Of all the things he could've said to me, he just had to say that.

Here I was, just minding my own business. And wham! Right into my ear, delicately, softly, hell, almost tenderly. Such emotion was swirling, such sincerity. But the same deep, sultry voice was there, no longer bland.

My mind reached out to him, without my consent, wanting more than anything to say 'yeah, you too.' But I'd be damned before I did that.

Now he whispered into my ear again, teasing this time. Jovially content; devious. Now he was the same as I'd remembered him. None of this 'caring' business was to be had. He wasn't suppose to.

But now he teased me about my lack of response. Just those insults and devilish personality (which I liked to think were only displayed so affectionately for me) made me indignant and flustered.

I'd be damned, I said, before I answered him. Instead I felt hot tears forge a path down my rosy cheeks. Somehow, the atmosphere changed.

He was instantly alert. And there was a soft comfort in the breath I felt against my ear. There was a unbearable relief in the feather light caress against my cheek.

Hey now idiot, he soothed. It made me curl in on myself, to hear that rare note of concern in his voice. I choked back a sob embarrassingly. He smoothed my hair back and softly whispered those damned words again. There was no doubting them.

Shut up already.

You are mine.

Always. He didn't voice the last word. But I knew it was part of the statement anyways. And there was no better way to express himself. That was why it was so utterly beautiful and meaningful. It was his form of comfort.

He was just there, being.

So I closed my eyes gratefully, leaning into his invisible touch. I mumbled, defiantly at first, but definitely mushy towards the end.

" Yeah, you too."

My voice was so warm, it was embarrassing. Even with my attempted aloofness. It was honey-doused.

I fell prey to a skillfully quick sleep. I knew that he wouldn't be here in the morning, in the light of the day.

I knew that he was dead, and I knew that I was insane if my weary brain imagined touches and words that were not there. Imagined him, his face and glowing eyes.

But I also knew that even in death, maybe something still connected us.

After all, I was his.

And Ikuto was mine.

WOO. OOC? Drabble-licious? Yeah, I know. I don't even know...I'm not that far into the series. And yes, Ikuto is dead in this ficcy. Ugh. Um. Comment? Let me know what I need to do better? Because really, this is my first Shugo Chara fic, and I find it's harder to write romance for series where romance is already a main player. Well, it's just easier for me to write romance when it's not hinted at as strongly. Mah, nevermind. Aha, anyway. Review! Sigh. I know it's rough, but I was bored. Thus, Ikuto and Amu. Yay.

Mucho love!