A.N. So… yeah. It's been 15 months since my last update. And I used to think 3-4 month updates were a long time.

So why did I come back? I don't really know, to be honest. I just felt like writing again, and remembered this old story. No one probably cares about this story anymore (except "CecilliaxMax 4EVAH", who I thank for their encouragement), but I just feel like finishing it up. I figure it can't hurt.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, save an idea.

De Sainte-Coquille Mansion, Spring 11th, 11 a.m., Cecilia's P.O.V.

I reached over and grabbed another dirty plate from the pile beside me. Dipping it inside the tub of soapy water before me, I began to scrub ferociously at the sticky mixture of gravy, scrambled eggs, and grease which had anchored itself onto the plate. At first it resisted my constant scrubbings, clinging to the smooth porcelain surface as it was assaulted by the rough dish rag, but it eventually gave in, coming off in bits and chunks as the dish was plunged once more into the murky liquid. Lunch was in an hour and a half; the second largest meal of the day, yet I hadn't even finished cleaning up after brunch. Herman was not one to wait for his lunch….

At the thought of delaying Herman's lunch, I began to scrub harder; my arm burning as I chipped away at the residue. However, just as I was about to submerge the china once again, I heard another giggle bubble through the cracks of the double doors behind me; its resounding noise broken only by the clatter of porcelain upon the bottom of the tub. I scowled, sliding my arm across my sweaty forehead as a flare surged through my veins.

She was laughing again.

Reaching into the dirty water, I retrieved the ornate dish from the bottom of the tub, drying it with care before placing it upon the clean pile. Then, after placing the polished plate upon the nearby counter, I slowly outlined the Proof of Warrior in my pocket with my damp index finger; sparks igniting within my breast which I both embraced and resisted. Just my friend. My friend.

I continued to whisper that to myself as I reached for another plate, a sick feeling stirring inside my stomach as more of her noise was carried in from the outer room. She had been visiting Max a lot over the last few weeks; ever since she had arrived with Julia the day I lost my temper. Starting under the guise of business, her visits quickly became more frequent. And while I first paid little heed, her newfound tendency to laugh at his every word over these last few days suggested that her motives might be a bit more personal than she lets on.

A sigh slipped out from between my lips, dispersing itself into the fumes of the dish soap. I could never relax when she was near him. The impulse to break their conversation always overcame me whenever I passed near them together; my nerves always tensed, responses becoming brief and eyes averted.

I set down another spotless plate and grabbed a dirty glass, bathing it in the tub of chemicals before using a damp cloth to clean out the inside of the cup. The Flower Festival was nearing; the second most romantic festival of the year was only two days away. I had never really seen the appeal in the festival. Did the shedding of the trees' beautiful petals really require its own festival? People really thought the gliding of those silky petals through the air was romantic? The soft whisper of the wind in one's ear; the showering of crimson sunlight upon the one with whom you shared your affection; the serenity of a silent scene spent in pure ardor with the individual of your adoration; was it really…?

I felt my aching arm slow its movement at the thought of it all. I could almost see the pink petals falling around me, showing me in silk as I sat with….

For the second time that morning I heard the splash of glass striking the water as I reached for a towel, hurriedly drying the small pools of water which had rained down upon the dishes and counter. It wasn't like that. Not between us. I mean, he didn't think of me like that. I shouldn't think of him like that. And it wouldn't work. It shouldn't work. It couldn't work.

However, as I heard yet another giggle taunt me, I silently admitted to myself that I wish it could.

The plot has been set in motion; it's a downward slide from here, folks!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading. I realize my writing skills are probably a bit rusty from the year long hiatus, but hopefully it was at least tolerable. And as to this chapter itself, well, let's just say it's setting up the plot for the rest of the story, since I've received feedback that the story is progressing a bit too slowly.

Until next time.

-[Sir Gigous]-