A/N: HALO. Hee hee. This chapter is a happy and sad chapter at the same time. I hate it and love it. Mixed emotions drives me nuts. Buuut, it gets wayy more intense in this one so please read and review if ya want. ;)
Disclaimer: SilverSpark101 does not own Shugo Chara or any of the characters.
Chapter 11: Needs
"Sometimes, all a person needs is a hand to hold and a heart to understand.
But when they do have them, they crave more until they end up losing everything."
"Thank you." Amu's whisper came out dry and hoarse. Fragile and quivering.
However, it caught Ikuto's attention. He looked up, and stared at Amu's lifeless figure on the couch. Her strawberry pink hair was still damp and curled. Her strawberry pink lips were pressed together tightly, quivering with her jaw. Her honey-golden eyes were emotionless – fearful at most. Her dainty figure was wrapped in a heavy quilt, curled up on the black couch. She remained stoic, void of expression.
That was exactly how she had been for the past twenty minutes.
Ikuto had begun to wonder if she had been frozen in that permanent mold. But her small, hoarse whisper gave him some consolation.
Ikuto said nothing in response – only walked into the kitchen, picked up the steaming tea kettle from the stove, and poured it into a large mug. He placed a tea bag into the water, immediately dispersing swirls of flavor into the steaming clear liquid.
He walked into the living room, and brought the mug to Amu's lifeless figure on the couch. Her glazed stare was broken when she looked up at him, seemingly bewildered at the cup in his hand.
"No sugar," he said lowly, reassuringly.
And for some odd reason, those simple words reassured Amu completely.
She lifted her arms slowly, returning the blood flow to her poor frozen limbs. She wrapped her hands around the mug, and felt the warmth spread through her hands like a wonderfully warm, bittersweet remedy. She felt the brush of Ikuto's fingertip as she gingerly pulled the mug from his hands, and felt an extra touch of warmth as she brought the steaming dark liquid to her lips.
She took a small, dainty sip.
Immediately, her limp body was brought back to life.
Amu suddenly became very overwhelmingly aware that one of her best friends had just threatened her, and ran away without explanation. She also suddenly became aware that Ikuto was staring directly at her, from his standpoint by the window in her dimly lit apartment.
His navy blue, midnight eyes locked with hers tightly, unrelentingly. Amu felt a courage swell up inside her that she'd never felt before.
Built up anger, frustration, fear, aggravation…
Built up desire, attraction, passion, love…
Blend her colorful palette of emotions together, and what did she have?
"What are you… doing here?"
…An outburst of outrageous proportions.
"What… in the world… are you still doing here, Ikuto?"
Her voice was low and quiet, for her courage was quickly dwindling – every second that she suffered beneath his intense stare. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She looked down, and stared at the mug of tea in her quivering hands.
She breathed in, and held her breath.
You have to let it go, Amu.
It's time to let go.
"There's nothing for you here," she said quietly.
Ikuto remained silent, testing Amu's nerves. Her sanity was treading on thin ice, and if Ikuto didn't speak soon, Amu was sure to break. He stared at the skies of grey outside her window.
"I have my reasons." He said lowly, bluntly.
"Reasons?" Amu questioned, slightly angered. She set down her mug of tea on the table, and looked up at Ikuto. "What reasons, Ikuto? Why are you hiding from those people?"
Amu felt a cold shiver run through her body, and wrapped the blanket around her tighter. The silence of the room was more than she could take. Ikuto remained stoic, emotionless, staring at the grey skies. Amu clenched her fists.
"Of course, I don't expect an answer when I ask you a question, because you never give answers. I'll go on living with more questions than answers –"
"Those men tried to kill you, Amu."
Amu froze in place, and caught her tongue. She held her breath, staring at Ikuto in astonishment.
That night had been removed from her mind completely. Temporarily, every thought and memory of that fateful night had been forgotten, and Amu thought of nothing more than Ikuto's ignorance of her emotions.
"I… I-I… how… how do you know th-that?"
Ikuto looked down, finally, and remained emotionless. He said nothing – only gave Amu the most fervent, communicative, passionate look that she had ever received.
Amu felt like a fool. Furthermore, she felt frightened; she felt hunted. Ikuto had saved her life that night – now, he was trying to keep it safe. He was protecting her.
But…
No matter how hard she tried, Amu could not forget the look on Utau's face when she came barging into her house.
She looked pained – distraught. Hurt. Amu could not excuse that. She breathed in once more, and held the drawn-in breath.
You've got to let go, Amu.
You have to let him go.
"That's no reason for you to stay here," Amu found herself saying. "I don't need a bodyguard, Ikuto, I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself."
She was surprised at the reluctance she found in her low, soft tone.
Why is letting go so hard to do?
"There are people out there who need you. For God's sake, you can't just take a break and lay low from your own life. Your family needs you – Utau needs you."
Amu took a deep breath, convinced that she had struck a nerve somehow, despite the emotionless expression on Ikuto's face.
She refused, however, to believe that her own nerves had been struck by his words.
"Did you see the look on her face…?" She whispered, voice quivering.
"She can live without me."
"She's your sister, Ikuto! She's your goddamn sister!"
Amu stopped, surprised at how drastically her tone had risen. She sucked in a breath, and shrunk back into her warm quilt. Her voice deepened, and she let out a hesitant whisper –
"She needs you more than I do."
There. Finally.
She had done her deed, she had let it out – now, it was time to suffer the consequences…
For Utau's sake.
Amu heard complete silence. The rain had finally stopped, at least temporarily, and an occasionally growl of thunder erupted across the city. The dim, candlelit apartment was silent – dead silent. Not a breath was drawn, not a breath released.
Amu waited.
At any moment, she expected to hear the sound of footsteps, and the slamming of the front door. The footsteps came, and Amu felt her heart sink deep into her chest –
If she had needed Ikuto at anytime, it was right here, right now.
But she couldn't. His sister needed him. You can't have him, Amu.
He is not yours to hold.
Suddenly, Amu felt a cold, icy touch of flesh against her cheek. She looked up, only to be frozen completely in the glassy, midnight blue eyes staring directly into her soul.
Her breath was lost. His touch was electrifying against her cheek, and his lips nearly brushed hers, sending the tingling sensation all over her body. Her sunken heart had risen to her throat, beating madly. His luminous skin was less than inches from her face, glistening and shimmering in the candlelight – she felt an overpowering urge to touch it.
That was when she came to her senses.
"Ikuto –"
She tried to pull away, but he captured her cheek in his other hand, colder than ice.
"Say it again."
His low, melodious voice resounded through her ears, pulsating through her brain, causing her to tremble in the fingers.
She could hardly utter a sound.
"S-say w-what again…?"
"Say it to my face."
He moved his face closer, just when Amu had thought it impossible. His warm breath hovered over her quivering lips, arousing every dead nerve in her body. Her entire body shivered uncontrollably.
Everything within her was fighting – a war raged on inside her head and her heart.
Go on, Amu – say it to his face.
She closed her eyes, breathing heavily and quietly, trying to slow down her rapid-moving thoughts.
Her trembling lips touched his, and she inhaled a sharp breath.
"S-she… Utau n-needs… I d-don't…"
She choked on her voice.
She could not speak any further.
She lifted her quivering hand, and hesitantly touched his soft, silky, luminous face.
I need you… desperately.
She felt a cold finger touch her chin, and she shivered blissfully.
She breathed gently –
"...I need you."
- and leaned forward slowly.
Softly, ever-so-softly, her cold, quivering lips kissed his.
The kiss was not a slow and thoughtful touch.
No, it was more than that.
A desperate cry for help and attention; years of frustration and tears all pouring out in that moment.
All the pain, the torture, the suffering, the cries.
All of it.
Everything.
Ikuto deepened the kiss and began snaking his hands around her waist as they started moving backwards. Amu's back hit the wall and she gasped.
Suddenly, a vivid image flashed through Amu's mind.
Blood. Gunshots.
She abruptly pulled herself back from him.
They stared at each other with mixed emotions.
Dark, midnight blue. Innocent, honey golden. Solemn, deep remorse. Wide, fearful shock.
And without another thought, Amu stood up, quivering, and ran into her room, slamming the door shut.
She fell upon the door, and slid down, shaking and quivering like never before. Her chest felt heavy. Her breath was shaking. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.
The darkness was swallowing her whole.
She buried her face in her quivering hands.
A knock came at Sou's office door.
"Come in," he muttered, toying with his pen.
He was slightly surprised to see a petite, electric-blonde woman walk in slowly, taking her time to walk toward his desk with a strange, seductive stride.
"I didn't know devil-women knocked, Misaki." Sou kicked his legs up on his desk, and placed his hands behind his head. "Try busting down the door next time; it's much more entertaining."
The lean, dainty woman placed her manicured hands gently on Sou's desk, twirling circles in the black metal.
"I didn't come here to bicker, Nakamura. I came to…" she paused, and flicked her gaze up at him, smirking. "…negotiate."
Misaki walked slowly around his desk, hips swaying from side to side, keeping him entranced.
"Nakamura, I'm not blind. I, too, have keen senses, and I have noticed that you are far from happy here. I'm here to help."
She leaned against the side of his desk, and pushed her chest out slightly, bearing all the cleavage she had; she flipped her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. She spoke lowly and seductively.
"I have everything you want. I have position and purpose, and I can give it all to you… for a small, minimal price."
Sou simply sat there, emotionless, leaning back in his chair. Misaki seized the opportunity of his dazed state, and leaned over the desk.
She smirked deviously. She had him hypnotized.
Why, oh, why was this job so easy for her?
"I need to know something, Sou," she whispered lowly, purposefully keeping him spellbound. "That Tsukiyomi boy, that dumb lost kitty we're looking for. I need… to find out… where he is."
She moved closer to him, and a few strands of long blonde hair fell against his chest. She placed her dainty hand on his leg.
"Can you help me, Nakamura?" She pleaded, smirking. "Because I have a very good idea where he is, I just can't be sure… I don't want to just jump to conclusions; that would be naughty."
She drew circles along his thigh with her long, manicured fingernail, traveling up, up, up.
"What do you say? Hm?"
Sou smirked briefly, looking up at the woman now sitting on his lap.
"Get real. You really think I'm gonna fall for your games? You're not as sexy as you think, Misaki."
Faster than lightning, Misaki's venomous eyes stung into Sou's soul. She stood up, slapped him hard, and put a hand to her ear.
"Bring it in," she snapped into the Bluetooth device.
In the blink of an eye, the door burst open, and a tall bodyguard in a black suit walked in slowly, dragging something on the ground –
Sou's stomach wrenched in a knot.
"What are you doing…?"
"Does this strike a nerve, Nakamura?" Misaki snapped, like a poisonous viper.
On the floor, groaning in writhing pain, clutched by her fraying grey hair, an old woman looked up at Sou with tears pouring down her wrinkled face.
"I'm so sorry, Sou..." she cried.
Sou clenched his fists.
"Let her go–!" He leapt over his desk, and charged toward the black-suited bodyguard.
A loud click resounded through the room, and a black shiny object glinted in the dim light, beside the old woman's head. Sou froze. The old woman sobbed. Misaki smirked.
"Oh, how strong are the bonds between mother and son…" She laughed cynically, and immediately grew serious again. "How freaking cute."
Misaki twirled the black, shiny handgun in her dainty, manicured hands, pacing around the room, boring holes into Sou with her venomous yellow eyes.
"I knew you two were related – but mother and son?" She snickered wickedly. "You make it all too easy for me, Nakamura."
"Sou, my baby, I'm so sorry –"
"Shut up," Misaki snapped.
Misaki abruptly slapped the old woman in the face, silencing her immediately.
Sou clenched his fists tightly, digging his nails into his skin. His eyes were filled with hatred toward the wretched woman. Misaki directed her glare to Sou, wiping the sadistic smirk off her face, holding the gun in her hand.
"Tell me where Tsukiyomi Ikuto is."
"My mother had nothing to do with –"
"TELL ME." She moved the gun directly to his mother's temple.
Izumi Nakamura raised her head, face red and swollen, tears pouring down her face.
"Don't tell them anything –"
Misaki suddenly raised the gun into the air, bringing the heel down upon the old woman's head, striking her to the ground.
"Shutup, old hag."
Sou growled angrily, shooting forward with anger and adrenaline pumping through his veins.
"You WITCH –"
"Idiot."
Bang.
Sou dropped to the ground with a loud cry.
His hands were immediately bound. His chest was kicked swiftly, knocking the breath out of his lungs. His leg was numb, dripping with red blood, staining the white carpet.
"Take him to the basement," came a muted male voice from somewhere in the room. "Get it out of him. I don't care how, just make him talk."
His vision was blurred, and he could not hear his own voice as he screamed.
"Mother… Mother, NO!"
"I love you, Sou…"
"NO!"
Bang.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP –
"AAHH!"
Amu's eyes flew open; she flailed her arms into the air, and felt the substance beneath her decreasing. She clung desperately to her comforter – but to no avail.
She landed, butt-first, on the hard-wood floor with a dull thud. She groaned, and slammed her fist on her bedside table, silencing the stupid alarm clock. She groaned once again, sprawling herself on her back against the freezing hard-wood floor.
Damn alarm clock.
Well, at least the power's back on.
She couldn't believe it. She'd actually fallen off the bed. Moron.
Amu sat up, and sighed heavily. She ran a hand through her hair. She curled her up her head into her knees, and only then did she realize she was still in the clothes she'd been wearing the night before. She breathed in heavily, only to realize that she couldn't breathe – through her stuffy, clogged nose, at least. She opened her eyes, only to realize that her head was pulsating with a feverish migraine that split through her ears painfully.
Great. A cold.
Amu clutched the edge of her bed, and slowly stood up. Her knees wobbled, and in an instant, she found herself plopped onto the end of her bed, swaying dizzily.
A bad one.
She groaned, placing her forehead in her hands, leaning against her knees.
The fact that she did not get any sleep whatsoever last night did not help her current state. Every time she'd close her eyes, the vivid image of last night would flash through her mind, and her eyes would bolt open once more. She cringed just at the thought.
She kissed him.
She kissed him without thinking. Her emotions had spiraled beyond her control – her head and her heart were at war, and her heart had won.
How could you have been so stupid?
But it wasn't the sole thought of the kiss that bothered her.
It was the fact that…
He kissed her back.
Amu stood up, brushing off the faintness in her legs and the heaviness in her head. But no matter what she did, she couldn't avoid the burden plaguing her heart.
She'd enjoyed it.
She'd relished it.
She'd practically thrown herself at him, for God's sake. How could she possibly face him?
Amu rubbed her temples as she walked to her bathroom, ready and willing to burn her skin in taking the hottest shower in the history of man. The steamy shower did not help Amu's headache whatsoever, and her breathing passages were still as stuffy as they had been, if not worse. She blew her nose loudly, and cringed –
She sounded like an elephant.
Not good.
During the past week, Amu had finally gotten a small job at a local bakery to support her and Ikuto for the time being.
But she sure as hell was not gonna go to work looking like a she-beast.
Amu attempted to pick out half-decent-looking clothes, and wound up with a knee-length, somewhat summery teal strapless dress and a white sweater.
Amu hesitated to do her make-up; her vision was blurred, her arms shook when she held them up, and she did not trust her wobbling, quivering legs to hold her up any longer.
She grabbed a pair of heels – white ones – and stood in front of her closed bedroom door..
She breathed in deeply, and squeezed the bridge of her nose.
Here goes.
Amu opened her bedroom door, and walked into the kitchen. She saw no sign of Ikuto.
She hurried to tie the small bow on the heels. She was positive, if she even felt Ikuto's presence that morning, her day would be ruined completely.
As Amu finished slipping on her other heel, she straightened, and felt an overwhelming nausea rush to her head. Her headache became nearly overpowering – she could not see straight. Her vision was blurred, and her temples pulsated with the intense pain in her sinuses. The blood was all rushing to her head. She felt a nauseated feeling in her gut, and felt her knees wobble as she finally reached the door. She opened it, and walked out of the house.
Amu, what the hell are you doing? You can't go to work like this!
But she couldn't hear herself think. All she could hear was the blood thumping through her ears.
One last time, the image of her pressing her lips to Ikuto's flashed through her mind, and she lost control.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed. But instead of the cold, hard lobby floor, she felt a warm, soft embrace.
She didn't have to guess twice who it was. She opened her eyes, and despite the searing pain, looked up, immediately making contact with deep, midnight blue eyes.
Her body froze. Her mind was entering panic-mode.
But even under her heavy congested nose, she could smell his intoxicating cologne. She could feel his smooth, bare chest beneath her tingling fingers – he had just gotten out of the shower.
As abruptly as she'd fallen, she snapped back up again, worsening her splitting headache.
"I-I'm fine, really, I just got a little dizzy…" she muttered, her voice nasally and congested.
She squirmed out of Ikuto's grasp, and he helped her stand up.
Just when she thought she'd regained her balance, the moment she let go of Ikuto's arm, her knees collapsed from beneath her again.
Amu lost consciousness for fleeting moments. She fell into total darkness behind her eyelids. She felt gravity being whisked out from under her, and her body was suddenly parallel to the ground. She felt something holding her up beneath her shoulders and her knees - almost like pillows. It was almost relaxing, in a dizzy, lethargic way. She finally dared to open her eyes.
She saw a lightly tanned blur of color beside her head. She saw her kitchen, at a higher point of view. Her vision began to blur again, and the blood began to thump in her ears again – she leaned her head on the firm, tan wall beside her head.
It was a somewhat soft wall – it was warm, too. Amu heard a thump, thump, thump noise coming from the wall.
She thought it was just the blood pulsating through her ears.
But she was mistaken.
It was coming… from the wall. The wall had a heartbeat. Her senses were coming back to her, little by little.
First, her sense of touch – she felt the wall beside her head was soft, and very, very warm. She felt a strong arm behind her head, and another at her knees.
Then, her sense of smell – an overwhelming, familiar scent overpowered her clogged nose, the scent of strong, hypnotizing cologne and the scent of a cat.
Finally, her sense of sight – she looked up, her vision no longer blurred.
The first thing she came in contact with was those dreaded, horrid, hypnotic, mesmerizing, frightening, emotionless, sparkling, gorgeous, deep midnight blue eyes.
Amu let out an agonizing groan, as she felt her body being released onto her familiar leather couch. She felt a cold hand on her forehead, and only then did she realize how warm her face was.
She opened her eyes, and looked pitifully up at Ikuto's face, just above hers. The sight brought both pain and relief to her rigidly stiff body.
"You're burning up," his low, monotonous voice resonated through her clogged ears.
"Ugh, I'm… I'm fine…" Amu grunted, sitting up on the couch. "I have to g-go to work, Miss Watanabe's gonna kill –"
"Hello, Kyoko Bakery?"
Amu's gaze darted up, and her face grew hot when she saw Ikuto standing above her casually, speaking into her cell phone, giving her the indifferent brush off.
"I-Ikuto –!"
"Yo. This is a friend of Hinamori Amu's; she's not coming in to work today due to a severe case of the flu. …Yep."
"You idiot!" She whispered harshly. "It's not severe! It's not even the flu! Ikuto!"
Amu sat up abruptly, in an attempt to steal the phone away from him – then, her good friend nausea caught up with her. She immediately sunk back down, groaning loudly and clutching her head.
"…Yeah, I guess. Uhh… nope. Look, she's not coming. …Sure. …Nah. …Nope. …Well, nice talking to y – …no. …Nope, never. See ya."
Ikuto closed the phone, and set it on the table beside the couch. Amu gave him a death glare he would never forget. He simply stared blankly back.
"That chick at your office is really nosy."
"Which one?" Amu asked through gritted teeth.
"Dunno. Hayashi or somethin' like that."
Amu rolled over onto her stomach, and buried her head in her pillow, letting out a frustrated groan.
"Of all days to get the flu… stupid, stupid, cold rain…"
Amu felt a strange, tickling sensation on her foot, and looked down at the other end of the couch – Ikuto was untying and gently removing her white high-heels.
He gave her a blank, yet smug look, and said,
"You don't plan to sleep in heels, do you?"
She gave him a sneer, and stuffed her face into the pillow again. Her face felt increasingly warm, however, as she felt Ikuto's soft, gentle fingers touch her cold feet, tickling them ever-so-softly…
Amu, shut up.
Amu heard Ikuto walk into the kitchen, and she vaguely heard the running of the faucet in her muted hearing. She let out a soft sigh, and closed her aching golden eyes.
She found it momentarily difficult to breathe, so she rolled over onto her back. She felt self-conscious, like her body was sweating, so she slipped off her white sweater and laid it on the table – to her chagrin, her body temperature immediately converted to freezing once again.
Dumb, stupid freaking flu.
Amu saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, and watched as Ikuto walked up to her quietly, steaming cup in one hand, washcloth in the other.
He gave her the cup of steaming tea, and she took it, albeit hesitantly. He sat down beside her, on the very edge of the couch, and gently reached for Amu's forehead. She looked at him anxiously, and he looked her directly in the eyes.
Somehow, Amu understood. She read his eyes word-for-word.
And from that moment on, Amu let Ikuto take control completely. He brushed her bangs from her forehead, and placed the steaming, soothing cloth on her forehead to decrease the swelling. He brought her cold medicine, he wrapped her in blankets – he even foretold her requests.
"Ugh, my head feels like it's going to explode… hey, Ikuto, can you –"
Before she could finish her sentence, Ikuto appeared before her with two aspirin and another cup of steaming hot tea. She gave a weak smile.
"Thanks."
From that moment on, the awkward couple spent a semi-tolerable, almost pleasant morning together. Although the long silences were uncomfortable at times, they found it easy to converse with each other. Amu found herself letting out a chuckle every once in a while at Ikuto's dry humor, in spite of herself. It had been a while since she's seen this softer, less sarcastic side of Ikuto. Finally, her eyes began to feel heavy, and her splitting headache eased dramatically when she closed her eyes.
She laid her head back on the pillow, and curled up in the blanket, sighing heavily.
"Ugh, I need sleep…" She moaned.
Ikuto smirked, staring at her sleeping face. Amu felt his gaze behind her eyelids.
"What're you staring at?" She snapped in a nasally voice, opening her eyes to glare at him.
"Your big red nose."
Amu groaned, and pulled the blanket over her head.
"It's not funny," she muttered.
"Who's laughing?"
"You. In your head."
He smirked, and arose from the leather chair he'd been sitting in. Amu watched him as he traversed the room, and brought his father's violin out from its white case. Her stomach began doing flips, and the same lethargic dizziness came back to haunt her. Was he really going to play for her?
She watched as he brought the violin to his shoulder, turning his head and resting his long, slender jaw on the end of the chestnut instrument. He slowly stroked the long, slender bow across the strings, and a low, sad sound rang out through the quiet room.
The sound flooded through Amu's muted ears, and seemed to penetrate through the stuffiness and congestion. It serenaded her like the perfect lullaby, tempting her with the sweetness of serene sleep that she hadn't seen in days.
So many memories were held in that instrument – so many memories harmonized with its sad, melancholy tone.
Without thinking, Amu curled up in her blanket and whispered,
"Hey, Ikuto?"
He stopped playing.
"Play something… happy. Something cheerful. Play something… different…"
Her voice trailed off. Her eyes threatened to close as Ikuto brought the instrument to his shoulder once more, and played a soft, blissful, melodious tune that echoed through the small, dim room.
It was so much different than the slow, melancholy tunes that he usually played. He played solemn melodies because he was expressing his inner feelings – chained, tormented, longing to be free.
Now, he played a happy tune with such passion and ease.
Have his feelings changed?
It was the last thought on Amu's mind before the world around her went black, listening to the blissful tune of a soft, cheerful violin.
A/N: OMG. I'm finally done. This chapter has almost 5,000 words. I'm never gonna write this much ever again. So anyways, I hope you enjoyed and please please review if you wanna. Thanks for all the support and reviews so far!
Yours Truly,
SilverSpark101