pointlessly disliked her for dying as if it were somehow her fault.

I would question why I was here taking the abuse while she was probably as free as the birds she used to watch for hours on end. She was not a bird watcher but the bird watcher. She knew of every species that had been discovered. Swallowtails, ravens, canaries, doves, you name it. I didn't quite get the fascination with birds at first. She began taking an interest when she first got sick.

First she would flip to an animal channel and watch them.

If we could - she would go with us to the zoo.

We bought her tons of books on them and binoculars so she could watch them from her hospital window.

I'd never seen her so happy.

One night when I had been flipping through my math notes - she tapped me on the nose to get my attention. I looked up and her eyes...those same green eyes were glazed over. She had this...faraway look in her eyes.

She said to me, "Aiko, I'd love to get away from here sometimes. I try to keep positive but...I feel caged in. I dunno. I just...I sometimes wish I could become a bird."

I arched a brow curiously.

"Don't you see why I like them...? They are free. They can go anywhere and not have a care in the world. They can travel as far as the eye can see, they're beautiful, and majestic...How I'd love to be a bird." Her words stuck with me even now.

I remember spending time at her hospital bed just holding her hand as she'd throw up in the plastic trashcan that sat beside her. Other times I helped her browse online for wigs. There was one memorable instance we shared.

"I look like CL with this blonde wig," she said one night I'd bought her a wavy blonde wig. We were both hardcore blackjacks - we loved 2ne1 and dreamed of seeing them live one day... It was odd - she looked incredible even though her hair was falling out. Even though there eventually were splotches and patches of baldness in contrast with her then shoulder blade length hair.

Eventually she simply decided to chop it all off for locks of love - they made wigs out of donated hair.

She was so happy to have made a difference for someone else. Even from her deathbed.

But now...she was gone.

~ Bruised Heart

#61

The door bangs open, and a man with charcoal black hair streaked with sandy, wheels in the next patient.

He looks at me for half a second before hooking the elderly patient up to an IV drip. "Sup, Mai."

I laugh, taking long strides to stand at his side. "Hey Ashi. I haven't seen you in awhile."

He chuckles as he places the older man's index finger inside the Pulse Fingertip Oxometer. "I'm just as surprised that we ran into each other at all. Especially after I let you drive my Bentley a few days ago."

I shove at him slightly, groaning in exasperation. Both he and Haru never gave me a break when it came to my driving skills. So I bumped a few curbs and almost dinged an expensive car...at least I passed my drivers test. Eventually.

"Shut up. I drive well enough."

After jotting down his patient's pulse, he clicks his pen to retract it, and another bemused sound slips past his lips. "Sure...okay, Mai. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I stick my tongue out at him, before handing the patient the sleek black remote control. "Feel free to flip to any channel you like. We have basic cable here, so I apologize."

He attempts to stifle a wet cough into his hand, then a smile lifts his dry and chapped lips, splitting the corner of them and bleeding slightly. "That's fine, miss. Its better than what I got at home. Too bad bootleg is illegal."

"True that," I murmur in agreement, watching as Ashi dabs at the crimson on the man's lips, and giving him a sip of water.

"When's the last time you hydrated, sir?"

He scratches at his balding scalp, looking to the ceiling in thought. "A day or two ago. Unless you count Four Roses scotch and coke."

Ashi runs a hand through a tuft of blonde. "Unfortunately, that isn't a substitute for water." He flips through his chart, a silver wedding band gleaming under the fluorescent lights. "What were your symptoms, Ogata-san?"

Ogata clasps his hands together, over his beer belly. "I've been having trouble sleeping at night. I keep waking up around three or four in the morning, but I can usually go back to sleep thirty minutes later. But when I wake up, I'm always thirsty. That's when I usually grab a can of the good stuff to help me sleep."

"Ah," Ashi chimes in, nodding for him to continue.

"And I always feel so tired, which is why I fell asleep at the wheel this afternoon. And I've been forgetting so much lately, but was tested negative for Alzheimers. My heart's still ticking, but its a bit rusty and dusty nowadays. Haven't been able to clear the cobwebs off my brain either."

Ashi records this information before shutting the metallic clipboard, his eyebrows pinched, and his green eyes filled with concentration like he was about to make the greatest deduction since Sherlock. I supposed that made me Watson.

"Ogata-san, I believe you have a severe case of Sleep Apnea. And you seem to be compounding the symptoms by dehydration and from what I heard, your workaholic tendencies. First we need to check for tonsilitis and tonsil stones to make sure that isn't the cause, then we'll see from there."

"The game's afoot," I add, weakly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

~ Incognito

#62

His hands grip the white sheets beside by head, as if holding back something that desired to break loose.

The tantalizing scent of arousal and spices punched through the air of restraint I'd desperately tried to maintain. Though it only served to further permeate the atmosphere with an indescribable energy that I could feel with every push and pull of our bodies. His eyes flamed and incinerated me with each forbidden pass over my skin, drinking in every last inch and curve and naked surface until he looked to be in an impenetrable trance.

I thread my fingers through his sunset hair to dare him to make his claim over me with his lips and his tongue, exhaling against his mouth when his hand traces his name and down my calf. Even though we just screwed, I wanted him to do me again. And again.

It was risky how far I was plummeting in the depths of my feelings for someone that would never return them. But if I can't have his heart, I'll have his body. And I'll give him both.

The suction of his lips against the hollow of my neck make my eyes roll back as my head is sent careening into a tailspin. He continues targeting all my hotspots, like he memorized and knew them as he did the back of his hand. He refuses to pull any of his punches; he strikes with a force that threatens to knock me off balance when he graces me with searing, intoxicating heat.

Catching me off guard, he flips me over so that I'm on my stomach, and he takes me captive from above me. His hands venture down to press mine into the mattress as he continues to roam over the expanse of my shoulder and down my back.

I tuck my toes into the bed to ground me as a cross between a moan and a sigh leave my lips in a rush of air. He hovers above me as if he's hiding my secrets in his shadow, hiding me from himself.

~ No Strings Attached

#63

"I should probably start getting ready. Will you watch her while I shower?" He asks, already placing Mako in my lap before I even answer. But I didn't mind. I loved Mako and always had the urge to hug and kiss her all the time anyway.

Wow...being a Mom really has changed me. It was still weird to even call myself one. I guess there are some things you never get used to.

"Mama do that too?" Mako asks, her bright purple eyes looking up at me.

I smirk at her innocent question. I look directly at Yuki as I say, "Yeah. Mama loves it. Just like Daddy. It's one of our favorite things to do."

Yuki turns fifty shades of pink before ducking into the bathroom. I don't even bother trying to stifle my laugh when I hear the water running.

Mako plays with my hair and my heart melts. The ice around my heart melted every time she smiled at me. Yuki's love chipped away at it, but with Mako, it dissipated completely.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the dresser. I don't do it out of a sense of pride, but to remind myself. Some moments I was tempted to revert back to some of my old ways. When times were tough. The anniversary of Makoto's death and his birthday, when Mako woke up in the middle of the night crying, or when Yuki and I had our first fight as a married couple. It was over something petty and stupid but it was enough to scare me. It made me think back to why I was so afraid to get married in the first place. I thought about the ways I used to deal with pain...but then I would look and see Mako in her crib, and I'd recall the reason I gave it up. I wanted to be a better person for Yuki, for Mako. But I also wanted to be better for myself.

Now as I look in the mirror, and I see myself holding Mako, someone created from Yuki and I...that I had someone as beautiful as Mako. And I remember. I am no longer broken. I am no longer the girl I was. I'm just Kurumi. And thanks to my husband, my parents, my friends, and my daughter...I was whole.

The past no longer mattered.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#64

Tohru smiles in admiration, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "You're so brave! I could never imagine sticking myself with a needle everyday. When I was younger, my mom always had to get me through my shots because I was scared."

The yankee nods once, twirling her house key so that it spins in a circle. "Yeah, your mom sure was something. The Red Butterfly will always go down as a legend. Y'know, even though I got out of the gang, its your mom's advice to me that keeps me from getting sucked back into it."

Someina smiles warmly, tying her hair back so that its in a high ponytail, loose strands brushing the temples of her forehead. "That's so great. And its even better that you're volunteering. What's it like working with all the children?"

Uo snorts. "Those little rug rats are a handful most of the time. I thought working at a daycare would have been a mickey mouse course...but I've been having nightmares ever since."

"I suppose it is a better name than ankle biters," Hana chimes in, finger-stirring her nearly lukewarm drink. "I said that I would be willing to help you, Arisa."

"You can't read those gothic stories to them, Saki. It'll scar them for life and then who'll get the blame? Me. Everyone always puts the blame on the ex-cons and criminals, just because we've done time before."

"Alright guys, that's enough," Someina cuts in, breaking into peals of laughter. "No more fighting or you're both grounded. I'll personally see to it."

"Who's really the parent around here?" Uo grumbles, slumping in her seat.

Tohru clasps her hands together, placing them in her lap and blinking owlishly. "I could fill in for you Uo, if you need the break. I love children."

Uo sighs, patting Tohru on the head placatingly. Whenever that girl got an idea in her head involving children, puppies, or anything remotely similar, it was hard to stop her.

"Nah, you've got enough going on with your bakery. I wouldn't ask you to do that. Besides, if you're not running the joint, how else am I gonna get free cake pops and lemon meringue pie?"

~ Blackout

#65

I lied in an open field.

Smells of rain, flowers, and honey filled the air. The chirping of birds swarmed as they took flight. I had a sunflower tucked behind my ear, I donned a white sun dress. The scars on my arm were no longer there. I had no lacerations or pain. A light breeze blew my hair every which way and I felt a great weight lifted from me,.

I fell backward onto the grass and stretched out. I felt gleeful...And happy.

It was true serenity.

Then, a girl appeared.

It was Koko.

She smiled at me, and hugged me. It felt so amazing to finally see her again - it had been so long since I'd last heard her bubbly laughter. Since I'd last seen her look so vibrant and healthy.

But... something horrifying happened.

As I held her, she began to sink down. Koko was beginning to slip out of my grip. She was deteriorating in my arms right before my eyes. She was decaying and shriveling away until she became nothing but a skeleton. The skeleton clack and thudded to the ground in a sudden motion. The sky became pitch black and the flowers that surrounded me died along with her. Birds fell from the sky - crying in pain as the air began to smell foul.

My parents appeared before me and ripped my clothes to shreds. They laughed and laughed. In my face. I gripped my head in anguish willing it all to stop. The laughter filled my ears and nearly drove me mad. They became shrill and like daggers to my very core. I couldn't take it...

~ Bruised Heart

#66

"Lilli! How are you darling?" He prods, pecking me on one cheek and then the other; not bothering to wait for my answer, he snatches his grande latte from the manicured hand of his assistant, before taking a few swigs.

"I'm...well. Its my job to be well, isn't it?" I mumble in askance, slipping into my facade, and ignoring the burn of bile in the back of my throat.

He fans himself - from the hot drink, no doubt- before taking another sip. "Yes, of course. What could you possibly have to be upset about? Although there is the bad media attention you've been getting lately. How are you holding up, dearest?"

I shrug. "Fine, Pierre. People just can't stand the fact that I'm not afraid to speak my mind. To think I'm scrutinized for that..."

Pierre shakes his head, his lips curling in disgust. "Yes, love...I absolutely side with you on this. Just last week I tweeted about my dog and her cute little pink dress. Imagine the backlash I received for her wearing cashmere. People can be so cruel, can't they?"

"You're telling me."

He claps his hands together; grabbing the attention of makeup to apply any last finishing touches to my face before has a bubble gum screen brought out for me to change behind. "Alright, Lilli...its time for you to vogue. Are you ready, you hot young thing, you?"

I give him nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement before I'm shoved behind the divider and am given my last chance to back out...or follow through. A floor-length mirror reflects my made up face and body. I run my freshly painted, black nails along the string of matching silk that holds the robe closed and is the final step between modesty and vulnerability.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and suck in a breath as I yank the cord, and the robe falls to the floor; no sound of finality or fanfare for the bold step I took in going head to head with my phobia. It was just me, the unforgiving glass, and the people just outside of the screen.

I know knew the guts it took for Foxy to glide down that brass pole every night.

And I had to say, that she was amazing for not being scared about it...or nearly crying because she was so stricken with terror because she was in front of so...many...scrutinizing and cold glares. Or upturned noses and judgmental frowns.

People making money off the exploitation of my forgone dignity.

I didn't know. But now, I did.

I make my way around the bubble that momentarily protected me, and reclaim my seat on the stool. I don't lift my gaze the entire way over, knowing that Haru saw me, fully, before we'd even called ourselves anything.

Only thankful that he couldn't see the scars from where Ryu hit me, and used whatever had the sharpest edge in a drunken rage.

The makeup artists saw me as a canvas.

The photographers saw me as their money maker.

And Haru...he saw me, for me.

He saw me for whom I was and nothing was hidden from him any longer.

Nothing.

~ Incognito

#67

Dearest Yasu,

If you're reading this, its your 18th birthday. Congratulations, we love you baby.

My mom was given the opportunity to hold her child in her arms, allowed to see him, and pretend that it was all real. That there was a future. But eventually...she had to face facts. We all had to realize that he was gone. And that truth was grounded in the small ceremony we held for him. With Mom, Satoshi, and Kyo.

At the moment, we're only three weeks away from the time you're going to be born, and we're so excited to meet you on that day. We hope for you to have a fulfilling, successful life.

There was no church booked, due to how unprepared we were. It was just us and the cemetery, surrounded by gravestones that belonged to people that died during times they were expected to. Of old age, life-threatening illnesses, and even people that lost their life to their dangerous careers.

For you to know that its okay to mess up, and you'll be better for it as you learn your way through adulthood.

But not him. Not my baby brother.

He didn't die because he'd lived his life.

He didn't die because he was diagnosed with irreversible cancer, a tumor, a mass.

He didn't die because he braved flames, took that final 119 call, or drowned saving someone else.

He died trying to live in the first place.

Your big sister is hoping for you to find someone that can make you happy; someone whom stands by your side when things get tough. We want that for you too.

Before he could say his first words; take his first steps; even before he could actually open his eyes and see the world for the very first time. I'll never know if he had my mother's green eyes or my step-dad's brown ones. I'll never know if he would be more interested in sports or academics. What he wanted to be. Who he would marry or how many children he'd have.

Your father hopes you're into games of strategy so that he'll have someone to teach and beat (in his dreams). All I (your mom) wants is for you to achieve what you want, to live life to the fullest, and to find someone with a heart as big as yours is sure to be.

It would have killed me to attend his funeral if Kyo hadn't gone with me.

Please visit us and let us know how things are going every now and then. Even though you're older and on your own, we still want to be there for you. We want to cheer you on when you do well and to cheer you up when you don't. But we have high hopes for you as a young man and onward.

We sat in grey folding chairs, beneath a tent that would protect us from the incoming rainfall. And...his body was so little, the size of a shoe box. My mom couldn't go with Satoshi to pick out the casket. She couldn't handle it. Instead, I went. I saw every gold, black, and white casket. The ones lined with reds and whites and crafted of wood or pillowy material. It was the strangest experience to be shopping for something like that. So morbid and painful. We went with the one we could barely afford, because we wanted to honor the life that didn't get the chance to happen. It was a royal box that was custom-made to suit him. And to be buried with the casket was the letter we'd written for him. Even though he'd never read it, it made my mom feel a little better that it would be with him.

A priest stood front and center of our grief. He read from scripture, reminding me of the fact that I had nothing more to go on than the Word and the fact that I had to trust that good would come from this. I refused to think that this was punishment or that it happened for us to suffer.

There had to be better than this.

If I don't have faith in something. Or someone. I have nothing to keep me sane. Or anything to keep me going forward instead of just treading water.

Then came the moment for Eulogies.

In a normal funeral, this would have been the moment for a slideshow. One filled with pictures of him growing up and learning about what life had to offer. It would have been the time that his friends and his girlfriend or his wife would speak on his behalf, reminiscing on what a great person he was to them, and how he inspired and affected their lives. How they don't know what they'll do without him.

But instead, my mom couldn't manage a speech.

Satoshi was too angry and saddened to say anything.

And Kyo had no words.

I was the only one that spoke that day.

I stood where the priest did, taking the podium without anything in hand, only what came to my mind as I opened my mouth and talked.

"Today, we all come here to..." I clear my throat, gripping the podium's edge to keep from rocking on my heels. "...to send my little brother off." I look out over everyone, aware of the empty seat we'd reserved for my aunt that couldn't make it.

"I wish we weren't here right now. I...I wish that I was at home with him, trying to see if I could make him laugh. Holding him or learning how to care for him. I'll admit that I feel robbed of that. And sometimes I feel so angry that I could just break things. And go on a warpath because none of this feels right. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to really smile again." I pick at the bracelets on my wrist, my gaze colliding with Kyo's. I draw the motivation to continue from him, forcing myself to persevere.

"But I'd like to believe that he's better off. In Paradise. In Heaven...I'm not sure where you go when you leave this world. Maybe one day I'd like to look into that a little more. I'd just like to think that he's having a blast up there. That he's embracing the beauty, the sounds, and the sights of wherever he is. So, instead of saying goodbye to him as we go back home...I want to tell him to save a spot for me. I look forward to him showing me around if I get to go there one day, myself."

I take a bow, returning to my seat between Kyo and mom, as the Priest resumes his place at the front.

Everything else passes in a blurred, unreal flash. It still feels like we're in the middle of a dream, and that none of this was actually happened. That's how I've felt since all of this began. Like it hasn't fully hit me yet.

Near the end, it starts to drizzle.

We make our way over to the six foot square hole in the ground, followed by the pallbearers that carry the white and gold metallic box to the green mat pitched over that hole. There was a tent cast over it as well, set up separately from the remainder of the ceremony. We were given one final viewing before it would be closed and we'd walk away from here...from him.

But, I couldn't look a second time.

I couldn't see the stillness of his countenance.

Or see how fragile he looked.

I hang back, while my mom and Satoshi stand together, over the half-open casket.

Kyo strides over to stand beside me.

His hand smooths over the small of my back, bringing me closer to him and wrapping my arm around his waist. I sink against him, exhausted of the pit of emotions, and all the fear that plagued me whenever I was alone.

He silently extended his comfort. The freedom to talk about everything involving Yasu and Kyo's mom, in order to share in the pain and help make it just a little easier to live through. And for that, I'll be forever thankful.

We love you,

Mom, Dad, Gina, and Aunt Fei

~ No Strings Attached

#68

I look up with a start, surprised to see a familiar face staring back at me.

"Jun? Hey...wow, you still work here?"

He laughs, scanning the bar code of the gummy worms. "Yes. I still work here. But I'm trying to pay my way through med school with my two other jobs."

This took me by surprise. "I didn't know you were trying to become a doctor."

He blushes softly, punching numbers into the keypad of the register. "Nurse, actually...I know that male nurses are in short supply, but they do so much for their patients. To me, they're more there for their patients than the doctors."

I smile, remembering how kind Jun always was to everyone. "They sure do. When I had my daughter, they were a total Godsend. Speaking of my daughter, this is Mako," I explain, gesturing to her as she stands on her tip-toes to see over the counter.

And something I would have never expected to happen, happens, as his eyes tear up. He gives me the warmest smile I'd ever witnessed - rivaling Tohru's - while printing my receipt.

"That is incredible...you have a daughter now? That's crazy."

I bob my head, still wondering how it happened after four years have passed.

He hands me the receipt, but neither of us moves. He doesn't tell me to 'have a nice day' and I don't take my bag to leave. We just stare at each other, memories filling the gap of conversation.

Mako tugs my pants leg, staring up at me with curious amethyst. "Is this Mama's friend?"

Friend? Was Jun my friend? The man that watched me on one of my darkest days all those years ago. The moment in time that Akito lied about Yuki and gave me that picture. The instance I dragged myself to this very gas station, picking up a pack of beer, and losing myself in a whirlwind of drunken stupor. He'd asked me if I was okay? And my only response then was to look back at him through empty eyes and tell him that alcohol would fix me.

But now...now I could feel genuine happiness. Now, I could look back at him with eyes flooded with life and smile like I won the lottery. Because I could say that I was okay now...and this man before me saw me broken, and now whole.

The three letter word that 'now' was represented all that mattered.

"Yes. He's Mama's friend," I reply at last, running my hand through her already medium length blue hair.

Just then, the glass door swings open, and Yuki walks in. After looking left and right, his eyes land on us, and he makes his way over. And my heart pounds because his eyes never leave me. And he's revealed himself to me so much over the years that I can tell what he's thinking, just by looking in those amethyst eyes.

When he arrives, his arm circles my waist, and taps Mako on the nose; laughing when she scrunches her button nose.

"Sorry...I didn't know you were already checking out. I ran out of coffee."

Jun grins as he looks between the three of us. He waves a hand as if to say 'don't worry about it' and he folds his arms, glowing with contentment that of a Father watching his daughter and her family.

"Are you her husband?" He directs at Yuki.

Yuki nods, his eyebrows furrowing. "Yes. Are you Jun? Mai told me about you."

Jun's smile grows and he nods his head, joy sparking in his eyes. "That would be me. I just have to say thank you for being there for her. And you have a beautiful family."

Yuki's stiff demeanor relaxes and he extends a hand for Jun to take it. "Thank you. Its nice to meet you after hearing so many great things."

"It was my pleasure. Are you two headed somewhere? These look like road trip snacks."

"They are," I break in, laughing. "We're on our way to Okinawa to visit my Mom and her husband."

My Mom and my Step-Dad Kaede both relocated to Okinawa. He opened up his own gym over there with a fitness regimen designed to accommodate people with asthma and lung problems. And with help from his own parents, he was able to offer free services for his clientele for the first three months.

Dad, decided to stay around Tokyo, and at Sonata Law Firm. Four years after Yuki and I married - after he got help - he decided to start dating again. He's been dating a woman that worked at his favorite restaurant for the past three months, and no other woman.

But he decided to not go with us this time, because we were visiting Mom for a special reason. She was adopting and we were stopping by to celebrate and to help get things up and running.

Jun gives a nod of approval, watching as Yuki steps aside to get his cup of Dark Roast coffee.

"That sounds wonderful. Well, I don't want to keep you." He leans over, with open arms, and I accept his embrace. And for the first time today, I feel a sad pang in my heart. Because he was moving onto bigger and better things. And soon, he might not be here to greet me. The thought of that was painful.

"You be good, okay? And keep in touch. I want to know how you're doing."

I nod against his chest, sadness welling up like a geyser. "Of course."

He cranes his head to look at Mako, and she giggles at him. "You too Mako. Stay beautiful, alright?"

"Okay," she says, before the coffee machine draws her attention. "That's pretty," she remarks, watching as brown liquid streams from the machine.

And it isn't long before we exchange a final goodbye - at least for now - and Yuki and I leave. But I don't go without taking one last look at the man behind the counter. And realizing that I officially left the old Kurumi behind. A new one stood in the parking lot, feeling nothing but satisfaction in her wake.

~ Mirror, Mirror

#69

Kyo kicks off his shoes before spinning around and flopping on his bed, slinging a tanned arm over his eyes. The second that stupid cow (or former cow, rather) got back, he was gonna be hearing from him! The room looked like a pig pen, and if he wasn't somewhat wary of Kagura eavesdropping or catching wind of it, he'd tell Haru exactly that. She's cooled it a little since the engagement announcement last month, but he still had his doubts. The way his left eye twitched every time she was brought up in conversation attested to that.

Haru arrives shortly after, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he drops the keys to his bike on his desk and strips off his shirt. Kyo's eyebrow raises at this, but he notes with relief that the cow wasn't planning on getting completely naked in front of him. He wasn't that stupid. But it didn't change the fact he'd just added his shirt to the growing mountain of clothes on the floor, haphazardly trudging his way to the dresser in exchange for a clean one.

"Hey, ox-boy. Mind picking up your thong instead of leaving it where I can trip on it?"

Haru's form stiffens, not long before he gently shuts the drawer of his dresser and spins on his heel to face the hot-tempered redhead. With a face as blank and empty as an untouched canvas, Haru scoops up the 'offending' object of conversation with his index finger, dangling the lacy black material tauntingly.

"Oh. You must mean this, huh?" He deadpans, his grey eyes teetering on a darker shade. "Sorry about that, Kyo. I forget that you're sexually frustrated sometimes. I wouldn't want to make you feel left out or anything." He shrugs infuriatingly as Kyo seethes from his place on the bed. "It just wouldn't be fair to Tohru."

Kyo slams his fists on the mattress, swinging his legs over the side and springing to his feet. "Lay off, idiot. We agreed to stay celibate until wedding night. Not every guy is a man whore."

Haru scoffs, shoving the pair of underwear into his back pocket to drop off at Rin's on his way to class. "Wanting to have sex doesn't make you a whore, KyoKyo. But you wouldn't know a thing about that. I guess I should cut you some slack."

"Why you-" Kyo snarls, clenching his fists as he breathes in and out like he practiced. After agreeing to attend anger management classes, he'd been going religiously and the program appeared to have done its job; that is...until his insensitive roommate decided to rear Black Haru's head this morning. Or at least, he thought it was Black Haru. He could never tell. But there would have to be a snowstorm in hell, nine inches deep, before he'd consent to the fact he'd instigated their argument with his insults.

Haru yanks open their mini fridge to get Asashi Super Dry and set it on Kyo's nightstand. After gathering his Physics textbooks and a few pens and pencils, he pulls the door open. "I got a beer out for you. Don't say I never get you anything...maybe it'll help you to mellow out a bit." Before Kyo can get a word in edgewise, the ox is out the door, with the keys to his bike in the palm of his hand.

~ Blackout

#70

The ever present metallic clock ticks. It goes on, endlessly. The moonlight cuts through the barred window of Fumiko's cold cell. The room is filled with a maddening silence, not a single peep heard from a single one of her cell mates. The heavy silence makes a person begin to crave noise, because with silence you are left with your own dark and weighty thoughts. Thoughts of death and doom. Fumiko lay on her cot, running her hand along the blade of her makeshift prison knife. The guards had no idea she had it, she certainly wouldn't tell them. The past couple of days she'd been formulating her escape plan. Every moment she had to herself, she would craft her knife out of a wire from the cheap cot she tossed and turned on each night. Her teeth grinds against one another, the anticipation of putting her plan into action keeping her awake. Chills trail her spine, a shiver following. She would go through with it...it wouldn't be so bad...people did it all the time, and what did she have to lose at this point?

As if on cue, the guard on his night shift assumes his position. He was her favorite guard. Who wouldn't love an assinine rookie with a slight beer gut, he was perfect. Young and new on the job, he hadn't really lived his life but she would be doing him a favor. After she was through with him, he wouldn't have to waste another breath wading through the misery known as life. Fumiko had despised her life, ever since she was a little girl. Her Mom divorced her Father when she was 15, and her Dad began taking it out on her. She remembered the crack of the whip and the sting that followed. She'd learned and truly believed that was how a parent should act, if her Dad did it why shouldn't she?

Fumiko glances at her fellow cell mates, the three all dead to the world. Now was the time to go for it, she might not get another opportunity. Fumiko rolls up off her cot and places her feet on the cool, footprint covered floor. She moves with precision, as slowly as she can manage. She didn't want to alert the guard of course. Fumiko is as close to the metallic bars as possible - knife welded, she reaches her left arm through the bar and clamps a hand over his mouth, and drags her blade across his Adam's apple with the other. The guard begins gasping, his pants become frantic as the life seeps out of him through his newly made wound. Then, his last breath slips out of him, and he hits the ground with a thud.

Fumiko's lips lift upward in a smile as she reaches through the bars once more, this time to detach the keys from his belt loop. She twists the key in the keyhole and pushes the heavy door open with a slight squeak. Fumiko steals away into the night, repeating her actions whenever she came across a guard. And she is out in the night air before she knows it, the crisp air filling her lungs as she inhales. She knows exactly where to go next. Fumiko knew about Akito and her idiotic husband making a deal, surely that was where Aiko would be also. Word spreads like wildfire whenever someone escapes. She was fully aware of Aiko and Akito, she knew just where to look.

...

"Get your hands off of her," Fumiko growls as she begins stepping forward. Akito looks taken aback at the crazed and sleep deprived woman. What gall she had to enter his chambers uninvited. Who did this woman think she was?

"She is mine Akito, Aiko and I have some unfinished business," her threatening gaze falls on her daughter. Aiko's eyes brimmed with tears, many escaping. That same look of fear in her face - how alike she was to her Mother. That was how Fumiko looked when her Dad finished with her. It was like seeing her reflection, memories flooding her mind. Nostalgia a sour note carrying on for far too long.

Akito guffaws at her statement. "She is not yours any longer Fumiko. She is my property, I've staked a claim on her. It cannot be undone. Leave my presence before I contact the authorities." Fumiko trains her deadly eyes on Akito's once again. Anger - a flame igniting within her, at his words. No longer being interested in small talk, Fumiko brandishes her trusty prison knife once more and charges toward Akito. Akito sidesteps in time, and Fumiko crashes into the wall, the knife dropping from her hand and clattering to the ground with a clang.

Akito's bemused smile falters as he looks upon the foolish woman, "You did not really think I am that slow did you? What do you think I am? Your drunkard of a husband or your useless excuse for a daughter?" Anger burns Fumiko and it burns deeply. Akito turns back towards Aiko and places a possessive hand on her shoulder. "You'd better leave while I still have my temper-" Fumiko lunges at his leg and takes him to the ground.

Aiko stares down at the two in shock as they wrestle one another. Fumiko lifts the blade once more, and aims it at Akito's throat. Before she can puncture him, Akito flips her over and straddles her waist. He presses his thumb and index finger on the pressure point in her wrist, forcing her to release her weapon. The knife slips out of her hand once more and Akito smirks with expectant victory. But Fumiko is smarter than he realizes, unable to use her hands, she leans forwards and bashes her head into his nose. A satisfying crack fills her ears, as he stumbles backward holding his bleeding and broken nose.

Fumiko scrambles to her feet and slugs him in the stomach, he once again loses his footing and falls to the floor. His back slamming to the ground, Fumiko climbs on top of him and gets in a few more licks before he regains control. Back and forth, the two fight in hopes of there being a victor. The noise beckons for Hitoshi to find out what is happening, he rushes over to witness the quickly escalated brawl happening on the floor. His eyes connect with Aiko's fearful brown eyes.

Fumiko manages to capture Akito by the throat and throttles him. Akito's eyes loll to the back of his head, guttural and animalistic sounds emitting from him as life bleeds out of him. Hitoshi looks on in surprise, not knowing his wife possessed that kind of strength, he fears for his own life. Aiko tries pulling on the rope her hands are bound with, another futile attempt. She wants to escape, not wanting to see the end of it all.

But before she can get free, Akito's head rolls around and hits the floor with a deafening sound. Akito was dead...and Fumiko killed him.

~ Bruised Heart

#71

"May we say grace?" She asks, taking her husband and daughter's hand in her own.

"Yes," Haru and I chorus, exchanging glances.

"We thank you Father for having this meal and being able to come together as a family. Its not often that we get the chance to do this, and we are thankful that you have blessed us with good health. And with one another. We thank you. In His name we pray. Amen."

"Amen," we say together.

~ Incognito

#72

I expected that the paint would be peeling off the walls of this nursing home, all chipped paint and broken TVs with a row of dentures in water glasses on trays that doubled as nightstands. Instead, there's sunshine yellow matte finish that covers the walls, flat screens and fully functioning computers. Nothing like the place I visited when I was fifteen that was more like a building you lived in if you had nowhere better to be.

The nurses are all young and beautiful, a stark contrast to the cranky middle-aged women from before.

Kyo and I approach the receptionist desk, where a woman was checking to see if the person on the other end of the line had their insurance information correct. Her inflection was as bright and chipper as the walls, heaps of bedside manner crammed into her small frame.

"Yes, its 500 yen for the co-pay..." she holds a finger up to us, offering an apologetic smile before returning her attention to the patient on the phone. "That sounds great! We welcome your mother with open arms, sir...thank you and goodbye."

She replaces the black phone in its matching cradle, clasping her hands together as she faces us. Its then that I see the dark circles under her eyes and the frayed look to her brunette hair.

"How can I help you two?"

"Hi," I begin, tucking my hair behind my ear. "He's here to volunteer, and I'm trying to find out if a Celia still lives here."

"Ok!" She chirps, her eyes growing big like she overdosed on caffeine. "Just sign into the sheet on the clipboard, sweetie," she says to Kyo, tapping a hot pink fingernail on said sheet. "And I'm sorry, but I can only give out that kind of information to family," the woman continues, glancing at me.

Kyo's hand stops moving over the paper, as he looks up at the woman. "Are you kidding? She's volunteered here before with her mother. She was the lady she helped out."

"Ah...yes, well. Unless she can provide government issued proof like a license or permit, I'm afraid she's within breach of our code."

"I don't care about your codes," Kyo quips, letting the attached pen slip. "If she can't visit her, then we'll find some other place to go. If I can go in, then why can't she?"

"Sir, if you continue acting out, I'm going to need you to leave," she replies, her bubbly tone overcome by an exasperated one that seemed to age her. "You've been given clearance as you've received permission from your school. She hasn't within this past year, so she can't-"

"-Gina, is that you?" A voice interrupts, sounding small and sweet.

I turn my head, swiveling around all the way when I recognize the woman in the wheelchair to be Celia. My smile falters when I become painfully aware of how weak she looked, hunched over, with bald spots and grey hair. She was always kind, but she used to be so vivacious and had a head of vibrant, colorful hair. Can that much really change in three years?

"Yes ma'am, its me," I confirm, stepping away from the desk to kneel at her side. "I haven't seen you in so long. You doing okay?"

"I'm doing swell, sweet pea. Oh," she coos, raising a shaking hand to twirl a strand of my hair. "You've blossomed so much. You've filled out and landed yourself a boyfriend. I'm happy for you."

My blood runs cold.

I refuse to see Kyo's reaction.

It would only hurt.

"Actually, he's just a friend." Kind of. "But I'm glad to hear that you're doing well. You working out or something?"

She giggles, patting my hand in appreciation. "Thank you for flattering this little old lady, but there's no need. I've run my race and I'm ready to see it through to its completion."

And when she says that, its as if my heart capsizes with sadness. It was always and is a possibility that she could die any day. But...I never really dwelled on that fact. I wanted to believe that she would never see death.

"This young woman isn't giving you trouble, is she?" Celia queries, frowning at the mere though of me being mistreated by the staff.

"Not at all miss," the receptionist blurts out, waving her hands frantically. "You seem to know her, so there's no reason why she can't proceed."

Kyo rolls his eyes, finishing with the sign in and making his way into the main room. I tell him that I won't be far behind.

"Are you going somewhere, Celia?" I ask, placing my other hand over hers. "I wasn't sure if this place still forbade breaks from it or not."

"No, they're still stiffs," she says, pursing her lips. "But as long as I get to see your pretty face, there's no need to complain about the rain clouds. I have my own rainbow."

~ No Strings Attached

#73

He notes the way it appears split, running his thumb along the glass' ridges; like a compelling balance of two different colors, or different sides. The condensed milk sinks to the bottom, beneath the coffee, to give off the effect of how beautiful the marriage of different ingredients could be. And it is in that moment that he's struck with revelation. She understood him. Somehow, she got him on a deeper plane than he ever thought possible with what he'd revealed to her. At least, from what he could remember about that night with her. He'd always wondered what happened to her after she disappeared a week later. There were rumors, but he never subscribed to gossip. He couldn't help but wonder if the reason she left had something to do with him.

They find a seat in the far back of the cafe'. Its a cozy - almost intimate - spot, with a brown leather booth, away from the chatter and noise that derived from the most populated areas of this place.

Haru kicks up a leg, resting his foot on the seat across from him, and taking a sip of a drink he'd never tried before. As Someina crosses one leg over the other and rummages through her bag, his eyes widen out of shock. It had only been a few hours and she hadn't ceased to surprise him yet. He hadn't known what he'd gotten himself into by accepting the mystery drink, but he was beyond grateful that he did.

It was sweet, but it didn't overpower or drown out the strength of the espresso's flavoring. The whipped cream, topped with sprinkles of cocoa and caramel had him sighing out of bliss. If he hadn't met Someina or if she hadn't become this coffee connoisseur, he would have never known this combination existed; of that, he was certain.

~ Blackout

#74

Red and blue lights collide and bounce off the tall Sohma gates. Sirens, chatter, and the clicking of handcuffs a dull background noise. I'm shivering in the cold night air, although Haru gave me his coat. The past hour had been a blur of screams and cries. I hadn't expected my Mom of all people to save me. The question remained of why someone whom wanted me dead would come to my rescue. I was not sure I would get an answer, but I felt a strange sense of gratitude toward the woman. No, I was not okay with how she treated me. Not even remotely. The anger and pain were both too raw and hot for me to forgive her yet. But, Akito was out of my life...for good. No more unwarranted threesomes. No more rough sex...maybe I could eventually snap out of my endless nightmare. Maybe I can awaken once again. Haru had already begun doing so, I was already waking up. Slowly, but surely coming back to life. And I had Haru to thank for that.

I'd still been bound to the chair when Haru arrived and eventually called the cops. My Mom had sprung away from Akito's corpse, not even a sign of remorse flickering across her features. She remained placid...calm. It was as if she didn't think what she just did was immoral or illegal. My Father stood there in stunned silence, having never seen my Mom act in such a way. Mom looked over at me, a smile ghosting her lips. "Weren't expecting me were you?" Recalling the last mock conversation we shared, her declaring revenge on me...she was the last person I thought to save me. But...here we were.

"Honestly, no." The words hung in the air, an odd but familiar silence carrying between us. Mom licked her partially bloody lip, grimacing at the metallic taste before slowly approaching. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't beat you into oblivion after trying to pull a fast one on me?" Father and I exchanged tense glances before I dared to look back at her. I should feel afraid of her...but I oddly felt, sort of calm. "Well, you didn't just commit a homicide for nothing...did you?"

Mother snorted and shuffled to retrieve her prison knife. "I'm not going to share you Aiko...when I was younger, I was never taught the value of sharing. So, why start now?" I was sure I'd merely imagined it, but I detected some detached distortion of warmth in her voice. Before we could exchange any more words, the double steel doors slammed open. Haru stood in the entrance, his face already held an expectant and angry expression. Noticing the situation sent a shock through him, like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him. We must have been quite the sight. My Father with his mouth wide open, my Mom bloodied and bruised, and me tied to a chair.

Haru surveyed the room, his eyes falling on Akito's dead body having already reached rigor mortis. He stumbled back a few steps, the surprise of it all overwhelming him. "What...?"

But, long story short that is how I ended up here. Outside of the Sohma gates, watching my parents cuffed and escorted to their own separate squad cars. Akito's body draped in a black body bag, and wheeled out on a gurney. Haru stood alongside me, his hands shoved into his pockets as we silently observed the scene. My parents had been mirandized. One of the officers pushed on my Father's shoulders, and forced him into the backseat. Once again, getting the criminal treatment he practically asked for. My Mom was about to be taking her place in her own car, when she stole another glance at me. Our eyes connected, and I was able to hold her gaze for the first time in years. Without fear...a smile appeared on her face - small - but fleeted as quickly as it appeared.

When we waited for the police to arrive, she'd told me...about her childhood. How her own Father treated her. My humane and compassionate side felt slight sympathy for my Mom. But it wasn't enough for me to forgive yet. She'd done a lot of damage. And knowing how she felt after he did a number on her, she should have known how it would make me feel...but what more could I say? We don't choose the parents we are given. We simply endure them. And if you're one of the blessed, you can even laugh with them...hug them...love them.

Love...I remember pondering it's existence. I have no concept of what love is. I know it's not something tangible. You feel it but you don't see it. But there have been times when I've questioned the existence of it. Knowing it was not something tangible, but...not unattainable either. I think I found love. I found love with Haru...and the Sohmas. I found a friend in Tohru. Haru's hand slips out of his pocket and brushes my own. I look up at him, his eyes smiling down at me. I reach for his hand and lace my fingers through his. Even though I had no idea what awaited us in the future...I could handle it. I had these people at my side...it would be okay.

~ Bruised Heart

#75

For awhile, I enjoy it. Its always wonderful to be held by him and to not have that wall between us; where I had to live a double life and not mix the Mai from yesterday and the Mai from today. But I could actually be me around him and not be in a constant state of panic.

But something shattered the peace and calm.

A stale stench of shame and timidity, tinge the air to the point that the tension was so thick, it was tangible. The weight of shame bared down on my soul, and crushed the spirit intertwined with it. It hit me the moment he ran his fingertips along the inside of my wrist. It tickled and burned all at once.

The word 'Stop' is on the tip of my tongue, waiting to be said. Because I want him to stop touching my past and to pretend it isn't there. Its what I tried to do, all the time. Hide it. Cover it. Ignore its existence. But here he was...Feeling it. Seeing it...Kissing it.

With just the lightest of touches, he kisses the imprint on my wrist. I wriggle and writhe beneath him, the manifestation of my discomfort. But he doesn't let me go. He just holds on, determined to make me realize something.

Without saying anything.

He eventually just releases my wrist, then lays beside me.

The rise and fall of my chest matches his own as we stare up at the ceiling. I, in awe of what just happened. And how the wall between us reduced to rubble because we were suddenly closer and more vulnerable than ever before.

The night continues on around us as time pauses between us.

Because now, we were breaking that rule...the one I'd vowed to myself that I'd never violate for the sake of my career. For the sake of stability and familiarity.

Rule 2: No Dating Is Allowed Between Partners.

~ Incognito

#76

The track is fast and sensual, laced with a consistent beat you can feel in your chest, filling the place with a loud thrumming. He takes my hands and I pull him into the center, following the tide of people that were dancing without a care. I let him spin me into him, his hands guiding my hips against his in time to the music.

A smile splits my face as I lean into him, following the undulations of his torso and matching mine to it. And for the few minutes the song lasts, I'm transported into a moment where I'm not Kitty or Gina. I just am. I'm just myself with him, with no thoughts as to how I should behave or how I should feel. I just lose myself to the rhythm and Kyo.

His lips find the pulse point of my neck, and its like a hammer coming down, adding a kick that makes it race. And I feel emboldened by the words he whispers against my skin like its just Kyo and I in his room. Between his sheets. Like it was us against the world under an ocean of stars.

And then...the song ends, ushering in applause and a complete change of pace. The second track is uptempo, creating a discotheque as a spinning silver ball casts ethereal circles all over the room. As the pace dips with the sounds of saxophones and other-worldly instrumentals, I watch as people break out into dance once more.

~ No Strings Attached

#77

"I want your lips on me."

"Where?" Haru asks, kissing along the length of her neck.

"Everywhere," she moans. "But this is a good start."

A heavenly cloud of perfume and cologne join forces in draping over the room filling with heat. Silky, shapely thighs clamp around pale hips, dragging them forward with the intent of fulfillment. Haru lays scorching kisses over feverish skin that ignites under his attention and devotion. A timeless amount of passion floods her veins with the strength and power of a relentless river, rebelling against anything in its path. Sweat clings to their bodies as papers fall to the floor in the midst of it all, soon followed by clothes and accessories that lay forgotten for the sake of indulgence.

He retreats to look through his nightstand for something, though he moves quickly as desire grips his mind in an unforgivable vise that refuses to ease and make way for rationality.

Someina twirls a lock of her hair, laughing as Haru places a knee on the bed to stabilize himself. "Do you have a condom?"

In answer, Haru tears a golden wrapper with his teeth, tossing it aside before settling himself over her. "Yeah," he says, voice husky. "Are you...is this ok?"

"Mm. Yeah," she sighs, her hands latching onto her magenta sheets.

But that's all she remembers, other than dark colors and shades, the harmony of groans, and the harsh light that filtered into her bedroom the morning after.

~ Blackout

#78

Hiro stood in his chair, "Hey when do we get cake?"

Suddenly a slice of cake slapped him across the face a slid down his cheek.

"Oops, sorry Hiro," Momiji laughed from where he sat.

"Pipe down ya little brats," Kyo hollered from his place next to Tohru.

Rin groaned, "Ugh, shut it Kyo."

"Hey bimbo-"

"Kyo! Who you callin bimbo?" Kagura screeched as she lifted a plate of cake, preparing to throw it at him.

"What? I'm not even talking to you."

Hiro swiped the frosting from his cheek, prepared to retaliate when Kisa jumped up and pecked Hiro on the cheek. His cheeks turned pink. "What was that for?"

Kisa blushed and smiled, "You look cute...Hiro..."

"Children, children please! This is supposed to be a special time for the two lovebirds," Shigure chimed in, ducking in time to avoid Kyo's cake being aimed at him.

"Are you okay?" Tohru asked.

"Don't worry about that idiot Miss Honda, he deserved that," Yuki quipped, dabbing the corner of his lips with a napkin.

"You all need to stop throwing food like you're five," Hatori said as he squashed the butt of his cigarette into the palm of his hand, quenching the flame.

"But Hariii," Ayame cried.

Haru and I laughed at the exchange, enjoying the rest of the time we had with them before we left for our honeymoon.

~ Bruised Heart

#79

~ What Hatsuharu Means To Me ~

By: Your Mai. Is it too soon to say that I'm yours? Eh, I'm saying it anyway. :)

H is for Happy. I hope that you will smile, one day. I mean...really smile.

A is for Accepting. You accepted me despite everything I told you. And all that I haven't.

T is for Tantalizing. For some reason, I really can't help but think of you. Whenever I see something random or something that doesn't make sense, you immediately come to mind. Don't laugh at me for sounding cliche.' I mean it.

S is for Sexy. This one was harder to write. Not because you're not. Not because I'm not attracted to you beyond emotionally. But because you make me feel weird. And I'm not used to wanting to be kissed. Or touched. I can't even tell you how much I love having you touch me. And we only just started.

U is for Unravel. The more I spend time with you, the less I mind opening up to you. I hate telling anyone else about me. Anyone else but you. I've been burned one too many times. I've never lived one moment of my life unbroken. Or what people call normal. You and I are one in the same in that way. But, for some reason...I let you. I let you ask questions. I let you know things. I share my past with you. And I hope to keep sharing the present.

H is for Honest. I know it sounds simple. But, I've lived a life of lies and secrets. Constantly hiding my identity and the name that you kissed. Integrity and truthfulness are so hard to come by. And Moo Man, you have it in spades. I'd be too embarrassed to say this to your face, but...your honesty is pretty sexy too. It shows that you are willing to let me in just like I've let you. And I feel special for being able to know things you've never told anyone else.

A is for Altruistic. I've seen how you look out for Kisa. For Yuki. For me. You care for others even though I see it hurts you sometimes. You help anyone who needs it, just because you're you. To me, this is by far, the most attractive quality about you. Its what made me love having you as my partner, my best friend. My very first, in fact. And now...its one of the things I love about having you as my boyfriend. You're really sweet.

R is for Random. I tried to find another word that would go along with 'R,' but no word suits you better. You dress like an Eskimo in warm weather. You look like someone on their way to a beach when its freezing outside. You never make sense. Even the fact that we're together is odd. But its one of the other things I find endearing about you. Don't think you have to act differently. Or hide Black Haru. Truth is, I don't really see you as 'White Haru' or 'Black Haru.' You're Haru. And you're not really two people. You're a multifaceted, strange, lovable person. Please stay like this.

U is for Undaunted. You're fearless. You're brave. I admire you in every way imaginable. I told myself I wouldn't get sappy when I first started writing this, but here we are. When we were sent on that mission, on the train. I wasn't sure we'd make it out of there. But you pushed past your fear (which is good because we would have died, otherwise) and disabled the bomb that day. And now, I think that's when I first really noticed you. And even though it might be one of the biggest mistakes we make, I don't want to give it up. Not this time.

~ Incognito

#80

Tonight, we changed up routine and decided to check out an underground rave. It was Kyo's idea. He was very cryptic about this night in particular and his need to escape. Like his chances of surviving the night rested on us going…losing ourselves in the people…the alcohol…the drugs.

The EDM music pulsates.

The energy is eclectic and electric.

And yet, there is an undercurrent of heartache reflected in the audience popping ecstasy and tonguing strangers for some form of reprieve for their own troubles.

The trippy UV lights set off my body glitter in shimmery dots of color, loud and clear on the canvas of my skin. The platinum and deep blue strobes flashed on and off in time to the instrumentals that filled what little empty space was between us. The heavy smell of hard liquor passed from his breath, each time his lips came in contact with my neck and my jawline. And I find myself consumed with the traveling sound of the beat and the sensation of him stroking the small of my back.

Each neon glow stick was like a ray of surrender; a white flag, waved by the masses that signaled how they'd forsaken themselves. That they decided to fill the emptiness with pounding music and morning hangovers.

As the music begins to fade into the next song, he takes my hand and we run to places unknown. His legs carry us as if he's being chased, albeit unstably, lacing his body with the charge of adrenaline. And he leads us somewhere away from the imposing crowd. Somewhere we could be without being wall-to-wall with all the young adults boozing and shooting up, swaying drunkenly into one another in mindless rhythm. Instead, we end up just outside of all of that, and I'm backed against a brick wall by a staggering Kyo.

Everything seems to be in slow motion when he leans into me, causing whatever he drank to overwhelm the void that separates his body from mine. And the instinct to resist him in this state goes on ignored for the sake of running with it. Playing along. He takes me by the hips, bringing me roughly against him as if he were grasping for oxygen. And maybe...he was. His breaths seemed to grow shallower the more on edge he became.

It scared me.

He captures my lips, engulfing my fear and making it collide with his. And it makes my heart beat like a cornered animal on the verge of being captive by its predator. I feel my body shudder as his hands latch onto my black stockings, ripping them apart until he has access to my vulnerability. Trying to relieve his own.

He shoves his tongue past my lips like he did the night we met.

Desperate.

Frantic.

Hurried.

And I don't have a moment to catch my breath as he fiddles with the button and zipper of his jeans, moving faster than I'd ever seen him.

"Kyo," I manage, my voice thready and weak. "What's wrong?"

His breathing comes off labored, even when he looks up at me. And his eyes are flaming ice, frozen over with the hardness of his heart, and the loneliness of isolation. "My mom died today," he says, resting his forehead on my shoulder. "13 years ago, today."

Unable to continue watching him try to free himself, I place my hands over his to help him. Anything to remedy the sorrow and the hopelessness written all over him.

When I'm through, I collapse against the wall with realization. Understanding. He wanted something or someone to take his pain away. Like when we conquered my grief against the wall of his shower when we got back from the hospital. He wanted it in return. To be rescued from numbness in order to feel again. And...I could give him that. I could try.

I hook my finger in the collar of his shirt to regain his attention, and I take a deep breath in before diving headfirst. I pull his bottom lip between my teeth as he tears the clingy black material of my stockings even further, creating a hole that allows the winter wind to lash against my skin. I allow my head to fall back against the hard surface of the wall, kissing him deep enough that it distracts from the pain of him thrusting into me sharply. Though my nails bite into his arms as they grasp for support through how bad it hurts. His lips muffle the moan that escapes me. And I sling my leg around his hip to ground myself against the force of his frenzied movements that rock us into the hard surface behind us.

"Don't you want to be loved…by someone?"

This one single thought filled and ravaged the hollow space my head and heart came together. Even as I felt the rough texture of the brick wall behind us as it scraped the backs of my legs with each motion. Even though I was doing this for him, permitting myself to be what satiates the pain wearing away at his soul, I couldn't help but ask myself…

"Don't you want to be loved…by someone?"

"Kyo..." my breath hitches, putting my hands up between us to recreate some space. "Wait-"

I break the connection of our mouths, propelling him to look at me. That he has something to focus on while everything he felt was baring down on him.

"I need you to do something, Kyo. I need you to tell me...talk to me about what you're angry about." The palm of his hand comes down to smack against the mortar, holding the both of us up as sadness threatens to weigh us down.

He shakes his head, fast enough to get whiplash.

"No. I can't," he gasps out, slamming into me furiously. "I can't talk about her. I hate her. I hate her for what she did."

"What did she do?" I ask, trying to get more out of him. To get him to stop bottling up what he thought of his mother's suicide and keep the window into his thoughts open. How neglected and alone he'd been. Why there was an us in the first place.

"Take your anger out on me," I press forward, giving him his own words right back.

Pour your pain into me. Don't hold onto it.

"She left me!" He swears under his breath, struggling to not be swept under the impact of his own words. "She jumped in front of that damned train because she hated me!"

Its hard to listen to him and be assaulted by the brunt of his ache.

But I know he needs to say it.

To scream it.

To forget it.

"What else?"

His jaw clenches, like his anger is a building inferno that sets fire to every cell, feeding off the oxygen in his body until it becomes a raging mountain of fury. "It hurts!" He yells with a tremble in his voice, squeezing his eyes shut.

"It feels like I'm in hell. But what does it matter?"

His entire body becomes a rigid cage around me, tense with the lack of control he has over everything in him.

"My father screwed me over and left me to fend for myself." He sinks down as his pace shatters, banging his fist against the wall. Again. And again. "So what does it matter?

I bite my lip, blinking back tears that would reveal the pressure building behind my eyes as I listened. That I was becoming weak when I wanted to be strong enough for him. But I refuse to steal his moment to rant and grieve.

So I redirect my efforts to wrapping my arms around him and keeping him close to me. To redistribute the gravity of his burden to my own shoulders.

~ No Strings Attached

#81

Someina just arrived at the restaurant with a dashing, much taller gentleman on her arm, their backs to his table. There was something vaguely familiar about her date, but he didn't care to analyze it all that much when she was there. A complete 360 from how she looked on Monday three days ago.

The way her form-fitting dress - in his favorite color, black - hugged her curves and her impressive backside to end off at just above her knees. Classy enough for a bistro of this caliber, but a sexy finger-tip length that begged to have a man's hands there.

'Her date's hands,' he recalls sharply, coming back to himself and the glaring women that sat around his table.

~ Blackout

#82

My heart slams against my chest and the chains in the background begin clattering like there's no tomorrow moments before it happens. It was torture. He didn't prepare me. There was no warning. There was nothing but me, and him when he thrust himself into me and I saw nothing but nebulae and blackness hurling my vision into an abyss of disturbed waters. He moved in and out, like a pendulum, in quick successions as a mixture of pain, anger, and perfidious pleasure came out through lips I'd tried to weld shut. As he picks up the pace and spills release, hot tears flow down my cheeks and make my neck feel sticky, too overwhelmed with pain to care about anything else but all of this...

Pain.

But the questions stop and I don't mourn when the numbness takes over, masking my emotions in a protective layer of apathy while metal snaps and gives before threatening footfalls loom closer to us. My captor looks up in horror, only to be slammed against the cinder so harshly that the sound of his skull cracking is deafening and he collapses to the ground.

I felt nothing.

Not when Hotaka fell and his life abandoned his body.

Not when Haru gingerly swept me up in his arms, using his jacket to cover my half-naked body as he ran until his legs were nothing but a blur of black.

I felt nothing.

~ Incognito

#83

"The rules are as follows," begins the referee, his black whistle dangling from around his neck. "Kicks and punches are allowed, there are three minutes for three rounds. If one of you manages to KO the other in the first round, the fight is over. If you've run down the clock and you're both still standing, you continue until there is a winner or a tie. Should there be a tie, you enter into sudden death. If you have questions, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Rao raises her glove, her eyes on me as she asks, "Any rules about what happens if we kill each other?"

"If I see either one of you attempting that, I will call everything off and the other wins by default. Am I understood?"

We both nod, and the referee takes several paces back, directing us to return to our corners. Once we do, he puts the whistle between his lips, bringing his hand down in a starting signal. And with the chime of the tiny hammer hitting the bell, we begin.

We dance around each other for a mere few seconds before she goes in for the kill. As to be expected from a swarmer, she throws punches towards my mid-section, before following up with several hooks to force me back against the ropes. I manage to swerve and avoid the first few punches, only to take a blow that knocks the air out of my lungs. My breath leaves me in a whoosh, before an uppercut sends me flying backward and forces air back into me. My teeth rattle with the impact and the room goes sideways. I pant, a strand of my sweat drenched hair tumbling into my eyes as I eyeball her for the next attack.

I didn't have much time to observe her before I began my matches, but I learned some things. Her fighting style was extremely offensive and swift, often rendering her opponents unconscious or leaving them with concussions. I was fast on my feet, but I was very calculative, which put me at a disadvantage at times.

To work against her comfort zone, I back away to reconstruct some distance and make note of her pattern. As she came at me again, I noticed the way her left foot dragged ever so slightly, though I duck just before she can land another swing. I guess I had to play the long distance game and keep her at bay.

"Come on, Princess," she taunts, her hateful eyes marring her innocent countenance. "Fight me. Show me that you're not a waste of air."

As she takes another swing, I slide past her, and make a break for the other side. We continue through the round like this, me attempting to run through her stamina and Rao trying to knock me out cold. The crowd fades into background noise as the sound of my own breath fills my ears, sweat accumulating on every part of my body as the round concludes.

I collapse on my wooden stool, squeezing my plastic bottle to douse myself in water. I gauge her level of exhaustion, knowing my efforts weren't fruitless by the way she heaved and the frustration etched into her expression. At this, I allow a small smile. I'm the first to progress to the second round in a fight with her. That's all the hope I need.

As the referee calls us back into position, I get to my aching blistery feet, considering my options for this upcoming round. I could either focus on countering each of her punches, putting enough power into them to knock her out; I could continue with my previous method and evade her until she was tired enough to get sloppy; or I could slug her as soon as the opportunity presents itself, and follow up with combos.

But what would work? She might be onto me by now.

With no more time to think, only to act, I throw my focus back into the fight.

Taking me by surprise, she changes her stance and drops to the floor in a sweep kick that forces me to jump at the last second. By the time I'm recovered, she's already pulled her fist back and sent it into my face, making the blood rush to my eye and blur my vision with its swelling.

Crap. She wasn't stupid after all. I guess that leaves me with only two choices, now.

Opting to nurse my eye later, I watch for a moment to follow through with plan B, dodging her blows and her deadly kicks. If I can just target her weak spot once, I can win this. I have to...

With an unexpected ferocity, she ends up behind me, attempting to kick my legs out from beneath me once again. I hop, knowing that now was the time. That it was now or never.

With my heart in my throat and my legs shaking, I spin around like a top to deliver my strongest blow, right in the middle of her solar plexus. And she crashes into the ropes, wheezing as her arms hang on them to hold up her weight. I hunch over with my hands on my knees, fighting the urge to throw up long enough to keep track of my opponent. But its not even a full minute when her breathing is snuffled out, her head lolling to the side as she wilts to the floor.

I find myself in shock.

Even when the referee rushes to the floor and checks her pulse. Even when he says she's alive but knocked out. Even as I'm declared the winner of the tournament, I'm still in a daze.

It isn't until my arm is raised in the air, like a victory flag, and the boys rush over to congratulate me that gravity forces me back down to Earth.

~ No Strings Attached

#84

There were no hot, gripping, passionate moments between the sheets that left her blissfully sore and happy.

There was mostly just friendship as the main course with a few kisses and dates for dessert.

And the sadness of that alone made her heart hurt, scraping out the insides like a pumpkin.

"You make me feel, like my old self." She bites her lip, rewinding that in her head to check that it sounds like a promising thing instead of the epitaph of a dead thing. "So there's no need to worry about me and anything I felt or didn't feel when I saw him again. I mean, if it were your ex, how would you deal?"

Hatori closes his eyes, automatically breathing in the lingering wisps of Kana's scent of honey and rain. Remembering how she was a terrible cook, but a master at baking. How she always left the bed's fitted sheet half-on and half-off, and the frustrated pout she'd wear when it fought her every step of the way. How it felt for her feet to be in his lap - the nails painted tangerine as always - as they watched a Hitchcock marathon every Thursday night.

The ache in his heart never let up or went away. It never dulled or dimmed to a lower volume than a roar, always loud and in his face three years after their split. It was something that threw him completely when she left him and chose someone else. Someone blonde, younger, and more carefree. He was always dark, jaded, and uptight. In other words, she found herself lonely and lost in his sadness, and he couldn't hang with her sunny outlook.

He was heartbroken and merely getting by trying to nurse it back to health with each smile and personalized cup of coffee from the girl beside him. Looking expectantly at him longer than his eyes had been focused on her, trying to respectfully look her over as he held back on answering. She was a petite little thing, dressed in a way that made him proud to be seen with her and mildly aroused all with one outfit. While she wasn't voluptuous or remotely sultry, her freckles were endearing, and her snowflake blue eyes convinced you to stare into them always. Something he had to not do when he wanted to concentrate on more than what it might feel like to hold hands or to take their kisses beyond the chaste pecks.

~ Blackout

#85

The nurses that checked my vitals plastered on weak, transparent grins out of sympathy for something they knew nothing about - something they couldn't even begin to understand or put into words to relate to me. But they tried and put forth their best effort, contesting to see whom could make poor-old, broken little Mai laugh when she was robbed of her virginity and hope - hope that had a faint and shaky foundation before the mission even began. Before everything tore it down from the ground up.

They gave me a pill - similar to the Morning After Pill - offered me a glass of juice, a pat on the back, and a smile of reassurance as if it helped anything.

One pill. One tiny red and white tablet contained the power to prevent what everyone else feared. It prevented the after effects of conception. Like they had the right to snuff out the life of a baby before they were fully formed. I didn't want the baby to have a corpse for a father, especially a rapist. But it didn't change the conflicting emotions building within me, like an impenetrable tower of stone enforced and cemented with anger and disappointment. Some sort of shallow, empty feeling that only served to hollow me out more than I'd already been. And it was raw and rough to digest as my thoughts flew back and forth between what was the next course of action and the mission failure.

They put me on temporary probation until I was "deemed fit to perform on missions" and it left me to twiddle my thumbs and double up on my internship shifts at the hospital. But there was nothing for me to come to terms with; all my injuries healed and my body was as good as new. I was fine.

And once I got through a month and two weeks of meaningless condolences - like I just lost a part of myself - hugs I didn't ask for or reciprocate, and empty promises of me recovering from something that didn't even bother me, I was finally able to resume missions. But before the next briefing, I was to attend my first training among the assassin elites.

I'd prove em' wrong. They think I can't handle whatever is thrown at me. They doubt my ability to keep on thriving and become the best agent this side of Japan. But they had no idea how capable and strong I was. Not even Haru and his telltale concern, the steel grip of his embraces, and the kisses that were a break of undeserved ecstasy in the midst of a never ending nightmare.

He saw me as weak too. But they're all wrong. They know nothing about me. I refused to be memorialized as the girl that felt too much and buckled beneath the force of her emotions. I would work my way up, completing every last thing I was assigned with my new specialty squad, doing whatever it took to keep myself propped up.

I don't need anyone.

~ Incognito

#86

Is this what making love is? When someone finds you beautiful and they cherish you? When you become the world, the galaxy, and the universe to them and no celestial body can hold a candle to you. When you feed off of the importance and treasury in each other's hearts and souls, translated through your bodies.

His torso presses mine into the couch cushion, his hands gliding up my arms to link around his neck as he dedicated his mouth to the rest of me. And with all the devotion he's freely offering me, I want to give it to him just as much. But I don't know how to express the admiration and fondness I feel for him.

"You know...Kitty does fit you," Kyo groans, licking and sucking my collarbone and making my eyes flutter closed. "You like to scratch my back up whenever we're like this." And its the teasing in his tone that ignites a fire that burns through my veins. That fireplace has got nothing on me.

I smirk, before sitting up and causing him to move back on his heels, reversing our roles. I crawl towards him and spread my legs over his lap, taking control and protecting my foot all at the same time.

Take that, my Kitty-Kat.

But instead of being impressed with my actions, he grins smugly as his hands make their home on my hips. He scoots back and daringly meets my eyes. "If you want to be on top, all you have to do is tell me."

I place my hands on either of his broad shoulders, feeling the dip that I love to lay my head on. "Aw...babe. I thought you weren't going to be so considerate."

He rolls his eyes, bringing me flush against him from my position in his lap. "Don't make me regret it."

A smile threatens to take up my whole face, and I feel weightless when he smiles right back.

"I won't."

For the first time, we're not escaping something in each other. We're not seeking distraction in the give and take of our bodies or even really relief from lust. But we're having sex because we like each other and love each other. And we can't find the words to describe it, so we let our bodies talk instead.

And when it ends, I find myself lying on top of him, concealed by my woolly fortress as the fire crackles. The storm has long abated though forgotten in the midst of us, and the lights flicker ever so slightly before whirring back to life. I look down at him, tracing his jawline with my fingers causing his stubble to prickle against my skin. Our scents of flowers and cinnamon mix together as the moon's light is out shined by the stars through the window nearby. It creates a silhouette of us entangled in one another, caught up in the softness of starlight. But even the stars don't mesmerize me the way Kyo does in this moment. The absolute unguarded affection pouring out to me through his eyes makes me want to join my soul to his to experience it forever. But I'm satisfied with staying with him like this for the rest of the night, drifting off to sleep with his heart matching the rhythm of mine.

He loves me.

And I Iove him.

He loves Gina, no matter how goofy and strange and crazy I am.

He loves me anyway.

And now he no longer owns my Fridays...

But every day with it.

~ No Strings Attached

#87

"Unicorns?" Haru mock gasps. "You know, I met one once."

Kaiko bounces excitedly, her black curls tumbling wildly. "What was her name? What did she look like?"

He plasters on a pensive look of his own, trying to keep from smiling. "Pretty sure her name was Princess Pony."

"No!" Kaiko shouts indignantly, tugging his hair with one little hand. "If you meet one, it would be named something else."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Um...Unicorn Drizzle! It has to have pizza."

"Pizza?" He echoes, right before understanding hits him. "Oh, you mean pizazz."

"Yeah!" She huffs. "That's what I'm saying."

He chuckles, stopping at the metallic cart that was parked between two of the least bustling streets in all of the country. He didn't understand why - from a business standpoint- the owner would choose this location. But hey, its not his business.

"Ah! Haru," the man cheers, clapping his hands together. "Good to have you back around."

Haru gives a nod of acknowledgement. "Yup. Can we get two of the chef's recommendation?"

The man plays along, scratching at his stubble in thought. "Let's see...the dango is pretty popular with the hotties and the men. I hear its all the rage on these busy streets."

Haru smirks, lowering Kaiko to the sidewalk to fish out his wallet. "We'll take that, then." He forks over the amount, plus a little extra and is thanked with a grin.

"You know...you look like the type to not keep a picture or two of your loved ones in your wallet. But I think you have the sentimental heart to do so."

Haru arches an eyebrow, gently grabbing Kaiko by the waist when she tries to run off. "Why do you say that?"

The man shrugs, finishing up with prep and serving up two dango on a stick for his most loyal customer and daughter. "Because I'd hate to see people forget or take for granted their special people. You can use their pictures for your phone wallpaper, but it just doesn't have the same value as an old photograph that means the world to you right next to the thing that matters most to the world."

"Which is?"

"Money," he answers, smiling brightly at Kaiko.

~ Blackout

#88

Rosy and peach colored light filters in through the floor to ceiling windows that cover the hallway. Haru's hands are shoved deeply into the front pockets of his black jeans, his form rigid in contrast to his laid-back nature.

He knew Mai was sad. He knew that she was miserable and nothing like the girl he met what seems like years ago. She was a stranger to him - unfamiliar. He hadn't heard her laugh or crack a smile. Those lips that he found himself addicted and obsessed with were fixed into a permanent, straight, unwavering line that never lifted. The blazing amber that intensified with her feisty demeanor and sarcastic remarks was a thing of the past. And even now, when they'd kissed just moments ago...there was no passion or fury; it lacked emotion and heart that he'd experienced first hand throughout their relationship. It almost seemed automatic and obligatory, like they were simply going through the motions and pretending to be a couple.

It left Haru feeling confused, helpless, and discouraged as to what he could do. So far, things were going from bad to worse. He noted that she never wore that choker of hers anymore. She'd stopped doing so the day of that mission that wrecked everything, but she made it a point to never replace it from that day forward. He was aware of her familial attachment to it. But now, he was unsure what to think; it was as if something happened between her and her parents who - as far as he knew - she had never met. The only consolation and piece of mind that he clung to with all of his ox-like strength was the fact that she still wore his ring. Maybe she forgot to stop wearing it; he hoped that wasn't the case. He hoped that the old Mai - his Mai, was fighting to resurface. The Mai that lived off of Vanilla Malts, considered New Leaf to be her home, and was both frustratingly and admirably stubborn. He didn't know if he'd ever have her back...

Suddenly, still up to his waist in depressing contemplation, someone latches onto his wrist and yanks him into the nearby utility closet, locking the door behind them. Lips meet his in a frenzy; whomever it was, was in a hurry or desperate. But whomever was kissing him, wasn't his girlfriend. The slender, scantily clad form that coiled around his was a dead giveaway. Raven tresses swept over his exposed arms and tickled the skin, forcing goosebumps to show themselves. She tears her mouth away from his, long enough to hop and wrap her legs around his torso, binding him in place as she trails kisses along the flesh of his neck and jaw. A mop bucket topples over and crashes to the floor, drowned out by heavy breathing and the squeak of his boots, the clacking of her heels.

It was all happening in a blur; even when the taste of Mai was still on his lips.

~ Incognito

#89

He looks aghast and frustrated as his eyes follow me to the mark, and I close my eyes to make my calculations. Once I've got it sorted by gripping the very end of the hammer to apply the torque, I slam the mallet down onto the plate with the right amount of force for it to sound the bell and light up. Elated, I request the giant plush purple cat instead of the zodiacs I could have chosen from. I hug it to my chest, once, before passing it along to Kyo.

His mouth opens and closes over and over again, no words coming out until we've retreated from the object of his ire.

"How in the hell did you manage that?" He demands, one arm slung around the plushy's waist. "I've been trying that forever."

"Easy. I factored in the velocity and force required to reach the height. Its also recommended to angle it at approximately 180 degrees so that it reaches its target no problem. Physics always comes in handy for games like those."

He's quiet for awhile, as if still digesting my words. But the look of awe that colors his features makes my heart beat faster. "That was...actually...hot," he says, a proud grin on his lips. "I'm dating a sexy genius."

"Kyo," I mumble, my insecurities warring with appreciation. "You don't have to say that for my sake. I understand if you're pissed or whatever. I didn't mean to embarrass you. But being with me doesn't cancel out your right to get mad at me sometimes."

His eyebrows furrow, his steps faltering. "Gina, I'm not mad at you. Who cares if you won the prize instead of me? I still find your intelligence sexy. Not everyone is like that idiot that hurt you because of it."

I duck my head as memories of my bully come flooding back, remembering the scar he left on my leg and my soul. I started to doubt everyone. Doubt myself. I would hide my IQ and dumb myself down to not make people angry with me. But Kyo...he liked how smart I was; loved it even.

And that thought is what gives me the courage to raise my eyes to meet his again. I interlace his free hand with mine, starting for the other concession stands with a renewed outlook.

Its...okay to be smart.

Its not a bad thing.

Anyone that has a problem with it isn't a concern of mine.

I refuse to let anyone get to me anymore.

~ No Strings Attached

#90

As she stood there in the kitchen with her hands poised on the edge of the counter in a deathly grip, she trembles. With rage, upset, and a will to give up. She unclenches her fists and smooths her hands along the edge, like this is her barre and it was supporting her as it was always meant to. It was what she leaned over for stretches. It was her backbone for positions. It was what tethered her as she stared at herself in the full-length mirror, nitpicking every blemish in her face, and flaw in her technique.

And even though Someina hated ballet because it reminded her of all that she left back with her parents and sister, she needed that support.

She doesn't grabs her Walkman to play classical music, knowing she'd lose her nerve. Instead...she searches her library for the hardest sound. Rock music. And once it begins blasting out at top volume, she dances.

She dances angry.

In this moment as Someina skips warmups and flies into movements, she pretends that for a moment, she doesn't carry a windup key in her back. That her overbearing mom can't turn it and make her be her ballerina. That even though Someina's emotions were doing developpès and she was mad and sad at the same time...she felt less like her kite when it got tangled up in a tree branch. And more like a kite when it was lifted by the wind. Twirling and fluttering majestically and beautifully for the world to see.

Its hard to get heavy. But you have to get heavy to get light.

When she finishes, her entire body is covered in sweat and her ears beat to her heart and the music that still fills what was once their apartment. Pain shoots through her like a bullet at breakneck speed, but its the kind she thrives on. The one that made her celebrate the callouses and blisters on her hands and feet.

She retrieves a water bottle from the pantry on her way back to the shower instead of her uniform, her muscles hating and thanking her for what she just did.

~ Blackout

#91

By the time we arrived at the location, the moon loomed overhead, projecting an eerie covering to obscure us while we moved in the shadows. I run a gloved index finger through the dirt, drawing a line to mark our launching point. This was to ensure that we could all return to the same place as before; it was easy to go in circles due to the forest that surrounded the Victorian. Hopefully now, it'll make the return home that much easier.

Rin slings her assault rifle over her shoulder, just as Kyo passes Hiro a few bows for his quiver, getting into position and awaiting command. Thunder and lightning sounded in the distance, flashing in purples and blues across the grey clouds that hung from the starless sky. Rin gives the signal, dispatching Shigure to the east and Kyo to the west. With a nod in mine and Hiro's direction, we all charge forward towards the northern part of the house. I take the right wall with Hiro on the left and Rin at the door, awaiting a falcon we sent out to scout the positions of our targets. He was specially trained to hunt and had heightened olfactory senses that could hone in on just about any scent in existence, regardless of how long ago he first picked up on it.

Hiro raises an index finger up and out, awaiting Tanje to perch and gesture in which cardinal direction we were meant to head towards. After receiving information, we all split up and start in our separate directions, moving about as inconspicuously as was instilled.

~ Incognito

#92

"But...there you were. Studying with me. Telling me about your past. Spending time with my cousins and going out to dance with me. You let me break down at the rave and I stopped being the angry and tough guy I always was as I yelled at my mother. And at the world. And at myself for the unfairness of it all. Through all that, I was sending you those gifts, even while I was sorting out my mess of feelings. And then the dream happened. I dreamt about what a future would be like with you. And you know how much that changed everything? I never wanted anything as much as I wanted you for a girlfriend and a wife as I did in that moment."

My mind stops on the word 'wife' and its this that makes me realize what this speech was about.

"And three years later, after making you my girlfriend, I'm here trying to make the second part come true. Because I want you to be my wife, as young as we are, and knowing you could have better. I'm asking anyway."

He abandons his drink on the dining table, making his way to me and getting down on one knee. My breath gets trapped in my throat as I watch him retrieve a small black box, popping it open to reveal a ring with a garnet gemstone seated on a twisted halo silver wedding band.

"I chose my birthstone because for the first time in my life, I don't regret being born. You make me want to fight to live. You are my purpose and my reason and the only one that can reach my soul. So Gina, I'm asking...will you marry me?"

I don't blubber like the girls do in the movies. I don't burst into tears. I don't even say anything at first. I just sit there, unable to move and unable to speak as my eyes go back and forth between Kyo and the ring.

"Gina? Are you-oof!" He says, right as I trounce him and we both fall to the ground. I kiss him on the lips and the nose and the cheek and the forehead. Because I'm still not able to talk as my heart is overwhelmed by something unbelievable.

It isn't until I recognize that feeling as love and passion that I find my words.

"Yeah I'll marry you, Kitty-Kat." I beam at him when his eyes light up and he takes my left hand, sliding the ring onto my finger.

And I'm reeling over the fact that I just got engaged to Kyo and became his fiancé. Wow. I'm his fiancé. And he's mine. And I'm going to be a wife! What is even happening to me right now?

"I had it engraved," he says, brushing my cheek with his knuckles. "'Whenever you find yourself lost on a starless night, read this and you'll find your way back to me. And you'll be free just as you did for me.'"

My cheeks start to hurt with how much I'm smiling, but I'm feeling too light to care. "That's really beautiful and sweet. You fit all of that on there? "

He snorts, his hands clasping behind my back. "Barely. They charge by the letter. But making sure you don't ever doubt my love for you after all we've been through, is more important than the cost or the time that went into it. I love you, G."

"I love you too, Kyo."

~ No Strings Attached

#93

As if sensing the effect his words would have, he leaves for his room with his hands in his pockets as if he didn't just mug her and tuck her heart into one of them.

...

After an hour off to herself in the bathroom, Someina stepped out and over the air mattress Kaiko slept on until she was crouched beside her in her over-sized shirt and shorts. She sweeps her daughter's bangs back from her forehead and kisses her softly, trying to borrow strength until she stole her heart back with her rebuttal. She had a lot to say in her defense towards Haru, the heart thief.

Oh who was she kidding? He stole the air from her lungs and numbed her feelings when he told her she was different with her boyfriend than she was with him.

Because it wasn't a compliment.

So Someina fully intended to march right into his bedroom and give him a piece of her mind. Only...that's not what happened.

Her heart fell back into place as she watched him make the bed, running her eyes over the jagged scar that dipped from the middle of his back down to his hip, reaching around his side. His eyes were murky and undecipherable as he dressed his bed in black like she brought a funeral of doom and gloom and confusion.

As he shook out his bed sheets in the air, and it fluttered and flapped...it did more than make her heart race. It made it produce thunderclaps that were so mighty that she almost ducked under the bed to hide from them. And she didn't even know why or how he did this to her.

It was like, discovering a new song - a hidden gem. It bumped really hard despite its intricate lyricism that had you stumped. It was cryptic. But it was addicting. It made you feel sober and drunk at the same time. Intoxicated with the rhythm of such an enigmatic soul, while pondering the poeticism of his personality.

Maybe that's why he was creating a storm of emotions inside her this very moment. Because it was hot and cold that fought each other for dominance.

...

"Anyways," Someina fake a yawn, pushing down on the brass of the handle, "Thank you again for letting us stay with you. I should probably go to bed."

Her hand rests on the handle, but she doesn't open it. She just stands there with weird feelings threatening to jump out of her chest as the room is decorated with tension. When he appears behind her with his hand on the door and his voice ghosting over her neck, she closes her eyes. And she shudders as his tone drips off of her just like dark and sticky syrup.

"I don't remember a ton about our night, Som. But being this close to you...is bringing it back."

The feel of his stare burns like acid, eating away at her self-control.

She lets go of the handle and palms the door, the same distance away from her escape as his hand. "Is that good or bad?"

He inches his hand down, then stops. Dipping his mouth near her ear. And she tells herself its because he wants to make sure he's heard. Not because his lips crave the taste of her skin.

"I don't really know if its wrong or right, good or bad. But its made me think about things..."

She should stop. They should stop. But its suddenly not weird. It feels...

"Like?"

He licks his lips, his hand budging just so that the heel of his palm brushed her fingertips.

"Like if you slept in my bed tonight, without it hurting anyone. Without hurting us."

She bites her lip, swallowing a groan as she lets her head touch the door.

Its like his words couldn't stop themselves at his lips, and wouldn't rest until they left no inch of her skin unkissed by their impact.

Is this how he got her in bed with him the first time? With the heat of his body behind hers as he was nothing but swoon-fully honest. Because it was dangerous how her brain screamed at her to run while the rest of her wanted to relive that time. Just once.

"Was it fun, at least?" Someina squeaks out, slipping her hand under his by the tiniest of movements. "When we were together that night?"

His other hand lands near her head, completely boxing her in on both sides. And she's almost completely overtaken by a memory in this same position when he says-

"Yeah. I may not remember how it happened, but I never forgot what it felt like. And you know what its made me realize about sex?"

"What?" She breathes, a hush falling over all the rational parts of her brain.

"That I like to earn my moans instead of rushing them." Their hands brush together even further, and for a split-second she almost moves it to her hip. "I want every sound that passes our lips to be slow and long, as if its our last breath we get to taste. I learned that after...our night."

~ Blackout

#94

I don't want to face myself.

To look in the mirror, knowing and remembering everything. To be devoured by my unquenchable desire to scream and break things, just for some small form of reprieve.

The scarred forefingers with a cancer stick imprisoned between them burned into my memory like the curse word on my wrist. How his perfectly kept nails dug into the flesh of my thighs as he parted them, forcing his way into my soul and body. A cacophony of sounds that should have been for Haru's ears only, were ripped from my lips like duct tape, and all I felt was the sting of its absence. The room had been teeming with the smell of dirt and nectar, a saccharine sweetness that made my stomach churn at the thought. I found myself plunged into the very recesses of an abyss, bottomed out with alexithymia.

...

I stand outside his dormitory. Water pelts me like bullets, grazing the skin of my arms and legs. But I just remain in place, soaked to the bone as if the water nurtured me. As if it helped me to right myself and breathe normally again. I'm drenched in the yellow, ethereal glow that emanates from the streetlight that towers above me, as my clothes cling to me like they're an extension of me by the time I hear approaching footsteps. But I refuse to turn around. I know its not just an ordinary person, passing me by on the sidewalk. He has a different feel; a different atmosphere that follows him, latching onto his coattails and demanding that you give him your undivided attention. It beckons you to involve yourself in the mystery that is Haru, enticing you to give your secrets in exchange for his own.

"Mai, I need to talk to you." His speech is smooth and seamless, rather than the stilted staccato I'd anticipated. We were both coming from two separate paths, to meet at the neutral crossroads of this sidewalk, just outside of his dorm. The air was thick and suffocating, even though the downpour only came down harder.

I meet his request with silence, grasping both of my arms in a weak attempt to trap whatever heat remained.

It rained down with a vengeance as his arms wind around my waist, and his mouth rests below my ear. The moment his lips pressed against my neck, I should have swung on him. Hit him...did something to get far, far away. But I'm an idiot...my hand moved to the back of his head, to pull him closer. And my eyes fall shut as I fight my desire to escape, though I wish I didn't feel the unction to stay here.

He groans against my skin, a whoosh of warmth setting off goosebumps as he surrounds me. I feel so miserable because I know it wasn't his fault that Rin kissed him, no matter what she said. I know he didn't reciprocate it. And I hate that. It would have made it so much easier to leave him if he'd decided to cheat on me back then. He was faithful to me...even when I was a royal pain; a virus, to him.

His thumbs find the belt loops of my jeans, drawing me to him in a movement I barely register as he lays kisses all over me. We're bathed in rain and fog, but it doesn't seem to deter either of us from giving in to what we'd been starved of the past few months. One hand moves from my hip to my stomach, as he nips my earlobe. I didn't even know that my ears were sensitive or that they could be considered erogenous until I'd gotten entangled with him. But...

"Haru," I gasp out, biting my lip to keep from crying out at the onslaught of emotion. He was like a heady, intoxicating cocktail that I finally allowed myself to indulge in again.

He shivers at the way I say his name, and his palm flexes against my stomach.

"Can we go to your room?"

He pauses at my request, leaning back just enough that my heart rate climbs down a step or two. When it hits me that it sounds like I'm implying that I want to become a new notch in his headboard, I stumble over my words trying to clarify.

"I mean..um, to..talk. Because I- er, we need to?"

His answer is to grab my hand and run out of the rain and into the shelter of his dorm.

~ Incognito

#95

I stare down into the lukewarm cup of tea in my hands, untethered from the world and my dark reality. I couldn't register the alien lack of feeling that was gnawing at my heart the longer I perpetuated the silence. It takes the regular rhythm of Kyo's heartbeat as I lay on his chest, and his thumb making circles into my arm to jar me from my despondency. His hand pauses, his voice rumbling beneath my head when he speaks.

"This is gonna sound like a stupid question..." he presses his lips to my hair, drawing me closer to him. "But are you okay?"

I snort, a bitterness I'd never experienced choking the happiness out of my heart. "Who cares? No matter what way we look at it, I'm screwed on all sides."

"Gina-"

"Don't even try to tell me that's not true," I snap, ripping myself out of his embrace and setting the cup down. "Even if they make it out of the womb, they could die in the hospital. Or develop defects...its all my fault. I shouldn't have agreed to this."

He shakes his head, his arms locking around my waist to keep me from bolting. "You're wrong. Its not your fault."

"Yes it is!"

"Gina," he bites out, his hand tilting my face in his direction. "Don't you think I'm mad, too? I hate that they're at risk. Our sons are at risk of so many things. But they could beat all the odds. This won't happen to us. It can't."

I cover my face with my hands, trying to stifle this overwhelming helpless feeling. "It can happen," I say, my voice cracking. "That's the problem." I move his hands to my baby bump, fiercely meeting his eyes. "These are our babies. But I'm their mother. They get their food from me. They're connected to me. They already know me. But I failed them before they were even born." I close my eyes, uselessly as tears slide down my cheeks. "And there's nothing I can do to ease this suffering. This wait just to see if they'll even make it. To see them and hold them for the first time. I can't go through this again. It hurts too much..."

He takes me completely in his arms, rocking back and forth - for my sake or his own - covering me in the warmth that usually set fire to my worries. "I'll always support you. We got through that time. And I'll tell you what I told you then." He kisses my head again, causing pain to twist my insides. "You can complain to me about how much life sucks. And I'll listen. Tell me what I can do to make this better...I can't have another person die on me. Especially not my own sons."

I sniff, swiping at my tears. "I know you want to, babe. And I'm sorry for getting mad at you. But...I don't think there's anything you can do. I'm already taking every precaution and vitamin and making appointments as needed. There's nothing more to do."

He laughs a little, though its not as genuine as it usually is. "I meant about helping you feel better, silly. We can watch your favorite movie. I'll even run to the store and get one of those crazy food combinations you like." He nuzzles me in that catlike way of his, making me smile the smallest of smiles at how good he makes me feel all the time.

Then I feel one of the babies kick, and I'm forced right back into reality.

What if I never got to see them face to face?

I gently slip out of his hold, getting to my feet. "Maybe tomorrow. I'd rather just go lay down, tonight. I don't think watching Rocky II will put me in a good mood this time."

He starts to protest, but I simply lean down to get a goodnight kiss before waddling to our room. I know even before my head hits the pillow that Kyo will give me an hour of space before joining me. He respects me having the time to sort out some of my feelings, but he loves me too much to leave me alone.

I'm not disappointed when I feel the bed dip and his legs tangle in mine, his arms finding themselves around me and his head resting on my shoulder. He seems to think I'm asleep because he drops his guard and talks himself to sleep, as if speaking to me. Something I discovered he did to deal with the times he had nightmares of his mom. Though this time, he's not the only one suffering from night awakenings.

~ No Strings Attached

#96

"Som," he says, all sweet and dark in one tone.

"Som," he whispers into her neck, grazing it with his teeth.

"I need to get into the cabinet for a plate, please."

"Is that all you need?" He taunts, having only received a peck on the lips as the extravagant light fixture hanging from the ceiling turned sideways.

She nods, and it makes him laugh at her insistence.

"Then why are your legs around my waist?"

She peers up at the black and clear cabinet above her, fighting down a blush as she sidestepped for him.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize." He takes a styrofoam plate, shutting the door behind him and shuffling over to the stove. "I'm more concerned about your back."

She drags her nails down his back, too punchy and drunk to care about the noises she was making.

He brings his head down so that he looks her directly in the eyes, glad that he was finally getting a chance with the girl he had a crush on since the year started.

"Are you trying to get me in trouble with your parents?"

She bites down on her lip, only to have him draw it back out with his thumb.

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

"Why? What do you mean?" She stammers. "You were the one standing close. I didn't mean to be in the way."

"I want to do it my way," he murmurs, silencing his name on her lips with his own.

"What?" He asks, laughing. "I was referring to you and Kaiko taking the air mattress. I wish you wouldn't talk me out of you taking my bed."

She holds up her hands in an 'X' and shakes her head. "We can't be in the same bed! I-I have a...boyfriend. And he's great. Fantastic! So, I really can't do that. No siree."

He strides over, slow enough to allow her heart to shut down and fully reboot again before he finally arrives.

"I was saying you two should have my room by yourselves while I camp out on the mattress. Unless..." he tips his head downward so that he's staring right at her, his dark eyes telling of no certainties. "This is your way of saying that you shouldn't want it, but you really do." At her red face he cleans it up. "Want my bed, that is."

"You seem different," Someina slurs, tracing a finger from his chest to his stomach, both still recovering from how quickly their lives had just changed. "You seem like another person...you're a lot more aggressive than I thought you would be."

He brings the hot pink comforter up over their bodies, his necklace swinging wildly with the motion.

"I could say the same about you," he retorts, referring to the red that marked where her nails had been.

She lazily sticks her tongue out at him, eyes still refusing to open out of exhaustion. "You act like you didn't enjoy it."

He takes her into his arms in one quick movement, resting his chin atop her head as sleep accosted him.

"Believe me...I did."

He's standing so close with only an inch gap of space that barely keep their hips from meeting. And the weight of his presence makes her eyes grow heavy enough to close, unable to look at him while breathing in the scent of peppermint and soap.

She awakens to a room flooded with luminosity, an overdose of brightness that she can't handle so early in the morning. She squeezes her eyes shut, attempting to block out the ferocity of light that surrounds her, knowing that getting up and going to work seemed out of the question with how badly her head was hurting.

It was so strong...familiar...

The girl sidesteps until she makes it safely around the double bed without waking up her classmate, before practically sprinting into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

Someina rips herself away from him like velcro separating, quickly gathering a towel and a loofa. "I'll just go take a shower, now." And like a coward, she makes a break for the bathroom and locks it as soon as she can. But just like a coward...she takes no shame in running.

~ Blackout

#97

Yuki splashes his pale face with water in an attempt to snap out of the flashbacks he finds himself in from his damaged childhood. He isn't given more than five minutes to collect himself before being ushered into interrogation and assigned one of Ryu's associates for questioning.

Several tools of torture sat on a table, like there was nothing out of the ordinary about it; breast rippers, parillas, thumbscrews, tongue shredders, boiling hot water, manceurda, and on the list went.

The screams of frustration and agony drape the otherwise silent holding area, the result of someone under the influence of Chinese Water torture. Yuki hadn't performed that one before, but he'd been trained in all methods of antagonizing victims. A bucket of water would be suspended over the head of the victim, water droplets dripping slowly onto their forehead for hours and hours on end, leaving them to hear and feel nothing but the irritating pitter-patter.

But that wasn't what Yuki would be doing today, and based on the perp's case file, he wouldn't be playing nice or only taking the psyche out route. Today he would be getting physical; pulling teeth, electrocuting, drowning...whatever would get the point across and get the answers out was required.

Tobu Nakayoma, an associate of Japan's Most Wanted criminal Ryu Kashima, was brought in for questioning on his boss' whereabouts and plans of action. Ryu had a whopping price on his head of 1.5 billion, charged with crimes the length of his arms; extortion, embezzlement, murder, automobile theft, perjury, arson, and tax evasion. It was once a mystery as to how he managed to escape the death penalty, but that answer was shortly found in the twelve passports and five facial reconstructions from the times he went under the knife. It was because he changed his name and appearance so often that he was nearly impossible to track down, unless you found his right hand man and demanded answers at any cost.

He was currently bound to an iron maiden chair, hands restrained behind his back with zip ties, while his feet were shackled to the floor. No one let him sleep. They forced him to remain awake for the previous 48 hours prior to interrogation, stringing him up so that he hung upside down for an hour each time he dozed off. None of this information brought Yuki any solace or comfort, even though Nakayoma would most likely be weaker and hopefully more cooperative than he was two days ago. But it didn't change how rapidly Yuki's heart beat against his chest, seeking refuge from its confines of anxiety, as he entered the room Nakayoma was sitting.

His head was half shaven, the evidence of it swept under the rug beneath his imprisoned feet. His right ear had a deep gash that ran from the lobe to the cartilage, pronounced with the month-old tragus piercing. Yuki's blucher oxfords tap and tap and tap as his leg bounces up and down in time to the rhythm. This was it, his first solo question and answer. If he didn't get it together for a job as big as this, he'd be kicked out of the agency faster than he could say Sohma.

"Hello," he squeaks, his voice comes out soft and weak. "Do you know why you're here?"

Nakayoma snorts and conjures up spit, hocking a loogie a millimeter away from Yuki's feet. His eyes are bloodshot and crusty along the edges as his gaze lands on the wimp they brought in this time. In his opinion, he didn't look like much. He was like a skinny rat, trying to get leftovers; guess the agency stopped trying if they selected this guy.

"I'm here to kill you. Does that answer your question?" He snarls, shifting in his seat as the amount of time he's spent sitting there finally starts taking effect.

Yuki breathes in deep, releasing his breath along with his tension. Here, he could take on a different persona. Here, he didn't have to be Yuki...maybe he needed an alter ego of sorts, so he could separate the good in him from the bad that was craving escape to be loosed on the man before him.

The rat spins a nearby chair around, sitting in it improperly, swinging his leg over so that he was facing his adversary from the backwards chair. He loosens the tie he spent fifteen minutes choosing this morning, casting it aside and undoing the buttons of his collar, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. The time on the clock hanging from the wall ticks down the seconds and the minutes as Nakayama looks on in skepticism.

"I need to know some things," he states, masking his tone in venom and something more deadly. "And you will tell me what I want to know."

Nakayoma snorts dubiously, jostling his chains. "Nice try, weakling. It won't work. I've already been beaten, threatened, hung upside down, and lynched. There's nothing you could possibly do to break me."

This time, Yuki - or his 'alter ego', rather - laughs darkly, rising to his feet and sauntering towards him at a snail's pace. He drops to his haunches, latching a hand on Nakayoma's belt buckle and smirking in satisfaction when he receives a surprised reaction.

"You really think that? Tsk, tsk, tsk...you have no idea of what I'm capable of." His eyebrows knit together as he concentrates his focus on undoing the belt and tossing it across the room, dragging his pants down until it hangs loosely around his ankles. "Do you know what its like to be touched when you don't want to be?"

The man's green eyes narrow into slits, his bloody and torn lips twisted into a grimace as Yuki trails an index finger along the hem of his underwear.

"I know it well. At first, you hate it. You'd do just about anything to make it stop. You hear the sounds of women moaning as you give them what they ask and you wonder if they're in pain. But really, they're pleasured...they enjoy every last second of it like the sick creatures they are," his words leak out in a hiss, like air forced out of tires.

Amethyst falls upon the underwear before looking elsewhere in disgust, the owner relinquishing his hold on the lowlife to pace around the room, not offering up any explanation as to what he was planning to do. He cracks his knuckles, each and every last one so that the room fills with pops of air being released from his hands while he ponders the next step. While he could show him what true pain was and give him what those women did...he didn't really feel like risking contracting whatever that man had. Not to mention that even when he dropped this countenance of his, he'd be left with the memories of it.

Switching tactics at the drop of a hat, Yuki rushes forward and snatches the man's zip tied hands, running his own freezing cold fingers up and down like a silent barb. "But enough about my youth. Let's talk how lovely your hands are and the wonderful noises they'd make."

"What do you mean by that?" He grits out, gruffly.

Yuki shrugs, bending the man's index and middle finger all the way back for expletives to fill the hollow space of the interrogation room. "I'm talking about the sounds of fingers breaking. They do remind me of home, after all. You'll have to excuse my nostalgic mood."

Five long hours later, Yuki left the vicinity, blood splattering his cheeks and plastering his hair to his ears. His eyes were unseeing as he was given encouraging claps on the shoulder and compliments for a job well done; he'd even be getting an accommodation the following Monday for finally getting the last known location out of Ryu's crony. But all he is aware of is the evil he'd committed with that man. The bag of Nakayoma's teeth was nestled in his pocket, harshly extracted, along with the tragus piercing that had been forcibly removed. A cleanup team had already been dispatched to mop up the blood left behind, and another to carry him out in a black bag.

And Yuki walks away.

But he wouldn't return for another two weeks after.

~ Incognito

#98

"You don't quit, you hear me? You fight, Gina. That's what you do. You stay alive through this and when you get out, we'll see them and hold them and call them by name. And in three days we'll go home. But you have to fight no matter how tired you get or how bad it looks." I slam my fist onto the bed, my insides turning out. "I won't lose you or anyone else. I've lost too many people. And I have no reason to stay alive if you're not here."

I capture her lips with mine, my hands on her cheeks as I kiss her until I run out of breath and kiss her some more. I breathe her in for oxygen and try to hold what I never deserved but can't help but want. It all ends so quickly when it comes time to separate our lips and our bodies from one another. The ghost of her scent and touch and taste stay with me as she is wheeled into the operating room.

But it isn't before she tells me that she loves me more than she ever has. And that she will fight to get back to me. That she refuses to not see her sons and go home with them.

Her voice and face echo in my broken soul long after I'm left alone in the empty hallway.

~ No Strings Attached

#99

Haru yanks the key from the ignition of his hog, without a helmet to tear off as his frustration mounted with each heavy crunch of his boots. His girlfriend was the human obituary that was still being written for him. And day after day (or more accurately, their nights and morning afters) were where his tragedies lied with no flag to fly half-mast in memoriam of them.

Be still his blinding rage as a petite woman paced back and forth along the gravel roads, the soles of her shoes picking up pebbles like a metal detector as she fumed under her breath, pulling at her beautiful hair. Hair he sometimes dreamed about to ward off nightmares that his girlfriend's dirty mouth and hateful stare brought. And it controlled his body like a marionette bending to the will of its puppet master, stepping in front of Someina so that she skidded to a halt and gaped up at him.

She was wearing something odd and unexpected. A blue and green football jersey, paired with leggings that made for feverish flashbacks of that tight little dress she wore to dinner. And as she planted her hands on her hips and pouted her exquisitely red lips, he could pretend that they were the only souls at dinner that night. With no one else to interrupt.

"How did she take it?" Someina asks, skittish as a stray.

Haru runs a hand over the back of his neck, attempting to massage the nasty crick today's tension had set into it. Knots as big as a baseball were already bravely taking up their post.

"If I'm not bleeding and there's nothing in my hair, the ceramic must have not sprayed too far."

Her eyes comically pop out of her head. "What?!"

Haru laughs, reaching out to grab her hands in assurance. "I was joking. Though she definitely wasn't throwing a party in my honor to commemorate my newfound fatherhood."

"This is all my fault," Someina grumbles, releasing his hands to resume her stalking up and down the street. "Its my fault!"

He comes up behind her and tugs on the back of her jersey, tempted to scoop her up and spin her around until she giggled and made life brighter.

"Its technically both our faults," he says, giving her a wink so fast she's sure she imagined it. "Come here, I want to do something."

She eyes him skeptically, though she follows him anyway, allowing him to link their hands together again.

He leads them towards a massive puddle by a stop sign that stands tall on the end of the street. They had just experienced a thunderstorm before he left Rin's, and now the area still smelled of rain as the sun pierced brightening clouds.

He smirks, giving her hand a tug. "I dare you to step in it."

She gasps. "That's...that's preposterous! Aren't you supposed to be chivalrous and throw your jacket over it or something? I would look so stupid jumping around in a puddle."

No, you wouldn't. You'd look like a water nymph as you danced in it. You'd look radiant.

"Are you scared?" He teases, letting the grin spread across his features. "I thought you had courage and basked in it."

She shoots him a dubious look, before returning her attention back to the reflective pool. "You must be getting me confused with a girl that works at the nearby cafe'. She knows what she's doing when she's in her element." Someina looks up with mock thoughtfulness. "I can get her for you if you want."

He decides to take matters into his own hands and he takes big steps until he's splashing through the puddle, sending some of the water up to hit her legs without meaning to.

"Sorry about that."

She narrows her eyes, before launching herself at him. "That tears it, Hatsuharu!"

They engage into a full out battle to see who can splash the other person more, kicking up water like they would never run out until they're both left panting with the exertion.

"T-truce?" She proposes, offering her manicured hand for an armistice.

His smirk is the only thing she sees. "Truce," he says, grabbing her hand as if to shake it before they crash to the ground and find themselves submerged in the puddle.

The light in her eyes is the painkiller that he wasn't prescribed to take, though he was quickly getting hooked. And soon, rules wouldn't touch it.

He had never smiled more than he did when she laughed herself silly right beside him.

~ Blackout

#100

Akito sighs, leaning back in his fine leather desk chair, awaiting the last documents and briefings from his assistant before his final meeting until the next morning. If he'd known being the head of an agency would mean pile after pile of paperwork, he would have considered remaining a grunt for the rest of his life.

Right on cue, the assistant he'd hired (just because he wanted something nice to look at each day, but proved to be an asset), steps into his office with two stacks of papers. She sets them down on his desk and points to the one on the left. "This is the briefing pile which requires your approval for the agents to be assigned should you accept. And this-" she continues, pointing to the one on the right, "-are completed missions with information involving any and all mishaps that may have occurred. You will have the yearly budget and maintenance information on your desk with a cup of coffee in the morning."

He shakes his head, dreading a night full of signatures and reading until his eyes cross. "Why is it that you explain it every time?"

She records something in the tablet in her hands, looking up when she finishes. "Because its policy, sir."

"A stupid one," he grumbles, leaning forward for his embossed stamp. "Is there anyone violating a clause, policy, or is this building about to go up in flames?"

"No."

"Then any other nonsense can wait until the next day. Has my 9' o clock arrived, yet?"

"Yes sir, he's waiting for you just outside your office."

Akito loosens his tie, nodding his head. "Send him in."

His assistant makes her exit and he watches the swish of her skirt, following the length of her legs down to the do-me heels she started to wear at his request. Because what good was it to be in power if he didn't take advantage of the women that worked under him? It was a shame that she wouldn't be sitting in on his business dealings. But this was the sort of thing that only an exclusive set of ears would hear. Akito liked to think this made them thick as thieves in terms of their camaraderie and level of trust.

She holds open the door for his next visitor, closing it behind him as he moves to take a seat in one of two chairs in front of Akito's desk. He rolls up a cigar, offering it to the head, only to be given an answer of decline in exchange for a shot of scotch to wash away thoughts of impending work. The two remain in silence for a moment, knowing they'd be settling in for an evening of securing details and ensuring that everything was falling into place.

"So," the guest begins, putting out his cigar to reach for his own glass, "I've had my ear to the streets for a while, meeting with my associates on the whereabouts of Kashima."

"And what did they find?" Akito queries, taking a sip of liquor gold.

"Word is there has been some movement in the southern hemisphere. After having done some digging, we have located him off the coast of Africa, tampering with vaccines that are meant to treat HIV positive patients."

"And the coroner is still keeping quiet?"

"Yes. How much you want to bet he's been paid with a barrel to keep his mouth shut?"

Akito snorts, knocking back the remainder of his drink. "You really think Kashima would hesitate to kill him if he were to pull out a gun? I'd say one of Kashima's so-called loyal lackeys paid the guy off to cover their own mistakes. Either that or they're conspiring against their boss."

"Well why don't you put your money where your mouth is, Akito-sama. How's ten-thousand yen sound to you?"

Akito smirks, deciding to remove his tie altogether and set it down on his desk. "I'll see your ten-thousand yen and raise you thirty-thousand yen. When I play, I play for keeps."

Secretary Hiyagota chuckles, requesting a refill of the expensive stuff as silence reigns once again. There were many bases that needed to be covered now that they managed to pinpoint the exact location of their not-so-silent business partner. Now it was time to activate their best agent. Well, after dealing with the elephant in the room.

"My empathies for the loss of your son, Isamu-san," Akito drawls, eyeing his own forsaken crystal glass.

The secretary gives a dry chortle, not believing he's sincere for a moment. "With all due respect Akito-sama, I didn't come here for condolences. I'm here to get things done."

"Don't get cross with me. I'm simply passing a message along from the agent of mine that killed him. Not in as many words, but it was practically implied."

"Really? I never would have pegged you as a messenger boy, Akito-sama."

"I have many hats, Isamu-san. Think of me as a chameleon; you never know what I'll be when you see me next." Akito smiles smugly, beginning to skim through the list of upcoming missions. "It appears that there are quite a few assignments on my desk regarding our mutual friend, Isamu-san. He's made quite the commotion; it's rather impressive. Usually people like us have a woman in every city. Kashima on the other hand…"

"He has an enemy in every city," Hiyagota finishes, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Even though we're both almost guaranteed to die when this is over…I think I love our partnership more than I ever did my wife."

"Well…let's drink to that, then," Akito decides, whisking up his bottle of Macallan, and pouring both of their glasses.

"Don't you have paperwork to get to, lad?" Hiyagota asks, a hint of jest in his tone.

"I'll have my assistant deal with anything that doesn't involve him. She can give the go-ahead on that. I couldn't care less, considering how close death is sure to be for you and me."

Hiyagota laughs, sounding hollow and cold. "What a poetic way of saying we signed our death warrants the moment we put our heads together."

Akito brandishes his half empty glass, looking off into the distance. "A stroke of brilliance – or suicide – in the making."

"Hear, hear," Hiyagota agrees, polishing off his own malt.

~ Incognito

#101

I say to all of you...

Be with those you love.

Love those you're with.

Accept people at their best, love them at their worst.

Don't sell yourself short of what you deserve.

Don't settle.

Step out in faith and trust that someone will love you.

No matter how goofy or different or unique you are.

No matter how broken.

Do away with your masks and facades.

"Be real. Be random. Be who you are. Because you never know who will love the person you hide."

Try.

~ No Strings Attached

#102

He nods, smiling mischievously. "I remember the way you looked...moved...breathed with me." He leans over her further, on his forearms to barely keep from being flush against her. "I stupidly tried to repeat it, but it never felt the same." He takes her hand in his to place over his wildly bucking heart, as if expecting her to tame it.

"Never feeling you would be the biggest and dumbest mistake of his life." He draws her hand up to his lips, kissing it like a prince would a princess. "Because there's nothing that can top it."

She shivered for what felt like a lifetime of chills, secretly glad he hadn't let go of her hand.

"Aren't you a little biased with me being your first?" She teases, growing increasingly afraid of the aching of her lips and other pieces that once dared connect with his. "You might not know any better."

He shakes his head, stoic as he can ever be.

"Trust me, Som. I know." With finality to his words, he rolls back over so that he's just loosely holding her to himself.

The comfort she takes in his body heat and the way his necklace dangles in soothing motions has her on his hook. Its an inexplicable feeling that makes her want to pull him close enough that she can add his heartbeat to her playlist. To stain her body once more with his, and to memorialize it.

Instead, she forces herself to relax the best she can...but then, he shifts, and his breaths fan up and down her skin until they make her feel delirious.

"Wanna know a secret about me?" She breathes, desperate to distract from her rogue thoughts.

"What kind of secret?" He throws his arm over her torso without a care in the world. "Something we didn't cover in our game?"

She nods quickly, causing the washcloth to flop onto his sheets. "Yes."

"So tell me," he challenges, his eyes as dark as his tone.

"That night we had," she whispers, suddenly afraid to say it out loud, "Even though it makes me sound like a head case...ever since then, it feels like there's flames licking my bones. Like its something in me that wants to inspire mayhem and chaos and excitement.

"Its why I raced that guy. And its why I cried when you told me about your scar."

She lifts her hand, but drops it before she can touch his scar. Though she was tempted to know what it felt like so badly, her curiosity practically swallowed her in it. Curious about risks and high stakes, burning rubber and gasoline. There was the urge to touch the tattoo of his risks and imagine the experience was hers. Because she'd never earned her own scar.

It made her feel like she didn't have a history to tell people about, to reflect on. It was crushing to think she hadn't really lived.

"I was mourning the fact I never got to ride a motorcycle or to be myself, whoever that is." She shakes her head, clearing her eyes of their burning blur. "I'm starting to think I want to be a little bit reckless."

That maybe motorcycles and leather jackets were more her than sweaters and sedans.

His eyes move back and forth between hers, and she's suddenly hyper-aware that they're almost body to body with the lull of intimate conversation pulling them together.

With a heavy sigh, he sinks back into his side and folds his arms behind his head. She looks over his profile and sees nothing but struggle and confusion. And for some reason, it doesn't sit right with her at all.

A face as beautiful as his should forever be accessorized with a smile.

"That side of you..." he turns his head, ink black eyes painting her as they linger. "Don't starve it. Unleash it, or you'll feel trapped until you do."

She wets her lips with her tongue, unsure of why his words sounded as if they'd bounced around his head a long time.

"Have you been there?"

He snorts, returning to resting on his hip so that they were face to face. "Been there? I live there, Som. And there's a part of me that's never satisfied until I get into a fight or risk my life. Its a deadly part that I tried to kill once, for it to come back with a vengeance until I fed it with a rush that no one else understands. Except maybe you."

"Your girlfriend not an adrenaline junkie?" She retorts, a bitter edge to her voice she doesn't recognize.

He clasps his hands together over his toned stomach, returning to staring up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze. "Just because she's with me doesn't mean she likes thrills. She's either masochistic or lonely, and I'm the next best thing." He closes his eyes with a pinched intake of air, like he's talking without being able to stop. "Ask me why I chose her and I would tell you the truth."

"Which is?"

"That I'm replacing someone that I can never have. And I'm her placeholder until she finds whatever she's looking for."

Someina's heart plummets so far down that there's no sound when it finally stops. And words stick to her tongue even though she wants to tell him the real reason she was with Hatori. And what she would give if she could change everything. But she doesn't and this night is messy as is. So she rolls over to create more distance, shoving one hand under the borrowed pillow as she forces herself to lie still. And she listens until his breaths slow and even as his eyes fall closed.

"Night."

"...goodnight, Haru."

~ Blackout

#103

Clumps of hair lay on the carpet of the hotel room he shared with no one but himself, like scattered amethyst flower petals. Only instead of plucking them to determine if the girl he liked loved him, or loved him not - he invented a new game. One where he tugged and pulled and roughly raked his fingers through his shiny locks as he repeatedly asked himself the very question: am I crazy, or am I not?

The faintly punchy aroma of coffee tickled his nostrils from his once organized and now stuffed nightstand (with weaponry and clothes). It was something he turned to as opposed to a cigarette or a bottle of liquor hard enough to send him crawling and crashing and drowning in a pool of migraines and nausea. Staying awake kept the nightmares at bay long enough for the memory to fade...before another resumed its place, a new monster under the bed - so to speak - taking its place.

He clutches his head in his hands, rocked by the disorientation that far outmatched the discombobulation from an hour prior. There was something seriously screwed up about him. He wasn't a bright eyed, bushy tailed young man bustling to cram for a midterm the following day. There was no reason for him to become a lover of insomnia, and despise his body entering the vulnerable state of slumber. Except for the fact that he was a twisted, bent, corrupted individual that now played a rousing, dark game of twenty questions for a living and killed when the situation called for it.

He scrapes his nails across the damaged surface of his scalp, a thirst for amnesia so overwhelming that he nearly stumbled, like maybe he really was drunk after all and this was just a new boogeyman; a new nightmare to settle into his subconscious and it make itself comfortable in his soul. If he could trade in this world-weary mind in exchange for pretending what happened didn't happen, he'd spread his arms like a majestic bird's wings and take the risk of the fall. Anything to forget how it had felt in that brief moment of pleasure on both his and the woman's behalf. If it meant abandoning the feel of her hands and her lips and her tongue wrapped around him like her favorite flavor of ice cream. Her shapely tanned legs, paired with his hips nestled snugly between them. The way her skin was as warm as a baked apple pie, sweet and delicate as she crumbled beneath his ministrations and had been filled. He had forgotten the howls of his victim in her black licorice strands, surprised at the high he experienced from viewing her hair splayed across his bedsheets in a fashion that made him feel...normal. Human. Like he was just a typical, hormonal, teenager preparing to get laid by a beautiful girl. But this wasn't a high school romance novel with a happy ever after. And they weren't teenagers except in name only. They weren't normal - he wasn't normal, and had skipped several birthdays to arrive at adulthood, even when he was still playing hopscotch and well into elementary school.

He drags his hands down his face, almost regretful of letting his nails grow out instead of grooming like he once did. But the sick satisfaction of watching the red lines that followed the blissful sharpness was just...too...good.

Punishment. He liked punishment.

When they had finished and they lay side by side on his mattress, he had felt something malicious rise within him. Maybe it was the sight of sweat that dripped off her body, and knowing he was the cause. Or perhaps the musky scent of their shared arousal and the way she still panted from experiencing his first hand. Whatever it was, had broken something further in him. Something that had already been warped when he was a little boy in a gas station bathroom, foolishly misplacing his trust in a stranger. He wanted her to feel what he felt. Each. And. Every. Day. He wanted her to know what addiction felt like. What it meant to crave sex and to be hit with lust square in the face and unable to resolve it. He wanted her to suffer the withdraws and relapse like he had so often since Jai. The unquenchable need to be surrounded by someone else and to leave behind the numbness of lonely nights under a cold veil of water.

All he'd wanted was to give back what had been selfishly thrust upon him. But it had quickly gotten out of control, like the stroke of a match making love to kerosene and birthing a raging fire. They created ashes as lust caused his skin to boil, their actions ruthless and demanding as they tried to rise again from the death that was sure to come of this.

The death to the remainder of their innocence.

He entered her and didn't stop. He traveled at the speed of their breaths, pouring from their lips like a shameless gust of wind. He felt like a filthy dog pounding away into a female he'd called upon to mate with, and it made him both sick to his stomach and vaguely vindicated. This was what he'd become. And he'd blame his mother, and Jai, and the agency and himself. But it didn't keep him from burying one hand in black licorice, guiding her lips to meet his head one final time. It didn't deter him from gagging her by shoving her head down and forcing her to take him all in and like it. And it didn't change his mind about making her enjoy him like he was the flavor all the girls raved about, not even offering her to stay the night out of courtesy when it had ended.

She walked crookedly out his door, worse for wear than when he'd encountered her at a French pub. And as soon as the coast was clear and he could drop the act of the collected Casanova he'd been, his face smoothed out into that of nothingness as he steps into the shower, not waiting the allotted time it took to heat up the water. And after a cleanup session that consisted of drowned out wails, his forehead greeting the cool shower tile, and his damp hair hanging as lowly as his spirits, he is brought to the present. One without leggy brunettes, but a plain white mug of cold joe, and the strands of the hair he'd torn out in his absolute confusion. Feeling at a loss for how he could continue on this earth as he grew mad with no asylum equipped enough to cure him.

But really? What choice did he have?

Its when he receives an e-mail notice on his encrypted phone that he is dispatched to search and question another potential Ryu associate. And once again...he had to become someone other than himself, for he had died.

~ Incognito

#104

I arrive at home after working on my feet for fifteen hours with a woman in labor. My back aches and I want nothing more than to settle into a hot bath when I notice Tsunari at the table. His form hunched as he cuts some pink and red card stock into the shape of a heart, addressed to someone in white marker. I try to inconspicuously steal a glance when he notices, abruptly turning away with the card held protectively to his chest.

"Mom, I'm entitled to privacy in matters of the heart, aren't I? When discussing logistics and ethics...I am an open book. But this is more than just formulas and algorithms. Its hard."

I hold my hands up, keeping them where he can see them as I take the seat adjacent to him. "You're right, I apologize. I just think its cute. That's all."

"Mom," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's highly emasculating!"

I shake my head, trying to choke back a laugh. "You are your father's son. That much is certain." I nudge his shoulder. "So, you don't need my help? Like on what a girl might want for Valentine's Day. Or how to completely woo her. You're sure?"

He pauses, chewing his lip in thought. Something that struck me as familiar. But with a few moments more, he brightens a bit, setting his card down so we can both see.

"Well...science is only as good as the majority ruling. I doubt this is any different. I'd like to test my hypothesis of Kaichi's reaction by fielding it with you first. If you don't mind-"

"Yes!" I squeal, reaching over and squeezing him in the tightest of hugs. "I would love to. I seriously thought you would never ask."

He waits patiently until I get my gushing out of my system before I sober up, regaining my focus towards the task at hand. I calmly clear my throat, gesturing for him to bring something to me.

"Let me see it. I'll be honest from start to finish and give you the toughest critique, okay? Completely unbiased theory based on what has been presented."

"That's...fair. Okay, what is your take on my card? Is it the wrong shade of red or pink?"

I snort. "No, honey. My one complaint is that you need to elaborate far more than you have here."

"It is not enough?"

"You only wrote Happy February 14th. Why not personalize it and say something like...'even though pain scares me, I don't mind these feelings for you. I'd like you to be my Valentine, baby. Because cupid hit me hard when I first saw you.' Its corny, but its plausible."

He taps his pencil against the surface, his eyebrows bumping together in befuddlement. "But, Valentine is actually a person. And Cupid is no more than a mythical creature depicted with wings."

I suppose I have to fight logic with logic in order to get through to him. "Yes, these are both true. But...why don't you spin that? Be real about how she disarms you with her smile or her eyes or her scent. Tell her that she makes you want to believe in cupid. Tell her...that she makes you feel just as much as she makes you think. And if she genuinely knows you, she knows how much you dig the evocative and that this is one of many steps you're willing to take to meet her halfway."

He looks up at me with his emerald eyes, his lips graced with a contented smile. "Only if I get to leave in February 14th."

I laugh at this, handing him some glue and glitter. "February 14th it is."

~ No Strings Attached

#105

He slings an arm over the back of his chair, slouching. "I don't know, Som...maybe we shouldn't we be doing this while we're alone. Its starting to sound like trouble."

Especially since she looked like a scarlet vision in her Holiday dress. A sexy five alarm material that had a plunging neckline with a slit that raced up the side, giving him a hint of leg every time she moved. And she moved...a lot.

"Nonsense! It would be a step up from that silly personality test."

She tears through the package with her red nails, her cheeks stained pink. If she could only see how much she resembled a valentine, she'd blush even more.

It was a tempting thought...

"We can handle being alone," she adds, "Its not like we're a thing..."

He lifts his head towards the ceiling, finding safety in its familiar texture over every flash of skin he was teased with.

"Yeah, we're not a thing."

He could hear Black Haru snickering in the background, though he doesn't give it the satisfaction.

"But if we do play, I want to be the one making you guess."

Her cherry red lips part in surprise as he moves to trade places with her, sitting her down by grabbing her shoulders. He surveys the room for what he could use for a blindfold, immediately throwing out the idea of socks and two eyepatches he didn't feel like explaining.

He finally settles on a tie (aka the single one he owns), a black satin one that he knots in the back and waves a hand over her eyes to double check she couldn't see.

"Som, what am I wearing right now?"

She crosses her arms, smiling. "A black button up and black jeans. If you're wondering about whether I'm able to see, I can't. But I didn't forget how you were dressed before I was blindfolded."

"Oh yeah..." he hums. "Never mind, then. Here's the first one."

He tears the plastic with his teeth, unrolling it before delicately brushing his thumb over her lips to coax her mouth open. She sucks on it and he swallows, beginning to regret their roles in this game.

"It tastes like...watermelon. No, wait-" she licks the end of it and he shifts his footing. "Green Apple. Am I right?"

"Huh?"

Her brows furrow. "Is it Green Apple?"

He absently glances at the label again, before setting it down on the table. "Yup."

She dances in her seat. "Looks like its Som - 1, Haru - 0 in round two! I'm ready for more."

Haru clears his throat awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Maybe we should play something else while we wait for everyone to arrive. This is kind of boring."

Boring? The only way this could get even more 'boring' is if you let her try it right off you.

"It is?" She frowns, her shoulders drooping a little. "I thought it would be fun, but...I guess I really wouldn'tknow fun if it hit me."

He sighs, grabbing another from the box. "Its not boring...I just said that because-"

This should be good.

"Because we just started and I'm already losing."

She scoffs. "Oh, is that all? You'll get over it."

He narrows his eyes. "Just for that, I'll give you a hard one."

"..."

"..."

"On second thought," she says, removing the tie, "I should probably call Tohru to find out what's taking her so long. I want Kaiko to be back in time for dinner."

"Yeah, do that. You should."

He drops onto the couch, his head in his hands.

Great. Now he couldn't even speak around her.

...

"I thought I would be dining with Someina, Kaiko, and her father."

Haru stands taller. "I am her father."

"Ok, I think that's enough Star Wars for you," Someina jokes, stepping between them. "Why don't we adjourn to the kitchen for food. Kaiko will be dropped off any moment."

"How could you be so irresponsible?" Hatori retorts. "To think that you must have had a child when you were seventeen years old. Such carelessness."

"Sorry we can't all be as sensible as you, Hatori." Haru gets in his face, his eyes so sharp they could cut an iceberg. "Some of us care more about what we feel in the moment than degrees that just sit around collecting dust for the sake of having them."

"Please," Someina pleads, vying for the end of their testosterone fueled tongue lashing. "Let's just enjoy the meal-"

"Better that than to have a baby before ever growing out of that stage, yourself," Hatori snaps.

Haru laughs darkly. "You do realize that when you insult me about this, you're also insulting Someina and Kaiko. Apparently, all that time in school merited nothing but weak rebuttals and pathetic attempts at affection," he says, jerking his head towards the gifts he brought.

...

"I don't want to feel this anymore. I don't want to be your stand by whore when she bangs Hatori."

"That's not even-"

"I love you, you idiot!" She cuts him off, shouldering past him. "I'm not gonna keep giving you my heart or my body when you only ever let me borrow yours."

"You love me?" He echoes, following her out the door with whatever he still carried. Down the hall to her high speed car. "You...love me?"

"Who cares?" She snaps, unlocking the front door and trying to slam it closed, not expecting him to wedge his foot in the door. "Why don't you go back to your little family and never speak to me again."

"I never wanted to lose you, Rin."

She scoffs, but he holds up his hand.

"I mean that. When we started going steady, I was raw and on the rebound. A girl I had feelings for had just walked out of my life without any explanation. So, yeah. I like Someina. But I like you, Rin.

"I thought I could move on from her by moving onto you. I was stupid for thinking that way. But...eventually, I started to wonder if you'd ever become more to me than my friend and girlfriend. It took me a while to realize we fight more than we get along. And I'm always afraid of saying the wrong thing around you."

He takes in a breath, his hand coming up to finger one of her tresses. Feeling a stab of pain in his chest that tells of how genuine he felt for her. Once. That if they weren't so alike and yet so incompatible...he wouldn't want to walk down the aisle with anyone else.

"I...do love you...as a friend, Rin. Because it hurts too much to love you any other way. And I need time to get to know my daughter. Without interference."

"Mine?"

"No, my feelings. I don't know what I want yet. I just know what I don't."

He releases her door, allowing her to pull it in and start her car. The engine hiding the sound of her heart falling dead to the floor as she takes one shaky breath.

"The stuff I came here for..."

"Yeah?"

"...mail it to me."

With that, she throws the car into reverse and backs up. Driving at top speed into the night and leaving Haru standing in the parking lot for a few idle moments.

Where he wonders...

What could have been different had he lessened this weight sooner.

...

"Hold up. Let's get one thing straight." Haru closes the gap in a few booted steps. "I liked her before you even knew what it was like to feel her warmth beside you. I connected with her in a way I wouldn't taunt any man with, because it is special to me. And there was no stealing...we both never agreed to be a couple, and my breakup hurt me even though I know it was the best decision. So don't belittle us by saying that I 'stole her'. Because if I did pursue her, I would work until I was half worthy of her. Because no one could ever fully be."

...

His lips brush across the plane of her neck, like they have a mind of their own. Just like the hand that moves to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his black and white mane. A choreography they'd only danced a handful of times, seldom with other partners.

"Is it wrong that I've been wanting to kiss you here again?" He asks, his voice the same fatal low that promised to do her in. "Because I've been wanting to do it for days..."

She raises her head to properly look him in the eyes, his forehead resting against hers.

"Just as wrong as me wanting you to."

He sighs, his hands moving to grip her waist and pull her closer. "I really wasn't planning on flirting with you or kissing you tonight. Out of respect for Rin and Hatori, I was going to keep my distance as much as I could."

"But?"

He gives a pained smile. "But I can't. I want to end and begin the year with you like this."

She runs her palms down his chest, a breath passing her lips. "Its weird, isn't it? The fact that we're practically strangers but I feel closer to you than my own family." She scoffs. "Though, to be fair, being closer isn't saying much."

He laughs. "You're kind of bad at seducing me into a New Year's kiss."

She quirks an eyebrow, a daring smile set to tease him. "Who said that's what I'm after. Maybe I'm trying to tell you I see you like a brother."

With no heads up, his hands smooth down her waist to hook his thumbs into her back pockets. The surprise of him being so forward causing her to arch against him, everything else fading to a haze.

"Somehow I doubt that."

Just in that moment, the music cuts out and a countdown begins.

"10...9...8..."

He angles his head so that their lips almost touch.

"7...6...5..."

She leans up on her tip toes so that they meet.

"4...3...2..."

And he moves his lips against hers, both closing their eyes as they share in this moment together. Their hearts both touching down in the end zone after having been benched all season, victorious in beginning to play.

"1! Happy New Year!" Roars the crowd, backed by pops of fireworks that explode across the sky in brilliant colors.

They break the connection of their mouths to look up, a myriad of confetti raining down as the firework show continues to boom in the background.

"Happy New Year, Haru," Someina says with bubbly laughter, causing him to smile down at her.

"Happy New Year, Som," he says back, gathering her into his arms to watch the display together.

Both with a hope in their hearts for what's to come.

~ Blackout

#106

The muzzle taps his forehead with an obtrusive clack.

But even at gunpoint, he's still wearing that contented smile.

Like this was the last step before the hollow victory sure to come.

"I hate you for what you did to me. What you made me." She narrows her eyes, condemning her tears for wanting to show themselves. "I trusted you!"

"A mistake you can only blame yourself for..." he answers, just as nonchalant as a shiftless sloth on vacation. "Look at yourself. You're still weak and foolish as the day I found you. You wouldn't have the balls it takes to kill me. And you know it too."

"Shut up!" She shouts, bringing the butt of her gun down to smack him in his temple. "You don't get to tell me who I am, anymore. That's up to me."

"Go ahead, and shoot me then. Man up," he challenges, his hand enclosing her wrist until he's moved the gun into his mouth. And he closes his eyes with a peace of mind that made her ill. Showing just how truly he doubted her tenacity, and was watching for every crack created under his pressure.

Her fingers twirl along the trigger. But she just...she can't.

How could she kill him?

"Do it, Mai!" Haru commands, taking a blow from Hiyagota's blade that makes him grimace. Though he readily counters the next swing. "Finish this! Only you can."

Mai breathes heavily, torn between her past and present self. Twisted and hopelessly lost about becoming a murderer of the man that made her one. Conquering evil with evil.

But she can't think anymore about it...when her fingers squeeze and a shot explodes through surgically enhanced lips, blood spattering her in the face and clothes. Detonating a thick and unbearable coppery stench that's almost as foul as the smoking corpse beneath her.

She tumbles off of him backwards on all fours, shocked out of her mind, and still-

Shaking.

But he'd let himself die. He let her kill him, when he could have easily overpowered her and sent her to an early grave. But even in the end...he still won.

He'd wanted to die.

...

I don't want to see your face when it happens.

He allows one hand to stay on mine, the other venturing somewhere prohibited. Trespassing. I can feel the gentle - but calloused - sensation of his fingers curling under the blanket, dragging out the unveiling inch by dreadful inch. I find myself muttering under my breath words that run together and blur to the point they just vaguely sound like 'don't' and 'please stop.' But he doesn't. And the air is somehow thick and hard to breathe as my eyes squeeze shut like a shark's jaws until I feel a draft taunting my skin.

He blurts out a curse towards my new flaw and his own failings, turmoil laced with loathing writhing off his body in harsh, jagged intensity. And my eyes snap open as I become sharply aware of why he had to see it for himself. Even though he'd already watched it bleed when he salvaged the rest of me.

He wanted to know that it actually happened.

That...he was justified in hating himself.

And I couldn't stand it.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out, hopping out of the bed and my head whips around at the movement. "I'm sorry Mai..." he spits out expletives, nearly tripping over himself to get out the door. "I can't, I can't be here right now. I'm sorry."

"Don't go," I whisper, tears falling hard and fast when the door closes with a thud.

...

"Having two ears or two legs is overrated," I say softly, leaning in to brush my lips over his ear lobe. "We can do just fine without them."

He chuckles. "That's the great thing about you and me, baby." I flush at this new pet name. And feel my cheeks warm all the more when his hands clasp behind the small of my back. "You can hear for me, and I can hold you up."

...

"Alright, its time to do your drills," I command, earning several groans from tens of young faces.

"Aw. But Miss Hashirama-"

I stare out at them with my sternest expression, making mouths clamp shut and heads to hang.

"Need I remind you of the rigorous training I went through when I was your age? I would think hearing that story five times would have sunk in by now," I say, my eyebrow quirking in question. "You've all done warm ups. Now its time to do suicides, lunges, and mountain climbers. Don't make me add burpees."

At my threat, they're lightening quick to kick things off, despite how red in the face and sweaty they are from my intense stretching regimen.

I pace the room with a smile of satisfaction, amused at how they suddenly adopt a perfect form the second my feet pass in front of their view.

It wasn't always like this, though.

There was a long period of adjustment before I was even able to stand with my metal leg, let alone teach a class how to work like well oiled machines and fight for the greater good. A good that I was once too jaded to accept for myself. But at Haru's suggestion, before we turned twenty-one this year, that I teach instead of remain a field agent...I couldn't help the song in my head that my heart began to beat to. One of mirth and excitement and far less baggage than what I was used to. But one that I became accustomed to as time passed.

However, it wasn't an easy path to follow.

Both literally and figuratively.

I wanted to quit. I almost did, actually. Several times I stumbled or couldn't get out of a chair. There were weeks that would go by where I just wanted to lie in bed because it all felt like a lost cause. Moot point. By the time I was eighteen, I was at an impasse. Because even though I could walk for a few minutes at a time, it wasn't enough. And I had nightmares of getting injured again, being confined to a chair, and never recovering a second time.

I was afraid.

But Haru was there with me, just as he promised. Whenever I would get tired or exhausted of all the failures and missteps, he stood by me. He encouraged me and pressed me and was my anchor every day of the year for almost six years. With leap year...that's roughly 2,161 days.

And he never gave up on me.

Not once.

Even though I was ready to give up on myself.

"Do three more, then switch to long-lever crunches," I bark out, delighting in the way their arms shake and they breathe hard.

It wasn't out of sadism that I was glad for it.

But because I knew all that pain and strain meant strength they were gaining.

Eventually, these exercises wouldn't even cause them to break out into a sweat.

The moment they hit that inevitable plateau...was when I would make things hard.

I was very pleased with how capable they were to handle any challenge I threw at them. It reminded me so much of Haru and his beautiful and admirable resilience. I would be sure to tell them every day how much they improved with what they need to work on. To tell them of where they were weak, but also of the areas they were powerful in.

A hand rests lightly on the small of my back, and my lips form a gentler smile, my legs ceasing in their pacing.

"Hey, Moo Man."

I spin around to face him, slinging my arms around his neck as his go around my waist and he tugs me close.

"You almost done here, baby?"

I blush thirty shades, just like I always did when he called me that. Knowing him...that's exactly why he does it.

"If they're not collapsed on the floor, then no. You tell me."

He glances over my shoulder. "Half of em' are. Is that enough to appease you, Queen Mai?"

I roll my eyes, remembering when he first called me that. "Give it a few minutes more and only one of them will be standing. Trust me."

He snorts at this. "A power trip a day keeps the sanity away, yeah?"

I nod. "Of course."

I revel in how natural it feels to be in his arms, my class panting and heaving as more drop like flies. I shake my head a little at their theatrics. "You all know not to lay down with your heart rate up like that. Its not safe."

"Miss Hashirama," they gripe in unison, gradually sitting up and standing on wobbly legs.

"You heard me," I add, fighting back laughter. "Either you get up or do push ups. Its your choice."

They scramble to their feet - albeit slower than the first time - and start in on jumping jacks. Anything to avoid the dreaded strength portion of the workout.

"Want to grab some dinner at New Leaf?"

I brush my nose against his, grinning like a lovesick fool. "Do you even have to ask?"

...

"Oh. O-ok." I shovel three bites of meat into my mouth, slurping as much as possible through the thick straw to stave off my curiosity. It didn't hurt that I was pretty hungry from today's events. Our chewing and the background chatter of those around us reigns over the lack of conversation in this moment.

I'm happily enjoying my vanilla milkshake when, in the most random and causal way, a ring box is placed in front of me.

Its pretty fair to say I choked.

"What the he-" I cough, clapping my hand over my chest several times. "Haru!"

My voice is reduced to nothing more than a croak, watching as he pops it open with skilled, calm fingers. Like it was something he could rehearse in his sleep.

"Its for you..." he scratches the back of his head, the faintest of blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm doing it right, aren't I?"

"I don't know. What are you doing?" I sputter.

"Proposing...? At least, that's how I was told I'm supposed to do it."

I give a dry laugh, so off my guard. "Last I checked, the guy gets down on one knee. Are you sure this is what you want?"

I'm not trying to be a jerk by any means.

I'm just...really surprised, is all...and confused as to why he'd want to spend the rest of our lives together when he babysat me 2,161 days, already.

"More sure than I've been about anything," he declares, straightening from his slouch. "I love you, Mai. And even though we're in a crowded place and I don't know how to ask you properly...I want the person that I live for to be closer to my heart than they already are. To play dumb games and talk and work to save people like we wished they had done for us." He laces our hands together. And my pulse skyrockets into the next orbit.

"I want us to do it all, as one. You're the reason I'm deciding to love again. And I'm not sorry to break it to you...but I've never stopped thinking about you or chasing you. Even when you fought me, you're the only one that doesn't run away from me because I have two sides. You love me and treat me as if I'm not crazy, like I'm one person with one personality. And no one has ever done that for me."

He removes the silver ring from the box, complete with the garnet gemstone from my choker, garnished with rosette. My heart pinches, my gaze entirely fixed on our hands as he slides the band onto my left ring finger.

"This is not just a promise to willingly love again. Its not just a vow to love only you, and to never betray how you feel about me. But its also an apology."

He cups my cheeks, making my eyes clash with his. And I watch the emotions that flicker through them, like an old black and white movie, filled with hope and romance and everything he wants us to be.

"This is me saying sorry for having to use the band I gave you, from your necklace. For you losing a part of you in the first place. I just hope that I stand a chance at making up for what I stole from you."

"Haru-"

"-Please," he breaks in, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "No more making excuses for me. I just...want you to love me despite all the crap I put you through. That everyone else made you go through."

I shake my head a little, my hand moving to his to weave our fingers together. "Of course I love you. You're mine."

He smiles openly and brightly enough that I have to do a double-take, my photographic memory taking a snapshot that I would look at any chance I got.

"Do you want to go back to my apartment and split a '95 Cabernet Sauvignon? Its my mom's."

I nod fervently, scarfing down my Yakitori as fast as my body will allow, though I'm fully aware that Haru's laughing at me the entire meal.

...

"Make yourself comfortable," he says, setting up his stereo. "Any requests?"

I seat myself on the clean cushion, tucking my leg beneath me and hugging a pillow to my chest. "FTIsland."

Even though his back is turned, I can tell he's smirking.

"Of course you would..."

'Pray' by them streams through the speakers, in mono-stereo for the full experience. And with the extra bass and the way the vocals traveled back and forth between the left and right speakers, it was like reliving the concert from all those years ago. When he first held me and I just knew I was in trouble.

All my nerves fade behind the song's melody. And completely dissolve when Haru slips his hand into mine, and he gives a tug until I'm standing.

He moves my hands to hook behind his neck. And his arms circle my waist, slowly shuffling his feet in a box. Seguing into a waltz to our song, regardless of how fast it is.

He brings his lips close to my ear, his breath warm and smooth as melted chocolate. "Are you still a good girl, Mai?"

Chills roll all over me, and I flush at him bringing my past words into our present.

"I thought you'd know Sohmas have connections, by now. You've never used the Sohma name to get a good deal or get out of a detention?"

I shake my head, curiosity buzzing in the back of my head at the potential stories behind his words. "Nope. I'm a good girl."

I could almost kick myself the moment I realize how that sounded. And Haru doesn't make it any better by responding with-

"I'll believe it when I see it," he whispers, his tone thick with insinuation that makes my stomach twist.

His hands inch down, and I step close enough that I press against him. "What if I don't want to prove you wrong anymore...what if..." I nuzzle into his neck, my breath coming out more shallow. "What if I want you to touch me like this?"

I wouldn't take my clothes off, or anything.

But I want to know...what our boundaries are.

What they can be.

My feet leave the floor as he brings me into him, his lips hovering dangerously over mine. His eyes are hooded. Darker as they peer down at me. I lick my lips and he groans. He brushes his over mine, and I melt. And come alive. My body burns as hot as the sun, threatening to explode until we kiss, and I moan at the relief I find in his lips, and his tongue, and his heat. The coil of tension in my stomach relaxes the more of him I feel.

A sensual track follows up the last song, in the same moment his tongue dances with mine, and I find myself unraveling to his increasing heartbeat. His fingertips tremble as they touch my skin. My arms...my leg...my face...a lance of pleasure zipping through my rib cage. And instead of it making me remember something I'd forced myself to forget...it makes me feel like I'm floating along clouds in Heaven, warm and light with the beauty of Haru's love for me. And how freeing it is that we're together, alone, in his home.

When we do finally manage to disentangle from one another, we share a bottle of wine. Toasting like he used to with Yuki when they were children, swamped in blankets as his arm stays around me, until I fall asleep on his chest.

Even as I drift off to sleep.

The night is wonderful.

This life...is incredible.

Yuki escaped the interrogation lifestyle, and underwent therapy. There were rough nights where he had nightmares and stints of when he'd lash out at me for what I'd taught him. No matter how often I'd apologized for it. When PTSD talked, we had no choice but to listen, sometimes. But slowly...over the years...he's improved. And while the bad dreams haven't stopped for him or for me, he was learning to be human again.

Kagura and Kyo were now officially a couple. Kyo denied it at every waking moment, but we'd all seen the stolen kisses, and the silent but obvious looks he gave her when she wasn't looking. We all watched as he fought with her. And argued about not wanting to go anywhere with her to do anything. But he always followed her in the end.

As for Rin...well, we don't really talk. Last I heard, she and X were back on again. Though most people would only give it three days, I'm thinking it might actually last between them. So long as she's changed.

Everyone got their own version of a happy ending.

Even though I had an ugly beginning, and a terrifying and confusing middle...I'm happy.

I learned that real family isn't always blood-related.

That you don't have to remain enslaved to your past, or harbor unforgiveness towards yourself.

That people can and will disappoint you. Not everything will be fun or easy. You will be caught off guard, and hurt, and break. Some of the things that scare you the most are the best things. And will forge from you a force to be reckoned with.

You should own your flaws, so they can't own you.

Because...being imperfect is okay.

Its enough.

~ Incognito

#107

I sigh, shying away when thoughts of explanation bombards me. Because I really don't want to hurt her by dredging up ugly memories that still never fully healed.

For any of us.

"I think about them every day," I begin, my voice no louder than our breathing. "What they would have accomplished had it been them instead of me that lived...if I'm living a life worthy enough, one that means something. One to ease this pain in my chest." My fingers clutch at the material of Kyo's shirt, bunching where my heart would be. "Its one of the only things that keeps me going. Thinking that I make you happy, and them. Satoshi."

Understanding floods her emerald eyes, her hands taking mine in them. "Oh, honey..."

"I just hate the thought of it all being a waste. That I'm just not doing as much as I could be each day. It never feels like enough."

"Its not ever a waste," she admonishes, the conviction in her tone weighing like a ton of bricks. "I miss them every second, and always will play the game of 'what if' in idle moments. But I never once want you weighing your life to anyone's, using your success or lack thereof as a scale to measure up to what could have been. That kind of thinking...that's a mentality that could kill you if you let it. And I refuse to lose my most prized possession. The only child-" her voice breaks, her hand squeezing mine. "The only child that I got to love in full, and raise into someone so capable and respectable and beautiful. Someone women and men could get behind, a person that children would draw for and write letters to for you helping them or other babies arrive into this world. Their siblings." She beams proudly, and I feel my fear collapsing. "You are doing wonderfully. I just want you to enjoy it. And not feel guilty over sadness or heartbreak or anger because you debate on having the right to experience negative emotions. Please let yourself feel, Gina. Experience it all full throttle instead of throwing up a shield, and dulling your pain with remorse."

I bob my head, unable to make out her face through blurring tears. "Thanks, mom. I love you beyond myself."

"I love you. And I have never felt more proud of anyone or anything than I have of you. Now..." she rubs her hands together. "Where are my grand-babies. They need to give me some sugar. Its long overdue."

I burst into another round of laughter. "If I tell you, I'd be a sell out."

"Or a strategist." She winks. "It all depends on your perspective."

...

Kyo only allowed people to see what he wanted them to see. At least...everyone but me. I'd seen him clothed in his strengths, naked in his weaknesses. I've tasted the love on his lips, composed the beat of his heart, and intertwined souls every time he cried and I cried with him.

We didn't know how to handle conflict. Both of us witnessing failing marriages, experiencing isolation, and being each other's firsts. We were still coming to grips with not overcoming tragedy in the give and take of our bodies, even though it was all we knew. How two broken and lonely hearts found themselves within the same orbit.

We were strangers to anything else.

So, this is why the biggest argument we ever had almost brutally ended me. And him.

Us.

...

"You know what I found, today?"

He takes my hands from his cheeks, playing with them. "A condom?"

"Kyo!" I burst out laughing, that being the furthest guess from my mind. "No, silly."

"Its not like it's impossible," he says, a smirk pulling at his lips. "We've had sex in almost every room in this house. Especially the closet."

A memory takes the helm of my focus, recalling our previous conquest in our bedroom.

"Why don't you take a seat on the bed?" I suggest, balancing a bag full of clothing on one arm. "And...I'll come out with my anniversary present for you. Okay?"

He nods slowly, sitting down on the very end of the bed. "Okay."

With that, I hurry to the bathroom with my bag, and change out of my dress from tonight's dinner. It was surprisingly romantic for my Kitty-Kat. Dinner at a ritzy bistro that catered to its customers like they would Kings and Queens, serving the most exquisite champagne and cuisine.

But, hopefully not nearly as mouth-watering as my little surprise would be.

I step out with a flourish, and I immediately grab his attention. And the way he looks at me like he did the fish course sends a blush over my body that rivals a virginal bride.

I saunter over to him in my heels, bending at the waist as my hands land on his knees, daring him to refrain from looking anywhere but my face. He swallows, his gaze straying for seconds that feel like delicious minutes, before faithfully returning to my own eyes.

I straighten up, taking his hand in mine to run over the lace of my flyaway, just allowing an inch of his fingertips to brush over my bare abdomen as he eyes tracks the movements breathlessly. My lips dance with a come-hither smile, though I don't allow him to do more than graze along my skin before I retreat completely.

"Tonight, I'm giving you your very own private lingerie fashion show. You get to see me in any outfit you desire. But..." I lean into him, speaking softly into his ear and making his breaths grow shallow. "The rule is that you can't touch me. Not until I'm done. Okay?"

I pull away to see his expression, and am more than pleased to see how at war with himself he is over my proposition. As to whether seeing me draped in his fantasies was worth waiting to reenact them.

Though I eventually do receive another nod, and he sits up just that much straighter. "What else are you gonna wear for me?"

I hum, clasping my hands behind my back to give him the full view of this look one last time. "You'll just have to wait and see, Kyo."

With that, I turn on my heel and re-enter the bathroom to make another change. My heart beating wildly with excitement. Over the years I've been with him, I've gotten to know his tastes really well. And he favored see-through, caged, short designs strapped to silky material by garter belts. But lace...that was his number one preference.

That's why the next thing I model for him is something with all of those things. A hot red plunging bra secured with tiny satin bows, the cups partially see-through just to tease what was left to the imagination. Paired with two garter belts hooked into a cage bralette that clung tightly to my toned abdomen like his hands yearned to.

Though instead of just strutting around in it. I decide to be a bit more...devious.

I amble out at an achingly slow pace, with a bottle of vanilla scented lotion and kick my foot up to rest on the chair I pull away from the desk. His eyebrows furrow in dark curiosity, though his leg bounces as he undresses me with his stare. And it makes heat flare in my stomach as fire blazes in his eyes.

I run lotion between my fingers before smoothing it down my calf, purposely eyeing him as I do it.

"I feel so smooth...and silky." I cant my head, innocently. "Do you want to feel?"

He folds his hands in his lap, in an effort to hold himself back when I know he would have jumped me by now.

I lightly smack my forehead, as if just recalling something. "Oh, I'm sorry...I forgot. You can't touch me, yet."

"Please," he croaks, and I cease in applying the creamy, white substance to give him my full attention. "Can I?"

I cluck my tongue, folding my arms. "But, Kyo. If you do that...the show's over. Are you sure?"

"Because..." I bring my leg back down, before approaching him and pushing him down onto the mattress with the fullness of my body. "I can always stop...at your request." I pass my lips over his, and he groans in relief of being able to feel me. Even if its only a sensation as small as a kiss. "But, then you won't be able to see anything else I bought just for you."

I release his mouth, pursing mine. "We wouldn't want that? Would we...?"

He grits his teeth against the pleasure of me enthroning myself on his hips, and the moment I move just a fraction, he bucks upward as a moan finally falls free of his restraint.

"Tell me what you want," I say, alluringly low. "And I'll make it happen. Its all up to you...you call the shots."

His hands roam over my curves like clockwork, and I begin to wonder if he already decided to surrender. I thought he'd last at least one more outfit.

He flips us over so that my legs still straddle his hips, but from a new position. And its my turn to become a puddle of trembling arousal. But I don't expect it when he separates our bodies so that he's standing. Looking over me like he wants to ravish me from head to toe.

He retrieves the bottle of lotion before squatting in front of the bed, squirting it into the palm of his hand to work it into the skin of my leg, slowly making his way up with warm caresses. My eyes close as I bask in his slow, careful strokes. And I reach a new high when he climbs over me, smoothing lotion over my stomach as his lips find my neck, and he drags his teeth across it. A breath is driven from my lungs as he creates harder, rapid strokes while his tongue boldly sweeps across the expanse of my throat in a duel of buzzing sensitivity-

...

The room has one King bed in the middle with questionable white sheets, complete with a heavy blanket and four pillows topped with mints.

And, its all just so...

Lonely.

And its the desolation of an empty bedroom away from my heart and my home that makes me go numb. Because...what if I used the worst thing to hurt him with? What if it was his worst nightmare that I had dragged into the daylight.

Its this that transports me to a moment in a dystopian future, where tension spread us apart like tectonic plates to form an earthquake that cracked our foundation. A what-if scenario of what an existence would be like if this argument went on unresolved.

After everything went south...I experienced a comminuted fracture. My heart was broken in three places. Kyo and I split up and spent ages waging a custody battle for our sons, the ruling determining that we would have them for six months at a time before trading off. It was ugly and painful. And I still had never healed.

I just pretended that I did.

The twins were only thirteen when I ran into Haru at one of his concerts. Well, more accurately, the band he headlined with. It was after the show had wrapped and I met him at the bar, sitting in a stool with a beer in hand. It started off with dark jokes about our divorces, segueing into the blurry haze of drinks, and engaging in drunken sex. It was supposed to just be a one night stand. But the gaping wounds were voids that hurt too much to not be covered up. Though never filled. And a year later, I find myself falling into the same old patterns of lust without love.

I'm reminded of how damaged and unsteady we truly are when I cross paths with Kyo, finding him leaning against the brick wall of the alley we lost our virginity. His head hanging low as he staggers about, too smashed to keep his balance.

"Kyo?" I shout, jolting him to attention and causing him to swing around to face me.

"Gina-" he chuckles loudly, his fingers raking through his disheveled hair. "Oops. You're Kitty, right?"

"What are you doing here? Like this." I look around, noting how the rainy streets are empty otherwise. "You should be at home with our sons."

He ceases in his movements, tilting his head to the side. "Really? Since when have you stopped saying they were just yours? I thought Haru was too busy dicking you down for you to notice anything else."

I narrow my eyes at him, folding my arms tightly across my chest. "Okay, screw you. You're the one that pushed me into his arms. You have no right."

"Now that's funny," he slurs, taking several sloppy steps forward so that he corners me. And I find myself against the wall, just like the night of our first time. "Still blaming me for your own problems...like how you can never get enough in the bedroom, so you take whoever will let you jump them."

I swing my hand to push him back for space, only for him to catch my wrist, and I glower up at him. "I'm gonna let that slide because you're drunk. And you're jealous of anyone that so much as looks at me cross-eyed, which makes you miserable."

He grabs my leg, throwing it over his hip and surging towards me. And he brings his lips an inch within mine, the smell of whiskey on his breath as it fans over me. "You really think I can't get any woman I want? You're not the only one I've ever stripped and kissed and been inside. You're just mad that I won't touch you like that. You're jealous of them."

Before I can tell him off, he crushes his lips to mine. One hand slipping beneath my top to surface on the small of my back and bring me closer. I shove against him. Desperate to not go there again. Too afraid to never be able to get out, again.

Though I'm not entirely sure I ever got free.

He releases my mouth to send a heat wave of kisses down my jaw and neck, working away at his spot. The very same that I loved thanking him for in moans and touches in kind. The one that I hated now because it still made me want. It made me want him all over me. For every last inch of my skin to be romanced by him, and for us to be together again. Something that was now impossible. And it killed me to think about.

To recall all the moments that we spent building a life together. With the birth of our sons that proved miracles still occur. The careers we worked hard to stand tall in. How our dreams had been realized in each other, fantasies of overcoming loneliness that life had forced on us since childhood. Saved from the perils of rejection, bullying, and opposition.

And now...it was being thrown away.

For the sake of still causing each other pain with our words.

"Stop," I pant, gritting my teeth over any noises of satisfaction. "I'm with someone. We're over."

Over something stupid that should have been discussed. Something that wasn't worthy enough to end all the love we made, and the life that should have been sustained.

"We should have made up," he says, straightening to look me in the eyes. His rimmed with red as they swam with tears that rivaled mine. "You...you shouldn't have run out. Now its too late."

No.

"No," I whisper, the last blackened bit of my heart starved of any remaining hope. All the pain of our disaster flashing right before me.

How desperate I was to fix it. To erase our years apart and live as if they never happened.

...

My chest rises and falls in sync with his, and I don't bother swiping the tears from my cheeks. Not concerned with hiding myself or the emotions that assault me. Instead, I slowly make my way towards him, and he staggers backwards. As if to avoid another slap. And it makes me all the more determined to make it up to him. I back him into the door, once again rising up on my toes and looking him in the eyes. My lips so close to touching his that I can't help myself. His eyebrows furrow in question, though they smooth out a fraction when I claim his mouth with mine. And our bodies slide together the instance I loop my arms around his neck.

His hands move to grip my waist and pull us apart, his sienna orbs filling with a million questions.

"Gina...what are you doing?"

In favor of avoiding for just a little longer, I dip my head to kiss along the nape of his neck, and back up to his jaw. Just because I knew he was sensitive to my mouth, and he would forget that anything was going on between us. Even for but a moment. His eyes flutter closed as his hands clasp behind my back, dragging me towards him when he changes his mind about wanting me close. And I drop one hand to slide the side zipper of my skirt so that he can slip his hand inside when he'd rather die than not touch me.

Right on cue, a masculine hand larger than mine dips into my skirt, and I moan as I arch into him. My heart beating dangerously fast when the sensation of him travels lower.

"Gina," he whispers, his fingers achingly close. "I thought we agreed to talk...instead of me screwing your brains out whenever we fight."

"Doesn't sound like you want to talk," I say, pointedly covering his hand with mine. "Let's sex first, then argue after."

"We-" I cut him off by crashing my lips against his, slinging my leg over his and grinding against him. He exhales ruggedly, though he doesn't protest further as he walks me backwards until we fall on the bed. And he redirects his lips to kissing everywhere else, my fingers becoming rooted in his sunset locks as we choose to forget in each other. Fighting the pain for as long as we can.

"I hated that you danced with him," he growls, taking my skin between his teeth. "You're mine, and I almost lost you..."

"I'm sorry I slapped you," I get out, breathily. He traces my pierced navel with his tongue and I practically break down. "You feel so good."

"I'm sorry for throwing your dad in your face." He lifts his head to train the most sorrowful eyes on mine, brushing his thumb over my cheek. And in that moment...I'm paralyzed with heartbreak. Torn between laying it all out in painful conversation and masking the rift behind colorful sensations. His gaze falls to the blanket beneath us with the snap of his breath released sharply, something wet splashing and darkening the fabric. My eyes widen in shock as it clicks that he's crying.

"Kyo, you-"

"I know," he says, running a hand through his tousled hair. "You hurt me, so...I hurt you back. But saying that when I know how he makes you feel. How I feel about mine..." his hands fist the material of the comforter. "Its unforgivable."

"No," I say, taking his cheeks in my hands to bring his nose to mine. "I love you. So much. It was my fault for using your fear against you. That's what's inexcusable and unforgivable, And, maybe it makes me weak. But even though we have to talk things out...I know I'll always forgive you."

"You shouldn't."

"Yeah, well..." I shrug. "I'm an ignoramus when it comes to love and lust when you're involved. But that I'm not sorry for."

I drag his hips down to touch down on mine with my legs wrapped around him, and he groans the first thing that pops into his head.

"I need you naked. Now."

"Really?" I ask, coyly, as I undulate against him in heady motions. "Do you want to take it off me? Or do you want me to do it by myself?"

In substitution for a verbal answer, he yanks my skirt down. And he doesn't hesitate to put his lips startlingly nearby without ceremony.

"Kyo," I pant, my voice strained with my effort to keep cool. "You don't have to do this."

He drops open mouth kisses in his descent to what belonged only to him, and I squirm beneath him in anticipation. "Consider it flowers and chocolates to apologize with."

I sit up on my elbows, lost about what he could possibly mean when his tongue dives with reckless abandon. And I throw my head back as my body begs to arch off the bed, a gasp flying past my lips as he makes languid strokes.

"Mm, K-Kyo," I stutter out, my heels digging in, in a weak attempt to keep me grounded. Though I want to experience the sight of him in my ecstasy. To fall asleep in the afterglow of the daring, hot love we made. Even when we were emotionally volatile and unsure of what to feel.

His fingers grip my hips tight to keep me in place, to stop me from lifting them to get him deeper.

"Let me..." A moan cuts my words short, sent reeling by the addition of him humming. Fully aware of just what vibrations did to me.

"Not yet," he counters, dark seduction dominating his tone. "I want to lap it up when it happens, but I don't want to stop yet."

His words coupled with my knowledge of his past as a cat send a shudder rippling through me. Like I was sweeter than the milk he craved on a daily basis.

"You've been naughty again," he says, smirking knowingly. "Not wearing anything under that tight, short, little skirt of yours. Its almost like you planned me to do you senseless, today." He licks his lips, his hands parting my legs to move in for the kill. "Do you want me in you as far as I can go? To remind you why I'm your wet dream, and you moan for my touch even in your sleep."

I barely stifle myself, looking out at him through hazy eyes as I shove down the urge to hook my legs around his torso to experience a new angle.

"Yes, sensei..."

"Kinky, aren't you?" He taunts roughly, scooting me towards him in one harsh thrust. And his own gaze fills with pleasure. "You want me to have you grab something while I punish you, again?"

I shake my head, opening my legs wide like I did when I performed a strip tease. "Or you can just take me. You're thick...but I know you fit me, and you feel so right."

He groans as if the sound of my voice is his undoing, and I smile satisfactorily when he rushes to strip off his pants. Only to find he went commando, too.

"Looks like you expected me to spread my legs for you, tonight," I purr, relieved when his hands wrap around my ankles as he poises himself between me. "How long have you been hard?"

"Too long," he replies, giving a test thrust of his hips that makes my lips part in a cry.

"I mean..." I take in a shaky breath, dying and coming back to life with each pass of his hips to mine. Like water kissing sand. "When did it happen?"

His sexy smile deepens, because he knows my dirty side like he knows his last name. "The second you touched me at the door."

I bite my hand when he plunges inside me, the mild pain overwritten by my arousal that fed off of his.

"You know, I picked that skirt with you in mind," I pant, my fingers tight around the sheets. "I wanted you to have easier access. If we were out somewhere and you really needed to do me. For when I needed you between my legs." He breathes harder with the physical exertion and my intimate words . "I think about you all the time. When I get in the car, I imagine the last time we were in a backseat together...or in the shower, I think about how good it would feel. To be in a wet, steamy shower. With you."

He tilts his head down, his hands landing on mine to brace himself as he quickens his pace.

"Or, when I walk down the stairs. I think about how fun it would be to get on top of you there. How intense and thrilling it could be."

"Look at me," he pleads, his own red eyes glossed over with skyrocketing desire. "I want us to see each other when we orgasm. Just like looking in the mirror."

A breath rushes out of me, the inane need for my eyes to close in pleasure dropping on me like a weight.

"Can you do that for me?" He asks, memorizing my every curve and maneuver of my body.

"Y-yes..."

"Yes what?"

I exhale thinly, forcing myself to greet the bottomless passion of his intense stare. "Yes...sensei..."

And just like that he destroys the last barrier of fight in me, driving faster without caring to control the pacing any longer. Too much is happening for me to do more than scream his name and cry. Conquered by one wave of pleasure that crashes over the other with boundless momentum. My nails drag over his biceps as we dare each other with the sensual focus of our eyes, a challenge for one of us to cave to the engulfing chaos of sexual euphoria.

His eyes grow hooded, and I can tell he's about to lose his own bet. Which only ignites the competitiveness that roars in my spirit, demanding that I move my hand to his backside to create an explosive wildfire of strokes that makes him cry out and finally close his eyes. Our tug-of-war of wills falling by the wayside.

He drops his head to bury his face in my neck, his breaths uneven with each gasp and expletive that heads up his desire and need.

"You feel, so..." his arms tremble until he falls forward, barely supporting himself with his forearms as they cage me in.

I pick up the sloppier pacing of his rhythm, and make him forget everything he thought he knew about sex with the relentless invitation of my hips. And that's all it takes before his form tenses and the plunges inside my searing heat become broken when he reaches the crest of where only I can take him. The fierce and primal act sizzling out like a firework doused with its deprivation of oxygen in the wake of awe-inspiring displays.

When we come down from the ceiling, we collapse back on the bed, and he throws the blanket over us. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I nestle into his side, reveling in his body heat.

Silence reigns supreme over thoughts that bare down on us the more we put off divulging them. Unable to keep quiet any longer, I speak first.

"So...I guess we have a lot to talk about, huh?"

He snorts, resting his cheek on my head. "Yeah. You start."

"Seriously?" I pull in a breath to reclaim some patience, racking my brain for where to begin. "I feel like its important to be honest in a marriage. Or in any relationship. So, in the interest of full disclosure...there are several things that bother me."

"Like?"

"Like...whenever you step out of the shower, you always leave the bath rug damp. And you never replace the toilet paper. They're small things. But they can get really annoying after awhile."

"I guess I could be more considerate about that and dry off more."

He ponders this, before giving a complaint of his own.

"You take too long in the shower."

I quirk a pierced brow. "That can't be right."

"But it is." He peers down at me, his thumb stroking the skin of my shoulder. "I'm not trying to hurt you. But its something that's been a problem whenever I need to go teach a class. You tie up the bathroom on weekend mornings."

"That's another thing. Working commitments. We hardly spend time together, and when we do...its usually just sex."

"What's so wrong about that? You never complained before."

"Don't get me wrong. I enjoy it every time, and I'm a lot more comfortable in my sexuality than I used to be. But, I feel like we do that more than we talk."

"But sex is the way we communicate."

"Yeah, but that doesn't seem normal. And I do want us to talk about things. Like what I think about politics or world affairs; the state of the weather or how things are going at work. I love it when we make love. But...I need conversations, too."

His eyes flicker past me, fixating on one of the knock-off art pieces in the room.

"That makes sense. You just, never really said anything about it until now. I don't know unless you tell me because you're still opening up to me. And I get it. Because I'm still doing the same. I just wish you brought it up before tonight."

"Me too."

"How is it? Work, I mean."

"Actually, I've been meaning to share that." I turn over so that I rest on my side, barely able to contain myself with my news. "There was a woman misdiagnosed with endometriosis, and thought it impossible to have a family without adoption. For some reason, I had a strong unction of running another test because something just felt...off. And its a good thing I did, because I happened to notice ovarian cysts that had been overlooked. Completely treatable and caught early enough that the woman is now pregnant. And it was thanks to one of my finds. Me, of all people."

"Wow." He blinks in surprise, warmth overtaking his expression. "That's great. I'm happy for you, G."

"Thanks," I say, still practically bubbling over with joy of such a discovery. "What about you? Is class going well?"

"As crazy as it sounds, sometimes I wish I could run the place 24/7. The kids I work with are all so different, with so many problems. And...I want to make it go away for them. Kind of like with you. One of them is part of a foster home, and he doesn't have much of his own. The only thing he's ever been able to say was his is his ability to fight. And I'd never forgive myself if I didn't do whatever I could to make him wear that title proudly."

That's one of the things I loved about him.

He cared, even when he denied it.

He loved as well as he hated.

"Well, I hope you do whatever means something to you. If this is important...go for it. Don't get pissed at yourself if mistakes are made, but don't quit if its something you're hungry for. Even if its hard and it feels hopeless. That's the time when you need to push back the hardest."

"You're right." He looks at me, as loving and vulnerable as he ever has. "And I can never thank you enough for the time you worked extra hours to support one of my students. That...was everything to me. And then some." He touches his lips to my forehead, taking a shaky breath. "I was a moron saying all the things I did. Who cares about some dance that happened years ago? You chose me. And that should always be enough."

"Babe, if it still bothers you, its okay. Its even more offensive when you apologize for what you're feeling. Emotions rarely make sense. And I know how much pain that caused you. I know that its different with you, and not just jealousy." I twiddle with his fingers, chewing my lower lip. "I know you feel like you've been chosen last so many times before. And I hate that I made you feel insecure for even a moment. I wasn't thinking it through, then, or earlier tonight."

He closes his eyes, brushing his lips along my head as he pulls me closer. "You...are what I'm afraid of, Gina. You make me feel so much pain, that I can't even process it sometimes. You don't see the way other men look at you. And I'm always aware of how there's better out there than me. Guys that are CEOs of big companies and doctors and lawyers that see how smart and beautiful you are. And they have less issues than me. Losing you and being with you scares me."

"Kyo, I never see the way they might watch me because I only notice you. Ever since I started having feelings for you, I didn't really entertain the idea of dating around. Or sleeping with anyone else. When my mom asked me about why I was single years ago...the only person that came to mind was you. Not some fantasy man I dreamed about as a little girl, or a wedding I'd mapped out since I learned what marriage was. As far as I'm concerned, you're the only guy I ever have, ever will, or ever could love. I'm incapable of looking at anyone else the way I do with you. Or being comfortable in their arms like I am in yours."

"And I'll keep telling you that until I get too old to form the words." I cup his cheek, boldly challenging him to look away. To deny my love and loyalty to him, ever again. "I told you, babe...you're stuck with me for life."

"You know what..." he leans into my hand, closing his eyes to hide the tears he refuses to shed. "I can't do any better. And, for once-" his lips wobble slightly, transformed into a shaky smile as he reopens his eyes. A confidence I've never seen in them. "-for once...I'm choosing to believe that I'm the only one you want. And...maybe, that no one else could fit you the way I can."

I nod, my own tears spilling over my cheeks as he showers kisses over my palm, down to the inside of my wrist.

"There's no better match than you, Kitty-Kat."

He brings his forehead against mine, mirroring the glow of assurance in my expression. "I think I can live with that."

~ No Strings Attached

The End.