Author's note:

Authors' note: So, dear readers, I got my finals' results yesterday. And… (drumrollll)… je suis une bachelière. xD That means I passed my bac – high school's last and most important exam. (throws a party with KID-shaped cookies, Kaito-shaped cookies, Aoko-shaped cookies, Shinichi-shaped cookies, Ran-shaped cookies, Heiji-shaped cookies, Kazuha-shaped cookies, Mokona-shaped cookies… wait, how did those get there? well, prettu much everyone-shaped cookies. Want to come? Welcome!)

Disclaimer: I own a pretty good recipe of cookies. Apart from that, the air I'm breathing… (and even of that I'm not quite sure.)

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Edges

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Time after time it's about crossing the edges.

Heist after heist you fly to her window, knowing full well that this once there may very well be thirty policemen waiting there for your arrival; yet night after night she welcomes you alone, her arms around your neck and your mouth in her hair, as once again you cross the line together.

You know – you both know – the situation can't stand for a second.

You both know that one day you'll go just a little too far, and your careful little balance will start breaking much faster than it already does. Because it's all, all about crossing the edges, all about going off-balance, off-limits from the painstakingly thought-out definitions of love and hate and sex and duty, words of meaning that (the milky glow of her skin in the shades of the bedroom, the pools of frozen-blue water opening to stare at you and you're drowned, drowned, drowned under) suddenly find themselves meaning something entirely different.

You land nimbly on her balcony window and as you slide the pane open you see her stiffen. (Like everytime, like every damn time, the same motions endlessly repeated.) Files and folders and general paperwork pule up on her desk but you can see she wasn't working really, just trying to pretend this room isn't the third side of the coin.

Your steps carry you across the room, softly, swiftly, like threading on silk. Her profile barely turned to you. You stop by the desk, and she funally, finally looks up at you, so that in the perfect blue of her eyes you find a place you find a place to drown, die, and be born again.

Your gloved hand touches the desklamp's switch then turns it off. The room falls in blues and blacks, and you lean down to her.

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(sara-chan goes on partying with readers and reviewers and KID-shaped cookies, Kaito-shaped cookies, Aoko-shaped cookies, Shinichi-shaped cookies, Ran-shaped cookies, Heiji-shaped cookies, Kazuha-shaped cookies, etc. waves at computer)