WARNING: Strong language.

"You're an idiot."

He's heard it a lot. Whether it's a mean of reprimanding from his father, or a brotherly dig from Bo, he's heard it a lot.

But this time, it actually hurts.

"I was just trying to help," he says, lamely, because he already knows that this thing was over before it had begun. She was too…high maintenance? Perfect? Pretty? He isn't sure. He isn't sure of her, or of any of the last drinks he'd had. His eyesight was getting blurry.

The pretty girl, the one who'd taken a liking to him (can you believe it?) the minute she'd pranced off of that ship was suddenly changing her mind. The girl, who had run away from home; the one who had left her parents with nothing but a letter in exchange for their daughter was singing a different tune. What a surprise, he thinks to himself bitterly.

"Yeah, well, don't," she says through gritted teeth. Kathy, Owen, Hayden and countless others were watching the encounter with mild interest and slight sympathy for the Carpenter's son. He never had a chance.

He was only trying to help when he'd called her parents down to Castanet for the weekend, so they could see their daughter, the one who'd left them hanging helplessly. He had thought it was a good idea at the time, now he could clearly see that it wasn't.

"I hate them!" She screeches, a terrible and hideous sound emitting from the shamelessly gorgeous girl. She's had her fill of his acting without thinking. At first, it was cute, but now it was just irritating.

He winces and backs up a bit. She only draws nearer as she rants on and on about an endless list of things her parents have done to wrong her. The alcohol in his veins decide for him, that enough is enough. "I don't give a damn," he spits back, "I don't fucking care. Just shut the hell up!"

She, for the first time, looks quite offended. He doesn't care, he doesn't care, he doesn't care… Her violet eyes, now watery, take one last look of the room before she runs out of the bar.

Fuck, he cares.

He tries to go after her, but somebody holds him back. "Dude, do you seriously think that's the best idea?" Owen eyes him, curiously. As if he really wants to know what the guy's thinking.

Luke shrugs his best friend off. "I-I didn't…I didn't mean that…I have to tell her." But he doesn't make any attempt to move, just eyes the door that she exited wistfully.

"I know," Owen says, quietly.

But he really, really doesn't.

He wakes up with a pounding headache. To be expected, with all the drinking he's been doing lately. Kind of pathetic, really, but he somehow thought that this morning would be different. Wishful thinking.

The blinds are still closed. He shakes his head; Bo should have woken him up. That kid was too soft for his own good.

"Luke." His father's shadow is leering in the doorway. He grimaces to himself, imagining the lecture that he's heard billions of times. You know how you get when you drink… But it never comes. "Somebody's here to see you," he says, gruffly, scratching his beard as if he doesn't understand it himself.

His head throbs. He just wants to crawl back into bed, but he's curious. Maybe a bit hopeful. Maybe it's her…

He hasn't seen her since that fight. Word is that she took the boat back to Toucan Island, the place she'd claimed to despise so, so much. But apparently, not even that wretched island held a candle to him.

He knows it's not her.

"I'll be a minute," is all he manages to choke out and his father nods and disappears.

Sighing, he grabs a shirt and pulls it on.

It's that girl, the one who works at the Tailor Shop in Harmonica Town. He just barely recognizes her. They were also in the same kindergarten class, and first grade, and second…He stares. He couldn't remember her name.

"H-hello." She stammers; he finds it annoying and wishes she would just spit out whatever it was she needed to. "W-well, as you k-know, there was a r-really bad storm and our s-shop is in need of repairs."

It takes a minute to register. Work. "Fine," he agrees. "I'll be there this afternoon to take a look at the damage, see what needs to be done."

Her pinkish lips pull into a frown. "I-it is the afternoon."

He must have slept longer than he'd thought. "Well," he says, with an awkward shrug. "I guess we'll just have to go now." He makes a move to leave, but she stops him, rather boldly. For her.

"U-uh," she bites her lip. "It's raining…You might uh, want a c-coat."

He's taken back at her concern, but again, shrugs. "I'll be fine. C'mon."

The damage isn't severe and he figures it could be finished in a couple of days, three at the most. When he tells her as much she looks relieved. "T-thank you."

"For what?" He snorts, "Haven't even started." He doesn't turn around to see her blush, but instead, reaches for his tape measurer and begins taking measurements of the torn apart shingles.

"J-just for coming, y-you know."

He can tell that she's not very outgoing and doesn't press the matter. "It's my job." The measuring tape snaps back into place on his command. The sound causes the girl in blue to flinch. He glances over his shoulder. "Sorry."

"It's a-alright."

"You know," he says, "you can go inside. I mean, it beats standing around in the rain, right?"

She flushes a million shades of pink at once. It's kind of amusing to see someone so easily flustered, he thinks. "I-I'm sorry," she apologizes quietly. "I must be b-bothering you."

She attempts to burrow herself into the building, but he stops her by the elbow. His eyebrows furrow together. He doesn't know why but he asks, "What's your name?"

Her blue eyes take note of his grasp on her elbow, and of course, her cheeks went pink. "C-Candace."

"Why do you stutter?" He asks, loosening his grip, but not entirely letting go. He had a feeling she'd just disappear.

"W-what? I d-don't –"Her blatant denial causes him to grin. He isn't sure why but he wants to laugh. So he does. She looks affronted. "Wh-what's so funny?"

He flashes her a smile, as he lets go of her elbow completely. "You're doing it now."

"Am I?"

He nods, blue hair sticking to his bandana. The rain wasn't letting up. "It's okay, though, I guess. Some people find it cute."

Her signature blush returns. He notices that her own baby blue hair was soaked and sticking to her face as well. Guilt finds a way into the pit of his stomach. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "You're all wet."

"It's alright," she says; the stutter is gone.

He wonders why.

Three days turns into three weeks. Her grandmother is none too pleased. "That boy said no more than three days," Shelly frets, shaking her head, as she watches the Carpenter boy work from the window. "What's taking so long?" She turns to Candace and eyes her expectantly.

"I don't know."

Shelly frowns. "We won't be able to open until the repairs are done. We've already lost three weeks' worth of business. Maybe I should have a talk with Dale about his workers…"

"N-no!" Candace squeaks, suddenly, alerting her grandmother. "I-I mean…He's doing his b-best. Just give him some t-time…"

Shelly sighs and adjusts her round glasses. "One more week, that's all that I'll allow."

Candace smiles to herself, hues of pink surrounding it.

They're sitting on the roof of the Tailor Shop, which was irritatingly close to being completely mended, him just hammering new shingles, her watching.

"T-the shop will be done soon, won't it?" She asks, after hours of her grandmother's hounding; it had finally worn her down. Besides, she itched to get back to her sewing machine…greatly.

He pauses. "Yeah, I guess it will." But he glances over his shoulder at her before resuming his work, "Sorry it's been taking so long." He says, insincerely. "Stuff happens, y'know?"

She nods, even though he can't see her. "I g-guess."

That stutter had been driving him insane. One minute it was there, another it wasn't. What was up with that? "Why do you stutter?" He asks, again, putting his hammer down and turning around to face her.

Her eyes widen. She's surprised to hear him ask her again. "I t-told you I don't…"

"That's a lie!" He shouts, gold eyes narrowed. "Just tell me!"

She falls back, he stares horrified, as she falls off the roof and onto the pavement. Her screams resound through his head as a crowd gathers 'round.

He shuts his eyes. Why did he screw everything up?

Her eyes flutter open.

He has flowers in his fist and he shoves them into her face, wearing an artificially wide smile. "Hey."

"Snowflake flowers," she murmurs, mostly to herself, as she takes hold of them. "How'd you get a hold of them this season?" She questions him, as she eyes the flowers with wonder.

He shrugs, "I know people."

"I see," she whispers, twirling one of the snowflake flowers between her fingers. "They're beautiful." When she finally allows herself to look at him, she blushes. "T-thanks."

But now he's only more frustrated.

"You stay away from her!" A tiny, pink person yells at him one day when he comes to visit Candace. "You – you – Nice hat!" She spits, apparently out of insults.

"It's a bandana!" He retaliates by poking his tongue out down at her.

"Luna," a tired, familiar voice sighs. "Let him in, please. I'd – I'd like to talk to him."

The girl spins around and stares at her sister, flabbergasted. "You want to see him? What? He pushed you off of the roof!"

"I fell," Candace corrects.

Luke looks smugly down at Luna as he passes by her and takes long steps towards Candace at her sewing machine. From behind his back, he pulls out a cup of herbal tea. Her favorite. She gapes at him. "B-but why?"

"I pushed you off of a roof."

"I fell," she laughed to herself, taking the tea with a grateful smile.

Luna's loud footsteps could be heard, apparently fed up with the conversation, she decided to leave.

"Thanks," Candace says, kindly. "But you r-really don't have to stop by every day to give me something…It's in the past."

Luke pretends to frown. "You don't like my company?"

This had been ongoing for the past month or so. He clearly felt very bad about scaring her off the roof, so he'd taken to bringing her presents every so often. Too often; Candace didn't like to be spoiled.

"It's…It's not that," she admits, quietly. "It's just that…It's too much. I…I can't really r-repay you."

"Don't have to. Just do me one, teensy, tiny little thing," he's grinning and she's suddenly very self-conscious. He leans down, very close to her face. "Why do you stutter?"

He watches in amusement as her blue eyes widen. "T-that's all you want?"

"It's been bugging me for ages!"

"Why?"

This time, he frowns for real. "I...Actually, I really don't know. It just bothers me. So, tell me."

Candace sighs, "O-okay."

Suddenly, she's seven years old again. An age that she'd really prefer to not revert back to, but she's there and so is Luna, at the tender age of five.

They are being held back by a frantic old woman as they try to reenter the burning building, screaming, fussing, whatever they have to do to go get their parents. Whatever they have to do.

"You need to stay here," the old woman says, her voice hinting at suppressed tears. "With me."

"But Mommy!" Luna cries. "What about Mommy and Daddy?"

Seven year old Candace stays quiet; she stays perfectly still with her stoic composure still intact. She doesn't need a grown up around to tell her what's happening because she's seen this all before. She really doesn't want to see it again.

She collapses into a jumbled mess of tears and screaming. He isn't sure what to do, so he just holds her and tells her everything will be alright.

She doesn't believe him but his shirt makes for a perfect tissue, and a half an hour later her tears are gone, mostly.

He's rocking her back and forth, like you would a baby. "Candace…" He says softly. A tone he wasn't even sure that he had. "I know. My Mom's gone, too."

Blue eyes seek gold desperately. "S-sorry."

"Yeah, me too." He gives her a weak smile and just holds her closer.

And that's how Luna found them when she went wondering back into the shop. She leaned against the doorpost and watched for a while longer, her own eyes watering a little.

"Go on," Luke encourages. "Tell him to shove it."

"Luke!" She chastises, lightly, eyeing a certain purple haired fellow from the corner of her eye. "I c-can't."

The blue haired boy huffed impatiently. "Then I will." He made an attempt to follow through, but was pulled back. "Hmph. Are you going to do it or not, then?"

"I… I don't want to be mean about it." She says, slowly. "He's very…delicate."

Luke snorts.

She slaps his arm. "I'm being s-serious."

"He's not deli-"

"Candace, dear!"

"-Cate," Luke finishes, watching as Julius began to stroll over. "Great."

Julius smiles at Candace, purposefully ignoring Luke. "Hello! How are you doing this fine evening?"

She smiles back politely, albeit uncomfortably. "H-hi Julius."

Julius' smile falters, "I do wish that you would stop stuttering…it's so unladylike…"

Luke's gold eyes brim with anger. "Excuse me?" He readies his fist, prepared to fight the pansy.

Candace grabs hold of his fist and unfolds it, "It's alright," she murmurs, softly, so only he can hear. Turning to Julius, she forces another smile. "I r-really c-can't h-help i-it J-J-Julius."

The man narrows his eyes before stalking off in search of somebody less socially incompetent.

"I may have overdone it a little," she notes, watching his retreating figure with slight amusement.

Luke grins down at her, "Good! Now that he's gone…"

AN: OTP! *Hides from Luke fangirls*