A/N: Hey, it's me! After three months! Theoretically I could publish HC chapter 30 soon since Chapter 31 is done. And I might. But today is Harry Potter Day and I've been picking away at TPS to get to a pausing point because fleshing out the past makes it easier to write HC. If I get to that certain point, I might actually publish TPS twice a week so I can move on to HC sooner rather than later.

Also, I'm gonna be completely honest with you guys: this might become a cursed cesspool of OCs soon if it isn't already. But what can I say? The Battlefront is kind of spread out through different high schools, and Naoi and Yuri aren't in a bubble. So I'm gonna have to play with their classmates for a while. Also I love my terrible Akuma children.

Well, enough rambling about that. Feel free to point out any inconsistencies if you remember my story better than I do. My dear writing brain isn't as young as it once was.

Enjoy!

[Chapter 22]: Drama Brewing

On Friday, Yuri's newest operation was not going well. She arrived late to lunch and plopped down on the stone bench with an aggravated sigh.

"Still no luck!" she lamented, smacking her forehead. "Where the hell did my recruiting skills go?"

She'd filled him in Thursday morning on how the drama club thing had fared. Ami had been surprised to see Yuri, but thrilled at the prospect of gaining a new member. According to her, they only had eight members. Adding Yuri to the group would bring it up to nine. It was there they ran into a problem. Ami and her theater friends carefully minded superstition and didn't want their member count to be the number for pain and suffering.

So what did Yuri do? Back out? Tell Kurimu and Hejjiguchi "tough luck"?

Nope, she wrangled herself in even further – she promised Ami she would recruit someone else and make it ten. Ami's reaction had been remarkably squealy. In fact, they had talked on the phone a lot that night, which was why she hadn't updated him at the time via walkie-talkie.

Ayato still could not fathom why she put herself through this.

Instead of making that comment again (for the twentieth time, he'd admit), he elected to go in another direction. "Recruiting skills…?"

She hesitated when she heard exactly what he was asking. A weird little breath caught in the back of her throat, then she busied herself with her bento box.

"Had to use them in gymnastics," she explained, rather quickly. "New members, friends to come watch our competitions. I'm usually persuasive, but nobody in my class wants to join the stupid drama club!" She bit angrily into a piece of chicken.

"No…" Ayato said sarcastically, taking a swig of juice.

She looked aside to him, hopeful. "Will you—"

"No."

"I wasn't asking you to join," Yuri whined. "I just need you to—"

"To recruit." He rolled his eyes very prominently at her. "Ami is in my class. If there was anyone who had even an inkling of wanting to join, she would have hounded them by now."

Yuri grudgingly sipped her drink. "You don't know that. I don't think she's the recruiting type—"

"And neither am I," he said coolly. "We agreed, this is your operation. Not mine."

She looked at him for a second, chewing the inside of her mouth, then sighed again in defeat and returned to her lunch.

He felt a little remorse for being unhelpful, but… this wasn't something he wanted to be involved in. The whole point of the first operation was to get disentangled from the troublesome trio, and now she'd worked them back in? Herself, mainly, but him by association. Just because he also knew about the couple's dirty little secret didn't mean they were suddenly good friends.

Kurimu was a nice girl, but he could very much do without Hejjiguchi pretending like the last few months never happened. The idiot could be friends with Yuri all he liked, know her secrets, but that friendship did not extend further.

"So," he said, still feeling guilty after he'd finished most of his meal, "is Ami still letting you stay and watch?"

Yuri brightened, which in turn lifted his spirits.

"Yep. Just for a couple of days, but after that I figure I can do homework until the club lets out." She scooted back towards the mulch, further into the shade. "Hey, if you buy yourself a pair of ear plugs, Ami's not that bad. Did you know she's into tarot cards?"

His eyes rolled back into his sockets. "Even crazier than I thought."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, you know that?"

"Almost six months you've known me," said Ayato with a sniff. "My sarcasm's never been any real secret."

"That's true." Yuri closed her eyes, resting her head against a tree trunk. He had to hand it to Yuri; in her better moods, she took his backtalk with considerable grace.

"Anyway, why are you bothering?" he asked, genuinely curious. "If she's already talking to you after school and wanting to hang out, wasn't that the point? This recruitment business seems like an unnecessary evil."

"It was my way in," she argued. "I already made a heartfelt promise. It would be too suspicious if I suddenly lost interest."

He harrumphed, but he'd give her that.

"Besides," Yuri reasoned, reaching for her coffee, "if I'm part of the drama club, it's an excuse for us to hang out after meetings. Now, unless she invites me over, my attempts to divert her would come off as 'creepy clingy stalker.'"

He raised a finger and started to open his mouth—

"You don't need to say it." Her eyes were still closed.

He grinned. Good point, too easy.

But really, he could do with a lot less of all this Ami talk that had sprung up as of this week. At this rate, it was easier to pretend the girl didn't exist when he was in the same class as her. She was more tolerable now that she had nothing to do with him. Was it too much to ask to keep it that way?

"I know, I'm boring you," Yuri groaned as if reading his mind, using her free hand to rub her temples. "But I'm floundering here. And I'm humble enough to admit I need a partner for this operation."

Ayato hummed in mock sympathetic interest. "Let me know when you find one."

Another groan. Yuri met his flippancy with a scoff and crossed legs as she angled away from him. "What kind of attitude is that? Now I'm thinking our world domination plan was just words to you."

"That's a completely different situation," said Ayato, burying his rolled eyes into his skull. "Ami can rule drama club. I don't care about drama club – she knows that. It would be too suspicious and make no sense. Why would I suddenly care about recruiting new members? Why would I do anything that would help her?"

"Because she knows you're my friend!" Yuri griped.

He bit the inside of his lip hard, willing away the sharp answer his brain almost compelled him to fire back. He glanced at his watch. Almost time to go back to class.

"Your friend, not hers," he said after a second. "I'm done, so I'm heading back. But you should go ask one of those girls by the fountain."

"Anything wrong?" Yuri asked, raising a brow.

Standing up with his empty bento box in hand, he tossed a dismissive wave over his shoulder. "I'm just done, and you're not. Understandable since you were late. But I've got to get to class." Where Kurimu and Hejjiguchi talked less about Ami than she did.

"Okay," Yuri said warily. The unspoken knowledge that they usually savored a free period's every last minute trailed behind him like a sheet of toilet paper under his shoe. "Later."

Later. Not "after school," he noted silently as he entered the building. That was up in the air until they escaped the purgatory that was Yuri's latest mission. Granted, it was endearing the way her eyes would light up when she said "operation," but that could only do so much for his patience. And it got old pretty fast when it was all she could focus on.

So she'd be watching over drama club or talking to Ami after school, and he'd be walking home alone. Which, considering the probability of a certain conversation topic, didn't seem so bad to him on second thought.

Maybe he could use the reprieve.

He shook his head as he rounded the corner and neared his classroom. Was he… making too big a deal out of this? The "operation" had only been going on for two, three days tops. It just felt longer because frankly it bored him. But other than her recruiting difficulties, Yuri seemed to be having fun. She might even be in a school play. Ayato snorted at the thought. A slight grin touched his lips.

Yuri, in a play. He could see it – it was laughable in the fact that it was not so laughable. She had a dramatic flair that was different from Ami's. More charming, more natural. If Ami had any sense, she'd snub superstition and let her join. Even if that meant…

A few students were already in class when he showed up, but they didn't spare him a second glance as he returned to his seat. Content with the invisibility, he stared out the window and took the opportunity to brood in silence.

He could handle walking home alone a few more days. He'd done it for years. It wasn't a huge sacrifice to wander the forest path in nature's solitude while Yuri made a new friend. Despite her reassurances back during summer break, he would probably be doing her a favor.

They still had the walkie-talkies. And morning walks, and lunch. He just hoped that during those times they'd steer most of their conversations to something less maddening. Was this what people did when they had no particular direction in life?

Still, even if he didn't have better things to do, he wasn't sure he'd ever understand this hyper-fixation—

"Naoi, you're here early!"

His head shot up from his palm, and he glanced toward the door as Ami strode into the classroom followed by Hejjiguchi and Kurimu. She propped herself up on the edge of her desk, letting her shoes sway a couple of inches off the ground. A bit too easygoing and familiar for his tastes. And just over a week ago she'd been peeved at him – classic drama queen Kawata.

God, she probably did think they were friends now. He met her cheerful appraising stare with stony silence, hoping she'd correct herself.

Undeterred, Ami smiled amiably at him.

"Don't worry, Kurimu and I forgive you for standing her up," she said, waving a hand in the air dismissively like a magic wand. Poofing away the apology he didn't remember giving her. "She and Hejjiguchi explained everything."

Ayato eyed the secret couple skeptically. "They did?"

"Yeah!" He nursed his ear; Ami had an exceedingly perky voice. "And as a hopeless romantic, I completely understand." She laid a hand over her heart. "I know where your heart truly lies. In fact, I'm pretty sure I knew all along."

That didn't sound too good. The way she'd phrased it… In fact, her metaphorical heart-eyes sent an unpleasant chill up his spine. Fighting an inward cringe, he shot a glare at Kurimu and Hejjiguchi standing behind her. The couple, sweating slightly, gave him a wincing shrug that reeked of feeble apology.

They wouldn't... Convincing her of something like that? They couldn't be that stupid—!

"Well," he muttered, stupidly and on the spot. "I—"

"So how long have you and Yuri been friends, anyway?" Ami chirped.

"What?" He blinked at her, once again rather thrown. It was a good thing he wasn't trying to get into her ridiculous club because apparently when up against her, he wasn't great at improv. "Six months, but why—"

Oh. Oh.

Right.

He glared at Kurimu and Hejjiguchi again as they fell into their seats behind him. Still, he would grant them, it was far better than what his mind had just jumped to. As long as the fictional budding romance kept her at bay. And yet if she thought he liked Yuri, and she was becoming friends with Yuri, with his luck this would terribly backfire.

No, no. He elected not to think about that. He was done getting roped into the romantic weavings of high school drama. Meanwhile, Yuri could use her position as the shiny new friend to talk her out of any foolish thoughts. An admitted benefit of recent circumstances.

"Hello? Earth to Naoi!"

He didn't care much for the nail-polished fingers snapping in his face, but it did the trick. He raised an eyebrow, reminding her that his attention was a privilege. "What?"

"I was asking you where Yuri is," Ami sniffed, having lost a fragment of her cheer. Of course, he should have known better than to zone out during a performance. "I'd kind of hoped to run into her before class. Didn't she walk you back? I never saw her in the hall."

He rested his chin in his palm again; if there was one thing a thespian hated it was a bored audience.

"She was a little late to lunch," he replied. "But if she's still outside, she's probably busy recruiting for your beloved drama club."

"Oh, that's right! She is so great," Ami cheered, evidently skipping over his sarcasm. She hopped off her desk, plopped into her seat, and fished her cell phone out of her purse. "That's okay. I'll just text her about it."

Then, her fingertips paused over the keypad, and she looked up with a tiny hopeful glint.

"Wait a minute. Naoi-kun," she said, her voice dipped in fly-baiting honey. "Haven't you thought of joining drama club with her?"

Ayato turned to face her, with his honest and heartfelt answer. "I would rather gouge both my eyes out."

Blinking, Ami reared back in her seat as if he'd flicked her forehead. "A simple 'no' would've sufficed!" she said, with another aggrieved sniff.

A chuckle from the back. "Nah, Ami, sounds like he's just auditioning for Oedipus."

Ayato shot a look over his shoulder, in time to see Hejjiguchi laughingly flinch at a backwards kick from a giggling Kurimu. He caught Ayato's look and shrugged his innocence.

"What? You might like it!" he said with a wink. "Wait till you find out what happens to the dad."

Ayato snapped his head back around and quickly covered his mouth with his hand. Inwardly, he cursed himself for almost laughing. And Hejjiguchi for causing it, twice over if he'd heard the snort.

It was just as he'd feared. These idiots were getting way too familiar.

And somehow that thought was even more unnerving than the pool and hallway stares.

Like yesterday, Yuri didn't walk home with him. Today he didn't wait for her.

That was fine. Despite September's end, the city still clung tightly to the remaining rays of summer's warmth. However, some of the trees knew enough to start decorating themselves in colorful fall finery, so there was a pleasant autumn balance. He'd say one thing in Akuma's favor – it certainly knew how to bring out the magic in early October.

Alright, so perhaps he'd rather not enjoy it alone.

Still, he reasoned, it wasn't as if he had to do too much adjusting. He'd walked this path alone for six years. How much of a difference could six months do to his system?

Maybe there were even perks. He hadn't realized how much he and Yuri talked when she was with him, but it must have been enough to mute all forest sounds or scare off the birds. In her absence, and his soft steps, birds trilled to each other from the treetops. Ayato narrowed his eyes – had they always been that shrill, or had he forgotten? A low, drawn out whistle from deep inside the forest signaled the presence of a lonely male deer. One clearly eager to get the autumn rut underway.

Ayato rolled his eyes. He'd never noticed it before, but a large part of nature was just lecherous animals wailing for their mates. He picked up the pace, kicking at fallen red leaves along the way. Beautiful but still too fresh to crunch. Dark red against green grass, a pretty combination. He thought of Yuri.

But feeling her absence was silly. As if it was summer vacation all over again. They'd walk to school together on Monday morning like they'd done every school day for the past few months and that would be that. So he ignored the slight pang in his chest and carried on down the path.

The workshop came into view quickly, as deadlines often did when he wasn't prepared to meet them. He checked his watch when Kimito didn't immediately come barreling out, and both his eyebrows lifted. He even stifled a snort. Unbelievable, the time he'd saved. By the expression on Kimito's face when he heard the door creak and glanced back up, he was thinking approximately the same thing.

"Go in and get started," Kimito said, turning his back on him and heading towards the house. "I'll be in shortly."

Ayato snorted again once the man was out of earshot, this time at himself. What had he expected, a pat on the back for being early? He really was spending too much time with Yuri.

What are you laughing about? said the irritable voice in his head. Having extra time to spend with Kimito?

And just like that, his smirk faded.

"Kick me while I'm down, why don't you," he muttered to himself, and stepped into the workshop before slamming the door shut behind him.

Kimito rejoined him a few minutes later, after helping himself to the lunch Mother just made. And no, he didn't think to bring Ayato any, because who did he think he was, a catering service? Since there was no right answer to that, Ayato continued throwing a bowl in silence.

Or, rather, trying to. The clay wasn't cooperating with him this afternoon. It deformed clumsily in his grip like an animal of prey playing dead, slopping everywhere in a mess he would have to clean up. He growled under his breath when the material flubbed for the fifth time in a row.

"Stop throwing so fast!" Kimito barked, echoing his growl. He'd been far from subtle in his frequent aggravated glances. "What, do you have your foot tied to the pedal? Slow down as it takes shape or your hands ruin everything!"

Ayato could have smacked himself in the forehead as he obeyed. "Yes sir."

"You learned that years ago. A rookie mistake and you know it," he muttered, as if reading his thoughts. "I knew school was pushing things out of your brain. And don't put so much pressure on the clay."

Too much pressure… who are you to talk? The scoff bounced around dangerously on his tongue until he bit it into submission. His brain was already getting him in enough trouble as it was. Far be it from him to agree with anything Kimito said, but where was his head? At school? In Yuri's backpack?

Would Yuri reach into a pocket and show it to Ami like, "Oh look, Naoi's sanity!" (To which Ami would reply, "Can I play with it?")

Despite all his years of wisdom, Ayato snickered bitterly at the thought.

Kimito stared at him, white-faced and twitching jaw. "You think this is funny." Not a question, but a statement. A warning.

"Not you, sir." He wracked whatever percentage of his brains that was present, scanning for a quick fix. "I was laughing at myself. In disappointment."

"You think you're real smart, don't you." Kimito was doing that flared bull-snorting nostril thing again. "Or that I'm just stupid?"

Trick question. He hated those. But his father obviously loved them, and utilized their almost surefire way of backing a victim into a corner whenever possible.

Ayato lowered his eyes.

"A Naoi doesn't raise a fool," he said after a minute, turning his gaze to the bowl again. He relaxed his foot on the pedal, allowing the pottery wheel to slow to a reasonable speed.

A grunt from Kimito. From the sound of it, he was somewhere between placated and annoyed. Using his own words against him was a gamble to be sure. The trick was to disguise the sass so that it fell just beneath the man's radar. Or time it at a point where he had better things to do than take the time to interpret it as sass and punish it thusly.

More often than not, Kimito would remember to deliver the repercussions later. But it bought him a grace period to brace himself for it.

Kimito got up from his station and headed to the sink to wash up. After a few moments, the faucet in the back gave a rusty squeak, and Ayato made the mistake of glancing over as his mentor sat back down.

He had his favored handkerchief-type washcloth with him, a faded burnt-orange cloth that gave Ayato an ingrained spinal chill whenever it flashed into sight. Most of the time it was used the way it was presently, for wiping clay off his fingers and out of his nails. Other times, the stains that riddled the fabric were less beige-colored and more cerise or burgundy. He had a way of cleaning his hands as pristinely as an assassin might when polishing a blade. Ayato usually got the feeling that this gesture was laced with a threat.

"That's what my father taught me," Kimito said, breaking the silence as he scrubbed at his wrist. He checked his nails for residue; then, with a grunt of affirmation, he draped his cloth on a stool within arm's reach. "He put up with far less from me than I do with you. I'm sure he'd say I'm too easy on you."

Ayato bit his cheek to keep from snorting.

"'A Naoi doesn't raise a fool.' He learned those words from his father, and he told me every time I disappointed him that he'd be damned if he was the weak link in the chain." Kimito wet his fingers in his bowl of slip, then looked to him with a raised brow. "Are we going to be the weak links, Ayato?"

"No, sir."

"No," Kimito affirmed. "Ours is a legacy of hard work and thick skin. That's the makings of a Naoi. Do you remember what I always say about hard work?"

Ayato furrowed his forehead – not in memory, but in consideration. When Kimito bothered to be chatty, he talked at him as he was doing now, but it was rare that it was conversational rather than berating. Was he in a fair mood or something? Maybe he'd noticed his punctuality after all.

"That it's not talent," he answered. "It takes practice and training. And… good results show good character."

"And good dedication," said Kimito. He harrumphed then, carving a thin line into a vase with a scraper. "The only gifts in the Naoi family are discipline and wisdom. People who say things like 'talented' or 'gifted' are the kind of people who say 'follow your heart.' But hearts are weak and make stupid mistakes, so we all learned to follow our minds instead. Lo and behold – a Naoi has never raised a fool."

And again, he gave Ayato an expectant look. One that read something between not yet anyway and you'll prove me wrong.

"The moral here is, don't leave your brain at school." Kimito shook his head as he returned his concentration to his current project. "It must be the case, since you managed to get home at a reasonable time today. I've wondered what keeps you. That brain of yours must be so heavy it slows you down."

Ayato said nothing. If he disagreed, he had to provide the real reason. If he agreed, he was consenting to being mocked. Another one of Kimito's prized tactics. Strangely he couldn't even muster the will or energy to daydream a comeback.

It was impossible to leave one's brain somewhere, a concept only thought and done by dreamers and fools. And yet… he really didn't feel like himself today.

But he was a Naoi, so he summoned his mind home to him and quietly—carefully—kept sculpting his bowl.

In fact, he was so focused that he wasn't sure how long the silence lasted before Kimito broke it once more with another harrumph.

"And I'd started to think it was because you were goofing around with friends," he said roughly. "That Nakamura girl, whose party you went to in July. Is she one of them?"

Ayato almost stomped his foot pedal into the floorboards.

"Nakamura? Yuri?" He gulped, swallowing his tongue in an attempt not to sputter. "No, that… that was just a one-time thing."

Kimito's eyes narrowed thinly in sharp skepticism. The man had a built-in lie detector, and it was getting harder to beat. "So she came by and gave you an invitation, and you spent the entire workday at her party, but the two of you aren't friends."

Ayato winced inwardly, thinking fast.

"Her parents might've suggested she invite me," he said. "We aren't in the same class or anything. I see her between classes and lunch, but we don't hang out much these days."

It was enough of not-entirely-a-lie for Kimito to look only slightly unconvinced and fall quiet with a resounding huff. The truth of it, however, rebounded and hit Ayato with surprise.

They didn't hang out as much these days. Not just compared to summer. She was already spending their after-school walk time with Ami, and would continue to do so until this operation was resolved. And she had been late to lunch, and he'd walked out on her early.

He really shouldn't have done that. Not when their time together was dwindling. For God's sake, it had been limited enough to begin with—!

"So that's not where you spent summer break," Kimito muttered. Another harrumph fell into the neck of the budding vase, this one sounding more like his detached self. "Guess she got bored of you."

The way he said it was so nonplussed. So unimpressed. Ayato would feel insulted if he wasn't so relieved it was that easy to convince Kimito he didn't have any friends to speak of. After all, he had spent the summer out of the—

Wait a minute, bored?

Kimito caught his eye and laughed. Never a jolly sound or a belly laugh; just a scratchy, sandpaper-like "huh huh huh" with a perpetual condescending edge. Mother had once described him as having a "dusty throat," because no matter how often someone heard it, it always seemed like the prelude to a coughing fit.

"Women are fickle in that way, Hayato," he said. "Especially rich ones. The Nakamuras are hard workers, but they don't make their girl do the same because she's their only little princess and they'd feel guilty not showering her with love. That's the kind of mistake you make when you're a 'follow your heart' person. That's the kind of child you raise."

He gave a decisive nod, as if punctuating his great words of wisdom with his stamp of approval.

"She lives in luxury and always gets nice new things, so her attention span is limited. Always looking for something new to play with. But then…" His derisive sneer gave way to another dusty laugh. "Then the paint wears off. The novelty's gone. And now you're just the potter's son."

Ayato frowned but chose the safe route of working rather than responding. He wasn't about to correct him on his name; being seen as Hayato explained the man's almost tolerable demeanor. Tolerable, but fleeting.

What else was there to say? That he was wrong, that Yuri had more stability than that and would always be there for him? That they'd been best friends for the past half-year and nothing about that was going to change?

He wasn't a fool. He was a Naoi. He was the potter's son. So, trusting his mind, he kept working on his pottery. From then on he was mercifully left alone with his thoughts.

Or perhaps not so merciful.

His mind, having already proven itself untrustworthy today, procured thoughts about what Kimito had said. Thoughts that lingered even after the two of them went in for dinner, and bit at his brain during homework. And a most unwelcome memory of something Hejjiguchi had mentioned just this week.

"Best friends come first. Unless she has a brand new friend. She loves new friends like she loves new songs!"

Ayato rubbed at his temples with a sigh. Hejjiguchi's voice in his head was annoying even on a good day. But something similarly and universally irritating, or so he'd found, was any new song that got played to death on the radio. It got old quickly, an overly polished car that lost its shine.

He shook away the analogy and hit himself in the forehead. Honestly, what was he thinking? Taking his father's and Hejjiguchi's words to heart… Today was an off day for him, truly. Just looking at his half-finished homework sheet was enough evidence of that. So many eraser marks. With one fell swipe, he knocked them off his desk.

And when his fingertips caught the antenna, the walkie-talkie went flying with them.

Very smooth.

He swiveled his chair and stared blankly at the device laying there on the floor, contemplating the dangers of his own temporary stupidity. Then he bent and picked it back up. Maybe hearing Yuri's voice would smack some sense into him.

Clicking it into power mode, he pressed the talk button. "Yuri, you there? Are you back yet?"

Fuzz.

He waited. Pressed the talk button again.

"Yuri?"

He waited some more.

Dead static.

It took five minutes of this before he had the sense to give up and swivel back to his desk. He left it on for an hour after that, then allowed it to charge while he spent the rest of his homework break (before Kimito inevitably dragged him back downstairs for who knows how long) lying in bed staring up at the cracks in the ceiling.

This was why he needed a cell phone, needed to save up for one. He'd never needed one before now, because like Kimito had delicately pointed out he didn't really have friends to call. But at least with a phone, Yuri would actually know he'd tried to get hold of her. She was probably using hers now – speedily tapping a text to Ami, or, if she was still with her, swiping through photos or showing her cat videos or whatever girls liked to giggle about.

Ayato closed his eyes, willing the thought out of his head.

This was ridiculous. Why was he still allowing this to get to him? Why at all? Just because, yes, the drama club was a new thing she was getting excited about —

and this operation —

and the operation before that —

He growled to himself. No, he was a thing and not a person. He knew Yuri knew that. He knew Yuri far better than Kimito could ever pretend to. And Yuri… she made friends with Hejjiguchi before the summer, and that didn't change anything between them.

Of course, that was a few months ago, and maybe it made a difference that she he and Hejjiguchi were both her guy friends. She did say it would be nice to be friends with another girl…

But Yuri wasn't the type of person to get bored of someone, or just dump a best friend… was she?

In the haze of his daydreams, a vague face and auburn hair flickered into view. His eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up in bed.

No. His suspicions were just getting to him. Try as he might with his racing thoughts, he still didn't know the answer to that one. And apparently she wouldn't be giving it to him anytime soon. It was like… like she didn't tell him secrets the way she used to when they first met. Like pouring out her heart was only exciting at the beginning, and relating to the traumatized, troubled potter's boy had lost its appeal.

He scoffed at first, but the thought settled in like a thick layer of grime.

Was that it? Were Kimito and Hejjiguchi right?

Had the novelty of his and Yuri's friendship finally worn off?

A/N: I'll do my best to get back into the swing of things and get some writing done. R&R!

Preview:

"I figured you'd be hanging out with Kawata."

"Fear of Kimito turned out in your favor."

"Fraternizing with the enemy?"

"She's all we ever hear about."

"I trusted your judgment!"

"Just trying to help…"

[Chapter 23]: Vain Attempts.