Takeru Takaishi lifted his hands wearily from the keyboard in front of him and transferred them to his temples, where he rubbed them, frowning slightly. The 20-year-old writer then touched the tips of his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. The whitish glow from the computer screen splashed over his face in a stark contrast with the darkness surrounding him.

He had forgotten to turn on the light. How forgetful. Or out of exhaustion, more of, from attempting to craft out his monthly story for 'Gossip!' magazine. And spending more than 5 hours on it with little results.

Deadlines, deadlines. Takeru, or T.K. for short, tried to persuade himself that his editor's endless pressing for his work was the cause of the creases of worry etched into his brow. He knew it wasn't, and what really made him worry.

It was the person he yelled at for cutting herself and bringing more pain to her already fragile heart. It was the person he prepared meals for, but would end up either eating them himself or throwing it away. It was the very person who screamed back at him, pummeled his chest in fury and often spent hours staring into space, then breaking down into tears.

Hikari Yagami.

"Hikari-chan?" T.K. opened the door a crack. The warm, orange-yellow light bathed the room, but failed to penetrate the distinct clamminess T.K. felt as he entered.

The lights were off. They were always off. But the curtains were drawn at least. They had always been pulled shut over the windows, ensuring complete darkness for Hikari to continue living her nightmares.

A figure was seated by the window. It was outlined by an invisible black line, tracing out lank, coffee-brown hair that lacked the shine it had weeks ago. T.K. stepped further into the room, carefully avoiding the shards of glass on the floor. There was a small knife on the table, glistening with red drops.

Takeru set the tray of food he had brought in beside her. He knew what Hikari would do next, but he still had to try. He slowly pushed the tray until it was in front of her.

"Where are they?"

"I didn't bring them in. You have to eat." There was a hint of insistence in Takeru's voice.

"Eat it yourself," she rasped.

"You can't live like this."

"None of your business." A jolt of pain shot through Takeru. He had never heard these cold words come out of Hikari's mouth. She used to be so warm.

Kari got up and shuffled out of the room. T.K. followed quickly, knowing where she would go. He reached the kitchen first, taking the white bottle and heading for the bathroom.

"T.K.…don't do this…" T.K. ignored the whisper floating from the kitchen and tumbled the pills out into the toilet bowl, flushing them cleanly away. Kari appeared in the doorway.

"Why did you do that?"

"Get back to your room and eat something."

"Why can't you just let me sleep? Why are you doing this to me? Why do you have to interfere so much!" T.K. ignored her. He wheeled her around and gave her a hard shove between the shoulder blades.

Hikari whipped around and glared at T.K. in the face. He winced. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, but they flashed with anger all the same. "Get out of my life! What business is mine of yours anyway? You're not even related to me!"

"I'm doing this because I promised Taichi-san that I wouldn't let anything happen to you while he's overseas," Takeru replied calmly despite Kari's sharp jabbing at his chest with every question she asked. Kari continued to rage at him, punching and slapping whatever bit of Takeru she would reach before he seized her wrists.

"Well, nothing's happening to me! b Nothing/b So what if onii-chan (A/N: this means 'big brother' in Japanese) told you to take care of me? I do what I like! What makes you think you can order me around and tell me what to do? I don't need you to — "

Takeru snapped.

"Yes, you do! You do need me to tell you what to do! Look at yourself in the mirror before thinking that you can take care of yourself!" He dragged her, kicking and screaming, to the mirror and forced her to look at her reflection. "Look at you! Look at what you've become! A wreck!"

"LET GO OF ME!" Kari wrenched herself from T.K.'s grip. "So what if I do waste away? Since Daisuke died what's the point of me even being here? Isn't it better if I went to join —"

SMACK!

Hikari staggered, feeling where T.K. had just slapped her and staring at him. His expression was unfathomable, but livid at the same time.

"Enough?"

Hikari turned her gaze to the floor, only just realizing that T.K. had slapped her. Slapped her. This was the first time that he had done that since they became friends. 12 years ago. Takeru seized Kari and dragged her back to her bedroom. There was no resistance this time. The defiant, wild Kari before seemed to have deflated, to be replaced by a frail doll. Helpless.

Takeru sighed heavily upon recounting their fierce catfight 2 weeks ago. It had been their worst. A shiver still rippled through his body once he recalled how he had actually used violence on her. Slapped her.

Had he gone too far? Actually laying hands on someone had never been his way of solving problems. Even though Hikari had finally given in and started eating, Takeru always wished he could have used some other way of bringing her to her senses.

Ah well, enough dwelling on that… Takeru stifled a yawn and switched off his computer. He would probably complete his assignment another night. Creative juices just weren't flowing today.

"…T.K.?"