A/N. Rah. More WEWY Joshyme goodness. Oh yeah... and Pokemon reference. I stole Drew's patented hair flick for this. Sowwy, Drewwie.

This IS related to ROR (Rhyme over Reason, which shall be randomly referenced to), but not to any other WEWY fics I have written. This is parallel to A Lesson Well-Unlearned, though... so if you read that, forget it. It didn't happen in this story line. Reading ROR, however much I'd love you too (shameless story plugging), is not necessary. And if you have, be aware that this is NOT a humor fic. No way.

/--\ /--\ /--\

Chapter One

/--\

Girl in a Bar

/--\

Raimu Bito tucked a few stray golden strands of hair behind her ear, and pulled her lightweight white jacket over the graphic blue tank down. Just out of high school, just before collage- it was those long, uncertain few weeks between the last bit of childhood and the first real step towards adulthood. What better place than to spend those weeks on an unfamiliar beach in the summer?

Anywhere, that's where.

This- all of it- was unfamiliar to her. The beach scene, being out of school... having a boyfriend. Yeah. Tim was her late high school sweetheart- and the reason for her being here. Both at this tiny little beachside town... and standing in front of a shady building.

Pretty scary. Almost as scary as setting foot in a bar for the very first time, Rhyme thought, as she stared up at the neon sign that had been anchored haphazardly on the brick. Why am I even here, she lamented briefly.

Because I need to know where my boyfriend goes when he doesn't come home until the morning. What he does... that makes him smell of cheap perfume, smoke, and lies.

As her hand touched the doorknob, she considered abandoning this little 'mission' altogether. Ignorance is bliss, or so they say.

She blinked tired blue eyes. I have to know.

Taking in a deep breath, she pushed oven the door, and was quickly overpowered by the aura of the nightclub/bar. The air was filled with perfume, smoke, and the scent of alcohol. Girls not much older than herself and wearing less than a third as much clothing 'danced' (if one could call it that) with their boyfriends, girlfriends, and anyone who came close enough. Seated at the bar was a motley assortment of exhausted dancers, bad dancers, and men who looked like they had served time in jail.

All I need to do, she thought, is find Tim. Then I can leave.

Of course, this was far easier said than done. The will of the crowd seemed to have other plans for the 18-year-old: within the space of a minute, Rhyme found herself seated on a barstool. One empty seat away to her left sat a very drunk and silent man. She swallowed slightly, adjusting her black mini-skirt so she didn't look quite so slutty. This does not seem to be my night.

The person to her right spun around on the stool- blue jeaned knees brushed against her mainly bare thigh in a slightly unnerving way. "Hi there, sunshine. Buy you a drink? "

Rhyme turned, and studied this rather forward young man. He seemed to be about 20 years of age, dark blonde hair falling around his face. The corner of his mouth was twisted up in a small smirk, as if he was laughing at her misfortunate evening. Violet eyes watched her with a smoldering intensity over the rim of the martini glass.

He smiled casually, as if they were old friends chatting about the weather. "You seem like a strawberry daiquiri kind of girl. "

"Uh- y-yeah, sure, i guess... " Her voice trailed off weakly as he snapped over the bartender, turning away long enough to her to gather up her composure and scan the club again.

Still no sight of Tim, she concluded, feeling the stranger's eyes sweep up and down her body. There's something about him... She almost scowled with the nagging feeling she was forgetting something. I've seen him before- on Japan's most wanted, perhaps?

The barman handed her something slushy like and pink in a shapely glass. Absently, she sipped at the sweet, ice cold drink. Her face involuntarily screwed up at the alcohol hit the back of her throat like a tidal wave- she coughed slightly. He giggled, the sound disturbingly familiar.

"Ok, now I'm curious. What are you doing here? "

"Why-what do you mean? "

He flicked the bangs out of his face and spun around so his back was to the bar. "Well, you didn't come here to dance, you don't drink, and you don't seem to be very comfortable with me talking to you- that pretty much eliminates a desire to pick up guys or socialize. So... " He turned back around to face her, resting his elbow on the counter and sipping daintily at his martini, "What are you doing here? "

Rhyme was about to answer when a man's laugh rose above the noise of the other patrons. As one, the crowd parted for a moment to reveal a black haired man seated in a booth in the back. Beside him, a redhead wearing Daisy Duke-style jean shorts and a red bikini top giggled as she popped a cherry in his mouth.

"Looking for him, " the blonde female said quietly.

"Oh? Why? "

"He's my boyfriend... and I just... " She stopped. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be ranting out my problems to you, Mr... "

"Mr.? Who cares? Talk all you want. I'm just a guy in a bar- and you're just some random pretty girl. " He laughed, but his eyes sparkled softly with mild interest. "Go on. "

With some initial hesitation, she started to explain. "I may as well start from the beginning. When my parents decided I should go to private school instead of going to school with Beat- that's my brother, by the way. Well... Beat's his nickname. His real name is Daisuke- oh, wait, it's a secret. "

Her companion raised one eyebrow fractionally. Rhyme gave a nervous little chuckle that quickly faded. "Sorry. I shouldn't be- "

"I never said, 'stop', " he interrupted her, draining the last of his glass and snapping over the bartender to order another. "Go on. "

"Well, ok... Anyway, I didn't really want to go to private school- especially since my parents weren't making much money to start with. 'Pursue your dreams', they said, 'you're our hope for the future'. But... the thing was... I sorta lost my dreams in the- " She cut herself off suddenly. I swore I'd never tell anyone about the Game.. how much alcohol is in this thing? The blonde girl stared at the half-empty pinkish slushy beverage.

The man cleared his throat. She jumped slightly. "Oh. Right. Well, I felt really guilty about this whole thing... even more so because I knew Beat was gonna be miss me. Of course he has other friends and all, but he's really protective of me. "

"Most brothers are, " her one-person audience noted, absently touching his nose. "Sorry to interrupt- need a refill? "

Automatically handing her glass back to the bartender, Rhyme continued with her story. "When I got there, I felt so alone and... despised, almost. Like trash. But... Tim wasn't like the rest. He came from a kinda troubled family like mine, but... the only difference between him and me is he drinks and I... "

Her face reddened as she noticed the daiquiri in her hand. "...don't. I should go. " What am I doing? What have I done? I promised Beat I'd never drink.

Abruptly, she set down her drink and pushed herself off the stool. The man gave her a curious glance.

"Where are you going? Night's just starting. "

"Home. You're right- I don't really belong here. Thanks for the drink and for listening... sir. "

He smiled. "Thanks for brightening my evening... ma'am. "

Rhyme started for the door- he caught her arm gently. "You walking home? "

"Yeah. My friends dropped me off- It's just a couple blocks to my place. "

He rolled his eyes. "You're not from around here, are you? It's late- the streets are filled with the 'creatures of the night', if you catch my drift. You won't last 60 steps. I'll go with you. "

"Oh, you don't have to- " But he was already pushing the needed cash towards the bartender. "Yes, I do. I won't be able to sleep tonight, wondering if you made it home ok. "

She shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. Part of her wanted to risk it herself whether than trust some random guy who apparently tried to get her drunk, but her trusting side spoke first. "Thanks. "

He flicked his hair out of the way again. "It's nothing. "

Stepping out the doors, Rhyme paused nervously as she stared at the ominously dark streets. She couldn't have been inside for more than 30 minutes, but it had turned dark as a church bathroom. (Yes, that happened to me once- it was a powerout and we had to place candles on the little bench in the waiting area-thing. Oh yeah, and I sat on a candle and burned a hole in my jeans. True story. )

"So... does Tim come here often? "

He shrugged. "Pretty often- and it's always the same sort of thing. He comes in around 8:45, and orders a Coke and rum. About 20 minutes and 3 drinks later, he starts chatting it up with any slutty-looking girl in a 12-foot vicinity. He keeps up at that until he finds one who responds- usually about 7 minutes. Then he orders a round of drinks for her and any friends she has, tosses back a few shots, grabs a booth for some food, plays a few rounds of tonsil hockey, then leaves alone. "

Rhyme stared at him. "I happen to be very observant- will you cut that out? You're looking at me like I've sprouted wings. I haven't, have I? " His tone turned half serious at the end, and he threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Hahahaha... no. " She was tired, and feeling a little crazy. The moonlight was tinting the stranger's hair silver, and she swore she had seen him somewhere before. "No wings. "

/--\ /--\

Their conversation was casual, on the weather and favorite TV shows, and Rhyme presently relaxed. This stranger was right; more than once rather shady looking males cast their gaze in her direction thirstily and she was thankful to have a man to walk a little closer to- even if he was about her height when she was wearing stilettos.

As they came to the apartment where she lived with Tim, Rhyme turned to face him. "Thanks for walking me home. "

He smirked and shrugged. "What can I say? Chivalry's death has been greatly exaggerated. If you ever feel like talking again- " He turned and pointed to a tall cluster of beachside condos back the way they came, " I live over there. Number 273. Drop by anytime. "

"Ok. " She smiled. "Good night, ...sir. "

She turned around, fumbling with her key. "Goodnight, Rhyme, " he said softly.

Rhyme whipped around in shock, finding herself pinned against the wall behind her and his mouth closed over hers. His lips caressing hers with such passion, such affection, and such thrilling desire she shivered, feeling his warm body pressing against hers. One hand cupped her cheek gently, and his tongue slid across her lips easily. She flushed, letting him explore her mouth because she didn't really have the willpower to let him do anything else. Absently, she noted that alcohol tasted a lot better 'secondhand'.

Running her fingers though his silky hair, she was hit with a strong feeling of deja'vu. He was so achingly familiar... not to mention a really, really good kisser.

Then, three memories slash revelations hit her at once. One, she had a boyfriend, Two, he never kissed her like this, and Three, the stranger's identity.

The silver-haired man broke the kiss off, violet eyes almost glowing in the darkness. "Joshua... " She gasped, still breathless. He smiled slightly, then turned around and vanished into the night.

--

Do you like it? It's a big break from my other Joshyme, but... I like it.