Call of the Wolves

by kuku88

"I'm not what you think I am," breathed the spiky, black-haired bad boy, leaning in. "Sure you aren't," she muttered, pushing him away. He raised an eyebrow. "That's what you think," he replied evenly. Rated T, R&R!

38. Chapter 38: Of Wolves and Women

CHAPTER 38: OF WOLVES AND WOMEN

ME: Crap. I'm typing on my phone with one hand while my nose is bleeding and I'm trying to keep my head down. So uh...yeah. It's a pain to type right now. There's a couple of typos—thank God for autocorrect.

BLOSSOM: Oh dear.

ME: Don't mind me; apologies for the wait—there was a lot to get through so it's a really long chapter. Anyway, disclaimer?

BUTCH: Kuku only owns her own OC's and the story... *pauses* You okay?

ME: *waves away* Yeah, I'm fine. Read on please!

Chapter 38: Of Wolves and Women

---

"Vix, Vix! Wake up," she pleaded, shaking him gently. His fever had risen, and beads of sweat dripped down his face. He didn't look well; she could hear his breathing getting shallower. He'd been like this since she got home; his fever and his nightmares probably worsening while she had been gone.

It took a few moments, but then his eyes flashed open and he immediately sat up, panting. His eyes were wide and his healing powers kicked in, causing one eye to glow white—even though there was nothing to heal. "My neck–my n-neck; he tried to slit it..." he choked.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, causing him to turn one white eye and one green eye on her. She winced at the intensity of his gaze. She opened her mouth, ready to say more, when she saw something wet and sparkling slide down his cheek.

Vix is crying.

It took her a few moments before she could comprehend what was happening, and by then Vix's eyes had closed. Tears pooled freely down his face. He was breaking down. "They tried to kill me," he whispered.

"What?" She was still struggling to grasp the fact that Vix was indeed crying.

"They tried to kill me," he repeated, louder this time. His fingers tightened into fists as he gripped the blankets. His voice broke. "My parents wanted me dead."

She finally realized that he was talking about his nightmare, and she tried not to shiver at the thought. "Why?" she prompted gently, not wanting to alarm him.

"They blamed me for their deaths. They tried to kill me too. They kept saying that 'I did this'; that I killed them. I didn't mean... I didn't mean"—he gulped—"I should've died that day."

"But Damon saved you."

Her words caused Vix to slump, his sobs racking through his body. She wasn't used to a crying male; let alone Vix crying. "I shouldn't have survived."

"Talk it out," she suggested carefully. "Tell me what happened, please."

There was a long moment where he said nothing at all. When he did speak again, his voice was hoarse. "...My mother gouged my eye out. My father tried to slash my neck." Vix's eyes were wide with grief, and his hair was stringy. He was near hysterics, strands of red hair slipping over his teary face.

"Ouch," she managed to say. "Are you sure you're okay? That sounds like a lot to go through..."

He carefully touched his lost eye, his hand shaking. "No, I'm not okay—I'm scared," he finally whispered.

She didn't say anything, just letting him speak.

"I don't know what to do. I can't control my dreams." He let out a low moan.

"Vix, it's okay," she attempted to comfort him.

"No, it's not okay!" He looked up her, eyes flashing. He rubbed his neck. "My parents tried to kill me in my dreams. I can't... I can't take it any—!" She watched as his calmness kept deteriorating, until finally he snapped, his voice rising until it was close to a broken shout. "It's all my fault they died!"

"No it's not," she protested weakly. "You couldn't have prevented them from—" She stopped herself.

"From what? Dying?" He closed his watering eyes. "It's not fair."

She didn't reply. Couldn't reply.

He remained silent for a long time, tears flowing as his mind spun. He seemed to slip deeper and deeper into the memories of his nightmare. When he suddenly reached forward, she half-expected him to do something physical to her. Grab her or shake her, perhaps. Instead, he sighed and slipped his arms around her, his voice choked with sobs. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." It was clear he wasn't talking directly to her.

She hugged him back. "It's okay," she murmured, rubbing his back. "It's okay now, I promise."

He hugged her tighter, whispering, "I feel awful, Christie. I could see them again... Blaming me for their deaths... There was fire all around us, and they were smiling as they blamed me." He shook his head, sobbing. "Why couldn't I save them? Why am I so weak? I should've died instead of them."

Christie bit her lip. "Vix..." She finally wrapped her own arms around him, gently rocking him back and forth. The idea of Vix being broken worried her. If one of the strongest soldiers she knew couldn't stop from breaking, then who could? "It'll be okay," she said soothingly, "you're safe."

He remained quiet, letting the tears fall from his eyes.

Whispers pushed at the the edges of her mind, whispers she refused to acknowledge. They sent tremors of fear striking into her heart. But they came anyway, asking, What if he's not safe? She didn't answer the feverish thoughts, pushing them aside. No. He'll be fine. I'll make sure of it.

He may not exactly be my friend, but he is still my ally.

---

Morning came too soon for Buttercup. She stretched, blinking sleep from her eyes. She couldn't seem to keep them open.

"Buttercup, are you up yet?" a voice called from behind the wall.

"Mmm," she answered, rubbing her eyes.

The door opened to reveal Blossom, her striking pink gaze roaming the room. It settled on Buttercup, and the always early-to-bed-early-to-rise Powerpuff Girl raised an eyebrow. "Up and at 'em," she stated, holding a bunch of papers in her arms. She made a sweeping motion with one hand.

Buttercup rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Sure, whatever you say, Leader Girl." She did a mock salute.

"I'm ready to go," Blossom continued, looking proud—as if she didn't do this every morning.

"And your source of energy is the prospect of seeing Brick again, right?" teased the green Puff, smirking.

Blossom's face immediately reddened. "I-It's not like that! I-I just look forward to...to helping him regain his memories and helping the Ruffs out."

"Suuuure." Buttercup chuckled behind her hand, knowing that she had won.

Flustered, Blossom quickly turned away. "Just b-be up soon, 'kay? Then we c-can get to school soon!"

"Yeah, and we'll get to see Brick sooner," added Buttercup, calling after her sister.

Blossom didn't answer, walking away with awkward steps and an obvious embarrassment radiating off of her.

Buttercup hopped out of her bed and got ready, still amused over Blossom's reaction to her teasing. When she finished, she got dressed and flew down for breakfast, dragging her backpack with her. She threw it down on the floor as she flopped down in her seat. "'Morning!" she hollered.

"Good morning, Buttercup," the Professor greeted with a smile. He set down his coffee.

"'Morning!" answered Bubbles, looking over her shoulder as she flipped a pancake in her pan. She smiled.

Blossom was sitting there, sighing as she hid her face from Buttercup. "Good morning, BC," she muttered.

The raven-haired Powerpuff grinned.

Banana appeared from the living room, balancing a new dress carefully in her arms. It was yellow, of course, but the bottom of the skirt and edges were lavender; as if she had used spray paint. It was decorated with lace. "I'm finally done!" she announced proudly. Just then; an orange streak zipped past and caused Banana to jump back in surprise. "Bliss!" she cried. "Watch it!"

"Sorry!" responded the orange Puff, not sounding sorry at all.

Banana sighed, placing the dress down on a chair before slipping into her seat. "You're forgiven," she muttered, stirring a cup of tea with honey added, "mostly only because you aren't sorry anyway."

Bliss smiled back, her eyes teasing. "You know me so well."

Sighing, Banana rolled her eyes.

"Breakfast~!" sang Bubbles, setting down a plate with a waffle-and-egg sandwich. The egg was basically exactly what the title implied: sandwiched between two waffles, with a small piece of fruit on top, and some maple syrup. Bubbles had created this dish by accident years ago, when she had been trying to cook them separately. She accidentally ended up slapping them together and the waffle-egg sandwich was made. It was actually pretty good, despite what people might think about syrup, fruit, eggs, and waffles being eaten together.

"Thanks, sis," Buttercup stated, picking up the sandwich and biting down on it.

"No problem." Bubbles beamed, sitting down in her own seat with her own sandwich.

Buttercup smiled. We are a family. We are always together.

---

We are a pack. We are always together. Butch frowned.

He leaned back in his seat, glancing out the window. Mojo had been driving the Ruffs to school the past few days, considering how Brick couldn't fly. None of the Ruffs felt it was right to fly to school without their redheaded brother, so they had all agreed to being driven—even if it did mean waking up earlier and taking longer to get there. Brick still didn't even know much about his powers. When Bandit had told him, hoping to spark a memory, Brick had been shocked. He almost didn't believe Bandit, until he remembered all that he had seen the past few days: Mojo, Him, flying Powerpuff Girls. Bandit and the other Rowdyruff Boys demonstrated their powers, even getting Brick to try his own.

He wasn't steady enough to fly for too long though, and even though Pokey Oaks High wasn't far, it wasn't exactly two minutes away either. Brick had only managed to fly in a straight line for about a foot or two. So that was why Mojo and Him were now constantly driving the Rowdyruff Boys to school, and how they often had to walk home.

Today Butch didn't complain about the car ride though, because he had other thoughts swimming through his head. He thought of Ross yesterday, bleeding from a fight. He thought of Buttercup and how they were supposed to hang out later that day. Butch was currently wearing his school uniform, but he had his outfit ready for changing into when school was over.

"You seem distracted," Bandit remarked, glancing back at his brother.

"I guess I kinda am," Butch confessed.

"Your date, right?" Braker smirked.

Butch rolled his eyes. "It is not a date."

"The one time you plus a girl doesn't equal a date," Braker laughed, his orange eyes gleaming with amusement, "is when Buttercup is involved." Butch punched his brother's arm, but the orange Ruff simply carried on: "Butch and Buttercup don't know how to add in love~"

"We're not in love, and we're definitely not dating!" snapped Butch, irritated.

Boomer glanced at his brothers with only mild interest, before turning back to gaze out the window. Butch stopped yelling at Braker to look at his blond, blue-eyed brother. The blue Rowdyruff Boy had been abnormally quiet the past few days, still cheerful but also often rather grumpy. Butch remembered his texts with Bubbles and her question about whether or not Boomer was mad at her. Butch wondered if that had anything to do with Boomer's now often blank, indifferent mood.

Brick was laughing behind a hand, eyes bright and cheerful. Butch felt something tug at his heart. In the last few days, he had grown quite fond of innocent Brick, and he knew that if Blossom succeeded in bringing back Brick's memories, he would in fact miss the amnesiac side of his brother. But he also knew that nothing could replace the original red Ruff, with his snarky, temperamental, capable leader-like attitude.

Beside Brick, Blaster was also quiet, gazing at photos on his phone. The yellow Ruff had been quiet since his recent trips out to Damon's cabin, but he was still upbeat enough to make Butch believe that nothing too bad had happened to him.

Even Bandit was having trouble staying cheerful all the time, his worries about being leader always bothering him. Butch knew this because while he was good at disguising these emotions, Bandit was still incapable of fully fooling his brothers.

The only one truly unaffected by drama at the moment was Braker, who flirted and teased as much as he always did—even with a possible war building up around him. Still, Butch had seen the looks in Braker's eyes whenever he was confronted by Michael's friends, specifically Deth Jackson.

"We're here!" Mojo called, his voice slicing through the silence. The Ruffs said their goodbyes to Mojo and stepped out of the car. The ape mutant waved at them before driving off, leaving them in front of the school.

Butch was about to walk inside, when a voice behind him caused him to stop: "I still can't believe you're riding to school now everyday. I used to think you guys thought that you were too good to ride, what with your fancy superpowers." He winced, turning to face the speaker. The person was grinning, blue eyes sparkling as black hair fell into his face.

"...DJ," he muttered.

Braker immediately stepped forward, shoulders squared and teeth clenched. "What do you want?" he demanded. A long time ago, he and Deth Jackson had gotten to a stalemate in a fight. It was a small squabble, not worth much in the bigger picture of the feud between their two sides. But then DJ played dirty by kicking up dust in Braker's eyes and winning when the orange Ruff couldn't see, humiliating Braker with a knee to the nose. Ever since that battle, the two had formed a bitter rivalry to prove one of them was better than the other. It wasn't just that they were on opposite sides of a war—they were also rivals competing against one another in daily life.

"Relax, I'm just here to talk—or rather, to tease." DJ shrugged innocently, hands in his black suit jacket pockets. The standard Pokey Oaks High bow-tie and plaid pants didn't look geeky in the slightest on him. "I'll soon be outta your hair."

"Good riddance," Braker retorted, arms crossed. His look was steely and cold.

"Why, there's no need to be so rude to me," Deth said dramatically, waving one arm in a grand flourish. "I promise I'll be gone soon; 'cause I have to go talk to Bliss anyway."

Braker stiffened. "What...?"

"She wanted to interview me a little while back for the school newspaper, but I didn't have time then. I do now, so I figured it'd be okay for me to say hi to her. She seems like a rather delightful young lady to have around," DJ said smugly, amusement glinting in his eyes. He was satisfied that he'd caught Braker's attention.

"Stay away from her," Braker warned.

"Do you like her?" DJ asked, listing his head.

"...No."

"Then why? I won't hurt her. I think I deserve to talk to a girl that just so happens to have been nice to me, don't you? After all, I'm also only a human being, just like you—even more so than you are, because I don't have your superpowers." He smiled almost wickedly. "Besides, if Michael gets Banana, Ross gets Buttercup, Darkai gets Bunny, and Sidney gets Bubbles... Isn't it only fair I get the possible ship of me and Bliss?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" snapped Braker, clearly frustrated.

"Wait... What do you mean by 'Michael gets Banana'?" Blaster added, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Oh, didn't you know?" DJ sounded mockingly sorry, his voice dripping with over-exaggeration. "Michael is getting closer to Banana. She and he find each other quite charming. I'd say they'd be a cute ship, wouldn't you?"

"WHAT ARE THESE FUCKING 'SHIPS' YOU KEEP TALKING ABOUT!?" yelled Braker, shoving Deth Jackson onto the floor.

"Ooh, someone's touchy today," DJ commented. He smirked, satisfied that he'd gotten under the orange Ruff's skin. "Last time I checked you're a weeaboo and cartoon fan, aren't you? I'm sure you know what a ship is."

"I know what they are, but what is this bullshit about—"

Bandit grabbed Braker's arm, his voice low as he took up his leadership role: "Shhh. Don't make a scene here."

Braker stopped, looking around. He spotted Bliss running toward them, and all the other students staring. He managed to force his shoulders to relax as he took a deep breath. But before he could say anything, Bliss approached Deth Jackson. "What's going on?" she asked, looking concerned. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine," he reported, smiling. His blue eyes sparkled. "Thanks for your concern."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "Glad to hear it." Then she turned on Braker. "You really need to watch that temper of yours!"

His jaw dropped open. "You—He—my fucking temper...—what? Seriously? That's what you're going to talk about?"

"Yes! You could've hurt him," Bliss retorted, helping DJ up. "You even shoved him! You should've stopped to think about making a scene, or losing your temper, or using too much force! You have superpowers, you know!"

Braker knew she had a point, but he was irritated by her words. "He can handle it!"

"It's true; I can," DJ agreed with a smirk.

Frustration clawed at his belly. Somehow, having Deth agree with him didn't sound like such a helpful thing.

Sure enough, it wasn't. "He's only human! You could've hurt him!" Bliss said loudly.

"He can handle it!" snapped Braker, repeating himself. "He's not just a h—" When she stared at him, he coughed and glared at the floor, stopping himself. "Whatever," he muttered, spinning around and stalking away and into the school. The entrance doors slammed shut behind him.

Butch watched as the crowd started whispering and Bliss hurried to help Deth. I was wrong, he suddenly realized, Braker has now also been affected by drama.

Meanwhile, Bliss watched as DJ dusted himself off. "What were you thinking, pushing Braker's buttons like that?" she demanded.

He glanced up, his sky-blue eyes swirling like the waves of the ocean glittering beneath the sun. "I apologize," he said, "but I'm sure you know by now that the Ruffs and I do not get along so well."

Bliss sighed. He's right. They don't get along so well. "Still, he has superpowers and you don't! He could've hurt you."

"But he wouldn't have. Braker's not stupid, nor is he brutish. Plus, you were there." DJ paused. "And Braker was right: I am stronger than I look."

"Even then—"

"Do not concern yourself over me so much, Bliss. We've only just started talking to each other, after all." Deth Jackson smiled charmingly. Even his teeth sparkled. "I promise you I'm fine, and I won't provoke him too much next time."

Bliss relaxed, her prepared scoldings at DJ vanishing when she saw his smiling eyes and his smile that seemed to be smiling within itself. "Okay," she agreed.

"I'm up for that interview, by the way." DJ bent down, took her hand, and kissed it. He raised his ghostly eyes, grinning cheekily. "Do not look so panicked. I kiss your hand as a joke—and as a gentleman—as a gentlemanly joke, if you will. Ironic, is it not?" He paused, straightening. "Thank you for the rescue, Miss Utonium." He winked.

Bliss shuddered, drawing her hand back in surprise. It felt warm. "N-No problem," she stammered, blushing.

He did a mock salute, still smiling, as he turned and walked away.

---

"There; that should be a lot better."

He flexed his arm, glancing down at the fresh bandages wrapped around his new cuts, before turning his starlit, night sky gaze toward the girl beside him. His eyes seemed a little brighter. "Thank you."

Her cheeks turned pink as she managed to stammer back, "Y-Y-You're welcome." She glanced down at his arms. "It feels like after I treat your wounds, more just spring up later."

"I have a lot of training to do," he grunted back, turning away.

"But that doesn't mean you should get hurt like this," she replied, her eyebrows creasing in concern.

"I'm fine, Bunny," he sighed, running a hand through his long, dark hair. He gazed steadily at her. "Thank you for the care, but I promise I'm okay."

Bunny blushed, glancing down. She hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable. She knew she shouldn't pry, but she really was worried about him. Being wounded daily didn't sound like a good way to live your life. "I'm just worried about you, Darkai."

"You don't need to be." He nodded. "I'm capable of handling myself. I know my limits."

But you might push yourself too far. Bunny didn't say it out loud, but the thought lingered on her tongue. She couldn't bring herself to say it.

Darkai seemed to guess what she was thinking though, because he frowned and shook his head. "I won't overdo it, I promise. So please stop worrying about me." His gaze softened as he reached out and brushed a few strands of dark-brown hair out of Bunny's face and tucked it behind her ears gently. His touch sent shivers tingling down her spine. Darkai's tone remained quiet, but this time it was gentler as he continued, "I feel better when you don't worry."

"So stop doing things that worry me!" she cried before she could stop herself. Shocked, Bunny clapped her hands over her mouth. She hardly ever spoke out.

He stared at her for a long time, and she had to avert her eyes to keep from feeling any more embarrassed than she already was. When he finally spoke again, he didn't sound angry or upset. Instead, his tone was still gentle. Bunny had never heard him use such a tone with her. Usually he was gruff and un-talkative. But with her, he was friendlier, in a way. "Why would you concern yourself over me? I'm not worth it."

"Why would you say that?" she whispered back.

"Because it's true. I'm not worth worrying about." Darkai leaned back against the wall, gently running his fingers along his bandaged arm. He winced at the pain it brought him. "Especially from you. Why would you concern yourself with someone like me?" he muttered.

"...Because I care," she finally managed to make herself reply after a minute of uncomfortable silence. "Everyone in this world deserves care."

Darkai glanced at her, his dark-blue eyes swirling. "Then let me ask you," he murmured, "why me?"

"I-I don't know."

It seemed that such an answer didn't satisfy Darkai. He turned away, and Bunny's heart skipped a beat. She felt bad about sounding so dismissive.

"I...I think it's because you're always injured," Bunny managed to stutter. He glanced at her in surprise. "You're...not just hurt on the outside," she continued hesitantly. She paused to stare into his deep, blue gaze, trying to draw courage. She found herself feeling butterflies inside her stomach. "You're just as hurt on the inside," she finished softly.

It felt as though an eternity passed as he simply studied her, his eyes still calm. But this time, there was a flicker of a storm within them, something that flashed darkness. When Darkai replied, he looked tired...and weaker than Bunny had ever seen him. "You're right," he finally said.

"Huh?" She stared at him in befuddlement, still mesmerized by how he looked. A dark, sad gaze; tense muscles; tiredness in his expression...

"You're right," he repeated. "There is something that hurts inside of me." His eyes jumped to her before looking away. "My parents died one night. Someone shot them. I vowed to hunt them down, and while I have avenged my parents the best I can, it still hurts. Avenging them wouldn't bring them back. I want to stop other criminals from doing the same to other people. Watching the ones you care about die right in front of your eyes and being powerless to stop it... It's the most lonely feeling in the world." He closed his eyes as a single tear slipped down his cheek. "They didn't deserve to die."

"Oh... Oh, I'm sorry," Bunny managed to say, her eyes wide. She couldn't believe it; any of it. Darkai was carrying such a burden all by himself, and she hadn't even known. Not only that, but he was crying right in front of her. Darkai, of all people, was crying! She gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time, with only silence passing between them. Darkai had stopped the few tears he had shed, preventing any more from rolling down his face, but he was still huddled against the wall with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. His entire body was loose. Darkai's eyes were so sad, it was the most helpless Bunny had ever seen someone so strong and silent.

Finally, Darkai relaxed. "I'm fine now." His voice had returned from the brokenness, now sounding once again smooth and velvety. There was a hoarseness behind it though, one that he couldn't hide. His blue eyes were no longer so stormy, but now there was a hollowness within them that was clear as day. He got up to leave, but Bunny stopped him. Darkai looked down at her in surprise when he felt a hand in his.

"I-If you ever want to t-talk, then I-I'll be there for you," she whispered.

The surprise faded as his gaze warmed up and his lips curled just slightly. He closed his eyes. "Thank you, Bunny." Before she could realize what was happening, he had leaned forward and gently brushed his fingertips down her cheek. "You're a kind girl with a beautiful soul. Thank you for your care," he murmured. Then he was gone, his shirt pulled away from the infirmary bed as if it had never even been put down. The curtains fluttered in a sudden breeze, and Bunny watched the light stream into the dark infirmary room. There was no signs that Darkai had been in there as well, except for the memory of the warmth of his touch on her cheek, and the tingling sensation it brought her.

When she got out of the school infirmary, her thoughts were swirling. Darkai says he doesn't deserve my care, and yet he's thankful. He comes to our now weekly healing sessions, even though he said he wouldn't—even though he protests. She smiled somewhat as her heart fluttered. Then it faded. But the story about him and his parents is just awful... No one deserves that.

"Bunny...?"

The call caused her to focus again on reality, as she turned to see who had said her name. It was Bandit.

He was looking at her with creased eyebrows, a frown on his face. He and Bunny hadn't talked in awhile, as she had been avoiding him and soon it was vice versa. There was a long moment of silence that passed between them, before he said anything: "Darkai's dangerous. You should stay away from him."

A jolt of surprise passed through her. Did he see Darkai leaving? With his words heavy in her mind, she replied, "Why? He's been completely nice to me thus far."

"He's a deceiver, Bunny. Please, don't talk to him anymore. He's not your friend, and the beef he has with my family doesn't concern you." There was a hint of desperation behind his voice. "You could get hurt."

"Darkai wouldn't hurt me." She took a step back.

Bandit stepped forward. "No, but he is capable of doing so, and someone else that he's currently associated with could —would—hurt you if given the chance."

"Who?" she asked, not wanting to believe anything he was saying.

Bandit stopped walking toward her, his rich purple eyes suddenly nervous. He glanced at the floor.

"...You still won't tell me," Bunny whispered. "You're still keeping secrets. Why won't you trust me?" Her voice rose as it began to break.

"It's not like that!" Bandit's eyes flashed toward her, more exasperation clawing at his voice. "I'm doing this for your own good!"

"I cared about you, Bandit! I was worried whenever you were hurt or sad. But you never trust me! Every time I try to help, you only turn me away! Do you know how much that hurts?" Bunny's eyes pooled with tears. "I thought we were friends. Don't friends trust each other? Why won't you trust me?"

"We are friends! And friends protect each other! That's what I'm trying t—"

"Stop lying to me!" Bunny clenched her fingers into fists, her hands shaking. "You're not trying to protect me. You're just pushing me away again. Darkai is nice to me, Bandit! He actually accepts my help. He lets me care! He trusts me enough to talk about his problems with me! Just today he told me something that takes a lot of trust to do."

"Bunny, you don't understand." Bandit shook his head. "He's drawing you in. Sooner or later you'll get caught up in his tangled web of secrets and you won't be able to get out. The people he knows are dangerous. There's someone out there who would be willing to use Darkai to get to you to get to me."

"What about your tangled web of secrets?" she demanded.

His voice was tight. "That's what I'm trying to keep you out of."

"Will you stop being so paranoid and full of yourself?" Bunny couldn't believe she was saying such words, but she was. "Everything you say is just to push me away. If you don't trust me, then just say it to my face! Don't use Darkai as your own shield!"

"It's not like that!" he yelled again.

Bunny paused. "So what is it like, then?" she whispered.

Bandit stopped too, calming down as his determination waned. "I..." He looked away. "I can't tell you."

"I knew it. I knew it!" she cried back, tears tingling in her eyes again. "You really don't trust me, or care for me at all! I cared about you, Bandit! You were so nice to me once, after my revival and we stopped battling as enemies. You became the the one who made me feel better about myself and my flaws! So when I wanted to repay you, things started to change. You started to change! You didn't talk to me anymore, and you refused to say much whenever you did! It only got worse as we got older. You kept pushing me away, so I almost gave up. We drifted apart, Bandit. And you didn't even care!

"So now that I have someone like Darkai, who is actually willing to accept my help because his ego isn't big and he doesn't have things to hide, you want to take that away from me? Why would I want to listen to someone who kept looking the other way whenever I tried to talk to them? You can't just come barging back into my life and expect me to listen to you all of a sudden! You didn't trust me and in doing so you broke my trust in you. I know you're hiding things, Bandit. I know. I just wish you'd stop hiding them and trust me again. Then maybe I'll be able to trust you again as well."

She watched him, her tone cracking like shattered glass. "Please," she whispered. "Trust me again."

"I...I can't. I don't want to draw you into my messes," Bandit finally replied. "I want you to be safe."

"Even if it means pushing me away?"

"...Even if it means that."

This time the tears fell freely from her face. She spun around and ran. "Fine then! I won't talk to you ever again, Bandit! In fact, I hate you!"

Bandit watched her go, before slamming a fist into the wall. He created a hole. "DAMMIT!" he yelled. "Dammit, dammit, God fucking dammit!" He stopped hitting the wall, letting the quietness engulf him as he struggled to keep himself from breaking down. After calming down, he sighed and glanced at his hands, his breaths ragged. "Ross was wrong..." he muttered. "Talking to Bunny was a bad idea." But deep down inside, he knew it was his fault that she had chosen to run away from him and toward Darkai instead.

Meanwhile, the purple Powerpuff had stopped running as she leaned against a wall, wiping away tears and tried to calm her breathing. Bandit's the one who doesn't deserve my care, she told herself. Then she paused, shivering as she rubbed her arms. But maybe telling him that I hate him was a little too harsh. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But you're the one who keeps turning your back on me. I can't follow you forever. I have to do what I think is right.

Darkai's rare smile and kind gaze manifested in her brain. His fingertips against her cheek. His tears as he let himself show weakness in front of her. How he let her help and heal him.

And I think I can trust Darkai.

---

It was a long flight to the Rowdyruff Boys' house.

Even though she was flying in the air, Bubbles still felt as though weights were tied to her feet. They dragged her down, trying to pull her under, slowing her flight considerably. An unreasonable sense of dread filled her body. She was flying to the Ruffs' house to get some talking done with Boomer. She was also currently with Blossom, who was carrying the helmet that might help bring back Brick's memories.

If Boomer was going to keep avoiding her, then she figured she'd just have to make him listen to her. The idea made Bubbles nervous, though. Boomer evidently didn't want to talk to her. He swerved away whenever they nearly met paths, quickly disappearing into the crowd. He never said anything to her, pushing past her to get to his other friends. He didn't even acknowledge her waves or attempts at conversation anymore, always turning away pointedly. The best response she could get out of him was a roll of the eyes.

Bubbles had been ready to give up, but both Butch and Sidney had told her to talk to Boomer. Butch said that he'd beat some sense into his brother if he kept ignoring Bubbles. Meanwhile, Sidney had urged her to try and talk to Boomer, whom he said would be more likely to listen to her—although at the rate things were going, that now seemed rather unlikely.

She landed with a soft thud as her feet hit the porch. Her hands were clammy, her heart was beating fast, and her feet felt like lead. She glanced at Blossom and her sister nodded. Then Bubbles raised a nervous fist and knocked.

A long moment passed before anyone answered the door, eyes tired and sleepy. It was Bandit. "What can I do for you?" he asked raggedly, looking as if he'd just lost one of his best friends earlier during the day.

Bubbles didn't comment on his appearance out loud though, instead letting her eyes roam the home behind Bandit. "Umm...I wanted to talk to Boomer...?"

"And I'm here to try and restore Brick's memories," Blossom stated calmly, holding up the helmet.

Bubbles marvelled at how calm her sister was.

"Oh, right. Sorry I nearly forgot." Bandit ran a hand haplessly through his long, messy brown hair. It was untied, which caused it to curl messily. "Come on in."

Bubbles and Blossom floated inside, eyeing the house. It was messier than it had been the last time they had visited, with more papers and items strewn about. In the Rowdyruffs' stress, they'd started to become more careless with cleanliness.

A literally red head peeked out from the kitchen, black hair gleaming and green eyes brightening. "Ooh; Bubbles, Blossom! How nice it is to see you!" cooed the person, their red face warm and jolly.

"Hi, Him." Bubbles sat down on the arm of a sofa, rubbing her elbow awkwardly as Bandit and Blossom talked briefly. Soon Bandit disappeared into the kitchen, and Blossom went down into Mojo's lab. Bubbles was tempted to follow, but she knew she had work to do. Blaster showed up with some cookies, which he gave her, smiling kindly. His brightness gave Bubbles some encouragement.

The blue Powerpuff Girl got up and bit down on her second chocolate-chip cookie. She held her third oatmeal cookie in her other hand. Bubbles studied the cookies for a few moments, before snatching up another chocolate-chip one—she wanted to give it to Boomer as a sign of peace. Then she climbed up the stairs, balancing the items in her arms. When she finally got to the familiar dark-blue of Boomer's door, she felt heat swirl inside her stomach. It was uncomfortable.

There was a long pause on the other end, before the person called out, "Come in."

Bubbles opened the door a tad and peeked inside, surprised to see steam coming from the bathroom. It was vague, but it was there. She was about to make a dash for it, when Boomer himself appeared. He hadn't noticed her yet, clad only in a towel wrapped around his legs. His chest was bare and his shaggy, blond hair was dripping wet. Bubbles tried to run, but her legs were frozen in place. She tried to talk, but the words vanished in her throat.

Boomer bent down and started rummaging around in a drawer. "What do you want?" he asked, holding up a pair of dark-blue-and-white-striped boxer briefs. "Does it have to do with Damon again? Something about Vix and the Eye? Or the upcoming war? Maybe even Danes and his lackeys? Or Brick's amnesia?" He was untying the knot that held the towel around his waist by then, but Bubbles didn't notice.

Normally, the idea of him stripping would've sent her into a panic, but at the current moment Bubbles was too busy being confused—and mulling over—Boomer's words. I have no idea what they mean, she realized. What is Boomer hiding? "What was that about a war?" she asked without thinking.

All of a sudden, Boomer froze. The towel had slipped about a centimetre down his legs, but now it was pulled up almost twice as quickly as he had been pulling it off. "What are you doing here!?" he demanded, spinning around to stare at Bubbles.

She blinked a couple of times before she remembered why the situation was so mortifying. Her face immediately lit up in a bright red and she took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to—! For the love of God, you purposely knocked on my door and stood there without telling me you were even here!"

"I'm sorry! I was too shocked to! Then I forgot you were...h-h-half-naked when you mentioned a 'war' or something!"

"Whatever the reason, just get hurry up and get out!"

As soon as Bubbles was out the door, it slammed shut behind her. A click told her that he'd locked it, although she wouldn't have peeked anyway. Soon the door opened just a crack, and Boomer peeked out. He was wearing a loose white no-sleeve and dark-blue shorts now.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"To talk," she tried to say, holding out the cookies.

"Humph. I could've guessed that," he muttered. He hesitated before taking her offer.

Bubbles felt her heart close in upon itself. She gritted her teeth. "Boomer, please."

"Fine. Keep talking then."

She took a deep breath, reaching into her mind for words. Whenever she found a few words she liked, she got stumped on the next word. It seemed to be taking her a little too long though, as Boomer was starting to look impatient.

"Get on with it," he said with an undertone of ice and coldness.

"I-I'm here because—"

"I already know why you're here—"

"—Because I want to know why you keep ignoring me!"

There was a sudden stretch of silence as Boomer fell quiet, his navy-blue eyes darting up to her face. He seemed to be studying her desperate, confused expression, trying to figure out what to say. He looked away.

"Boomer, please tell me!" Bubbles could feel her voice rising as he continued to stay silent. It wasn't a warm silence either—it was cold and uncomfortable.

He stayed voiceless for a few more seconds, before he spoke again. When his words slowly cut through the stillness, his voice sounded raspy and tired. "I'm only—only 'ignoring you' because you kept neglecting me."

"I wasn't doing such a thing!" she protested.

Boomer's voice vanished for a couple of seconds. It was clear he was struggling to find words to explain his behaviour, which just made Bubbles more concerned. If he doesn't have a good reason, he shouldn't even be avoiding me! She clenched her fists, waiting for him to continue. When he did, he still sounded unsure. "You weren't talking to me a lot."

Bubbles parted her lips to protest, but she soon realized that he had a point. She had in fact been sort of ignoring him—even if it wasn't on purpose. She was about to apologize, when all of a sudden, Boomer continued, seemingly encouraged by her silence.

"You kept hanging out with Sidney. You still are."

"I... He's a nice person." Bubbles bit her lip.

Boomer visibly rolled his eyes. "You know I don't like him."

"That's because you don't know him like I do!"

"No, you don't know him like I do!" he shot back, his voice rising a few octaves as he lost some of his coldness. "You don't know the history between our families, or what his friends and family has done. You don't know what Sidney's capable of, and what he's been trying to hide from you. You don't know him at all!" Boomer slammed a fist onto his door for emphasis, the bang echoing in the room.

Bubbles jumped back, startled, struggling to recover her scrambling thoughts. "But I do know him! He's sweet and kind and caring—"

"Manipulative, controlling, and a backstabber. I'll admit that Sidney himself isn't so bad, but his kind are terrible people," snarled Boomer.

"How could you say that?" cried Bubbles. "Sidney's just a friendly, shy boy who helped me out when I was in need!"

"He's not what you think he is!" Boomer snapped back.

Bubbles froze, unsure how to respond. Boomer was certainly acting more aggressive than he usually would, and he sounded serious. But what could be so bad about Sidney and his family that even Boomer won't tolerate them? Bubbles thought of Sidney's sisters, Sarah and Sally, as well as Sydney. She thought of Sidney's mildly hippie-like parents. As Boomer stared intently at her, his breathing a little more ragged, Bubbles felt her heart practically stop. She suddenly remembered words that Sidney's twin, Sydney had said to her when she first visited their house:

"You don't know Sidney as well as you think you do."*

Boomer was still staring at her, and now he raised an expectant eyebrow at her loss of words and wide eyes. "What, have you finally come to your senses?"

She didn't reply at first, still trying to piece together the fragments of dazed thoughts inside her head. Does Boomer's accusations and Sydney's claim mean anything? Are they even related? Bubbles swallowed hard. She didn't want to believe it. Sidney was a sweet boy, and that's all she wanted him to be. Before she could stop herself; before she could think it over more and say that she sort of saw where he was coming from, even if she didn't fully believe him—she instead opened her mouth and said, "You can't be right."

"...What?" His almost hopeful gaze became dark as he clenched his jaw, the muscles tight beneath his skin.

"You can't be right," she repeated, louder this time. "Sidney's such a sweetheart. He isn't capable—can't be capable—of pulling off horrible stunts!"

Boomer's lips dropped further until they were an obvious frown. "Bubbles... You're in denial."

"He's been so nice to me. Why would he lie?"

"Maybe he's afraid he wouldn't fit in with you."

"How do I know you aren't lying to me?"

The look on his face made her regret the words as soon as she said them. He narrowed his eyes. "Thanks for trusting me," he said sarcastically.

Bubbles' heart ached at his harsh words and tone. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. "I'm sorry, okay! It's a lot to take in; it's just...so hard to believe. Please tell me his secret if you know it; then maybe it'll be easier believing you."

There was a long silence before Boomer replied, his tone stiff: "...From what I've seen, it's safe to say that you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Try me," whispered Bubbles, her heart pounding and her adrenaline striking upwards. "Tell me everything, please."

"...No, not everything. Just know this for now: he's not what he seems."

"I know that already!" Bubbles raised her voice, growing desperate.

Boomer looked away. "I'm not allowed to say anything," he muttered quietly. "But listen to me, I can tell you this: Sidney and his family and friends simply drive me batty sometimes."

"That doesn't help me at all."

"It does a lot more than you'd think." Boomer's gaze softened, if only for a moment. Then it hardened again. "If you believe in Sidney so much, go talk to him and see how well you really know him—if he'll give you any answers, that is."

"Boomer... I-I don't know what to s—"

He raised a hand to silence her, eyes closing as the frustration obviously began to sink in and he gave into it, letting it control him and his words. "You're the one who won't trust me. I know what I want you to say, but you won't say it. So go talk to your new boyfriend whom you happen to trust soooo much, 'kay? I need my personal space anyway, so let's just continue our break from one another."

"Wait...what? He's not my boyfriend!" gasped Bubbles. "I thought we'd reached a mutual understanding this conversation and that you'd stop acting like...like this! Why are you being so dismissive—?"

He scoffed, "Yeah, sure. Whatever. If he's not your boyfriend now, he probably will be soon anyway." His eyes darkened and he added in a mutter, "The only thing I understand now is how much more you trust Sidney over me. And you know what? I don't care. I just don't want to deal with this right now, so leave me alone. Go hang out with Mr. Comfortingly Sweet—or don't or something. I just don't care what you do anymore, 'kay? So leave."

Bubbles' mouth dropped open. "But Boomer—"

The door slammed shut in front of her, dismissing her.

Bubbles stared at the door in shock. That went awfully, she thought, her heart hurting. I'm sorry, Boomer. Then she trudged dejectedly away.

---

Meanwhile, below a floor—which was below the floor where Boomer's room lay—was Mojo's laboratory. Blossom was peeking inside and knocking on the door around the same time as Bubbles knocked on Boomer's door. "Hello?" she called softly.

Mojo appeared immediately from out of nowhere, covered in grease. He looked tired and stressed, as though he'd missed a couple hours of much-needed sleep. "Oh, greetings and hello, Blossom Utonium," Mojo said, his words almost slurring together. "I apologize in advance about the mess and clutter strewn and tossed carelessly aside about the lab; I was meaning to, as in planning to, clean or tidy up today, but my plans and schedule have gotten a little messy and disorganized themselves because I currently do not have the liberty of asking my son Brick Jojo for help, whom is still currently in amnesia."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mojo. You take a break," Blossom replied gently.

The mutated ape shook his head. "Not possible, I'm afraid," he said. "I have to fix and repair this broken-down and rusted jet-plane by next week's Monday."

"Get some rest," insisted Blossom. "I'll help with the jet sometime. For now, you deserve to take a nap."

"Thank you for your consideration, Blossom, but—"

"Mojo, now." The pink Puff raised an eyebrow.

Mojo sighed, "Fine; very well, if it is what you wish and recommend I do with good intentions of my interests at heart."

"Yes it is," she said firmly.

Mojo paused, before smiling a little. "Thank you," he murmured, peeling off his grease-spotted work-gloves and tossing aside his dirty work-apron. Then he disappeared up the stairs.

Blossom watched him go, before sighing softly. While she did want Mojo to rest, she also desired some privacy with Brick. She then made her way further into the lab, calling out for the redheaded Rowdyruff Boy. He answered by popping his head out from behind a bookshelf, a bundle of papers in his arms.

"Hi!" he greeted her, before pausing and adding, "...Bloom—no, Blossom—right?"

She blinked back her surprise and felt a smile appear on her lips. "Yeah, that's right." She held up the helmet she was carrying. "Are you ready to try and get your memories back?"

"I guess so," Brick said, looking obviously a little nervous.

"Let's go to your bed," Blossom offered soothingly. "Maybe that'll help."

Brick gladly complied, setting the bundle down on a desk nearby. "I'm sure Mojo won't mind if I leave these here."

"...What do you remember of Mojo?" she asked suddenly.

He paused. "Umm...I know he talks a lot, but that's sorta from experience from now." Then his face lit up. "He was a villain once, right? Your villain."

"That's right!" Blossom's own face brightened. "It looks like you've been recovering some of your memories on your own."

"I've been trying," he agreed, smiling sheepishly. "It's really hard though."

She hesitated before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's okay. It takes time."

Brick smiled gratefully, before pulling away from her touch and sliding into the bed. He remained sitting upright, watching as Blossom sat down in a chair beside the bed. He was still smiling somewhat, but now he looked more nervous.

Blossom wanted to tell him that it'd all be okay; that it was safe and that she was there for him, but then he opened his mouth and said:

"So...I guess this is it, huh?" Brick's fingers tightened into fists as he stared at his lap.

Blossom nodded absentmindedly, glancing down at her hands to keep from staring into Brick's red eyes. She was toying with the helmet, trying to find a good setting. She felt almost sorry that amnesiac Brick may disappear if she got the helmet to work properly. But she did want the old Brick back. Blossom opened her mouth to try and comfort him again, but again no words came out.

"If you get the helmet to permanently change my mindset, then I'll be back to normal," he continued.

"Not...normal, per say," she replied with hesitation, "just...back to your old self."

"And that's normal," he sighed. Brick leaned back in the bed, running a hand through his long red hair. "My normal."

She was still tinkering with the helmet, unsure what to say to make him feel better. Sucking in a deep breath, Blossom held the item up. "It's ready."

"I'm not," Brick whispered, but when Blossom lowered her arms a little in concern, he shook his head. "Just do it."

She murmured an "I'm sorry" before placing the helmet on his head. Blossom kept one finger on the switch. "You will never disappear, Brick—no matter what state you're in. When the old Brick comes back, you'll still be here, inside of him."

He managed to smile, but it looked forced. "I know."

Blossom swallowed hard, trying to get herself to push down on the switch. But somehow, her finger now felt like lead. Brick's smile kept her quivering and frozen in place, a small sliver of her not wanting to do it. Still, it was big enough for her to still be debating whether or not pushing the switch would be a good idea, even though she knew she should.

Brick closed his eyes, still smiling his kind, sweet smile. "It's okay," he whispered, reaching up and curling his fingers over hers. "You can do it."

"...No, wait." A small sense of desperation filled her and she released her hand, shaking it from his grip. Even though he'd been smiling, she could feel Brick's hand tighten his grasp and quake beside her own trembling fingers. "I don't think either of us are ready yet."

His shoulders fell and his eyes glazed over. "I'm sorry." He drew his knees to his chest and hugged his legs close, hanging his head.

"No, it's fine." Blossom felt her heart ache a little at the sight of his nervous body posture. "It's not your fault." Except it is. You're so sweet like this that I feel bad trying to override this version of you. She bit her lip. "Maybe we should try evaluating your memories again," she suggested, a little desperation swirling around in her voice.

Brick looked up, surprised at the suggestion. "Okay," he agreed quietly.

"What's the blond Powerpuff Girl with blue eyes called?"

"Bubbles?"

"Yes! What about the green Puff?"

"Butter...Butter-cake?"

Blossom shook her head. "Buttercup," she corrected gently. He looked a little dejected, but she urged him on with: "And now the purple Puff?"

"B-Badger...? No, wait. Bear?"

"Bunny," she answered for him.

Brick's shoulders slumped. "Oh."

"It's okay. Let's keep going," Blossom said. "Now the orange Puff?"

"Something like 'happy'..." He snapped his fingers. "Bliss!"

"Great job! What about the yellow one?"

"Umm...hmm... Her name had to do with a food... Berry? Bread? Beet? Or was it something yellow? Bee? Blondie...?"

"It's actually—"

"No, don't tell me!" He squeezed his eyes shut. 20 seconds passed before he asked, "It's Banana, isn't it?"

"Yes!" She smiled brightly. "See, you got four of them right, including me!"

Brick's face fell. "But I still got two of them wrong, and I nearly got your name wrong too." He lowered his eyes. "I know you're trying to help, Blossom, but I don't think this is going to work right now. It'd take me a really long time to try and get any memories back. It's not a short-term thing. I'm sorry."

Blossom bit her lip. "Oh, Brick... No, I'm sorry... I was being selfish."

"No, it's not your fault! I'm the one making you feel bad enough for me that you're willing to do this for me." He straightened his shoulders. "Trust me, Blossie—I'm really, actually ready for this. It's okay."

"Brick, no—I'm telling the truth. I am being selfish. I do feel bad about having to do this to this new version of you, but..." She hesitated. "There's a small part of me that completely and selfishly wants to keep you this way. As much as I hate to admit it, it's because of an unpleasant memory you've recently had of me."

Brick tilted his head to the side. "What is it?" he asked, curious.

Blossom sucked in another deep breath through her lips, chewing on the bottom one. She was worried she'd tear it and cause it to bleed. "I... Well, it all started with a cellphone text." Brick appeared to be struggling to remember as she continued: "It was a hateful text from me to you, sent after we'd had an argument over texting. I was being immature, I know... But the text read—"

Brick gasped. "'I hate you'," he said aloud.

Blossom shivered. "I-I..." The words disappeared from her brain.

She froze as he asked, "That's what it said, wasn't it?" His tone was soft and quiet.

"...Oh, Brick; I'm so sorry!" Blossom stopped rubbing her arms, eyes regretful.

"But you don't hate me, do you? I don't want anyone to hate me—or I mean, the Brick that I was once before," he said, his voice a little louder now.

"Of course I don't!"

"And not the old me either? That's not why you don't want to restore my memories?"

"Oh, Brick—of course I want to restore your memories! There's just a small part of me that didn't want you to remember the awful argument we had. I'm just sorry about the text; I don't hate your old self either." Her voice shuddered a little. "Please believe me. Please don't hate me. Please don't avoid me like you did before you got amnesia."

Brick was silent for awhile, closing his eyes. "...It's all so vivid now," he whispered. "The text and the arguments we exchanged before it..." His tone grew huskier, more like the old Brick's: "It hurt."

"Brick, I'm sorry," she repeated apologetically, "but I have something to tell you."

"There's more?" He drew back from her, shivering.

Blossom felt her heart sink like a rock in her stomach. "It was an accident, Brick—Buttercup sent the text—by accident! She found out we were arguing and wanted to stop us, so she typed it out to show me what not to text you. Then she accidentally pressed 'send'!" Her voice had been rising, but now it fell. "Please believe me."

Brick was silent for a long time, obviously thinking back to the memory that Blossom had forced to resurface. He closed his eyes. "The pain's still so clear..."

"Brick—"

"I believe you." He opened his eyes and smiled. "I don't blame you, and I'm sorry I did before I got amnesia. I don't want to blame you. So...I hope you accept my apology on the old me's behalf."

Blossom felt relief sweep through her. "Of course I forgive you! It's me that should be apologizing—"

"Shhh," he murmured, still with his lips curled upwards. "It's okay now. I know the truth, and soon old Brick will too. This burden is off of your chest now, so you can restore my memories!"

Blossom's heart swelled. "I'll be sorry to see you go," she whispered. A small, teasing smile tickled her lips. "You're so much more understanding than the old Brick was."

"Well, a small part of me will live in on him always, right?" Brick managed to smile back.

Blossom nodded. "Right!" She reached up to flick the switch, but stopped again when she felt someone grab her wrist. It was Brick.

"Wait," he murmured.

"What is it?" she asked, pausing.

"...Thank you," he whispered, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her.

Blossom blinked, and the shock overtook her as she froze, trembling at his touch. He felt so warm. Then she bent down a little so that she could hug him back, resting her head against his shoulder. It felt so natural to be hugging him, and she felt so much better than she had in a long time; now that Brick knew the truth. Blossom closed her eyes and smiled, feeling the warmth of their embrace swirl into the air. "No, thank you. And Brick, I'm sorry again."

"I already told you, didn't I?—I forgive you," he replied, his voice light and teasing, a gentle lilt ringing behind it. He squeezed her a little tighter in comfort.

She breathed in, relieved to have forgiven, and to have been forgiven. They'd reached an understanding. Then Blossom flicked the switch, pulling away and letting go of Brick. But he held onto her hands, giving them a squeeze, just like he'd done to her seconds ago, as he smiled nervously.

"Thanks again." His voice seemed a little distorted, switching between the old Brick and amnesiac Brick's deeper and higher voices respectively. His next few words were lost to Blossom as a bright flash engulfed the entire room. Brick then cried out from the shock.

Blossom's eyes widened as the white-yellow light swallowed her as well.

---

Buttercup thought back to ten minutes earlier, when she'd said goodbye to her sisters, who were waiting for Bunny. The purple Powerpuff Girl was now in habit of running off when it was lunchtime or after school for some reason. This happened weekly. Buttercup would've stayed behind to help her sisters look, but it was her second last day of detention. Plus, she was meeting up with Butch after detention was over.

When she had gotten there, Butch wasn't there yet. Mr. Fickleson didn't even bat an eye as she walked into the room, waving dismissively at a desk, telling her to sit down. He was too focused on a paper in front of him.

So the green Powerpuff Girl had sat down, bored out of her mind as she fiddled with her green pen. It took a few more minutes before Butch Jojo showed up, panting with hair plastered against his forehead, slick with sweat. It was clear that he'd been in a hurry to get here, although Buttercup couldn't help but wonder what had happened. So when he slipped into the seat beside her, she leaned in and asked, "What were you doing before you got here?"

"Hunting," he managed to reply.

She gave him a funny look.

He seemed to notice that what he'd said wasn't normal, so after a few more quick breaths, he corrected himself: "Sorry; I meant we were hunting for Braker's rugby jersey. Seems like he misplaced it. Had me running all over campus, all the way to the other side of the school."

"Why didn't you just fly back here?" Buttercup pressed.

He shrugged. "I wanted to get some exercise. Besides, postponing detention didn't seem like a bad idea—until I was almost late. By then I didn't have the energy to think of flying and make myself actually do it, so I just kept pushing myself till I got to the door."

She frowned but didn't question his answer. Instead, she pulled out a sheet of paper.

"What's that?" Butch asked, eyeing the item curiously.

"Our criteria sheet for Socials," she replied, smoothing it out. It was somewhat crinkled around the edges, thanks to having been shoved into her bag and left there, forgotten. "It's due next week, remember?"

"Nope. I totally forgot." Butch shook his head. "I don't remember this kind of thing."

"I guess that's understandable, what with Brick's amnesia and stuff," mused Buttercup.

"That's not the only reason," he muttered.

"Huh?" She glanced at him in surprise.

As if realizing that what he'd said wasn't supposed to be said out loud, Butch waved it off quickly. "Oh, nothing. Just forget it. We can work on the project later. Today, it's all about having fun." He flashed her a charming grin.

Buttercup raised an eyebrow, wanting to shake the answers out of him. She knew it was futile though, so she let that part of the subject drop for the moment. "Yeah, fun."

His smirk dropped as he asked, "What? What's wrong now?"

"Nothing," she replied.

"Buttercup."

"It's nothing," she repeated.

He grabbed her wrist and stared into her apple-green gaze, his own eyes gleaming underneath the fluorescent lights. "Tell me."

"Butch, let go," muttered Buttercup, trying to pull her hand away.

He held fast. "Tell me," he said louder.

Buttercup stopped tugging, taking a deep breath. "Can't you guess?"

"Umm..." Butch paused and gave her a blank look.

"Oh my God." She dropped her hand, his hand also falling with hers. "You can be so dense sometimes!"

"Give me a second." Butch contorted his face into one of focus, chewing on his bottom lip. It was oddly attractive, but Buttercup shook the thoughts away when he said, "Oh. You have questions, don't you?"

"Duh." Buttercup folded her arms. "And I know you won't give me the answers."

He frowned. "You're right."

"Dammit, Butch—"

"I told you, today's supposed to be a day of fun! Can't we just forget all of that shit for now?" he protested.

Buttercup leaned back in her chair, looking away. "It's not easy not being in the know."

"Just keep your nose out of my business, please. It's safer that way," Butch responded.

"What's there to try and be safe from? I'm not a weak damsel-in-distress or some bullshit. I can handle myself."

"I know you can. I don't doubt you." Butch hesitated. "But...sometimes there are just people out there who are still going to be more powerful and more dangerous."

"I can take it," she insisted. "I've barely ever lost a fight before."

"That doesn't have anything to do with this!" Butch shook his head. "Just—"

"Excuse me, but did I give you permission to chitchat mindlessly?"

Butch and Buttercup both turned to see the grim face of Mr. Fickleson before them, and they shrank back. "Sorry, Mr. F," they chorused. Mr. Fickleson nodded in satisfaction and walked back to his desk.

Buttercup turned to Butch. "Just trust me, Butch," she hissed.

"...Buttercup, listen to me." Butch grabbed both of her arms this time, his eyes level with hers. They spelled concern, which was a strange thing to see on Butch's face. "It'll be fine. Just stay out of it. 'Kay?"

"Not okay! I don't want to be shoved aside like an old toy—"

"Buttercup. I happen to care about you and I don't feel like seeing you get hurt in a battle that doesn't even involve you. So just forget it already, okay?" Butch sighed deeply, seemingly relieved to have gotten that off of his chest. "Besides, I'm tired and I just want a break. Hanging out with you was meant to be that break. Please don't start asking so many questions about the very thing that I came back here to avoid. It's not easy dealing with it—it hurts. And I want to forget about it, at least just for today."

Buttercup's cheeks turned the faintest tint of pink, and she covered it up by looking away and placing her cheek against her palm, elbow on the table. Frustration clawed at her belly as she pouted, huffing, "You don't want to make this easy for me, do you?"

"No, I really don't," agreed Butch, his gaze lingering on Buttercup. He didn't notice her embarrassment, but he did wonder why she was suddenly acting so differently—and the fact that her cheeks appeared a little flushed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She didn't meet his eyes. "Let's just get detention over with so that we can get to 'having fun', like you wanted."

He frowned. "Well, it won't be any fun if you're in a bad mood—"

"I'm fine," she interrupted harshly. When Butch gave her an incredulous look, she sighed and added, "I mean, I'll be fine. Just don't piss me off today and I'll probably feel better enough to actually start enjoying myself."

Butch didn't answer immediately, but when he did, his tone was sarcastically light. "You women can be so demanding. You make it so hard to please you."

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She didn't scold him because he was, in a way, partially correct. Some women did make it hard for guys to understand them. Sure, it was a stereotype, but it was a stereotype for a reason. Females even confused Buttercup—in fact, she was confusing herself right that moment! She didn't understand why she was so disappointed that Butch had denied her answers again, even though she should've already been used to it. She also didn't get why she had to be mad; why did she have to set those standards? And yet, Buttercup knew that unless Butch could please her, she'd remain grumpily silent for most of the day.

So in a way, he had a point: women did sometimes make it hard for guys to please them.

Although, it's not like we're on a date. Buttercup's face turned a little pinker, and she tried to hide it more. Her bangs fell over her eyes in her embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" asked Butch again, looking concerned. "You're looking a little red in the face. You're not still mad, are you?"

"No," she managed to force out between gritted teeth. Damn, Butch can be so fucking dense.

"So what's wrong?" he urged.

Didn't we already go over this conversation? Buttercup pushed the thought aside, instead saying, "I'm just a little frustrated about you not giving me answers again, 'kay? That's it. There's nothing more to it."

He frowned. "You're not going to make me ask what's wrong every other second, are you?"

"No, I'm not. You're free to stop asking whenever you want," she shot back.

"Jesus, Buttercup! You make this so hard." Butch threw his hands into the air.

Mr. Fickleson immediately manifested in the air beside them, a single gray eyebrow arched in disdain. "Excuse me," he said in his gravelly, growling voice, "what did I say about talking?"

"Sorry, Mr. F," they both apologized.

When he had gone, Butch turned back to Buttercup and mouthed, "Stop making this so hard!"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not," she mouthed back.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes—" Butch stopped and whispered, "Look, are you going to be capable of being happy and civilized today?"

"Oh, look—Butch knows big words."

"Buttercup—!"

"Yeah, yeah; I know. I'll be fine," she scowled. "Stop worrying so much. I'm just a little grumpy right now, but I'll probably calm down later. Just stop bothering me or you'll make it worse."

Butch's lips twisted downwards. "Jesus you make this hard. And I mean that seriously now."

Buttercup twitched in irritation, but she ignored him. She knew it was true that she was being unreasonably angry, but her irritation wasn't fading. She hoped she'd cheer up later during the day, but at the moment, she couldn't help but feel a little vexed.

The rest of detention was spent in quietness, with most of their whispering being about the homework sheets they had laid out in front of them. They chatted very little about anything else. Buttercup knew that she had made things awkward again, but tapping someone who was sitting right beside her on the shoulder and apologizing—especially when that person was Butch, of all people—would be even more awkward than just sitting through the silence.

When it ended and Mr. Fickleson collected their sheets (as well as gladly shooed them off), Buttercup flew to the door. Butch chased after her, calling, "Hey! Are you forgetting already that we have a"—he paused and hesitated—"that we're hanging out today?"

She gave him a look, despite telling herself just minutes earlier that she would stop being so angry for the rest of the day. "What's so wrong about going to my locker?"

"First off, we haven't even arranged where to meet yet? Hello, what if I can't find you? Jeez, Buttercup! I wanted to have fun, but now hanging out with you seems like such a chore. It's clear you don't even want me around, so I don't know why I'm bothering."

Buttercup began trembling as more and more irritation filled her at his words. Finally, she snapped. "What's your fucking problem? I agreed to hang out with you, didn't I? Will you stop being such a needy, demanding little bastard? Look, I'm sorry I'm not in a good mood, but whose fucking fault do you think that is? If it's such a goddamn chore and you don't even know why you're still doing it, then just don't hang out with me! There, problem fucking solved! You can have your little fun with someone else—like one of the Powerpunks or something—I hear Brute's looking for a good time*! It's not like I'll give a shit, especially after you've been such a little shit about my attitude! Suck it up already!"

Butch had been staring at her in shock, his mouth hanging open, before he shot back, "'Suck it up'? It's not my fault you have an attitude problem! I'm sorry I pissed you off! There, I apologized! So what now? You're probably still not satisfied, are you? So guess what? Why don't you get over it? Seriously, BC! You make it so hard for people to talk to you! Stop getting so mad over every little thing!"

"Not everything's about you, y'know!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm fucking stressed out! There, are you happy yet? That's two apologies in a row! I feel like that's one too many, but at least I'm trying to be civilized, unlike you! This entire time you've been confusing as hell, switching between angry and snappy and sulky! All I wanted was a day to hang out and have fun! Listen to me, BC—I had fun the first time we hung out. And I just so happened to want to hang out some more with you, because you can be a pretty fun gal. Is that so wrong? What do you have against making your friends happy? Do you want me to keep being fucking depressed over every little shit that's been happening in my life? Do you think that I don't deserve this one time to take a break from all the bullshit around me and get to enjoy myself? Well, I think I deserve it! At least I'm not trying to spread my negativity like you are—in fact, I at least tried to find a solution! So stop being so goddamn unreasonable already!"

Buttercup stopped when she heard the last few lines. Butch had a point—she was being unreasonable. If I can admit it to myself, then why can't I admit it to him? Even as the thought passed through her head, she still felt a twinge of irritation. She took a deep breath and forced her annoyance down, closing her eyes. It took her awhile before she was calm enough to open them again (her anger still swirled in the deepest pits of her stomach though). She was surprised to see that Butch was still there, waiting and staring intently at her. Finally, she said slowly, "Fine, I'll stop."

Another long, quiet moment passed before Butch managed to utter, "Huh?"

Buttercup raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you wanted? For me to be more 'reasonable'? Well, I've calmed down now, so there. Satisfied?"

"I-I guess." Butch blinked, still looking surprised that she'd backed down.

She rolled her eyes in response, scoffing. "Don't look at me like that." After another tranquil breath, she added in a begrudging mutter, "Look, sorry about my attitude, 'kay? I'm just frustrated." She paused. "And you know I don't usually apologize for shit so don't get used to it."

Now Butch's mouth actually fell open in his shock. "Wh-What...?"

"I'm going to my locker." Buttercup turned away. "You can go to yours. We'll meet up at the front of the school. I hear there's some fun stuff to do at the park today." She flipped her shortish, black hair over her shoulder, walking away with her shoes clicking against the floor. Then she rose into the air and flew off, leaving an open-mouthed Butch behind.

Her first stop was the ladies' room. She wasn't a fan of dressing up, but Bubbles had insisted. She changed out of her uniform and into a long gold-and-green dress-shirt, with a darker-green-and-black flannel shirt over it. Bubbles had paired it with black Capri leggings, a dog-tag, a black cap, and green converse sneakers.

Buttercup then went and shoved the unnecessary things in her bag into her locker, as well as gathering the things she actually needed, before slamming it shut and reattaching the lock. The hallways were practically empty now, except for a small group of drama kids giggling as they acted out a scene. The cafeteria had a couple of people seated at the tables studying, with students tutoring other students. A few teachers lingered around, chatting. A couple sports kids popped up every now and then, out of the gym as they hurried to their lockers or out the door. It was volleyball season, and while Buttercup usually would've been playing, she'd had to momentarily give the sport up thanks to detention. But BC was too strong of a player that the coach didn't bother laying her off completely, ready and willing to accept Buttercup back in whenever her detention ended. Two or so students hurried out the door, having stayed behind at the school for an hour.

She floated to the front of the school, listening to the drama kids acting. "Oh my, oh my; you've done it this time, Joey!" The voice was exaggeratedly shocked; singsongy even. The other kids started humming as they rehearsed what was probably a song number. Buttercup heard a couple of lines like "ooh Joey's in trouble, yeah~ Ooh, Joey's in trooooouble, yeah~!"

When she got to her destination, she noticed that Butch wasn't there yet. She rolled her eyes. Of course. Buttercup sat down and waited. Not two seconds passed before a shadow fell on her. She looked up. It wasn't Butch.

No, it was Mitch. He was leaning forward, staring down at her with a smirk on his freckled face. "Yo, Buttercup," he greeted in his nasally, gritty voice.

"Hey," she answered, raising a black eyebrow. "What are you still doing at school?"

"Had to attend some stupid tutoring session." He sat down beside her. "I'm meeting up with—"

"Oh, hi guys!"

Buttercup's gaze snapped upwards as her cheeks immediately reddened. Ross had appeared out of nowhere, jogging lightly toward them. He'd changed out of the school uniform, and was no wearing a green t-shirt with a city buildings design on the bottom, and darker green splotches on it. He had paired it with black shorts that had a green stripe running down each side.

"Hey, Buddy," Mitch called back, grinning as he got up and slapped hands with Ross. The two had gotten fairly close since Ross first came to the school and Mitch called him a "pretty boy".

"What's up?" Ross asked.

"I had to attend a tutoring sesh," Mitch repeated.

"Hanging out with Butch." Buttercup ducked her face to hide her blush.

"Sounds like fun! I wish I could join you guys, if it's not a date—"

"It isn't," interrupted Buttercup quickly.

Ross frowned, but it quickly turned into a smile and BC wondered why he had frowned. "Oh, that's fun too! I have to go attend a conference though—Michael's Uncle Danes is supposed to make some big announcement, so I gotta bail soon. Just came back to get my Science textbook. I accidentally forgot it."

"Ah, well—it was nice seeing you." Buttercup forced herself to smile at him.

"You look great, by the way," Ross chuckled, tousling her hair affectionately. "See ya later, guys!"

As he jogged away, Mitch turned to Buttercup in surprise. "Did he just touch your hair? And you let him?"

Buttercup was still dazed from Ross' touch, and she reached up to smooth the hair that Bubbles had redone for her that morning after breakfast and before they'd left. Ross had hardly messed it up, his fingers had been gentle. But she patted it down anyway before answering Mitch: "So what? He's new here, so he doesn't know all the rules yet."

"Something tells me you just happen to really like him—"

She shot him a glare and he smirked, clamping his lips shut. Before Buttercup could protest, Butch appeared. He was wearing a tight, long-sleeved shirt that was like a form-fitting hoodie. It was a V-neck and a small bit of white fabric poked out of the V. The hoodie was decorated with black splotches that resembled graffiti. A pair of gray skinny jeans with a couple of holes in them complimented the ensemble. Then there was a leather vest, which was mostly black, with spikes on the shoulders. The shoulder-blades were checkered black-and-white. "Sorry it took me so long," he huffed, "turns out that Mr. Apocally wanted to use my Math textbook briefly to explain something to some kid."

Buttercup didn't acknowledge him with words, instead answering with a nod. She was still mulling over Ross' white-teethed smile and warm touch.

"Let's get going," Butch said, seemingly not noticing her absentmindedness. Perhaps he thought she was still a little upset or annoyed, and he decided not to acknowledge it—or maybe he really didn't notice.

Either way, she didn't disagree with leaving. Buttercup got up, ready to follow him away. Mitch got up too. "Ah, I see the car! Later, Dude and Dudette! Have fun on your date—oops"—here he smiled slyly—"I meant your playdate, because y'know, you two totally aren't dating and stuff."

"That's right, and don't you forget it," Butch shot back, flicking Mitch in the arm.

The shaggy, brown-haired teen laughed, black eyes gleaming in amusement. "Well, if it's not a date, then remember not to stay out too late. It's a school night, after all—and we wouldn't want little Butchie Wutchie and Butterbaby getting hurt or kidnapped when it's dark outside! Be careful out there, alright, children?"

Butch and Buttercup floated upwards and the green Ruff called out, "Haha, very funny!" Mitch just waved smugly at them before boarding the long black Lincoln below. When they were high enough, Butch turned to Buttercup and suggested, "He's so annoying sometimes. Anyway, wanna race?"

"Sure." She shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. To the park, she reminded herself. Buttercup felt distracted, but Butch let her win. He was probably still not completely over the argument yet, and didn't want to piss her off further. While she knew that it was just him being lazy and trying to avoid another fight, there was a strange sweetness behind it that was only justified because it was Butch doing it.

The park was bustling with activity. Buttercup had been right—there was a lot to do. The fair had come in the other day, and now the area was filled to the brim with shrieking children and tired parents. A couple of teenagers looking for amusement hung out at the fair too, but mostly it was kids and their guardians. While it wasn't as exciting as the permanent amusement park in Townsville, the fair did have some pretty fun rides set up.

"What do you want to do first?" Buttercup asked, feeling bad about their earlier squabble as they waited in line to get tickets.

He seemed surprised. "I get to choose?"

"Sure. I trust your judgement—for the most part." Buttercup shrugged. They inched forward in the line.

Butch paused, mulling his choices over as he scanned the fairgrounds. His stomach rumbled. Finally, he grinned and pointed at a stand nearby. "Well, I'm feeling pretty darn hungry."

Buttercup rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upwards. She was pretty hungry herself. Sitting in detention for an extra hour and a half or so meant no food, and now she was feeling a little peckish. They finally got to the admission booth and got their tickets. Then the two super-powered teens made their way to the nearest vendor. The stand closest to them was white, with gold swirls painted on. A blue-and-white canopy roof slid over the front, covering the stand with shade. The paint made it look more regal than it really was: the woken rand was obviously aged, cracks having been formed and paint having been chipped over years of selling treats. When the two greens got there, a little girl was screaming at her mommy for ice cream, her mouth wide open as she screeched those exact words with an obvious lisp. The mother looked exhausted, her arms full of random items—food and prizes and tickets.

When the two had gone, Butch ordered a cotton candy for himself. Buttercup chose a candy apple, and before she could pay, Butch shoved a couple of dollar bills into the vendor's hands. "Hey!" protested the green Puff.

"It's on me," Butch said with an obvious smirk.

The vendor finished making the food and passed it to the green Puff and Ruff, smiling a well-practiced smile. "Enjoy your food!" he called as they floated away.

Buttercup sat down on a park bench nearby, licking at the apple. Her eyes never left the fairgrounds. Most of the animals had been scared away by the ruckus, but a few pigeons remained on the concrete and the benches and the picnic tables. Families were eating, shoving food down their throats in celebration. Buttercup kicked her legs as she herself tasted the candy apple.

"How is it?" asked Butch, chomping down on a fluffy piece of his cotton candy. "Mmm~"

"It's good." Buttercup's apple-green converse shoes stopped flying through the air, scuffing the dirt below a little. "It's fairly sweet."

"Like you, eh?" Butch's smirk had returned.

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Her face flushed.

Laughing, her counterpart bit down on more of his cotton candy. "Yeah, you're right. You're not all that sweet. You've got the temper of a pit bull with a soup bone."

Not a flattering assessment, but fairly accurate. Buttercup's cheeks burned and she hit him. "Shut up."

Butch's laughter faltered and turned instead into a smile. "At least you're feeling better." He held the cotton candy out. "Want a bite?"

She hesitated before leaning forward and taking a tentative bite out of the food. It was soft and sticky, an obvious sweetness lingering behind. "It's good."

"Now, I want some of that candy apple."

Buttercup frowned. To be fair, he had just given her some of his cotton candy. But then again, he'd also vaguely insulted her. Biting down the protest that she figured would become regret, she held the candy apple out.

Butch raised an eyebrow at her begrudging attitude, but chomped down on it whole-heartedly. He didn't take a big chunk, but it wasn't small either.

"You took so much," Buttercup muttered, wanting something to complain about.

"I told you I'm hungry." He shrugged, waving her words off with ease. Then he wiggled his eyebrows. "That's not the only candy apple I want though."

Gagging, Buttercup kicked him lightly. "Ew, no."

"Just kidding," chuckled Butch.

"What do you want to do after this?" she asked.

He glanced back at the fairgrounds. "The roller coaster, bumper cars, drop-tower, swing boat, round-up ride, and Ferris wheel look pretty appetizing."

"Jesus, that's a lot."

"I need to fill up." Butch smirked and grabbed her wrist, tugging her upwards. She stumbled as she bit down too hard on her candy apple, causing her to glare at him. "To the roller coaster!"

"I'm not done my damn apple," she protested.

"Then hurry up and finish. I'm almost done my cotton candy." Indeed, he finished it in two more bites and tossed the stick end away.

Buttercup took a little longer, but soon she threw her garbage away too. She was immediately dragged to the roller coaster, where the line was pretty long.

"Aww," Butch whined. Beside it, the bumper cars looked like it had a pretty long line too.

"Let's come back to these later. The Ferris wheel is probably even more full, so let's save that for last." Buttercup glanced at a nearby ride, which was the swing boat. She pointed. "Ready for that?"

"You bet!" He grinned, pulling her away. They landed in the line for the swing boat, which took them maybe ten minutes to get through. When they boarded, they had to sit with a family and their kids, a young couple, another family, a teen and his friends, and two parents with a preteen. The ride started up and the boat they were sitting in swung back and forth, causing the kids to scream. The teenagers whooped, and the parents looked uneasy. An extra hard swing caused Buttercup to crash into Butch, their shoulders ramming against each other. Butch caught her, an arm wrapping around her body. It caused her face to turn bright red.

When the ride was over, Butch seemed to notice her discomfort for once. "What's wrong now?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I just... Nothing."

He gave her a funny look, but didn't say anything. Instead, he took her to the drop-tower. The line for that one took awhile longer, and when they were buckled in, Buttercup's stomach was doing flip-flops. She didn't know if it was from Butch's casual body contact, or the fact that the drop-tower she was about to ride was a pretty scary ride. But Buttercup was used to dropping while flying, so it might've been the former—even though she didn't want to admit it.

The ride started up and Buttercup screamed along with the others as they dropped harshly down after going up. Soon they reached the top, having done a ragged pattern of rising and falling. All of a sudden, they dropped drastically. Then they inched up, dropped down, and repeated this process till they were at the bottom. When they got off, Butch was laughing and Buttercup began loosening up. She was grinning as he shouted, "That was epic!"

Then they lined up for the round-up ride, which was like a Ferris wheel—but much faster. It also happened to constantly go up and down while spinning. This line didn't take as long, as it was mostly just daring people taking part. After 18 minutes, they were boarded in the cart, shoulder-to-shoulder, with a young couple on the other side. That couple happened to be Princess and Mitch.

"Yo!" greeted Mitch, saluting them. "Princess here picked me up, in case you couldn't tell that the car that picked me up was a limo. Her family owns these fairgrounds so she gets to ride for free. And I do too, as her boyfriend. I also get to not wait in line!"

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "We all know your special privileges, Mitch."

Princess smiled coyly, batting her eyelashes. "I could get you guys to not wait in line too, since you're my friends..."

"Sounds awesome!" Butch cheered, leaning over to slap a high-five with Mitch.

Buttercup and Princess exchanged amused grins. The ride then started up, slowly at first, before whirling faster and faster. Soon it was a blur of flashing silver.

"I feel like I'm gonna hurl!" shouted Mitch.

"This feels dizzy!" Buttercup agreed, just as loudly.

When the ride ended and they stumbled off on shaky legs like a gang of drunken teens, they were all laughing. Mitch really did throw up though, but hardly a lot. He didn't seem to mind.

"I told you you shouldn't have had that burrito." Princess rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, gently stroking away strands of his brown hair from his forehead.

He smirked at her. "But honey, it tasted so good!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Princess plastered her hand over his mouth. "No kisses until the smell of burritos and throw up leave your mouth."

Mitch let out a disgruntled noise between a whine and a grunt, causing everyone else to laugh. Butch then dragged them to the bumper cars. Princess got them in, and they immediately started messing around...

---

*(A/N: Reference to chapter 34!)

**(A/N: Reference to the Powerpunk Girls!)

ME: And now I'm finally done! You got your scene with the greens, and yo there'll be more later~

BLOSSOM: Please leave a review!

BUTTERCUP: Or I'll bash your skulls in.

ME: Oh yeah—yay drama and romance! This also rivals the last chapter of "Hung Up on You" for most words (both are 16000-something, but HUOY is still more)*flails one free arm*