Bang bang bang

"Drifttttttt?"

More banging. "Open the door!"

Drift ripped off his headset angrily and headed for the door. With Lucid Dreams pounding into his head and his bright computer screen inches away from his face, he hadn't heard the door.

He yanked open his front door impatiently. "What?"

Gunner stood outside, arms crossed. "Brite told me everything that happened on the Llama hill," he began.

"It's whatever," Drift dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "I don't know why I even said that."

"Thank you, though. For bringing her home," Gunner said comfortingly.

"Yeah. It's the least I could do," Drift replied. "Whatever happens, I'm never gonna treat her like those bitches did."

"I also heard about the pool incident," Gunner sighed. "Raven told me."

"That ghost just wanders around sticking his nose into everyone's business, doesn't he?" Drift retreated to his kitchenette, where he pulled a bag of scorching hot Doritos from the cupboard.

"Hey, lay off Raven. He's a good guy," Gunner defended.

"Good thing he's a ghost," Drift huffed. "If he was a solid person, he'd get into every girl's pants ever chance he got."

"Alright, lay off," Gunner raised his hands in a show of surrender.

"Then what are you here for?" Drift snapped. He tore open the bag of chips and fell back onto his gamer chair.

"Brite wants to talk."

"No shit!"

"I- I, this isn't my place to speak." Gunner said gravelly. "I'd rather have you come over to my place to talk it out with her."

"Classic. I'll just embarrass myself."

"Aww, just give it a shot," Gunner coaxed.

His only answer was Drift's obscenely loud crunching.

Later...

"Bri Bri, get the door please," Gunner called from the garage, where he had been reloading ammo into their guns.

Brite crawled off the couch reluctantly. She shyly cracked open the door and slammed it just as fast.

"Who was it?" Gunner yelled.

"No one," Brite yelled back. She sat down on the couch again.

Gunner sighed and walked toward the door. Drift was standing at the window, looking defeated. He was wearing his kitsune mask and his black and gold combat coat.

"Bri Bri, Drift has something to say," Gunner said as he opened the door.

"Okay," Brite murmured.

Drift walked in, limping. "I almost died getting over here."

"Explains your combat 'fit. What happened?"

"Nog Ops and her Christmas party, who else?" Drift huffed. "I need a med kit and a Sprite."

"In the cupboard."

Brite stood up from the couch. "I- I need a moment with him," she said.

Gunner nodded, went back to the garage and closed the door.

Drift edged toward the kitchen as he heard Brite approaching. His stomach knotted as he pulled out a med kit from the cupboard. He slid off his coat and kitsune mask, leaving him with just his normal clothes and a bare face. He felt awkward and self conscious. He didn't wear his black face mask with his kitsune, and now he missed it.

Popping open the med kit lid, he began to heal himself at the kitchen table as Brite watched. He expertly spilled the green heal on his wrist and tore open a pack of disinfectant with his teeth, which went over the heal. He slapped a bandage on top and wrapped it carefully. A few seconds later, his body was whole and healed again.

Brite went to the fridge and came back holding a can of Sprite. He noticed her hair was down. The pink locks fell around her shoulders in perfect waves and smelled of simmering raspberries. Was it ever down? She looked so pretty. She looked so cozy as well, in a fleecy lavender hoodie and a pair of gray leggings.

Brite slid it over.

"Gee, thanks," Drift said gratefully.

He reached for the can, but to his shock, Brite knocked his hand away fiercely. He turned to her in surprise to see her normally calm brown eyes alight with some strange fury. Before he could react, she grasped his shoulders and thrusted him onto the table. Drift fell fast to her strong hands, looking up in shock. He searched her face for the sign of Dark Bomber, a common alter ego for her kind. Yet no flecks of runes from the cube, glyphs, or glowing purple streaks distorted her. It was just Brite.

She hovered over him for half a second, and dove in hungrily. Drift went numb with shock as she kissed him, hard. Part of him was thrilled and excited; but the other half felt scared and confused. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. What the hell, what was he going to talk about when he came over anyway?

He wanted to pull out of the savage kiss, but his brain was losing the war of morality. He was sucked into the void of dark temptation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt a girl on him like this. Maybe he never had.

Brite's hands wandered his body so freely, her lips bit his so temptingly, her warm breath against his skin made him faint with the strange feeling of lust. He felt hotter and hotter the harder and faster she did whatever she was doing to him. This wasn't the shy, innocent girl he'd spent months with on adventures, classes, gun fights. Why did it have to feel so damn good?

Her slender hand slid down his chest and into his waistband. It sent a fierce kick into his paralyzed morality, startling him.

No, this is too far! His brain screamed. He threw himself upwards, sending Brite sprawling backwards against the fridge. She fell against it with a loud thud and a cry of pain.

"Brite, just stop," he begged. He grasped for his coat and mask and hugged the items to him like they were lifelines.

Just then, Gunner burst in, looking angrier than he had ever seen the jovial man.

"What the hell happened?" Gunner shouted. He was literally aiming a loaded pump shotgun at Drift's face.

Brite sat up against the fridge, a disturbing sly smile on her face.

"Drift hit me," she said smugly.