A/N: I can't believe I forgot to do this, but better later than never, I suppose.

DISCLAIMER; KeedaxEmry does not own Kingdom Hearts. (...and no amount of wishing will change that)

Thank you to anyone who reviewed, it is very much appreciated. ^-^

~KeedaxEmry

We were silent on the car ride. Hayner usually couldn't stop talking whenever I was with him, but something seemed different about him today. He drove quickly, wildly, and he turned onto a dirt road that seemed to lead to nowhere. The ride was bumpy and jarring; I gripped the handle of the door as Hayner swerved the car into a small clearing. He parked, and turned the car off. It seemed harshly silent without the roar of the engine and the deafening rumbling of the road.

"What's this?" I asked.

I looked out to see a large lake. The sun shimmered on its surface, and ripples spread out from where a fish had jumped up to grab an insect or bug to snack on. No one was on the beaches, if you could call it that. There was only sharp rocks surrounding the lake; no sand, and no tourists.

"Cerulean Lake. I use to come here a lot when I was little…"

Hayner spoke quietly and gently, which was rather unusual compared to the tough, angry-sounding voice he usually used.

I continued to look across the lake; it was beautiful, but why did he bring me here?

I glanced over at him. His body was turned towards me, his seatbelt was even off, but his eyes were casted downwards. His face looked torn.

"I—" he started to say. He shook his head. "I….wanted to…." He forced these words out from in-between his clenched teeth. He frowned, his face expression saying "Idiot! Idiot!"

Suddenly, I felt really, really awkward, so I turned away from him to stare out the window, and pretended that I didn't hear him say anything.

After a few moments of silence, he said, "I got you this."

A small box landed in my lap. I opened it to reveal a checkered black-and-white bracelet. I slipped it on; it was smooth, and it fit me perfectly.

"Thanks Hayner."

"No prob." He tapped the steering wheel.

"Where's Olette and Pence?"

"They're meeting us there." He started up the car.

That was weird, I thought as we drove off, although I didn't say anything.

We drove for a few more minutes, re-entering the highway and coming to a city.

I grew really anxious after we drove past a police car. They were bound to notice Hayner's reckless driving, or they might see how young Hayner is, or they could be sitting in their little cars, eating and chatting happily, when they see a driver not wearing his or her seatbelt. They'll flash their red-and-blue lights and pull up behind us to see a young boy smirking into the rearview mirror and—

"Will you relax?"

"I'm fine," I pouted.

Hayner shook his head very slightly, his lips turning upwards in a small smile.

Somehow we weren't pulled over. Hayner took a quick turn and the car stopped with a jerk.

"C'mon." He pulled his car door open.

We were at a plain white building. The windows were dark and I couldn't tell what it was.

Pence and Olette were already waiting for us; they were standing next to the door, which read "OPEN."

"Hi guys," Pence said, straightening.

"'sup?" Hayner pulled something out of his jeans' pocket and waved it around smugly. He handed each of us one.

It was a small plastic card. "….height….age….weight….Hayner, are these fake IDS?" I stared incredulously at the small picture of myself and at my age: 21.

He grinned.

"Hayner!" Olette exclaimed. "I thought this was a kid-friendly bar!"

"Where's the fun in that?" Hayner asked.

At the same time, Pence asked, "Do they even have those?"

"Wait, this is a bar?" I blinked.

They didn't even look towards me. "This is wrong," Olette frowned.

"We're not going to get drunk or anything," Hayner scowled back at her.

"How do you know that?"

Hayner smirked. "Calm down, geez."

"This isn't like breaking a school rule! This is illegal, it is against the law!"

Hayner shot me a knowing look, like we were privy to an inside joke. "It'll be fine. Come on already."

Olette pointed her finger at him. "No. You may have gotten me to do stupid things in the past, but you can't make me do this."

Hayner shrugged. "Suit yourself. Roxas, Pence, and I will have fun without you."

He reached for the door; Pence and I took an uncertain step towards him.

"No!" Olette cried out. "Pence, Roxas, don't be morons! You don't have to do everything he says!" She paused. "Hayner, please, can we forget this whole thing?"

"I already signed us up."

"You can't do that!"

"You're right, but I can sign us up when I get in there."

Olette sighed in exasperation. "I'm getting a cab home. Come if you want."

She turned on heel, and, for a split second, she glanced at us from the corner of her eye, to see if we were following her. We weren't. She marched away.

"Uh, sorry—" Pence ran after her, shooting us an apologetic look.

And they were gone.

"Um, why are we going to a bar?" I asked after a second.

"Because," Hayner opened the door, "they have karaoke."

Circular tables with lamps crowed the dimly lit room; somehow, the light appeared to glow a purple hue. At the far corner was a stage, and to the left was the bar.

A few people shot us weird looks as we walked in, but most of them just kept drinking from large, frothy mugs.

I followed Hayner to where he hopped onto a bar stool. I slowly sat down next to him.

A waiter wearing a black bow-tie started to walk towards us.

I grabbed Hayner's arm, hissing, "I'm not so sure about this. We're going to get cau—"

I abruptly stopped talking as the waiter cleared his throat. Hayner and I looked up at the tall man; I smiled nervously and Hayner beamed at him.

"Can I see some identification please?" he asked.

Hayner flashed our fake IDs, smiling kindly at the man.

He looked at them carefully for a few moments while I sweated and fidgeted, then he gave them back to Hayner. "Alright, sir."

"Told you it'd work," Hayner said once the waiter was gone.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered darkly, my heart already pumping at its normal rate.

"Can I get two Framboises please?" Hayner waved the bartender over. The bartender quickly set the drinks down-two champagne glasses filled with red liquid-and took Hayner's money.

"What are you doing?" I asked, flabbergasted as Hayner took a sip.

"Mmmm, fruity."

"Are you insane?" I seethed. "You have to drive me home!"

Hayner looked at me coolly, the rim of the glass perched on his lips. "That's what you're worried about?"

I nodded as he continued to sip at the drink; he swiveled in the stool, and bent over something. He turned back to me, grinning. "I signed us up for karaoke."

"What?"

I cannot control Hayner for the life of me.

"Are you going to drink that?"

"No!"

"C'mon, it's your birthday."

"That doesn't make me want to drink! Do you know how bad alcohol is for you? It effects your liver, your heart, your memory, your judgment."

Hayner, still turned towards me, reached for his drink. A hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed the glass, pulling it away from him. His hand fumbled at the open air. "What—"

That's when we noticed the man sitting next to Hayner. The man had a red cloak on that hid half of his face. He was wearing gloves with the fingers cut off, and his hair was blonde and it stuck up as much as mine does.

"What are you doing?" Hayner asked angrily.

"You should listen to your friend," the man said. His voice was deep.

Hayner puffed up. "I don't take orders from the likes of you."

The man took a swing from his own glass-it looked like whiskey-and Hayner snatched his Framboise back.

"Fine, drink it." He took another gulp. "Everyone else here might let an idiot teenager get drunk without batting an eye, but I can't stand it."

Hayner took a large swing in defiance, and I found myself gripping his arm again. "Hayner, stop it!"

The man nodded towards me from behind his glass. He regarded Hayner unsympathetically. "Keep it up, kid, and you're going to end up killing yourself and your friend in a car crash."

He finished his drink, setting it down on the counter with a loud 'clunk' and walking out of the bar.

Hayner grumbled darkly to himself and downed the rest of his drink, already reaching for mine. I was looking around, but I saw the movement. I grabbed his wrist.

"Don't."

He let go of my drink, still muttering.

A girl-well more like a woman-sat down next to me. She had curled black hair that spread out over her shoulders. She wore a white tank-top and tight, black jeans. The glitter on her tank-top danced wherever the light touched them.

She smiled at me, showing off her perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.

"My name's Monike," she chimed. "I haven't seen you here before."

She had the stool turned so that her knees were almost ramming into my side.

"I'm Roxas," I said after a second, turning away from her. Hayner was leaning back on his seat, seeming deathly bored.

"You're not going to drink that, are you?"

I shook my head.

Her hand snaked around my glass, the scarlet liquid swirling in lazy circles and her perfect crescent fingernails forming a ring around the glass's base.

She took a tiny sip. "Did you sign up for karaoke?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"Can I sign up for you?"

"No."

"Do you like to sing?"

"No." This woman can't take a hint.

"Then why'd you come?"

I shrugged.

"Do you like to drink?"

You're drinking my Framboise, so what do you think? Stupid, ditzy woman. "No."

More tiny sips. "Were you dragged here against your will?"

"No."

"By your friend there?" Monike winked towards Hayner. He ignored her.

"Sure."

"Ha!" She grinned in triumph. "I got you to say something else."

I blinked in response.

"Your friend's pretty cute."

I tapped my fingers against the bar counter.

"But you're cuter," she whispered, her lips almost grazing my ear, and her breath hot.

I jumped up. How'd she get that close to me in a split second? I shuddered to myself, unnerved.

Monike laughed. "I'm sorry."

I sat back down after getting weird glances from people. I scooted closer to Hayner and further away from Monike. "I'm taken, sorry," I managed to say.

"Oh? I get it now." She sipped at my drink, and threw her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her neck. "Your boyfriend brought you here. That's a bummer."

I realized what she was saying, and color flooded my face. "No! I have a girlfriend, she's just not here!"

I think Monike and I were entertaining Hayner; he was watching us, amused.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes!"

"Why are you here then?"

"My friend brought me here to celebrate my birthday."

"Ok." She held her hands out in a shrug. "So you don't—"

"No!"

She stretched as if tired, and peered at me through her eyelashes. "I was going to ask 'you don't want to talk to me?'."

"Oh…" I said, taken aback. "Well, I—"

"Whatever. Is your friend available?"

"Um—"

She was already over there.

Her and Hayner flirted mindlessly for a little while, although Hayner seemed to be looking at me more than her.

"Let's go somewhere," Monike giggled.

Hayner glanced at me. "I think—"

"Number 24? Your song is 'I'm so Excited' by the Pointed Sisters," someone announced.

Hayner smiled at me. "That's us."

"The Pointed Sisters?" I asked disgustingly.

Hayner grabbed my hand, and dragged me towards the stage. "I didn't pick the song."

Believe it or not, but Hayner seemed drunk. After one drink. He seemed to be in a great mood, and he spoke louder and closer to my face. And he was overly touchy. I dropped his hand as we walked onto the stage.

"Hayner, I don't want to—"

"Shush, the music's startingggg," his voice slurred.

It was. Hayner and I leaned towards the lone microphone, our heads close together while we squinted at the small TV set up in front of us. Words began to pop up on the screen: color moved across them, showing you the timing.

Hayner started singing, a little late, "Tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen, tonight we'll put all other things aside. Give in this time and show me some affection, we're going for those pleasures in the night."

I let Hayner sing, only mouthing the words as he sang enthusiastically; he must really be drunk.

"I want to love you, feel you, wrap myself around you. I want to squeeze you, please you, I just can't get enough."

Hayner grabbed the microphone, pulling it towards his mouth. He was so off-key, it was actually pretty funny. And it was hard to tell what he was saying. I'm sure people were laughing to their friends as he kept at it.

When the song finally ended, Hayner was hiccupping and slurring his words worse than before. I helped him wobble off the stage.

I decided that it was time to go, and led Hayner outside.

"You know I hate it when you get drunk," I said as we walked outside.

Hayner stepped up to his car, but I stopped him. "Why can't I dwive?" he immediately whimpered.

"You are in no condition to drive. I'll call my mom to come get us."

"We're all ze way in Shelbyville," Hayner hiccupped. "And my carrrrr!"

"Quit whining. It's your own fault," I said, my phone already pressed to my ear.

It rang on unendingly.

I hung up with a click. "She's not answering," I said annoyed.

"You could dwive."

I shook my head. "What now?"

I guess our only option was to wait for her to call back…What do we do in the meantime?

Going across the street to a café for dinner was Hayner's suggestion.

We sat at a table, nibbling on food; I'd call my mom every five minutes, but she still wasn't picking up.

Hayner pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and I quickly confiscated it. That's how he got drunk. Hayner has a drinking problem. I think the reason for it is his parents…they never talk to him, and they basically spend all their time going out of their ways to ignore him. He started drinking to get attention, which I guess didn't really work because his parents don't give a damn what he does or doesn't do. It did get my attention, though. He was sleeping over at my house, something he does a lot since he hates going home, and he brought a bottle of wine that he had stolen from his dad. I freaked out, and grabbed it out of his hands before he could drink any. 'What do you think you're doing?' I asked 'We'll get in trouble!' He told me not to worry, that it had a low alcohol content, etc. I dumped it down the drain. He was pissed…but he got over it. Ever since then, I've known about his "drinking history." I hate his drinking, so I made him quit. Or so I thought.

"Zat's mine!" he whined.

"You stopped drinking, remember?"

"Just givvve it back!"

He made a grab for the flask but I shoved it in my pocket. "You've already had too much. You can't even talk properly."

"I ha one dwink! How is zat too much?"

"Apparently it is."

I drained the last of my coffee, dialing my home phone number again. It rang four times and cracked with static when my mom finally answered.

"Hello?" she sobbed.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

"Roxas," she sniffed. "I'm fine."

"What happened?" I asked urgently.

"Nothing." Her tears seemed to have stopped.

"What happened?" I repeated. "Did grandpa die?"

"No, honey. Everything's fine."

I wasn't convinced, but she changed the subject.

"Your messages said that you and Hayner need a ride home?"

"Yeah. Hayner's, um, incapacitated and I can't drive."

"One second." I heard her talking to my dad. He sounded angry. "Roxas?" she returned.

"Yeah?"

"Is it possible for you to find a different way home? Or maybe stay the night there?"

"Why? There's no other way for us to get home!"

"Well, your father and I are very tired…"

"It's only a fifteen minute drive!" I snapped.

I could practically hear her wince over the phone; I never raise my voice at her. "I'm sorry," I quickly added.

"You could walk?"

"It's pitch black outside. And freezing."

"I…" There was some static, and I could hear my dad yelling. It sounded like 'irresponsible.'

"Roxas?"

It was my dad. He sounded furious.

"Yeah?" I asked cautiously.

"You got yourself over there, so you're going to get yourself back."

"But—"

"No," he said in warning. "You listen here, young man. Your mother is in no condition to drive and I'm not going to chaffer you and your friend's lazy asses around everywhere when I have work to do. You're practically an adult, and it's time to start acting like one."

Dial tone.

I angrily shoved my phone in my pocket. "Looks like we're stuck here." I paid the bill and we walked outside.

"Zat sucks."

"I know," I sighed. "How much money do you have on you?"

"Umm…twentyyy…" He leaned against me, almost falling.

"And I have five. That gets us nowhere."

"I half zis."

"Zis" turned out to be Hayner's silver credit card. His father gave it to him so that Hayner would stop asking for money.

We walked into the nearest hotel. People were probably really worried to see two teenage boys, one drunk and one livid, asking for the cheapest room.

We charged money onto the credit card to get a dingy hotel room. A "dingy hotel room" is the equivalent of: one bed, one TV, an empty mini fridge, and a tiny bathroom complete with tiny bottles of shampoo and scratchy gray towels.

"I can't believe him," I growled, sitting down on the bed. "Who the hell would do that? What kind of father would abandon his kid like that? What was he so mad about anyway? I'll give him something to be angry about. That—" I stopped my rant early. "Hayner?"

He seemed to have disappeared…..no, he was throwing up in the bathroom. That's what he gets.

I sat back on a pillow, turning the TV on.

"…his comments were that the fire was purely an accident, caused by bad wiring in the kitchen. But his headmaster—"

Booooooooring news. Click.

The next channel as a cooking show-"Everything and Anything Lobster!"-click.

There's never anything good on. I pushed the quilt and sheet to the foot of the bed and laid down, turning the lamp off so the blue light of the TV flickered into the darkness. Hayner's probably passed out in the bathroom right now; I can have the bed. Lucky me.

I closed my eyes while some celebrity wailed over her lost Chihuahua. Blah, blah, blah. I turned to my side, stretching.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my cheek. I blinked. Hayner was standing next to the bed, looking down at me. I pushed his hand off me. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Done throwing up?"

"Roxasss."

He crawled into bed next to me, forcing me to scoot over as far as the bed would allow. "Hayner, you can sleep on the floor."

"Nooo, ivy waf too be wif oo," he garbled.

He inched over to me, and wrapped his arms around me. "G-Get off!" I tried to push him off, but he clung on to me. It was too hot; too many blankets on the bed, Hayner emitting as much heat as a mini sun. "Get off!" I demanded.

Hayner's face was right next to mine. I felt...more than a little uncomfortable, so I twisted away until I had some breathing room. I didn't get far before he leaned closer to me, and pressed his lips on mine. I blushed, the blood pounding in my ears, and tried to push him away. His lips moved across mine while I thrashed in the bed. The smell of alcohol burned my nose and it was getting hard to breathe. He stopped kissing me, but he stayed where he was, his arms wrapped around me, his eyes closed, and his face tranquil.

I struggled. Hayner was too strong; I could barely move. I gave up, letting my body go stiff. Hayner's breathing became deeper and more rhythmic after a few minutes, and I jumped out of the bed, turning the lamp on.

"Vat ze ell are oo doinggg?" Hayner asked, sounding both groggy and drunk.

"I should be asking you that!"

"Huh? Vat'd I do?"

"You….you…"

Hayner opened his eyes slowly. "Heyyy, Roxas, oo look gate in zat—" He passed out.

What. The. Hell. Just. Happened?

I yanked a pillow off the bed and laid down on the floor. I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried. It was either the annoying voices coming from the TV, the stiff carpet poking my aching back, the sound of Hayner snoring, the glare of the digital alarm clock, the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the cold, September air, or the weird thoughts circling in my mind. I mean, was this Hayner being a weird drunk….or does he like me o—

He's drunk. That's all.

But, some irritating voice in the back of my mind whispered, he acts different when he's around you. He gives you his full-attention, something he never does with Pence or Olette. His eyes linger on you, and he loathes Naminé, because he's obviously jealous.

Shut up, my normal voice thought.

It's true, don't deny it, the voice breathed.

I stood up. I will get some sleep. Because the thought that Hayner might have feelings for me was ridiculous, ludicrous; all he needed was to sober up, and all I needed was some sleep. Yes, perfectly reasonable.

I located the remote and turned it to a music channel because music always helps me fall asleep. I turned the thermostat up until the vent was humming and the room quickly became toasty. I washed my face, scrubbing every pore until all the sweat and grim disappeared. I made sure to twist the handle hard enough to make the water stop dripping. A few towels laid on the counter, looking crumpled and forgotten; once they were folded in a neat pile, everything looked much, much better. A disposable cup sat next to the coffeemaker, and, assuming it was Hayner's, I threw it out, and got a new one. It might have been small, but it still provided the gulp of ice cold water that I needed. I set my phone down near the soap, after reading a text message from my mom that apologized. I got lost in my reflection for a moment (I looked so worn out...), but the scream of a guitar brought me back to my senses. The volume on the TV was probably up too loud, making everything else seem quieter in contrast, although I wasn't too worried that it would wake Hayner up any time soon. Sighing, I emptied his flask, watching the amber liquid swirl down the drain with a 'guhguhguh' kind of noise. I unplugged the clock so I couldn't see how late it was (1:17) and denied the urge to go tidy things up further. Instead, I pulled the top blanket off the bed, curling up on the floor with my eyes closed tightly.

The TV wasn't annoying me, the floor seemed somewhat comfortable, Hayner wasn't snoring, the clock was peacefully blank, the faucet was quiet, and I wasn't cold, but I still laid there, wide awake.

It was torture; time ticked by slowly. Seconds turned into minutes which then turned into hours.

I buried my face underneath the blanket. Sleep, I demanded.

...I couldn't breathe. I pulled the blanket off my face, taking a deep breath. My arm is falling asleep. I rolled to my other side, my arm tingling. Now I was getting a leg cramp.

I groaned, sitting up. It was still dark, but it had to almost be morning. Right?

I got up, turning the coffee pot on. Soon there was a cup of black coffee in my hands. And another.

I sipped it quicker than I should have, and it burned my throat. I kept at it anyway.

Hayner woke up around eight because I turned the volume on the TV up all the way. It felt good to see him jump.

"Turn it down!" he yelped. "God, my head freakin hurts…"

I turned it down a little and Hayner got out of bed, his hair a bird's nest.

"Do you want me to order breakfast?"

"Don't talk so loud." He rubbed his head.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Just toast and orange juice."

I picked up the phone and ordered. It's a good thing that the breakfast is complimentary, I don't want Hayner's parents getting angry at the two of us for spending too much money. Not that they would notice. Hayner doesn't seem to remember last night at all; he's currently staring at the TV with a blank look on his face. If he doesn't remember…I guess I could just pretend that nothing ever happened….I don't know if that's a good thing or not….

"Why didn't we just go home yesterday?" he asked.

"You were wasted."

"Oh yeah," he yawned. "It's your birthday!"

"Yeah, I guess so."

I sat on the bed and Hayner scooted closer to me. I quickly stood up.

He smirked at me. "I wasn't going to hit you. I was going to give you your birthday present."

I lifted my arm, letting my bracelet slide halfway down.

"Not that."

He proceeded to give me an Xbox game from my favorite series.

"Thanks, this is great!" I grinned.

"Glad you like it." He smiled sheepishly at my enthusiasm.

Breakfast came shortly afterwards and we drove home. Hayner kept the conversation going between us, with me supplying some "uh-huhs" here and there. I arrived home to find a giant, pink cake sitting on the kitchen counter. It was circular with two layers. It was swimming in strawberry frosting, proclaiming "Happy Birthday!" with flowers and multicolored sprinkles surrounding it. It had my mom written all over it.

I scooped a bit of frosting on my finger and tasted it. My mom, as if on cue, appeared, hitting my hand with a wooden spoon.

"Not until tonight!"

"Tastes good, mom."

"Oh thank you," she smiled proudly. "It was suppose to be a surprise, but you arrived home earlier than I thought…" She lowered her voice. "I'm sorry about last night, your father was dealing with a very tough client, and he got upset and overreacted. It's all my fault, really. But you understand, don't you?"

"Sure, sure, I understand….wait, how is it your fault?"

"I forgot to give your father papers the client needed…anyway," she clapped her hands together. "It's your birthday, so how do you want to celebrate?"

I shifted my weight to my other foot. "You're feeling better?"

"Like a tulip in April!"

I laughed at her old saying; she did seem to be back to her old self for the most part. The tip-offs: the flush in her cheeks, her large grin, her bright eyes, and the way she was making everything sound more exciting than they actually were.

"Could we go to the aquarium?"

She was delighted at the idea. We spent the day there, looking through glass at brightly colored fish, jellyfish, seahorses, eels, sharks, manatees. We even went to the dolphin show and got soaked. (I was laughing at my mom because she got drenched. Next thing I know, I'm also sitting there dripping and we're both laughing our heads off.)

It reminded me of how we use to come here every Tuesday, when kids' admissions are free. My dad would even come. Of course, he couldn't make it today because he's sleeping-I mean working-at his office.

That night, my mom made a big production. She had me sit at the table next to my dad (he just randomly showed up. Him: "I wouldn't want to miss my son's birthday!" Me: "What about your work?" Him: "Workshmerk. It's your big day, and, besides, the boss'll understand, he has a son himself." ) with all the lights off. She carried my cake in, the top of it lit up brilliantly with fifteen candles. I blew them out, making one wish: Please, God, protect her. Make her healthy again…like how she is today.

The rest of the night went amazingly well. Eating cake, opening presents, the works. My dad joked around with my mom and me…like a part of the family. It was a big improvement compared to yesterday. For this one night, we were the perfect family: my mom and dad held hands, all of us smiling and laughing and enjoying each others' company as we celebrate my birthday. It only comes once a year, you know.

My dad is grinning, squeezing my mom's shoulders. She looks up from where she is sitting and her eyes glisten. It's like in a movie, where the camera does a close up of the hero and the heroin; the heroin blushes as the hero leans down to kiss her. She realizes that she is falling deeply in love with him. They embrace, and the music swells up and the ocean sprays over head. They pull apart, only to fall back into each other's loving arms. That's how my mom and my dad are looking at each other. Usually I think that is terribly cliché, but for once, it makes me feel at ease.

My dad is going to bed, and my mom says that she will join him shortly.

My mom looks at me. The house is dark, and it's really late. The three of us have been sitting here talking for quite some time now. If I blink, I'll fall asleep, considering I got next to no sleep last night. But I will stay here with her.

"Did you have a good birthday, Roxas?"

"Yeah," I sighed happily.

My mom looked at her wedding ring, her hair falling in-between her fingers. "I think things are going to get better. We can start over, we can be a real family." She wiggled her fingers at me. "What do you think?"

"I think you're right."

She stood up. "I'm going to bed. And you should too. You look like a zombie." She giggled. "And you have school tomorrow."

"Ok, good night."

"Good night, sweet dreams."

She walked out of the kitchen only to stick her head back in the doorway. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mom."

And we smiled genuine smiles and we each fell into our beds to sleep soundly, deeply, and my dad hugged my mom and my mom hugged my dad and everything was going to be ok. Everything was great: Naminé's my perfect, caring girlfriend, Hayner's (just) my loyal, best friend, Pence and Olette are always there for me, my dad has gone from workaholic to perfect father/husband, and my mom is her lively, cheerful self. How could it get any better?