Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, your friendly neighborhood fanfiction writer!

Author's Note: Bit of background before Blossom and Brick's break-up. I shall include a bit of more background for Berserk's side of the story as well later on. Enjoy!

Author's Note # 2: Mess I Made by Parachute.

Should've kissed you there

I should've held your face

I should've watched those eyes

Instead of run in place

I should've called you out

I should've said your name

I should've turned around

I should've looked again

The feelings between Blossom and Brick weren't always so strained. Their relationship—their bond—started out strong.

For the first time in his life, the reckless Rowdyruff Boy could calmly stand still, in one place, with one girl. He did not have to be some hardened criminal, who flew about Townsville to bring buildings to ruin or to steal stuff; sometimes, when he was with Blossom, he could even be the hero. With Blossom, Brick getting to know a different side of himself—a side that could be vulnerable and valiant. It was all brand new. Brick was somewhat of a player, and therefore had dated most of the female student body at Pokey Oaks High School, but now all of that time felt wasted. He could have been dating the Powerpuff Girl leader all along.

Everything was different with Blossom; he was different and strange. He was enraptured with her—irrevocably, insanely into her. Brick wanted to spend all of his free time with Blossom—he was lost, spellbound, whenever Blossom spoke of her scientific research, and he loved seeing her beautiful face light up, one hundred percent giddy when he asked her questions.

Then, one day, Brick suddenly realized that he was in love with Blossom. Love was foreign sensation to him. The teenage boy, who wasn't the lovey-dovey type of guy, was far from accustomed to having his heart pound erratically when his girlfriend so much as crossed his mind. He was at a loss for what needed to be done—if anything should be done or said.

"Is everything okay?" Blossom questioned suddenly, her voice wracked with concerned, as she stared at Brick perplexively.

"Yeah," he answered, his previous thoughts halting to a screeching stop. "Why?"

"You've been glowering at the television for almost a half hour," the head Powerpuff Girl pointed out matter-of-factually. "It appeared as though you were thinking hard about something."

"Not really," Brick fibbed coolly, slumping his arm over his girlfriend's lower back and pulled her in closer to him, while they laid on his bed. "I'm just concentrating on the movie."

Not quite convinced yet, a slight, almost microscopic, crease formed betwixt the young girl's copper eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"I'm fine." That wasn't a lie at least. "I've never seen this movie before. I'm very concerned for the mermaid's well-being. I mean, how is she supposed to communicate with the prince and tell him how she feels without her voice?"

Scrunching up her nose, a bubbly giggle was emitted from Blossom's vocal chords. "You're such a dork."

"You adore me," he lightheartedly teased, attaching his lips to hers for a sweet kiss.

It was a challenge not to get caught up in the moment—to guide an instance of innocence into the bewildering heat of passion, especially since they were comfortably nestled in his king-sized bed. No one else was a around. But Brick contented himself with the wonderful sensation of Blossom repeatedly molding the contours of her lips to his as the film slipped into a sappy music number in the background.

"I love you," Blossom whispered against her boyfriend's mouth, her tone saturated with sugary sweetness. She did not stumble around her words like he would have. Her statement was made with certainty and and clarity.

And Brick was in love with Blossom right back, but now, he felt as though she were confronting him—pressuring him—as those magenta eyes expectantly studied him. An enormous weight was riding upon his shoulders. Maybe he didn't love Blossom after all. How could she have been so self-centered and put this kind of pressure on him, on their relationship? His silent musings were becoming irrational, and there was a fraction of Brick that was aware that he was merely nervous, but the Rowdyruff Boy could barely concentrate when his palms were suddenly slick with sweat, as his heartbeat clammered like thunder in his ears.

"Um," I'm hungry," Brick said, cocking his head to the side in confusion. "Do you, um, want to order Chinese food or something?"

It was only for a nanosecond—if Brick had blinked, he would have missed it—but Blossom's expression contorted into a look of pain, as though she had been utterly rejected and might tear up as a result.

In the next second, her face was neutral. "Sure. Do you want me to pay?"

"Nah. Just sit tight. I'm gonna go order it. Do you want your usual?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"No problem."

"I'll be right back."

"Okay..."

. . .

Jesus Christ. What the fuck was wrong with him? Brick mentally berated himself for the rest of the weekend, unable to remember why he chickened out. He knew that he was in love with Blossom, and he should have told her that night. He should have spoken up with an air of pride and devotion. I love you, too, Blososm. Why? Why couldn't he just say the words? Brick supposed the mistake didn't matter, or at least it wouldn't for much longer, because he fully intended to rectify the situation on Monday morning.

With that plan in mind, Brick made his way through the high school's various stairwells and hallways. His destination was Blossom's locker. He was going to tell Blossom that he was in love with her, and then they would consummate his confession of undying love underneath the bleachers during their gym period. It was, granted, a simple plan, but effective.

But as Brick neared the second floor lockers, his determined stride paused.

One of Blossom's friends, someone by the name of Dexter or whatever, was idly conversing with her. They were chatting and laughing and having a good, old time. Now, Brick was not the jealous or suspicious type of guy, he trusted Blossom. Besides that, Brick had encountered Dexter numerous times before. From what the teenage delinquent could gather, the science prodigy was more concerned with technological mumbo jumbo than he was with the opposite sex. It was safe to assume that the boy and girl geniuses were like forces, and were thus repelled by each other romantically. Yet, a disturbing thought crept inside of Brick's head—they looked good together. They made sense together, while the red Rowdyruff Boy and the pink Powerpuff Girl did not. Then, almost out of nowhere, the school was filled with guys more deserving of Blossom's love than Brick.

"I'll catch you later, Dex," Blossom said politely, brushing passed him and rushed over to her boyfriend. "Good morning, sweetie.

"Um, hey," he stammered as Blossom stood on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"No monsters or mayhem to stop, so I got plenty of rest," she retorted chipperly, absentmindedly patting Brick's popped collar. "What about you?"

"Pretty good," Brick replied, unaware of his perturbed, harsh tone. "Boring, though."

"Why didn't you come over? I could have provided you with a good amount of entertainment, I think," Blossom retorted suggestively.

"Didn't want to."

"Oh, Okay then..."

Any awkward silence befell the dynamic due. Studiously, Blossom looked at her boyfriend's unreadable expression, while his scarlet eyes were cast downward. The school bell rang out, warning the students that there were only five minutes left to hall ass to their first period classes.

"I'll see you at lunch, honey," Blossom said brightly, moving closer to him for a kiss.

"Yeah." Lost in a fog of insecurity, Brick reluctantly pecked his girlfriend on the lips; it was nothing like their usual morning kisses.

"I... I love you," Blossom stated, attempting to comfort him—sensing that he was somehow frustrated with himself, not her. "Only you."

There was a question echoing through Brick's mind: why? Why me? But he didn't ask or reply to his girlfriend's honesty at all.

He just walked away.

. . .

Things between them worsened from there. Brick and Blossom still hung out frequently, but the comfortable air grew tense. Awkward. Uncomfortable. The latter half of the teenage couple would make attempt after attempt to communicate rationally and civilly by asking him questions about his day, schoolwork, the weather—desperate to start actual conversations. At first, Blossom was successful in breaking her boyfriend away from his sour moods; once the ice was broken, they were able to talk about topics that actually interested them. And then, Brick began replying with short word answers—nothing with enough to bulk to respond to herself, so they would spend their time together in silence. There were no more deep discussions; there was no more cuddling, hand-holding, late-night phone conversations, or suggestive texts. Just silence. Yet, each time they parted ways, Blossom spoke her feelings. She loved him. The more Blossom said so, the sweeter it sounded. The sweeter it sounded, the more unbelievable his own feelings seemed. And then, Brick stopped answered Blossom's pathetic conversation starters altogether.

Again, things became worse.

As Brick regressed and returned to his old ways, the deafening quiet turned into thunderous, incessant arguing. Blossom knew that he had a good heart buried deep underneath the bad boy facade; he was better than the petty crimes he continued to commit. So what, the bad boy in question would fire back. It wasn't an argument with a lot of ground. Both sides were convinced that they were right. How could their be any room for compromise when she was a crime-fighter and he was a crime-causer? Still, Blossom pontificated Brick—trying to be inspirational, and motivate him to be a better person, to be the person she first fell in love with. All he had to do was try a little harder.

But Brick no longer desired to reach the pink Powerpuff Girl's standards or expectations. He wanted Blossom to accept him for who he was; he wanted Blossom's love only if it was unconditional. So, Brick continued to test Blossom's patience. He kept pushing her further and further away, until their backs were slammed against a wall.

"Hey," Blossom greeted her boyfriend, shyly waving one hand as the other one fiddled with a tangerine tendril.

It was yet another Friday night at Brick's home. Unlike all the other previous Friday nights, the Powerpuff did not step through the doorway. Brick had a distinct, sinking feelings that she had no intention of passing through the door way.

Shrugging nonchalantly, the red Rowdyruff Boy responded with a lackluster, "Hey. Um, are you coming inside?"

An exasperated sigh emanated from Blossom's chest as her bubblegum-colored gaze feel to the doormat between their feet. When she finally met Brick's stare again, her eyes were stained in salty, abundant tears. "I love you, Brick."

But Brick remained quiet, his expression neutral. Nothing. He said nothing. In spite of his non-reply, Blossom nodded. There was a strained smile draped across her lips, as Brick was frozen in place. He wanted to reach out and thumb away the tears from her reddened cheeks, but he didn't. Oh, god, why did he not? The best Brick could muster was a bitter glower. His scarlet orbs darkened to ruby. There was a strange knot swelling in the back of his throat as his heart plummeted into the acidy pit of his stomach.

"It's over," Blossom stated, forcing the words from her mouth.

What? No! "Fine," he said, and shut the door in her face.

On opposite sides of the door, Brick and Blossom lingered. The former closed his eyes tightly, stifling his own tears. He pressed his forehead against the cold wood, listening to the sounds of his now ex-girlfriend sobbing just outside. All he needed to do to fix everything was admit his feelings.

Eventually, Brick worked up the courage. He flung the door open, at last realizing his foolishness. "Blossom, I lo-"

She was gone.

But, oh

I'm staring at the mess I made

I'm staring at the mess I made

I'm staring at the mess I made

As you turn

You take your heart and walk away