Disclaimer: Akira Amano owns Katekyo Hitman REBORN!, the world is somewhat loosely based off of the YouTube video "Draw With me," and the plot is pretty much based on the two Vocaloid songs "Prisoner" by Len Kagamine and the song "Paper Plane" by Rin Kagamine.

Claimer: I own the OCs

Warnings: AU. Mukuro MIGHT be OOC-depending on your view-at certain times.

Pairings: MukuroOC

(-) = Translation (Translation found at end of chapter)

[][] Ellie [][]

Today is a weekend for me, and I've been spending most of it with my mother.

It's obvious that she's happy that we were able to spend time together. She must've been feeling lonely what with me leaving a bit after school to go and visit Mukuro—although she doesn't know that. I should probably feel guilty about going over to see him, but I don't. It's probably because I don't even think about how wrong it is. I just go with the flow and do as I please since I'm a good daughter who's allowed to do as I please.

If I really think about it, I've never done anything bad beside this one thing of visiting a murderer.

"I'm going to go and catalogue some ravens," I tell my mother, finishing the chore of putting dishes away. I wipe my hands on a towel, turning to my mom and saying, "I'll be back in two hours, okay? Wish me luck on finding some ravens, though!"

My mother gives a tired smile, running her hand over my cheek as she kisses my forehead and says, "Don't be out too late, (-) preziosa."

"I won't, so I'll see you later," I say, happily leaving the kitchen so my mom can go into the living room to have a break and watch some of her drama shows.

As I leave town, I wave at people I know—which is quite a bit of waving on my part. After all, everyone knows everyone in this small town. I have my sketchbook tucked under my arm so no one questions me about what I'm doing. Before now I have been known to try and draw birds, but people have quickly found out I'm not very good at drawing. But I keep practicing. But as of late I haven't had time to practice because I visit Mukuro.

When I showed that blue-haired teen my drawings, he simply laughed and said they looked terrible. I don't mind his being blunt since he's right.

As I walk along the glass, I hold my hand out to grab some tall grass. Some of the blades I can't pull out because they're rooted too deeply in the ground, others actually sort of scratch my hand, and then the others I actually pull out I immediately drop back down onto the ground again. Being able to come out and walk through nature and this supernatural wall makes me… appreciate life, or find it rather ironic. I never knew that something looking man-made could look so natural amongst nature. It's like glass walls have always been in fields of grass.

I find the crack in the wall that Mukuro has been chipping at. I run my fingers over it again, trying to see if I can feel the blemish in the smooth and clear glass. But as always, there's nothing I actually feel. If I do sense a slight bump, it's only my imagination. I sit down, eyes staring at the crack.

What was I expecting from it? All I know is that Mukuro is making little chips fall off every time we meet, but… wouldn't this crack eventually reach my side of the glass? And wouldn't it start getting bigger? What would Mukuro do if that were to happen?

I must have been wondering about it for a while, trying to imagine what would happen because I'm then distracted by a dark figure coming from my left in my peripheral vision. I turn to see the trident-bearing teen coming my way with a smirk on his face, as usual. I give him a bright smile, lifting my hand and showing it to him as my wave.

With a chuckle he inquires, "Having fun with your mother? I wonder if she knows where you've been going."

"She thinks I'm cataloging ravens," I answer Mukuro, telling him of my lie without shame. "Do you want to be a raven for me? I'm not very good at drawing, as you know."

Sitting down, Mukuro laughs as he asks, "What makes you think I want someone drawing me badly? It's hardly flattering."

"Maybe because I'm not charging you money for a good picture," I answer. The pineapple-shaped-haired boy laughs as he says, "I wasn't looking for an answer, but that is a good point. I don't care what you do."

It was weird, hearing Mukuro laugh like this. He must be in a good mood. As I flip open my sketch book, I glance up at him as I pull out a pencil from my large pocket from my jacket. I start going toward the back of my book as I look up to Mukuro and ask, "Are you happy that you were able to be on this side because of Chrome?"

"I would be happy if I didn't think it would happen but it did. But seeing as I expected it to work, I would say I'm more triumphant than happy," Mukuro points out. "I'm much more successful in what I do than you think."

As I start to draw the outline of Mukuro's hair, I say, "When did I say I thought you were bad at what you do?"

The illusionist doesn't grace my question with an answer, just throwing me a rueful smirk that I don't see because I had actually managed to throw one of his own twisted questions at him. Maybe he's rubbing off on me since I'm asking questions that would make him shut up.

I'm hoping that as the sound of the wind making the grass rustle doesn't make things tense between us because of my question. It's apparent now that if I do something like that, he won't want to talk. I've got proof seeing as he's not saying anything right now. But he's watching me draw; I know that, as I glance up at him often as I continue to try drawing his head.

A while passes by like this with me trying to draw a silent Mukuro with his ever-present smirk on his face. When I do manage to at least finish up his head, I pull my arm away to marvel at my masterpiece. But it's no masterpiece at all. It looks pretty bad. The surprising thing is, though, I actually think I drew his eyes and smirking mouth almost to perfection. I hold the page, with his head on it, up against the glass so he could see it.

Laughing, Mukuro insults me again by saying, "You have no talent for drawing and yet you still continue to do it?"

"I'm a lot better than I used to be."

That earns another laugh from the teen in front of me, separated by a glass wall. I'm not insulted, though, even though he's being incredibly condescending despite the fact he's laughed more than I've heard him laugh. I lower the paper from the glass and close my sketchbook. I wasn't going to attempt drawing his body because I would somehow disfigure him that much I know.

When he's done with his little laughing fit, my hand slowly comes up and settles just below the crack on the wall, my eyes watching my fingers as they lightly move back and forth to feel the cool surface of glass. I heave a sigh and then ask, "Why are we making this crack in the wall bigger?"

"Because I plan on breaking this wall when that's big enough," Mukuro laughs again.

I chuckle nervously, not sure if he was kidding or being serious and laughing because I didn't know that answer already. Mukuro wouldn't actually plan on breaking the wall though, would he? Nothing like that has ever been heard of. People don't even want to know what could happen to someone who escapes Vendicare. As far as the general public knows, it's never happened before.

I see a black gloved hand come up and settle on the other side of the glass right where my hand is. I let my eyes look over to Mukuro, who is looking at either our hands or the crack in the wall. I tilt my head, wanting to ask about what he's thinking about. But chances are if I try to find that out he'll get angry with me and start asking me things that will make me shut up.

When mis-matched eyes glance over to look at me, I stare for a quick second longer before moving my gaze back to our hands. I heave a sigh, wondering why we're not talking. It seems like we should be having this quiet moment where we know what the other is thinking about without having to ask, but we're not. We're just in this mildly comfortable silence.

I will never know what Mukuro's thinking, and he can probably wander to guess what's on my mind easily. If I think about it, I'm not dreadfully complicated to figure out.

But maybe that's why this illusionist can't figure me out—although I don't know that tidbit. He can't comprehend that I don't have a thought process behind every little thing I do.

The glass has become warm through my hand. It would be nice to wish that it was Mukuro's body heat that warmed it up, but that's just wishful thinking. I'm starting to think that he doesn't deserve to be on that side of the wall, but he does. Just because he's been nice to me in his own little cruel way doesn't mean he didn't commit the murder of his family. I still have to be aware of that.

"What's it like on that side of the wall?"

"Why don't you kill your mother and find out instead of wondering?"

My eyes quickly glance over to Mukuro who's smirking widely. There it is. Now I'm again reminded that he fully deserves to be on that side of the wall, in Vendicare. He chuckles, knowing fully well that he had crossed the line in answering me with that questioning suggestion. I drop my hand from the wall and set it on the ground, leaning my body against my arm. Mukuro's own hand drops from the wall, setting it on the ground behind him as well.

"I have friends here. Even we can be friendly. But maybe that's another reason why we fully belong over here," Mukuro answers for real this time. But I can tell he's only telling me a very small grain of a full truth. "Tell me, what is it like to write an essay for your English class?"

"An essay for English?" I ask with some confusion. "I don't know. I try putting it off as much as I can before I start researching the subject. That part can be fascinating if it wasn't work. Then while I'm putting my structure together I think it's just time consuming. When I'm writing the actual paper, I don't think about it as it just sort of… flows onto paper. I think I fluff up a lot of stuff. It's boring and strenuous, but also busy if you think about it."

Mukuro was listening. I don't know why, but he was listening.

I can't possibly comprehend that something as simple as doing schoolwork was something that sort of appeals to this prisoner because of the fact that he's been stuck in Vendicare since he was a child. A wide variety of people went to Vendicare, so there might be the chance he had some math teacher that did a major wrong-doing teach him math, or a man with an English major teach him to read and write on a deeper level.

"On Wednesday, I'll be meeting you," Mukuro says. I can't help but ask, "Through Chrome?"

"Kufufu, maybe," he answers. "Or maybe I'm just saying I aim on being early because I have something to do later."

"Alright."

Mukuro raises an eyebrow, his smirk taking on a slightly lopsided turn to it. I think he might be disappointed that I didn't try asking about what he wanted to do on Wednesday that made him want to leave early and have to meet up with me early as well. But I knew I had no business in knowing, so why pry where I shouldn't?

"Will I have to drag her back to her house? That was really hard."

"Kufufu, weak, aren't you? Well, if she's as weak as I think she is, then yes. You'll have to carry her back."

"What if she's not as weak as you think?" I ask.

"Then I'll be able to control her long enough to get her back to her house," Mukuro answers. "I was so sure that was common sense."

"I guess I don't have a lot of that," I laugh lightly.

(-) = Precious

Hey guys! Sorry I don't update so much. I'm now working. And college will be starting soon, so chances are I won't be able to update even once a month. I deeply and sincerely apologize. I really love this series and all, but my Writing Muse tends to appear randomly and for very short periods of time. Otherwise, it's completely gone.

I apologize if this update seems more like rambling. I just felt like it might put more depth into Ellie, but now I'm not so sure. But I'm definitely hoping that if there is no depth there, it went straight into me showing you guys what Ellie and Mukuro's relationship is like as of this point in time.

Anyway! Leave a review! Constructive criticism is welcomed and wanted, but no flaming. It. Does. Nothing!