~ Remember Us ~

(Chitoge's P.O.V)

How should I feel? Hurt? Angry? The only emotion I'm certain of is confusion, complete and utter confusion.

Weak kneed, lungs burn like I've been submerged in smoke for ten minutes, my hands are shaking worse than a grandma reaching for a cup of tea on a cold winters day. Somehow, in the brisk and bitter cold of a fall day, I'm sweating and can't find my breath.

"W…What is this… feeling?" I wheeze into the bark of a large oak tree.

"It's called heartbreak,"—I swiftly turn, my back hits the roughness of the tree. My eyes widen for the image of my past self, faded enough to see through—she's a hollowed image but I can see make-out her finest features, one's we share.

"This," I point to myself, "this isn't heartbreak—"

"Stop," her voice isn't smooth like silk but sharp as a knife that simply cuts through flesh like butter. "Your side of things—"

"My side of things?!" I shout appalled, "you ran away! Every time he'd get close you would run for the hills! You never wanted to give him a chance—"

"But I did!" I stop and stand straight like a puppy caught chewing the sofa. "You think loving someone is easy? You're the side of me that wants nothing more than a prince kissing a princess awake and living happily ever after but—but, that isn't the case!"

"Then what is the case? Explain it to me."

"Love is heartbreak," she says sternly; I hold my breath. "To love someone you have to break first. Why do you think I ran from him? I did it because I knew I was in love, but I didn't want to submit… to break and let all those walls I built crumble."

"I don't have any walls though, I shouldn't have to break."

Her lips purse together and she sighs, "Then why are you running?"

A strong gust of wind flew, tousling my hair and several leaves to scatter. She disappeared.

Even though she's gone there is a lingering taste of her presence—her question, it's something I never thought of. I've been so caught up in learning about her, about the past that I never took the time to learn more about myself, about who the hell I am.

Who am I?

Pushing off the tree I walk further into the park, my mind is scramble like the beginning of a puzzle.

It's been a year—I've been here for a year and a few months but it feels like I never truly lived. This entire time until him, I was on auto-pilot. Each day had been the same, extremely boring and ordinary, never once did it change.

The hallow echo of my boots upon the wooden bridge cause me to stop—a familiar scent of musky-water and coldness kiss my nose. I look over to the slow flowing river, my reflection stares back at me but it isn't the same girl in those pictures with Raku—I'm not the same person I had been a year ago.

Cheeks that were once chubby are now slim and built like an adult—everything about me had changed. It's clear, as black and white, that my childish days are over and now I'm becoming an adult but I still feel like an empty shell.

All those years of dreaming about romance—my prince kissing me in the rain or throw rocks at my window. In reality, all those movies, books and pictures… lied. Romance is nothing like that.

Sighing heavily I push off the railing and head home.

My heart is broken—mind shattered and the only thought I could keep straight is the desire to become a blanket burrito. I want to forget reality, pain, whatever I saw earlier and to be one with a blanket.

Life would be better as a blanket burrito—it always is.

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~Remember Us~

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The dim light echoes the room as my eyes watch, engrossed within the world of the pirates. Each witty joke or crack would make me laugh slightly.

The warmth of the blanket wraps tightly around my body shakes whenever I would laugh. It's a friendly remind that everything isn't that bad, especially as a blanket-burrito. I wouldn't mind staying this way forever—I wouldn't have to worry about school, friends, family, boys and the mess my life has managed to twist itself into.

I wish there was a handbook for teenagers; each chapter would be based on the ages of the adolescent life. Perhaps such a creation would help me within these moments of life, maybe I wouldn't be binge watching "Pirates of the Caribbean" whilst being swallowed by a blanket.

The movie carries on, I chuckle a few times but half-heartedly. I listen carefully to the speakers of my laptop until I hear something—not just anything, but, a grunt.

I perk my head up and survey the dark corners of my room. Then, at the corner of my eye, I see a shadow peeking up and then down from the window. Fear first hit me, but once I heard anything groan and grunt, the tone sounds familiar.

My feet are cold as I move from the comforts of bed and towards the window, the large quilt-like blanket wrapped around my shoulders the dim rainy night of illuminates my flesh. From the corner of my eye I caught a brief glimpse of the ghostly figure of myself—her eyes are directed towards the window, hands clasped over her chest and hair placed to one side.

I turn to her—eyes locked and lips parted ready to speak—

TAP! TAP! TAP!

The window shakes and I turn back to the task at hand—my heart stops for the sight before of me.

Outside my window, tangled within the large tree branches, clothing sticking to his body and hair kissing his face. Like a hero or some cheesy romance movie Raku stood panting and waiting for me to slide the glass up.

Our eyes lock and my feet become glued to the floor—determination and roughness pour from his orbs; a new look.

Two softly lite hands wrap around me within that moment and everything becomes foggy.


(Flashback)

Rage—betrayal—pain and sorrow; her hands furiously wipe away her tears as she runs up the stairs in a hurried mess. The words still freshly echoing her mind—'I forbid you from seeing him!''he's nothing but trouble, don't be naïve—all words said by her uncle.

Slamming the door as hard as possible Chitoge slides to the floor—a few strains of hair sticking to her wet cheek as lightening covers the wall. In a heated mess, her fingers tap rapidly on her cellphone screen typing the message.

Pressing send her knees come to her chest and a 'clink' echoes from the phone hitting the floor.

"I forbid you to see him,"—the words repeat in her mind; she knows for a fact, that he uncle would do anything in his power to make that come true. He would watch her during classes, pick and drop her off at school without giving her a moment to say goodbye. Every moment—sneaking out to the park—having late nights watching the stars and spending too much time at coffee shops would all end.

"A troublemaker"—her mind swarmed with many events that Raku was far from a troublemaker.

Like the time he stayed late to help a teacher—when he filled-in for someone on cleaning duty or the study group he organized before exams. There was no room for error, Ichijo Raku is the farthest thing from a troublemaker.

A roar of thunder shakes the walls—Chitoge yelps in fear and tightens her arms around her knees.

Fear, sorrow, loneliness and anger—a deadly poison.

The sky crackles with a loud bang of thunder roaring like an angry lion, causing the blonde to shake and breath to hitch in fear. Her one, but not only, weakness of lightening had overpowered her disappointment with her uncle.

She hates being alone when there's a thunder-storm, especially in the dark. Most times Raku would look over the forecast to see whether or not there were storms within the week; whenever there was a chance for thunder, he'd make sure he was right next to her—holding and caressing her hair.

Bang!

"Ah!" Chitoge cries; her knuckles white as she clenches her hands together.

Bang! Roooar! Rumble!

"Ra…Ra…Raku," she shakes; light fills the room as another sound follows behind.

Ruumble! Crack! Bang!

"Raku!" she screams but nothing.

For minutes on end she shrieks while the storm roars outside the window, it didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon.

Her body rattles as fear laughs in her ear—paralyzing the vixen. All senses shut down while her heart rapidly pounds within her chest…. Until two soaked arms wrap around her shoulders breaking her hold.

Cheeks land on a cold, wet and familiar scented chest covered in a black t-shirt. Slowly a delicate hand runs through her blonde locks soothingly while she wraps her arms around the soaked boy. Neither say a word—she didn't know what to say, nor if there is anything to say for the moment.

The shaking of her form stops as she relaxes into Raku's chest—his eyes softly gazing towards the large tree and open window.

(End of flashback)


The memory fades as Raku crawls through the window effortlessly—how many times has he done the climb up the tree?

He closes the window with a single swift movement before turning to me, eyes glued and hair stuck to his face. I notice the parting of his lips as he pants, it's as though he ran here. I admire the raindrops slowly rolling down his cheeks from his locks, to his nose as his nose flares slightly until our eyes meets.

"I ran all over town looking—"he starts but my mind snaps to the image of him being in the hospital once again. The rage from earlier about the girl on the street had vanished and been replaced with concern.

"Are you crazy?" I interrupt; he's appalled.

"What?" he asks.

"I asked: are you crazy?" my tone sharpens while my eyes narrow at his wet attire.

"Chitoge—"he tries; I know he isn't thinking about his recent hospital visit or the condition in which he became sick in the first place.

"Shut-up," I snap; the blanket rolls off my shoulders as I reach for his shirt, pulling the soaked material smoothly like its clock-work. "I'll get you some dry clothes, Baka."

He's quiet, almost like my words casted a magic spell or he's observing the blush crossing my cheeks. Sometimes I feel like I understand him, as though he was an open picture-book, but other times it seems like this picture-book is in nothing but undiscovered tongues. I can follow the pictures—it easy to follow an image—but I can't read into the context. I can't understand the true meaning for the image or his actions. But, the hardest part is that I know I've read this book before.

My hand quivers with the soaked texture of fabric, through a painful squint the slightly peach of his flesh is visible—this was a page. I sigh and release the shirt—there no hope, I won't be able to read the words let alone remember that scene again.

It's frustrating, this slow process that I've been making—I want to finish this book. Remember everything so things can be the way that they were before but… I have to take tiny, microscopic, steps like an ant. Then there's times where it's like my memories are there—right in front of me, he's a god-damn book that I want to touch and remember so damn much.

Thoughts disappear from my mind, everything feels blank—a cold yet warm hand lifts my chin and my eyes settle on Raku's, those sweet indecisive violet orbs. Slow trickling rain drops drip from his locks and roll down his youthful cheeks—in the looming night light he simply appears like a god.

The anger of the heart-wrenching event melts away as the blanket rolls to the floor—his chilled forehead presses against mine. A mixture of rain and slowly fading honey entered my scents before he skillfully claims my lips.

I don't fight it—god forbid if I did or tried; I want this even though I'm confused and uncertain of this pages content. As quick as the thunder roaring outside covered the air, his lips become faster, as though he's delivering a message, one saying: 'I only want you.' Hands wrap inside my locks I could feel the passion, desperation and indescribable panic within our touch.

Call it the heat of the moment—teenage romance or confusion, but I couldn't help but feel my control slipping and his shirt leaving my finger-tips in a mad rush to continue examining this single page.

Swiftly like scenes in hot-steamy movies, his arms wrap around my waist pulling into his damp chest and giving him full access of my movements. I want to say something but my lips are addicted by the first touch of his flesh. I kiss him again, feeling his jaw move with mine as my fingers frame his cheeks—I should be mad, completely pissed at this boy but I'm not for some annoying reason.

The mattress squeaks as he settles our bodies among the messy sheets, pushing the paused pirate covered computer screen towards the wall. Anxiously I run my hands down his chest, I don't know when I'll get another chance to feel this part of his body—a part of past-self remembers. The feeling of his well-fit muscles from hours of training for sports and the race feel like mountains to my flesh—my eyes wander over the different marks on his skin, marks he's probably told me about before in the past. At this moment, I can vividly imagine myself waking up on his chest with the booming sound of his heartbeat in my ear, the rise and fall of his chest moving me slowly in a peacefully haze. It would be bright in the room due to the sun seeping through the curtains and he'd be snoring lightly in my ear—something I would tease him about when he awakens.

His lips brush against my neck and I turn with my eyes settling on the screen of my laptop, there an image of Jack Sparrow and his feisty love interest: Angelica enter my eyes. They're beyond complicated but she always manages to get her answers out of him—something that I admire about the character.

"Raku, wait…" I choke.

He pulls back and sits away from my form. "Sorry," he whispers.

"Don't be," I say; I close my laptop and continue to stare at the wall—I don't know how to start this conversation.

"Listen, about—"we both start but freeze.

I look at him and he looks at me. "You go ahead," I manage to say.

He nods, "There's nothing going on between I and Toshi, I'm serious."

Toshi? I feel like I know that name, but I don't remember where—but, I'm slightly glad to have a name for the face I saw earlier. I thought it might've been some woman from College or University—never mind, she could still be in either academic.

"She just moved back and will start coming to our school"—so she's not in University or college; bonus—"and I've known her since I was a kid. We grew up together," he continues.

"That explains why she was so close to you," I sarcastically say—I'm starting to sound like an overly jealous wife. "Especially with her breast pressed against you like you're a lifesaver"—scratch that, I sound like an eighty-year-old wife. "Plus, you didn't mind it at all—"

"Chitoge," his tone is deep and firm causing me to huff in defeat. "She's my cousin."

My eyes widen, "what?"

"Toshi is my cousin," he repeat with his hands wildly ruffling his hair, "she's my mother's sister's daughter."

"Uh…"my voice cracks—the feeling of embarrassment and shame fill me as my cheek turn red like my bow. I continue to try and find ways out of this—ways that sound less foolish than the last but nothing works.

I shouldn't have ran away—I should have let him explain, now I feel like an ass.

"Its fine," my ears perk for his voice. "It seems like your jealousy is still the same."

I find the comment refreshing and reassuring. To know there is some part of me that is still the same before the accident is comforting. I guess not all of me is lost.

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(Raku's P.O.V)

The same popcorn-white color ceiling, something that hasn't changed since the first time I laid in this bed. I've seen a few new works of art and posters on the walls, the ghostly emptiness of the walls in the back corners is the most profound change—they took down all of our pictures.

Chitoge still has many of the different stuffed animals she collected, all ranging from different countries and species but all 'cute' as she would say. In the corner of my eye, sitting on one of the empty slots of her bookcase sat one stuffed animal that only fills my heart with warmth—that stupid gorilla with her face and hairy body of an ape. At first, I thought she might've hit me for that gift when I presented it to her, but I merely got a charming and angelic laughter showing her joy. It's easy to say that I was more than just shocked I was in awe.

My eyes wander down to my chest where she lays, calm and silently watching the rest of the movie on her laptop. The old shirt her father has forgotten about rubs against my flesh as her body softly moves. Her warmth heats my skin from the cold rain pouring outside the window—I'm somewhat new to these moments still.

Before the accident, the vixen and I would cuddle but most of the time we would be talking about different things: the future, life, the past and disagreements. When I think deeply about the past, I don't remember just cuddling while watching a movie—moments like this usually end with passionate nights or steamy make-out sessions that would leave marks we both had to creatively hide later.

Running my fingers through her hair slowly, I inhale the watermelon scent—as much as I would love to show her the passion I feel, I'm enjoying this more than ever. Just having her in my arms, staring at the ceiling peacefully, the fuzzy noise of the movie in the background and playing with her hair—this is something that I will remember if this Chitoge disappears from my life.

The smooth and strong scent of watermelon blurs my sense, but causes them to tingle—something is different, but what? I know the foreign scent within her hair, but can't put a name or place to it—but, somehow, I know exactly what the scent is that is lingering. It causes a dreadful twist in my stomach, one that I only get in two places: the cemetery and hospitals. Then it clicks.

"Chitoge?"

"Hm?" she hums without taking her eyes off the screen.

"Why didn't you go to school the other day?" I ask bluntly; her body tenses for the question and shoulders become stiff.

"Uh," she whispers innocently, something I once would've fallen aimlessly for. "It was nothing".

"If it's nothing you wouldn't be dodging the question," I sigh with a smirk. "Itai! (Ouch)" I yelp as she pinches me for the smart remark.

"Baka (Idiot)" my ears perk for her pout and I smile gently. "Don't worry a—"

"The hospital," I simply say and she goes quiet. "You were at the hospital."

Her fingers grip tightly onto the shirt, she buries her face into the fabric and holds her breath before sighing in defeat. I know she's contemplating on what she wants to say—because whatever it was that she was doing the other day is either important or uncertain.

"My headaches are getting worse," I barely hear her whisper," I nearly have them every-day or they're intense."

"When did they start getting like that?"—I feel defeated for not knowing this simple fact; I should've noticed, right? I'm usually good with seeing her cues and understanding her actions, but I didn't notice this tiny but crucial part.

"That day when you went to the hospital for your fever," she answers, "I've been taking Advil since then and it worked."

"Then why go to the hospital?"

"I had an M.R.I"—I freeze for the news—"I have one nearly twice a year—since the accident I guess. My dad would tell me that was to check for cancer since his mother had a tumor around my age, which made sense somehow."

I always thought that the doctors stopped watching her brains recovery after she was released from the hospital, and there wasn't any issues with her other functions. But, I guess they're still seeing something change throughout the last year or so, something they were either hiding from Chitoge or her father is keeping a secret for some odd reason.

Biting down on my lip I flick her red-ribbon and stare at the image of the mermaids swarming the boats.

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Remember Us

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(Raku P.O.V)

Steam rolls off my flesh as my feet cool from the wooden floor-boards. The large house I call home is silent within the night—I know my brothers are either sleeping or out still, but it feels like a ghost-town especially with the events of today.

I can still feel Chitoge's presence in my arms, the smell of her hair against my chest and soft angelic breaths as she relaxed against my chest. It's an old feeling that still feels new.

We've laid together before, cuddled and stayed in silence—but, I never had this feeling; the gradual growth of warmth, peace and jitter in my stomach. Before, I felt one thing: happiness, but now, it's more like a mixture—a strange cocktail of joy, relaxation and… well, I don't know.

My thoughts ramble continuously—this feeling, the unknown emotion, it's on the tip of my tongue but years of experiences away. I know it, but it was best used for a place or building, never for a person—it's mind boggling.

Flopping into the old but stable desk chair, I lean back with my head slightly over the backs edge, listening to the thoughts as they quickly zoom like light trying to figure out this feeling in my stomach and chest. I've felt it before, but never with Chitoge—a long time ago, before everything happened, when I was once considered young, creative, and imaginative with the possibility to do anything in the palm of my hand.

Reaching defeat, I sigh and lean my elbows against the wooden frame of the desk—my eyes set on the image of my mother and myself when I was young. It's a picture my dad gave me not long ago, one that I forgot about.

She sitting on an old swing-set that once sat in the backyard, but was removed due to rust and lack of use. Her arms are wrapped over my tiny shoulders as I sit on her lap, smiling happily and proud whilst my mother's slim creamed fleshed face rest on my shoulder. Short ribbons of her raven locks tickle my cheek as she gives a soft smile to the camera and my father.

(Hōmu)

The last time I felt this feeling was with my mother—a feeling that I forgot when she passed-away, because she was the one person in our over-grown family that could make any place feel like home.

I blink as a warm tear runs down my cheek—I guess that why I pushed that feeling away, because it's painful to remember—memories of my mother are painful to recall, since I was devastated when I was told: "Okaasan wa ima tengoku ni iru (Mom is in heaven now)".

After many nights of crying myself to sleep, the void became numb and I shut it out.

Taking in a deep breath the rambling dies—I never thought I would feel at home with someone again.

My eyes slowly look up to the books piled on my desk—the anatomy of the brain—Trauma and impact—Memories and brain function. Each book is large, bulky and thick—each gives an unhealthy feeling of mimicked encyclopedias. Yet, under one of them a brown envelope peeks out—something new?

Pulling the brown form from the towering of books, I raise a brow for the sight. The only time I've seen an envelope like this was in a few business transactions with my dad, but most the time it was nothing but a proposal or contract between competing companies.

The paper crinkles softly as I open the top and several papers, images and extremely abnormally long words fill the pages. I take the pages out of the envelope only to see images of a brain—it looks like something I've seen on medical drama's, Yui made me watch with her. Those shows seriously inspire viewers to become medical staff.

"Wait…" I whisper; my eyes scan the lengthy report. On the top it reveals that the report is two years old, written by my brother and… for Kirisaki Chitoge.

I try to read the report, but I can't understand a damn word. What the hell is "Hippocampuse"? Is it a college or university for hippos? "Hypothalamus"? "Cingulate Gyrus"?

What language am I reading?

The urge to visit my brother grows in my stomach; he'd tell me exactly what I'm looking for and the meaning of these words. But, I know I shouldn't—I should figure this out on my own and be independent. Not to mention the shame I'll feel if I bring all these books back without even opening them or daring to descript the language.

Each page, index, definition feels like a blur as I flip through each large weighted book. My eyes reading—or rather skimming. I fell into a trace—a fixation that has been on my mind since the accident; I never did understand how or why Chitoge only forgot about me. But, now, in front of me sits the answer to all the hurt and confusion that's clouded my thoughts.

After hours that felt like minutes—endless scribbles of notes and points, sticky notes and deciphering the doctors report; I lean back into the black chair. My brain is fried—I thought University mathematics' and calculus was bad—this is torturous.

But, I've managed… or better put, think (slightly) I understand what the hell my brother is trying to tell me. Well, maybe—okay, maybe not… I don't know.

The textbooks gave me a brief knowledge of the different fragments and links in the brain. For instance, the Hippocampus: it create links and memories of a person that causes emotional reactions. In short, it's like the heart of remembering people and how you feel about them. Then there's the hypothalamus which feeds information and acts as a regulator for emotional control and levels—the workers that manage the pipes in mines would be a good example. Next would be the pathway that all these different pieces of memories and information travel on—the cingulate gyrus.

In better, simpler terms—the links and cells that I had created with Chitoge, had been damaged severely causing her to forget.

Our first impression. Seeing each other in class. Hating one another. The friendship we nurtured. Her feelings that grew into our love—all of it gone within five second that felt like an eternity.

Closing the books and staring down at the endless jot-notes, I bit my lip in the silence of the night. The one feeling that I know too well begins to set in—looming in my stomach like a heavy bag of rocks, tightness in my chest and hating every millisecond of the truth; regret is something I should be accustomed to.

A year and a half I've tossed and turn during the nights wondering about what had happened, if there was something—anything—that I could do to help her. I hated being stuck in the dark, but I wish I never walked towards the light now. I wish I never figured out the true source of her memory loss, because… all those textbooks and pages tell me one thing—that once any of these different functions of the brain have been damaged they tend to die or reconnect but don't function properly.

Perhaps this is what Chitoge's feeling—this figment she's seeing is nothing but the ends of these different membranes dies off. Maybe after everything is over, she'll wake up back at stage one and not know who the hell I am again.

Then again, I'm not a doctor—frankly, I don't understand half the shit in those books and don't think I ever will. I could have this all wrong—these thoughts could just be my depression and negativity leading down the dark path again. That's more likely.

I went to bed that night with this uneasiness in my stomach for the truth and uncertainty. But, exhausted by from the day and climbing to Chitoge's window, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow and the cover heated my flesh.

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Remember Us

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Strong mist and fragrance of coffee—hushed sounds of many conversations and the warmth of the freshly baked goods in the back. The stereotypical welcoming aura of a café.

Looming over a hot cup of coffee, I can't stop thinking about the nightmare that's guilty of the darkened circles under my eyes and scruffy look I'm displaying. I probably didn't get more than three hours of sleep last night.

The same dream would repeat over and over again—I was in a deep and dark tunnel with the only light source being at the end. I'd run to the end of the tunnel only to be at the bottom of a large hill, with the corner store near Chitoge's grandmother's house. In front of me was the same nightmarish scene of Chitoge colliding with that truck. Sometimes, instead of being in the tunnel, I would be driving that said truck. I just watched it happen continuously on a loop, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Raku~" a large familiar body grasps me from behind causing me to jump slightly.

I turn and glare at my four-eyed perverted best-friend. "For fuck sake's Shu can't you greet me like a normal person," I growl under my breath.

He sits in the chair next to me dressed in his green-scarf and jacket. My eyes follow him only to see Shun standing at the end of the table with two drinks and a sandwich on a tray. The blonde's eyes are lively today—something that I haven't seen before from the F-5 student. Not to mention the bags under his eyes are lighter today than they were on Friday, even has his hair brushed and down without its usual falling bun.

I blink once more and peer closely at the silent male. His appearance is shocking—the usually pulled back locks are long enough to reach just a little past his shoulders, but due to the wind outside it's still slightly messy but I can notice something shining from his ear. An earring? What?

"What?" Shun glares slyly behind his tea.

I lean back, "you look different."

"I know right," Shu agrees. "He looks like some character that would be seen in one of those romance manga's that my cousins loves so much."

"I don't know whether that's a compliment or insult," Shun replies with a raised brow.

"Compliment," Shu chimes, "they're super-hot!"

I narrow my gaze at Shu and so does Shun. The pervert blinks before leaning away, "what? That's what my cousins say—"

"Bullshit," I snort, "maybe we're Ruri's competition."

"Watashi wa sore o shitte imashita (I knew it)" Shun quickly whispers.

"I hate both of you," Shu hisses with a red face as he rubs his forehead quickly. "I'm extremely insulted," he continues; I snicker for the comment. There has been many different occasions that I've had my suspensions about his sexual preference. "How dare you insult my love for the female body?!"

Quickly I scan the other tables only to find one or two women looking in Shu's directions, and completely ending their conversations in general. If he continues to rant about the female anatomy, he's going to be wearing the different pastry's that were in the display case seconds ago. Not to mention, that these said women are telling their friends exactly what Shu had just proclaimed—I'm not in the mood for this shit.

"We get it," I grunt, "now shut up before you become a frosted cupcake with the sexist comments."

Thankfully Shu caught on and looks around briefly before nodding, and quieting down for once. Its days like today that I wish he'd do the same at school, especially when we're in the cafeteria or sitting in class around the female students. But, I'm just glad he did it just this once and in a public places that I don't want to get kicked out of.

Shifting my gaze from the two males at the table, I look out the window at the different people walking among the sidewalk. Gradually the noises of the café fades into the usually peaceful sound of birds chirping, and soft breeze scented by mountain air. My vision blurs and the outside world morphs into the same field within my nightmare. I'm at the side this time—not in the truck or the bottom of the hill but standing in the field knee-deep in tall grass. Before the glass I can see the truck move in slow motion, then the blonde rolling down on the bike with her eyes elsewhere.

I squeeze my eyes shut only to hear the horrifying sound of flesh and metal—a heated liquid splashes against my cheek and I flinch heavily only to open my eyes to see blood splatter. My lips curve into a scream only to be shaken back into the café with worried looks from Shu and Shun.

Rubbing my face roughly and letting my bangs sudden over my eyes, I take a deep breath to calm myself. The pounding in my chest is unforgiving and the slight twitch in my left eye is irritated. I feel and look like shit, but there is nothing I can do about it which sucks.

"Ichijo, you okay?" Shun questions with piercing eyes; I nod solemnly.

"Don't bullshit us," Shu sighs, "You look like shit and just fell asleep in which you looked terrified—"

"I just don't want to talk about it," I interject.

There's been too many times that I've leaned on Shu to overcome my problems. Sometimes I wonder whether Shu could be considered my therapist instead of my best-friend, but then again, according to my sister that's in the many duties of friends. But, as a 'male' it's completely different—we aren't supposed to talk about emotions or show fears; whatever social media and television persuades the social norm to believe.

This is just one thing that I want to figure out for myself, on my own.

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Hey there guys, sorry for the super long wait for this chapter. Honestly, I've been going through a lot with college, placement, family issues and living situations, that I've been stressed beyond belief. Also, there wasn't really much time for me to write anything, but, I wanted to thank all the readers who have been messaging and talking to me. I appreciate everyone's concern and passion for this story. But, I am back now and promise to be updating more frequently (hopefully).

Anyways, I will be looking over this chapter for editing throughout the next few days and fix it up. I have made a change to the last chapters end, some of you might want to take a look just in case, but if not that is alright too.

Until next chapter,

~VintageTypeWriter2346~