CHAPTER 49: A WOLF HEART IS A WEAK THING

ME: Heyyyyy... Reminder that I only own my OC's and the story and not PPG... This is a very, very long chapter... Even more than HUOY's 16000-word chapter. This is like, 21000 or something?

BUTCH: Why did this chapter take so long?

ME: Uh—I have final exams and provincial exams and the end of the school year to worry about?

BLOSSOM: *gasp* What? Then you should focus all of your time on studying!

ME: Yeah, I should. But this chapter was written bit by bit, and I think I finished it last week or so. Y'know; before I started doing a lot of panic-studying. Anyway, there's another thing I've been busy with...

BRICK: *raises eyebrow* And what's that?

ME: ...Umm, well...

BRICK: Spit it out already.

ME: My birthday's tomorrow. Although there's a lot of school test stuff going on on the same day. *sighs*

EVERYONE: *silence*

BUBBLES: Happy birthday, Kuku!

BRAKER: We gotta party!

BLISS: And eat cake!

BUNNY: D-Don't worry about your exams, I-I'm sure you'll be fine!

BANDIT: Yeah, just try and make the most of it.

BANANA: Show those tests who's boss!

BLASTER: Enjoy your special day; you're a year older now!

BLOSSOM: Good luck on your exams, by the way!

BRICK: Er...happy birthday, or something. I guess. Humph. *folds arms, looks away*

BUTCH: Don't forget to give me cake.

BUTTERCUP: *sharply nudges him* What he means to say is don't forget to eat lots of cake.

ME: ...Thanks, you guys. *smiles*

Chapter 49: A Wolf Heart is a Weak Thing

The day was nearly halfway through, and already Damon felt exhausted. He'd been dragged from place to place all day. He couldn't help but feel disappointed too, wasting such an important day like this. Neither of the two friends shopping with him seemed to remember what was so special about it in the first place. Whenever he tried to bring it up, it would be just as quickly forgotten.

Damon was growing tired of carrying things, but at the same time he didn't mind. Not when it was for the girl in front of him.

"Are we almost done yet?" called the man beside Damon, shuffling the boxes in his arms. He was Tyrone, Damon's best friend.

"Almost," the girl in front of them promised, flitting from store to store, checking out window displays.

Tyrone turned to Damon and smiled, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he shrugged.

"Ooh, how's about these? Aren't they cute?"

Damon followed her pointed finger toward a pair of shoes that were on display. He managed a smile. "Anything is cute on you, Sylvie."

She blushed, looking up at him with a bashful smile. "Aww, stop it Damon. You sure know how to flatter a girl."

His own heart soared when he heard those words. "I try my best," he replied, beaming. Sylvie was Damon's dream girl. She was kind, caring, patient, beautiful, sweet―and most of all, she seemed interested in him too. He never forgot the number of times she smiled at him, and he replayed every scene where she held his hand. He'd practically memorized every possibly significant word she'd ever said to him, and would fantasize about taking her into his arms and kissing her and telling her how much he loved her...

"Let's just buy the shoes and get back already," Tyrone crowed, pulling Damon out of his fantasies. He opened the door and nodded for them to follow.

After Sylvie purchased the shoes, they began following her down the cobblestone path back to Damon's house. Tyrone nudged Sylvie. "Jeez, Sylvie—making us carry all your stuff. Can't you carry any of it?" he said jokingly.

She rolled her eyes, but amusement glittered beneath the annoyance. "What happened to you two being big, strong, capable men?" she teased back.

"Oh, don't be so sexist," Tyrone replied.

"I'm not being sexist. I'm just testing your muscles." She pinched his arm.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, rubbing it. "You didn't have to do that."

"Look at Mr. Big Strong Man now," she cooed sarcastically, fluttering her lashes.

Tyrone frowned at her, before bursting out laughing. She laughed with him.

Damon bit down on something bitter inside of him. I am not jealous. While he was disappointed with how he was spending the day, he was happy to be spending it with Sylvie—even if Tyrone had also tagged along. He squashed the bitter feeling back down. I'm not jealous. Tyrone has always been a great friend by trying to help me get closer to Sylvie, he told himself fiercely.

"Damon, are you there?"

He started. Drawing out of his thoughts, he blinked and returned to reality. "Ah, sorry. What's wrong?" He nearly said the words I'm not jealous out loud instead.

"I was just asking you if you could pull out the key," Sylvie said, blinking. Her long, white-blond hair flowed in the wind, causing her to tuck a few stray strands behind her ear. He was about to be distracted by her beauty again, before she said, "So...could you...?" She gestured at the door.

Tyrone was walking beside her, muscles straining as he made a face that said "please hurry".

"O-Oh, yeah." He fumbled around, trying to move the boxes so that he could balance them and still get the key. He pulled it out as they stopped in front of a modest-looking house. It was tan with black shutters and a roof. Modest flowers decorated the yard. The fence was black wrought iron. He unlocked the gate and held it open for Sylvie and Tyrone. Then he shuffled in after them, heading for the main doors and reaching up to unlock it.

When he opened the door, he heard a a small "shhh!", which confused him. He didn't live with anyone else, and he hadn't let anyone into the home. He glanced at his companions. "Did you hear that?"

She shook her head daintily in response. Tyrone shrugged.

He frowned. "Stay here." He then set the boxes down, not bothering to check if they had obliged. If they did follow, he wouldn't mind showing off his skills to Sylvie. "Hello? Who's there?" He glanced around, before heading to the living room, where the sound had come from.

There was another small noise from inside, and he burst in. "Who's there?" he demanded again, getting into a fighting posture with his fists up.

There was more whispers and shuffles. They started becoming recognizable to Damon, so he relaxed a little. "Shamus? Is that you?"

There was silence for awhile. The room was still dark, with the lights turned off. But then they flicked on and he spun around to see a smiling Sylvie and grinning Tyrone.

All of a sudden, people jumped out from behind or under furniture, all shouting at the top of their lungs:

"Surprise! Happy birthday, Damon!"

He blinked, his brain blank as he stared at the small crowd gathered in his living room. Then he grinned as realization dawned. "Wow, guys! You shouldn't have!"

"Nonsense! We're your best friends. Of course we're going to throw you a birthday party," exclaimed Tyrone.

"He's right, you know. You're a year older now! That definitely calls for celebration," echoed Sylvie, eyes bright. Her long blond hair fell around her shoulders like a curtain. "I planned out the whole thing."

Damon managed to smile at her, feeling his heartbeat quicken. She really was the most amazing girl in the world, after all. "Thanks, Sylvie. Thanks, all of you. You guys rock!"

"We've made sure you have a great day out of the house, but now it's time to eat cake," another man deadpanned.

"What Danes means to say is that the cake is ready. I baked it myself," added a male with long, wavy brown hair. He was Tyrone's shy, younger brother named Shamus; the one Damon had first heard when walking in. He flushed with pride as he held up the cake. It was chocolate, round, and dark-brown. It said "Happy Birthday" in curly, cursive letters made from white icing. Two brown roses decorated the cake, and flowers surrounded the circular cake top. They were all made from icing. Candles punctured the surface, already lit.

"It certainly looks delicious," remarked Damon, eyes brightening as he took the cake.

"Make a wish and blow out the candles!" called Sylvie, clapping her hands excitedly. "

Closing his eyes, he did as he was told. I wish we'll be together forever, and that I can be happy with Sylvie. Then he blew all the candles out in one go.

Cheers erupted from the group, and soon they were cutting the cake. Damon got the largest, first slice. After everyone had eaten their fill (with Damon eating three slices), they started messing around, just laughing and talking like good friends.

Damon was grateful he had such great, fun friends. He grinned, watching as Tyrone shoved a piece of cake into Danes' face and the stoic man didn't even flinch. Instead, he threw some cake back at Tyrone's face, which his friend proceeded to lick off.

"Let's open your presents!" Sylvie exclaimed, giving Damon a hug to wish him a happy birthday.

He felt his skin tingle at her touch, nodding. He stood back as his friends retrieved their presents from a nearby coffee table, curious and excited.

Danes went first. He'd gotten Damon a sword. Its hilt was red, and the blade was expertly crafted.

"Thanks, Danes," Damon said, smiling.

His friend just grunted back.

Shamus went next, shyly handing him a gift wrapped in red. It was a book that Damon had been looking forward to reading. After thanking him, Damon turned to look at Tyrone and Sylvie.

They glanced at each other and smiled. Damon raised an eyebrow, wondering why they looked so eager. He didn't fear that Tyrone and Sylvie had developed feelings for one another, as they treated each other like caring siblings. I am not jealous. At all.

"We collaborated on your present," explained Tyrone, answering Damon's silent question.

"Yes, and we just know you'll love it!" added Sylvie. She held up a small blue box wrapped in a white ribbon.

Damon nodded, managing a smile despite the twinge of bitterness he felt. I am not jealous! He didn't feel worried, but he wished that he could've spent that time with Sylvie instead of Tyrone.

She handed him the box and motioned at it with her hands. "Go on, open it!"

He did as he was told, reaching for the ribbon. It took all of Damon's willpower not to rip it open. He forced himself to pause and breathe, so that he could remove the paper with utmost delicacy. His fingers trembled as he undid fastenings, unwrinkled the corners.

Inside the box were shreds of white tissue paper. He removed the paper and lifted what lay among all of that: a small, silver chain. Damon blinked, holding it up. The chain was attached to a pendant made up of a small, white moonstone and a silver wolf made from the same silver metal. It was carved out to look like it was howling, and the moonstone shone different colours when moved around.

He admired it for awhile, before looking upwards. Both of the gift-givers were smiling, but Sylvie's beam became his focus as Tyrone faded into the background. His pulse fluttered and he swallowed.

"Happy birthday, Damon," they both said, but her voice tinkled over his, melodious and beautiful.

"Thank you," he forced out, smiling gratefully. I love it. Thank you so much. It's almost as beautiful as you. You're so amazing. None of the words swirling in his head came out, but he did manage to say, "I'll cherish it forever."

He wished he could've added more, but her beautiful, radiant beaming more than made up for it.

I love it almost as much as I love you.

Memories hurt.

Damon lay in bed, clutching his chest. The things he wanted to forget never seemed to leave. They always lingered in the back of his mind, haunting him. Flames seemed to flicker in the corner of his vision, and while he knew they were just fake images that his mind created, he still felt himself shudder.

He rolled over and spotted his gun beside him, and suddenly his eyes turned blank. He'd almost forgotten about the night before; when the Powerpuff Girls had broken into his home. He hadn't been sure if he wanted to teach them a lesson or enjoy their unexpected company. In the end, he'd opted for both. Damon sighed. I think I scared them though, he thought.

Still, he figured that having someone to replace the Ruffs would be good for him, even if they were six snoopy girls that he couldn't care for. Damon had learned the hard way that perhaps he just wasn't suited to raising children.

Damon sat up in his bed and ran his fingers through his messy, brown hair. The world was just waking up, with birds starting to chirp and the sun starting to come in. Damon was starting to find himself waking up earlier and earlier each day, not wanting to go back to sleep because of the haunting memories that entered his dreams.

He felt his stomach rumble, but he wasn't yet in the mood for food. Even if he had woken up early, he was still tired. Damon sat there for awhile, shivering and swaying, trying to stay awake. He felt slightly cold. When five minutes had passed and he felt awake enough to start moving, he went to throw on a no-sleeve shirt and some sweatpants. Then he shuffled into his small washroom.

Washing up didn't take long. After he finished, he yawned and scratched his four-week-old stubble, wondering if he should shave. His next stop was the kitchen.

He didn't make breakfast right away though. Instead, he turned to the monitors and flicked them on, eyes darkening. There was a particular place he wanted to check in on...

The image that flickered onto the screen showed a man in dark-green robes, sleeping in a bed. The hood had fallen away from his head, but his face was hidden. The room was still dark, curtains hiding the crack of dawn.

Damon waited as he prepared breakfast.

After he finished eating, the person finally stirred. He awoke and blinked, before realizing his hood had fallen off. He turned around to double-check that no one was around. Then he threw it back on.

That one checking of the room had confirmed Damon's suspicions.

It really is him.

His heart clenched, and he wasn't sure if he was happy or sad. Mostly, he still hadn't even gotten over the shock yet.

It really is "Raymond".

Buttercup's morning had been relatively uneventful. None of her sisters had fully recovered from the night before yet, so they were all hushed and silent. The Professor had been chirpy, although he did notice that something was wrong.

When he asked, Buttercup only shook her head. She was too tired to come up with an excuse, or even to say anything. The very idea of explaining that they had broken curfew and met an unstable man sent shivers crawling down her arms.

School was as bustling as ever. Buttercup groaned and slammed her locker door shut, trying not to keel over from her exhaustion. I have a feeling it's gonna be a loooong day, she thought to herself.

"You okay?" asked Robin, rocking back-and-forth on her heels beside the green Puff. "You look tired. Did you not sleep well?"

Not sleeping well would be an understatement. She didn't say it out loud, though.

"Yes, there are terribly obvious bags under your eyes. Do you want to try some of my ointment? It helps dark circles," Princess added, leaning against a locker. She fished around in her stylish purple-and-gold purse before pulling out a small container.

Buttercup gently smacked her friend's hand away, rolling her eyes. "I'm fine," she grumbled. "I am tired, but I don't need some prissy, fancy make-up to make me feel better."

"I'll have you know, it's not make-up. It's ointment," huffed Princess, drawing her arm back. "And you really should try it. It's nice and cold; very relaxing for your eyes. Especially when they're puffy."

"I'm fine!" snapped Buttercup. She paused, spotting her friends' shock. Then she sighed. "Sorry, I just—I'm not in the mood."

"...Only trying to cheer you up," murmured Princess, before slowly backing away. "Well, if you're not in the mood, and class is coming up—I guess I'll catch you later then, BC."

"Yeah...later." Buttercup didn't look up as the redheaded girl left.

"I should go too," Robin added, looking sheepish. Her tone gently switched to concerned. "But if you really don't feel well—"

"No, I'm great. Don't worry about it." Buttercup forced herself to smile, but it was small and weak. She quickly dropped it when Robin raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I guess I'll be going too then. Bye, Buttercup."

"Bye, Robin." As her friend disappeared around the corner, Buttercup sighed and turned back to her locker—only to jump back and nearly cry out, startled out of her mind.

Butch stood in front of her, grinning wide. His eyes were bright and he looked happier than he had been in a long, long time. But when he saw her jump back, he frowned, furrowing his brow. "What's wrong with you? Why are you so jumpy?" Then he smirked. "Did I scare you? What? Cat got your tongue, BC?"

She scowled. "What is this, 10 Million and More Annoying Questions Day?"

"Nah." He relaxed, looking more easygoing than he'd been in quite awhile—and more teasing, too. "So what's with you, anyway?"

"I'm just tired. I nearly fell asleep and you just happened to sc—surprise me out of it," she shot back, her tone flat and final.

Despite her unwelcoming tone, Butch continued on: "You know already, don't you—about what's up?"

She frowned, furrowing her brow. "...No, I don't."

Butch frowned. He leaned in closer until their faces were inches from each other; his nose just tickling hers. "Didn't you get my text?"

His eyes are so green in this light. Buttercup's face burned bright red as her brain fumbled for an answer. I mean, what text? Or rather, what's a text again? Man, why is he so close!? His eyes are way too green!

"BC; what's the matter with you?" he asked, his minty breath puffing into her face.

Buttercup flinched, trying to step back. But her back quickly bumped into some more lockers; her jump had caused her to become cornered. "I uhhh..." It took her a full four seconds to unscramble her brain enough to come up with her answer: "I'm fine. And no, I didn't get your text."

"That's a bummer. Didn't you check your phone?"

Still feeling disoriented, she just shook her head.

He puckered his lips in a semi-frown. "I was looking forward to being excited with you."

"About what?" Confusion swelled inside of Buttercup. "What's going on?"

Now he grinned again. "Oh well. I guess telling you in person is just as exciting."

"What?" She furrowed her brow.

"Okay, get this..." Butch paused for dramatic effect as Buttercup waited impatiently. He leaned in even closer until his lips were right next to her ear.

She shivered, a thousand possibilities racing through her mind. And some of them seemed absolutely ludicrous. She blushed. Like yeah right; as if he'd ever confess to me. Then she hated herself for even thinking of the possibility.

Butch whispered, "He's back." Then he made a grand, sweeping gesture with his hands and exclaimed, "B—!"

"Ross!" gasped someone nearby. "Hey guys, Ross is back!"

Buttercup's attention was suddenly pulled away from Butch. She followed the finger of some girl, before her eyes widened.

Ross really was back.

He looked tired, hair falling into his bright-green eyes. He was smiling weakly and waving half-heartedly at people, surrounded protectively by his friends—minus Michael, which briefly confused her. But she quickly dismissed it.

"Ross is back!" she breathed.

"Yes, I heard the girl the first time. Now about my news—"

But suddenly Butch's voice faded into the background. Buttercup had the strange desire to go and talk to Ross after so long. "Yeah, okay—just tell me later—" She made a move to walk away.

Now frustrated, Butch growled as he slammed an arm forward into a locker, barricading her. He left a small dent in the door of whoever was unlucky enough to own that particular locker. "Buttercup, listen to me—"

"Look, I bet your news is super duper important and whatever, but it's been a long time since I talked to Ross and I just want to see him and will you just let me pass already?"

"No!" Now his voice rose an octave. "I will not let you 'just pass', okay!? I have something super important to tell you."

"Butch—" she exclaimed, exasperated.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Choose. Me or him."

"...What?" Buttercup's cheeks flushed red as she frowned. "What the hell, Butch? Y-You're making this sound like some stupid love triangle drama—"

"Just choose!" he snapped.

All of a sudden, Buttercup's throat felt like it was stuck as she gazed into Butch's angry—and maybe even hurt?—green eyes. Why can't I seem to choose? Why is he even asking me this!? She swallowed. "I-I—"

"Is everything okay here?"

Both of them spun around to see Vincent, arms folded and green eyes narrowed in scorn—mostly at Butch.

"Stay out of this," growled Butch, turning to glare at the newcomer. His arm remained next to Buttercup.

Ross lingered behind Vincent, sending a concerned look to Buttercup. She shrugged back desperately in response.

"You're not harassing this poor girl, are you?" Deth Jackson demanded accusingly.

Butch's eyes widened before anger filled them. "No fucking way!" he hissed, clearly offended. He leaned in closer to DJ until their noses were nearly touching. Both boys glared at the other, refusing to back down. "It's none of your fucking business, okay?"

"When someone is harassing a poor girl, then it becomes my 'fucking' business." DJ stood his ground, gaze level.

"I'm not harassing her! I'm just trying to tell her a goddamn piece of news!" He grabbed Deth's shirt collar.

Darkai stepped forward, cracking his neck muscles. Vincent held out an arm to stop him. "Does she want to hear this 'important piece of news'?" Vincent pressed, voice calm and clear when compared to Butch's anger.

Now the green Ruff froze. "I don't know," he finally growled, turning to look at Buttercup. She flinched underneath his scorching gaze. "Do you want to hear it?"

"I-I guess so, but—"

Butch's gaze softened as his eyebrows fell, as if he'd come to a conclusion. Then his eyes hardened again. "I get it. You'd rather talk to your precious Ross right now, wouldn't you?"

Ross' eyes widened.

"What!? No!" exclaimed Buttercup, embarrassed and horrified at Butch's assessment, which resembled more of an accusation.

Butch's arm fell away from her side, and all of a sudden she almost wished it was still there. He looked disgusted, but hurt seemed to hide beneath the red-hot anger. "Fine," he spat. "Choose him over me. See if I fucking care."

"Butch, stop overreacting—" she tried.

He spun around, voice rising once more. "'Overreacting'!? I'm not fucking overreacting! So who gives a fuck if you're gonna choose Ross over me? It's not like I had anything fucking important to say!" he yelled.

People were starting to stare.

Vincent nodded at Darkai, releasing him. The dark-haired teenager suddenly rushed forward and grabbed Butch's arm. The green Ruff let out an animal-like snarl. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to calm down," Darkai said in his velvety, monotone voice.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Butch slapped his hand away and glared at Darkai, seething.

He stumbled back one step before recovering, gazing at the green Ruff disapprovingly. He got ready to lunge and grab Butch in some sort of hold.

Noticing the look and probably finding something judgemental in it, Butch suddenly calmed down. He regained his posture; the only thing that remained unwelcoming were his eyes. He lowered his voice until it was a quiet murmur, saying, "I don't care what she does or who she chooses, okay?"

"I don't know if I believe you," sneered Deth.

Butch lifted his chin. "And I don't give two shits whether or not you trust me. I just lost my temper, that's all. I might be hurt, but other than that, I don't care."

Buttercup couldn't hide her shock at his words. Butch is admitting to being hurt? Her mind spun. She felt guilty now.

The black-haired boy floated into the air. "Go ahead and do whatever you want, BC. It's your choice." While he said that, his voice sounded just slightly bitter.

"I-I don't know," she finally whispered.

"Then just go with Ross; he was your initial choice anyway, right? Forget about it; I'll talk to you later." Butch was eerily calm as he kept floating above them, probably not wanting to mingle again in case he lost control once more.

Buttercup turned to look desperately at Ross, whose green eyes were obviously concerned.

"I'm going to class." After a few moments of waiting for something to happen, Butch flew away, leaving a green streak behind.

DJ watched him go. "Thank God," he muttered. "That lunatic is a danger to society."

"Hey, he's still my friend," Buttercup said defensively.

"Are you sure? It looked like he wants to be something more," DJ replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

Buttercup blushed. "No, he—he's just..." She trailed off.

He turned away, shrugging. "Then my theory stays standing."

As DJ began walking away, Vincent turned to Ross. "We're going to go then," he said. "You go ahead and talk to BC." He smiled slightly. "You two probably have a lot to talk about."

"Okay, guys. Thanks," Ross murmured. His voice sounded tired, cracking a bit.

Vincent nodded once before disappearing, followed by Darkai. As soon as they were gone, silence reeled its head at Buttercup and Ross, filling the space between them.

Finally, Ross cleared his throat. "So...what did you want to talk about?"

I honestly don't know. I just wanted to talk to you. I missed you. Buttercup quickly tossed the thought out before she said it out loud. Already she could feel her tongue tingling with the words. "I-I just wanted to...catch up, that's all."

"Well...there's really not anything new." Ross shuffled his feet, scuffing the floor with the toe of his shoe. "I mean, I've been unconscious so I don't know what's been going on."

"Oh...right." Now Buttercup felt embarrassed.

Ross smiled comfortingly at her. "Although, I do want to hear what's happened with you. How have you been?"

She opened her mouth, words ready to spill from her lips. But then she realized that she didn't have a lot to say either. Besides Damon—which was a total secret—nothing really exciting had happened since Ross' fall. "Braker has been shot. Brick's still not awake. Bandit's missing."

"That's awful!" Ross exclaimed. Then he added in an awfully soft murmur, "Probably thanks to this war..."

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he coughed. "But that really is terrible. I can't believe Braker's been shot! And Brick still being unconscious also sucks. I hope he'll be okay. He's already been through so much. And Bandit's missing?"

She nodded, heart aching before she remembered something. She paused. "Oh, that reminds me; where's Michael...?"

Ross' sympathetic gaze suddenly turned blank and far away. "He..."

"What's wrong, Ross?" asked Buttercup, eyes wide.

He blinked, before closing his eyes for a few seconds. Then he shook his head. "No, it's... I'll talk about it later."

"Oh...okay." She couldn't ignore the disappointment in her gut.

"Anyway, is Butch okay? What happened?" asked Ross.

"Exactly what you saw happen," Buttercup replied, surprised at how harsh her voice sounded. "He wanted to tell me something but then"—here she paused, blushing. She wasn't about to admit how much she had wanted to talk to Ross once she spotted him, and how Butch had noticed—"but then he saw you and got all mad, figuring I'd prefer to talk to you."

"Oh no, that's terrible!" exclaimed Ross.

"It is?" She blinked in surprise.

"I don't want to disturb your relationship with Butch. I heard the things he said, but I was hoping—" Ross cut himself off. "I mean, I don't know if this is right."

"What's not right?" Her gut clenched.

"This." He gestured at the two of them. "Me. Talking to you."

"What's not right about this?"

"It's just—I don't know if this is safe. This could be dangerous for you. And I don't want that."

"Why do boys have such thick skulls? I don't need protection or some bullshit! I can handle myself!" Buttercup exclaimed.

He flinched. "I know, but...this is different. This is bigger than you."

She felt hurt. "What, do I not matter?"

"No, it's not like that! It's because you matter—"

"I don't want to hear it. All I want to hear is you boys realizing I can handle myself. I'm not some dumb, fragile porcelain doll."

His voice quieted as he stared at the floor. "I never said you were."

"So stop treating me like one!"

He sighed. "I don't want to fight. It's just...I never meant to make you two mad at each other."

"You mean Butch? That's his own problem." She huffed and folded her arms, turning away. She didn't know why she was so upset and hurt that Ross was considering pushing her out like Butch always did, but...she was.

He noticed her frown and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The surprise touch made her jump a little, but his kind smile quickly calmed her nerves. Her shoulder tingled with warmth. "I'm sorry, BC."

Her face quickly reddened. "No! No, you don't need to apologize. I'm sorry; I don't know why I'm being such a bitch. I-I think I'm just tired and not in a good mood thanks to Butch. Sorry you have to deal with it—"

"Oh no, it's okay. I don't mind. I'm tired too." Ross smiled again, albeit more weakly. "Remember how I got shot?" he said, half-joking.

She gasped. "Oh my God I'm so sorry! I totally forgot to ask even though I wanted to and umm—"

He chuckled. "Buttercup, don't worry about it! I'm fine, I promise." The smile returned. "Thank you. Your concern's made me feel better. I missed talking to you, y'know."

The shock faded and she smiled back, feeling strangely shy and awkward, but also warm and happy. "I missed talking to you too."

"I gotta go now, but thanks for brightening my day once more! Go enjoy yourself, okay?" Ross squeezed one last time before turning and hurrying away, looking back once to give her a wave.

Buttercup sighed happily, waving back before flying away. As she flew past a certain corner, she didn't notice the green-eyed, black-haired boy hiding there in the shadows...

"I guess you prefer him over me after all," he whispered to himself, wanting to hear someone confirm the words out loud. "And I really don't care—or at least, I shouldn't care."

He gripped his shirt near where his heart was. So...why does it hurt so much?

Where is he? Bubbles wondered, meandering through the hallways of Pokey Oaks High. In eight minutes, class was going to start and he was nowhere to be seen.

Bubbles could feel her heart pounding. She felt nervous, and she figured she had the right to be feeling so.

"Ah, Bubbles!"

She turned, expecting him. But instead, it was Sidney. She managed a smile. "Oh hi, Sidney!"

"How are you?" he asked, awkwardly coming to a shy stop in front of her.

A few moments of silence passed as Bubbles scanned the halls. Then she turned back to her boyfriend. "Hmm...? I'm sorry, I didn't really hear you."

"Oh... That's okay." He managed to smile. "I just asked how you were."

"Fine, fine. What about you?" Bubbles remained focused on the crowds of people milling about.

Sidney frowned. "I'm fine."

"That's nice. Look, umm...I have to go, okay? See you later, Siddy."

"Oh...bye, Bubsy."

Bubbles turned away, already flying off. She had even forgotten to kiss him goodbye.

Sidney was left standing there all alone, wondering what was distracting his usually upbeat and very lively girlfriend.

Meanwhile, the blue Powerpuff Girl finally spotted who she was looking for. He was laughing, chatting with—girls? She froze, her heart dropping. She didn't know why, but it just did. I shouldn't care. I have a boyfriend, she reminded herself. But then she paused. ...A boyfriend I was too distracted to pay proper attention to. A boyfriend I forgot to kiss goodbye.

He was smiling at the girls, his back turned to her. He was also holding two bags of chocolates. They were giggling, cheeks flushed pink.

Bubbles took a step back. But soon the two girls were leaving, and he turned to wave goodbye—and then he saw her. Both of them froze; his hand in midair, and her foot in midair. Uncomfortable silence filled the air around both of them.

Until finally, he started walking toward her. The closer he got, the faster her heart started beating. Soon she could feel her face burning as sweat tickled the back of her neck. She gulped.

"Hi," he finally said, stopping right in front of her.

She felt dizzy. "H-Hi."

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Err...were you looking for me?"

"Yes." Bubbles paused. "And umm... I-It looks like I found you."

"Yeah. So uh..." He paused. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I-I think you know."

"Oh...right." He leaned back on his heels. "Well, let's talk then."

"You sent me a flower crown," she stammered, holding up the box.

He nodded. "I did."

"With a note."

"I also did that," he confirmed.

She blushed. They weren't getting anywhere like this. So she cleared her throat and unfolded the note, before pausing. She looked at him. "Would you be okay with me reading this note out loud?"

He paused, looking unsure. Then he shrugged.

She cleared her throat.

"'Hey, Bubbles.

I know it's been a long time since I purposefully set out to talk to you. And I suppose I have a lot to say because of that. I probably talked to you prior to giving this to you*, but I'm going to guess that I didn't say as much as I could've. Some things are just easier to put down on paper rather than say out loud. And with that, I also guess I should start with why I was ignoring you.

If you want me to be perfectly honest with you...I was jealous.

I don't know why. I just was. Seeing you with Sidney just didn't feel right. He wasn't my friend, and you knew that; yet you still hung out with him daily. And then you two started dating. Do you know how much that hurt? It just didn't feel right.

I never meant to hurt you too. Although I know I did. I was just trying to protect my own feelings from being damaged any more. I'm just sorry I hurt you in the process.

You're a sweet girl; I definitely consider you my friend. I was angry for awhile, but...your note has made me think twice. Now I want to apologize. It's my fault for ignoring you, but I hope your wish of still being friends will continue to stand. I do want to keep being friends. But if you don't want that anymore, then I'll understand. You didn't deserve to feel my pain. But I made you feel it anyway, so for what it's worth, I'm really, really sorry.

You don't have to forgive me though. As I said, I won't blame you if you don't. You'll have to sort of stay away from me for awhile, anyway. But know that even if that's the case, I still care for you. In the way friends do, of course. But I'll always care about you. And I'll always be there for you. Even when we have to be distant. Even if you don't forgive me. Even if we are no longer friends.

Just know that I care.

Sincerely,

Boomer'."

Bubbles finished reading the letter, folding it back up and swallowing hard.

Boomer rocked back-and-forth on his heels, awkwardly rubbing his arm. "Err..."

"You wrote that," Bubbles prompted. She mentally smacked herself.

"Yes," he finally said.

They were awkwardly silent for awhile longer. Then Boomer sighed and said:

"Look, as the note says, I'm sorry. But if you don't forgive me—"

"'I'll understand', right?" she quoted quietly. When he blinked at her, she blushed. "I memorized the note."

"...Ah," he murmured. He sighed again. "So...what do you want to say to me?"

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry too."

"I knew it." Boomer looked away. "Of course you don't—wait, what?" He furrowed his brow, staring at her in disbelief. "Did you say—?"

"Yes. I'm sorry too. I didn't even realize how you felt." Bubbles swallowed, feeling the note in her hands. She felt her confidence grow a little. "I'm sorry I never considered your emotions."

"No...you didn't have to. It's your life. I don't control what you do." He looked away.

"But you're—were—are—I don't know!—my friend. And I didn't even bother talking to you! And when you started—ignoring me, I didn't try to talk to you either."

"I didn't either," he replied quietly. "So I forgive you."

"And I you," she said, feeling relieved, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her chest. Happy tears pricked her eyes—after so long of feeling sad whenever she saw Boomer, now she could feel happy again. For awhile they were happy to stand there in silence, smiling shyly at each other. But then Bubbles remembered her next question, so she asked, "A-And about you being j-j-jealous..."

"Oh. Right." His cheeks turned pink and he glanced away, trying to hide his now red face. "That's not... It's still not in the romantic way; don't worry."*

"Oh, okay. I was just—umm, wondering." She blushed too.

No one said anything for awhile out of embarrassment. When the bell rang, both of them sprang up to fly away, saying a hasty and awkward goodbye.

Bubbles added as a bit of an afterthought, "I'll talk to you later then?"

He paused, before smiling at her. "Yeah. Talk to you later."

The smile warmed her heart. It had been so long since she'd seen that smile; she hadn't even realized how much she'd missed it. When Boomer disappeared, Bubbles felt her cheeks. They were warm, and she wondered why. Also, my heart sort of sank when he said he wasn't jealous with romantic feelings. Why? I like Sidney, don't I? I mean, I know I like him. So why am I feeling this way around Boomer? Her heart was really bewildering her. Sometimes she wished she was like Blossom, functioning mostly on logic.

Speaking of Blossom, I need some advice... Bubbles sighed and turned away, flying to her class. She wasn't sure what her heart was trying to tell her, but maybe a logical analysis using her brain would help her decipher the heart's confusing code.

Blossom felt dazed. It was so weird, watching Brick eat his cereal that morning at his usual spot at the table. Blossom had been sitting in Brick's place, and she had had to move. It was unnatural and yet it felt so right at the same time.

But it wasn't just that. There was also the kiss, which was still more like dream than reality to Blossom. She'd been shocked by the kiss. And more than a little confused.

"Blossom Utonium, are you paying attention?"

Snapping of out of her trance, Blossom managed to focus on the teacher. She blushed violently. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just a little distracted right now..."

"I can see that. Pay attention!" The teacher sighed and shook their head. "My best student, not focusing in class... What has the world come to?"

She could feel her face burning as multiple questioning looks scorched her backside. Every student was wondering why Ms. Perfect Student Blossom Utonium was spacing out. The said Ms. Perfect Blossom Utonium wished she could disappear into a hole and never come back out. Brick's kiss had totally disorientated her.

Actually, she could practically feel his gaze lingering on her right at that very moment. She wondered what he was thinking. What he was doing.

She dared to sneak a peek, and she immediately regretted it. She spun around and stared at her lap, shoulders hunched and face steaming. Her eyes hid behind her bangs.

Brick had been smiling. And it wasn't a cocky smirk or a bright, cheerful grin. It was just a regular old, amused kind of smile. His shining red eyes that had been closed for so long had sparkled with laughter, like he was enjoying the show of Blossom making a fool out of herself.

What on Earth did the kiss mean then!? Blossom wondered, her mind screaming the words as if they were typed out in all caps by some overexcited teenage fangirl on Tumblr.

Blossom thought back to the kiss and tried to decipher its meaning...

Flashback

Brick took her face in his hands and kissed her.

At first all she felt was shock. When she finally recovered enough to at least try and think of a reaction, he pulled away before she could kiss back or slap him.

His brothers were hooting and hollering, which only served to embarrass Blossom further. She glared at them while Brick smirked, looking satisfied and proud. She figured it was a guy thing. She huffed and folded her arms, turning away. So Brick's just messing with me. Figures, she thought. The bitterness in her mind surprised her.

He seemed to notice her discomfort, but he didn't get a chance to say anything. His brothers were crowding him, asking questions and talking excitedly. Brick smiled, trying to answer them all.

"By the way, where's Braker?" he asked.

Everyone fell silent. Even Blossom focused on the Ruffs again, feeling her stomach sink.

Bandit stepped forward. "He got shot and is currently unconscious."

At first, Brick didn't answer. Then he screamed, "What!?"

"It's true," Butch added. "Braker's been shot by that bastard, Coal."

Blossom snapped to attention. "Are you saying you guys know the gangster that shot Braker?" she demanded.

They exchanged looks that said "oh crap". "Uhh..." Butch shrugged sheepishly. "Not really. Just his gangster name thanks to the news."

"...Oh. Okay." Blossom was starting to see why Buttercup got so easily frustrated with the Ruffs' secretiveness.

"By the way, Bandit's been badly—" Boomer began, but was quickly stopped by the very person he was talking about.

Clamping a hand over Boomer's mouth, Bandit hissed, "I'm fine."

"That reminds me." Blossom interfered again, spotting an opportunity to dig for information. "Where have you been, Bandit?"

Brick turned to look questioningly at Bandit, eyebrow raised.

"I've been...staying with a friend," Bandit finally replied, looking calm but awkward. "In fact, I'll still be staying with him for awhile. He's a doctor and I currently don't feel so well..."

"Probably the stress from being the makeshift leader for the past couple of days Brick has been unconscious," offered Blaster, standing up to help Bandit into a chair. "Jeez, man. You overwork yourself too much."

Bandit gave his brother a grateful look.

Blossom narrowed her eyes.

"It looks like we have a lot of catching up to do," Brick murmured.

"Yeah," agreed Bandit, rubbing his temples. "Ugh, I feel an oncoming headache..."

Blaster patted his brother's shoulder. "Okay, Brick. We'll talk to you about this stuff later. First, let's talk about some more cheerful news..."

Meanwhile, Blossom tuned out, her mind returning to the kiss she'd just received. Her lips were still sparking with the sensation of Brick's own lips pressed against hers. What does it mean? Why did he do it? She couldn't stop wondering, but she couldn't ask. Brick was being swamped by his brothers, so she doubted she could get an edge in otherwise. Besides, she figured, it was most likely just some dumb prank he set up. She figured that was the most logical reason—or rather, she wished it was.

The other possible reason was simply terrifying. Blossom sighed. She didn't have to worry about it at the moment though. Despite their out-of-the-blue kiss, Brick was too busy to explain it. At that very moment, it was like Blossom wasn't even in the room, as if he'd forgotten that he'd just kissed his counterpart.

End Flashback

The rest of the class went by with the teacher telling Blossom to focus two more times. Both times she wanted to vanish into a black hole so she wouldn't have to deal with the looks that lingered on her back, judging her. She could hear whispers. After all, Brick was back and Blossom was totally unfocused. Did he fuck her earlier or something?

The very idea made Blossom want to vanish into thin air forever. It didn't help that whenever she glanced at Brick, he'd be smiling at her, easily spotting her attempts at being sneaky. He'd wave at her, and she'd quickly spin away, regretting her decision. She kept telling herself she wouldn't do it again. The lull was always too strong though, and she found herself peeking at him more than once. And he'd always catch her. And he'd always smile and nod.

When the morning classes ended and lunch began, Blossom slammed her locker door shut. She needed food for energy. Collapsing against the locker, she tentatively opened her lunch bag and peeked inside. There was a cupcake and a lunch box with a piece of a Subway sandwich inside. A juice box and some chocolates winked up at her.

"What do you have for lunch?"

Starting, Blossom spun around to meet the eyes of Brick Jojo himself. Her face immediately turned red, and she swore she could feel steam rising off of her cheeks. "I-I have a Subway sandwich. Wh-What about you?"

"I've got a pretty big lunch. I think Boomer wanted to celebrate me being back." Brick glanced into his own lunch bag. "I've got chicken, cake, and a soda. Gourmet lunch food."

It felt so weird talking to Brick again. He'd practically vanished for so long; seen only when she went to the Ruffs' house—and even then he'd been unconscious and silent. "Do you have to act this way?" she blurted out.

He paused, looking up. "Act which way?"

She regretted the harsh words immediately. Her eyes vanished behind her bangs as she stared at her feet, face burning red. "D-Do you have to act so c-c-casual? You just woke up from being unconscious for so long, and y-you k-k-k—..." She trailed off briefly.

"Kissed," he offered.

"—Kissed me last night!" She buried her face in her hands. "Do you have to act like you haven't been gone for so long and you didn't just kiss me the night before? Do you have any idea how confused I am? You didn't even tell me what the kiss meant! What, did you think it'd be funny to mess with me or something after being gone so long?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "Bloss, look at me."

Blossom paused. It's been awhile since anyone's called me "Bloss"... She was surprised to find that she had kind of missed it, despite protesting the nickname for so long. "Wh-What?"

"Look at me."

When she didn't do it, eyes still hidden behind her hands, he gently pried her fingers away. She gasped when she found that he was now right in front of her, lips inches from her own. The realization made her lips tingle. Is it from the memory of the kiss, or desire? Blossom felt ashamed that she might want to kiss Brick even more. It just proved how easily she fell for his traps.

"Blossom, look into my eyes."

Snapping out of her awkward thoughts, she did as she was told, gaze awkwardly trailing up to his own eyes. They were strangely serious, his mouth set into a frown. "B-Brick?" she stammered.

"The kiss wasn't a joke," he finally murmured, placing a hand on the wall behind her head.

"Then what was it?" She held her breath, almost terrified of the answer.

Now his eyes disappeared behind his bangs as he lowered his gaze—almost shyly. It was unlike the Brick she remembered from before amnesia, but it was definitely like amnesiac Brick. "I meant it. The kiss. It was real."

"A-Are you saying—?"

He looked up, eyes brilliantly sparkling red. They entranced her, sucking her in. "I think I've fallen for you, Bloss."

Everything faded away as his words became jumbled in her brain. All of a sudden, nothing made sense anymore. Her face was releasing even more steam, probably red to the point of being unable to redden any further. "A-Ah, what? Y-You l-l-like...me?"

He nodded. "I'm serious here. I wasn't quite ready to tell you last night because I was so tired and my brothers wanted to get caught up, which is why I'm confessing to you right now. I like you, Blossom Utonium. All I ask is that you tell me how you feel about me."

She tried to think, but every thought became a string of confused gibberish in her mind. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just really o-overwhelmed right now..."

"That's okay." He lowered his arm, looking patient but a little disappointed. "I understand. You don't have to tell me right now." He met her eyes. "But I really do like you, Blossom."

She thought of the kiss, still unable to believe that he'd confessed, and that the kiss had been real. But...it did feel sincere, she thought. Then her mind thought about that time in Brick's head. How gentle and kind he'd been. How he'd let her out first, at the expense of his own energy and ability to get out earlier. Then she thought about when he had amnesia, and he had forgiven her for their argument before his first loss of consciousness. How he'd hugged her. How she'd comforted him.

Memory after memory came crashing down like a tsunami, released from the folders in her usually organized brain. They ranged from arguments to friendly talks to intelligent exchanges to violent battles. The memories were everywhere; from when they were five to now, when they were in high school.

And that's when she realized something.

Brick might not have always been the best friend in the world, but he was loyal. He was smart, caring, and kind. Plus, didn't all their arguments just make them closer than most friends? They easily forgave each other. They hung out a lot. And Brick was always there for her, no matter how pretentious or gentle he regarded her issues. He helped boost her self-esteem. He served as competition. He served as a challenge. Brick had always been a fascinating puzzle that Blossom never could quite get right.

And now she knew why. She had been missing two vital pieces: the mind and the heart. She hadn't fully understood his train of thought or his emotions. But now, he was giving those pieces to her.

In fact, he'd given her the mind piece back when they'd been stuck in his head. She just never even realized. But now she saw it. And she also saw him holding out his heart piece, afraid of it being rejected. He was combatting his fears just to confess to her, and here she was, not even giving him a proper answer.

So...the question remains standing. How do I feel about Brick?

Blossom tried to figure it out. She took the two pieces and analyzed them, trying to determine where they belonged in Brick's puzzle. She quickly dropped that method though. Instead, she let out her own heart piece a little bit—the piece she usually kept hidden.

She wasn't going to rely on logic this time. This time, she was going to rely on her heart.

So even though it took a few moments of awkward silence between the two reds, Blossom did eventually find her answer. And surprisingly, her heart seemed to be singing "yes, yes I do like Brick back".

Blossom felt her cheeks burn once more as she prepared her answer. "Brick..."

He looked up at her, having been staring at anything else other than her.

"I-I think..."

"Yeah?" he prompted gently, leaning in a little closer in expectancy.

She carefully rested her hand on where her heart would be. He frowned, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. "I listened to my heart," she explained, "despite how cheesy it sounds. And...it says yes."

"Wait...really?" His beautiful red eyes widened.

She nodded shyly, cheeks pink. "I think I like you too."

Brick paused. "But what about Vincent? I thought you liked him."

"I do, but...I guess I realized I like you more." She smiled weakly. "Surprise?"

He grinned, and it was so unlike pre-amnesiac Brick, but so like amnesiac Brick that Blossom felt her heart swell.

"So...now what?" she asked. "Do we start dating, or...?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he responded, still grinning.

She blinked. "I-I guess so, but I need some form of confirmation—"

Brick smirked. "I can give you all the confirmation you need with one easy, simple course of action."

Blossom's eyes widened as she realized what he was going to do. "Brick, w-wait...!"

Then all of a sudden, his lips were on hers, and he was kissing her again. The last two pieces to Brick's puzzle had fallen in place.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, gently planting a kiss on her cheek. His arms were wrapped around her, and he rested his head on the nape of her neck.

Bunny blushed, still not used to Darkai's slow growing advances in showing his affection—even though they were pretty much dating. She didn't mind it, but her shyness didn't help. She turned gently to nuzzle him. "You're too sweet," she said softly.

He sighed, breathing out onto her skin. She shivered at the touch. He leaned back somewhat. "You smell divine."

"Thanks." She smiled. "I used a new shampoo."

"Mmm. It's not just that though..." He sniffed gently.

"Hmm?" she murmured back.

"Nothing," he whispered, still resting his chin on her shoulder. "I'm just tired."

"What's wrong? You didn't overwork yourself in 'training' during the weekend, did you?" she asked, concerned.

Darkai smiled somewhat, his lips quirking the way they did whenever the stoic teen attempted to smile. "No, don't worry. Butch had a bit of a temper tantrum this morning. I tried to stop him, but it wasn't much use."

"Butch?" repeated Bunny, furrowing her brow. "Why would he just blow up like that?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I don't want you to be concerned about my business. You're already doing so much for me; worrying about my training. You don't need to be burdened with anything more than that."

"I don't mind," she replied shyly. "I like spending time with you."

His lips twitched. "And me you." He leaned forward a bit and kissed her on the forehead. "I have to go now."

"Oh...okay." She couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Sorry, BunBun. It's just that I have a test next block and I'd rather not be late. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, later." She turned and planted a surprise kiss on his lips.

He seemed surprised, but his small smile returned again as he returned the kiss. When he pulled away, Bunny felt warm and fuzzy inside. Then he vanished out the door.

Bunny got up off the infirmary bed. Darkai was so mysterious, but loveable at the same time. She'd seen so many new sides to him since they had gotten closer, and she couldn't help but like all sides so far. The closer they got, the more she felt like they really clicked. Darkai was sweet and protective, but not cold and distant like Bandit. He seemed aloof, but Darkai actually always made sure to be down-to-earth and connected with her.

Unlike Bandit again, she thought with a sigh.

"Why are you sighing?"

Spinning around, Bunny nearly keeled over with shock. The expression "speak of the devil" entered her brain, but she was too shocked (and shy) to say anything. "B-Bandit," she stammered.

"Hi." He wandered slowly inside.

Bunny felt her heartbeat speed up. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

He sat down on an infirmary bed. "I know this is your and"—here his nose crinkled—"Darkai's 'spot' or whatever, but it's still the infirmary. And I don't feel so well."

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

Bandit didn't reply right away. He remained silent, looking down. His elbows were on his knees, hands locked together. He eyes were glued to his fingers. For a second, Bunny half-expected him to really not say anything. To speak honestly, it wouldn't have surprised her. Bandit was so secretive around her. But then he surprised her. He opened his mouth and said, "I was recently slashed by some fucking stupid gangster."

"What?" she gasped.

"By the same guy who shot Braker."

"You didn't go after him, did you?" Bunny asked, eyes wide.

"What does it matter?" he sighed. "Maybe he came to us; maybe we went to him. I don't care anymore."

"I care!" she exclaimed.

He looked at her in surprise, before turning away. "I don't see why."

"You're my friend," she said softly.

"But nothing more."

Now it was Bunny's turn to be surprised. "What...?"

"Nothing," sighed Bandit. "Look, don't worry about it."

"...Show me."

"What?" He furrowed his brow at her.

Bunny took a deep, steadying breath as she stepped toward him. "Show me the wound," she whispered, her voice quieter but less shaky than before.

Bandit stared at his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She trembled. She wasn't actually sure if she was sure.

He didn't move to show off his wound right away. He delayed it, fiddling with his thumbs. Then he finally sighed and grabbed ahold of his shirt. Bunny's eyes widened just as he pulled the purple shirt over his head.

"Wh-What are you doing?" she gasped.

He paused, shirt in his hands. "Showing you the wound. I thought this was what you wanted?"

"I didn't—" She cut herself off. She shouldn't have been surprised. The stomach or chest was the easiest place to slash with a knife. It was either that or the back, which would still require taking a shirt off anyway. She was blushing violently. "S-Sorry."

He didn't reply to the apology. Instead, he pointed at his stomach. "There. There's the wound." She blushed, feeling dizzy as she peered down at his stomach. As soon as she saw the wound though, her eyes widened and she managed to refocus. It was still open, and bandages covered most of it. But she could see that it began at his chest and ended near his hip. Dry blood crusted the wound and dotted the bandages. It looked like it would've hurt a lot. "I'm okay though," he grunted.

"No, you're not okay!" she exclaimed—although she was only brave enough to exclaim it in a murmur.

He gazed at her with surprise, before sighing. "I see Darkai's been helping you grow more outgoing."

Bunny paused. "E-Eh...?" What does this have to do with anything?

"You've become less shy, which I'm happy about. It's always nice to see your confidence grow."

"I'm still shy." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, gazing at her feet.

He was quiet for a little bit. Then he murmured, "Bunny... Look at me."

She blinked, doing as she was told and lifting her head. She was startled to see Bandit looking at her with warm eyes, lips in a small, tight smile. "Y-Yes?" she stuttered.

"You know, I'll be honest. I missed talking to you." Fidgeting, he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just...not easy to admit. And you already know how I'm trying to protect you—"

"And you know how I wish you wouldn't," she added in a soft whisper.

He fell silent. "I don't want to push you away."

She blinked at him, surprised.

"I like being your friend. I like talking to you. And seeing you being so close with Darkai—when he's as equally dangerous as me—I just get this bad feeling in my stomach. I mean, I'm not protesting your relationship. At least, I don't think I am. It's your life. But—But I—" He stopped.

"Bandit...are you saying you're jealous?" she whispered.

He froze. Then he relaxed a little, face flushed but looking relieved as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulder. "Yes. I'll admit I've been jealous. But not in the romantic way; don't worry. I know how much you like Darkai."

"I...I don't know what to say, Bandit."

"You know what I want you to say, but I'm sure you can't say it," he replied quietly.

Bunny didn't reply, staring at her feet, face red. She did know. Bandit would've liked her to cut ties with Darkai, but she felt like she was in too deep to draw back now. She did have feelings for Darkai.

"Yeah, I figured you couldn't say it. As I said, I'm not protesting. It's your life; your decisions. But it's also my life, and my free-thinking: and I don't like him being with you."

"He's not bad, Bandit."

"I know. I see the way he looks at you. He just really wants to keep you safe."

Bunny blushed. "So...why else are you here?"

"Kicking me out already?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, I just—I'm just wondering." She felt guilty for her harsh tone.

He sighed. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"About what?" Her eyes widened. "Why are you—?"

"I'm apologizing because I've been a distant asshole. I know I've hurt you, and I'm sorry, but I have to keep it up. That doesn't mean I don't miss talking to you. I do."

"I-I thought we already resolved this..."

"Not the way I wanted. I guess you can say that my encounter with you and Bliss that night after Braker's shooting sort of helped me make up my mind. I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Bandit, you know I'll always forgive you. I know how hard it is for you. But"—here she paused—"it's hard for me as well. And I just wish... I just wish you'd let me back in. I can help."

He looked away. "I want to, BunBun." It had been a long time since he called her that. "I want to give you the key, but I can't. I need to keep my secrets locked."

Disappointed, she didn't respond.

Bandit glanced at her before looking down at his wound. He coughed. "Now that that's settled, I guess I'll try to heal this now. I've been too tired to do it properly..."

"I'll do it."

Bandit froze, hands glowing purple, inches from his chest.

"I-I'll do it," she repeated, her voice wavering a little. "I want to help you. W-Will you let me?"

He didn't give her an answer immediately. Then he said, "Yeah. Sure... And err...thank you."

"Y-You're welcome." Bunny took multiple, tentative steps forward, reaching out to touch his wound. Her hands felt warm as she felt the large cut, his chest and abs smooth but hard beneath her fingertips. He flinched slightly at the touch. "I'm sorry, d-does it hurt?"

"...No. It's—It's not that." His own face was a little pink, causing Bunny to relax in her own discomfort. It wasn't so bad when they were both uncomfortable.

"O-Oh, right. I'm sorry, th-this is probably even more uncomfortable for you than m-me..."

He blew out a small, deep breath. "No, i-it's okay. Don't worry about it."

Bunny's hands started to glow a soft lavender, and she reached out to touch the wound again. She felt the gentle melody of her healing powers awaken, letting it take over her. Healing people always felt like a subversion of giving life to something. A warm glow appeared between the two of them, pulsating. "Just relax," she suggested gently, humming softly to help him do so.

After awhile, he did relax beneath her touch, having been completely rigid at first. "Your powers are so soothing," he murmured.

"Mmm," she responded, closing her eyes as she brushed her fingertips against the wound.

Comfortable silence stretched out between them, until finally Bunny stopped. The wound was still there, but it had at the very least stopped bleeding so much. She'd also gotten rid of most of the pain.

"That's all I can do today," she mumbled. Healing always took a lot out of her. It was a long, slow process.

"Thank you. This is fine." Bandit reached out to grab his shirt...

...When all of a sudden someone walked in. "Ah, I figured you'd be in here. Are you with Darkai again, Bunny—?"

Gasping, Bunny jumped back, her back bumping into the wall. Bandit was frozen, hand reaching in midair for his shirt. The newcomer appeared, with yellow eyes and long, blond hair. She wore the yellow version of the uniform, with some fashionable accessories added.

"B-Banana," Bunny managed to stutter.

Banana spotted them and froze. "...That's not Darkai..."

"N-N-No, this isn't wh-what it looks like!" stammered the purple Puff, face burning red.

Bandit cleared his throat awkwardly. "She was just—I was—"

"Say no more." Banana held up a hand. "I have to admit that I did always think you'd end up with Bandit."

The two of them gaped at her, before Bandit managed to say uncomfortably, "No, I-I was recently knifed by someone and well, Bunny here is just—she's just helping heal the wound."

Banana paused. "...Oh. Well, now this is awkward."

The purple Ruff coughed. "Yeah."

She smiled. "Well, to be honest, I still see you two as possible—"

"N-No!" they both exclaimed, faces red-hot with embarrassment, shock and even slight horror—not that they hated each other or anything; they did like each other, but weren't sure it was in that way. After all, Bunny had Darkai and Bandit was always pushing her away—no, rather they were horrified that Banana was thinking such things without them even knowing—and that she was subliminally suggesting that she was still willing to "ship" them together.

Banana giggled. "Just kidding~ Mostly, anyway~"

They remained silent, faces red. They were both staring at their feet, eyes hidden behind their bangs.

She looked around. "Anyway, I was hoping to catch you. I need some...help on a project."

"Umm, s-sure. I've done all I can f-for Bandit today, anyway," Bunny mumbled, carefully scooting off the bed. Her shoulder brushed against Bandit's, and both of them went stiff.

He waited until she'd gotten off before following, slipping on his shirt. He winced when he had to lift his arms above his head. The two girls disappeared first, and Bandit watched them go. He sighed before also flying off.

Meanwhile, Banana and Bunny were floating through the halls, with the purple Puff trying to keep up. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"The design studio," Banana answered promptly.

"And what is this project for?"

"...It's sort of a present," Banana admitted, eyes glazing over briefly. She snapped out of it and added, "A-Anyway, you'll see when we get there. Almost there!"

Bunny frowned. Her usually reserved sister was acting strangely—she seemed more distracted than usual. But then again, so did everyone else. She shrugged and followed Banana into the room. "So what do you need help on...?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure if I need help yet." Banana stopped at a table, sighing as she picked up a creamy-yellow folder and pulled some papers out. "I want you to look at these."

Bunny wondered what exactly was going on as she walked toward her sister. She took the papers that were being held out to her, before her eyes widened at what she saw.

"I know," Banana said quietly.

Being in complete and utter disbelief didn't even begin to describe Blossom's current feelings. She still felt dazed, but this time for a completely different reason. Now she felt elated, as if she were floating on cloud nine.

Brick's confession had come as a surprise, and at the same time not. She'd been denying it, but the possibility of him kissing her seriously had been actually pretty high. She'd been too afraid of being tricked to accept that such a thing was possible.

Blossom did a little spin in the empty hallways. She sighed happily, dancing higher and higher until she could feel the school ceiling. Her heart was fluttering...

"Wow, Blossie—you're in a really good mood today," someone's voice stated.

Spinning around, she spotted her sister Bubbles nearby. Her blond sister had her brow furrowed, looking curious. "Hi, Bubbles. I am pretty happy today."

"What's the great news?" asked the blue Puff.

"Well, you got my text, didn't you?"

She paused. "No, I don't think so..."

"Oh. Oh, well now—that means you don't know?"

"Yeah, I guess so; but what do I not know?" Bubbles pressed.

Blossom paused, unsure where to even begin. "Umm... Maybe I should tell everyone in the cafeteria later. What did you want to talk about?"

Bubbles seemed disappointed, but she nodded. "Okay, well... I was wondering how you approach an emotional situation logically."

This time Blossom furrowed her brow, tilting her head slightly to the side. "What...?"

"Boomer and I recently made up after ignoring each other for so long, but he admitted he was jealous of Sidney and me—"

Blossom gasped. "So he does like you!"

"No!" Her sister blushed. "He wasn't romantically jealous. But..." Here she trailed off.

"Well, what's wrong?"

"I-I was disappointed when I heard that it wasn't romantic jealousy. Why is that? I like Sidney, and I'm perfectly happy with him. My heart's just being so confusing right now; I want to try and listen to my brain for once instead. I figured that since you're so logical, I could ask you for help."

Blossom didn't reply immediately. She pondered Bubbles' question. While it was true she usually approached problems with tactic, she'd just realized that sometimes it was best to listen to one's heart—no matter how cliché it was. "Analyze the situation first," she began slowly, "figure out your feelings and base your conclusions off of that."

"Okay, but what next?" Bubbles prompted.

"After that, you need to figure out for yourself what you want to do and how you feel." Blossom paused to think some more. "Also, when that's all said and done—"

"Yes?" Bubbles' eyes widened with eager expectation. She lifted her arms in anticipation.

"—Listen to your heart," concluded the pink Powerpuff Girl.

Her sister frowned before letting her excited hands drop, slouching. "That's not very helpful, Blossom."

She shrugged. "Well, I can't just tell you what you want to hear. Sometimes life gives us things that we don't want. We still have to overcome these challenges. And you can use logic to approach this problem, but in the end it'll probably lead back to your own heart."

Bubbles looked up. "But what about just using logic?"

"Using logic in this sort of situation isn't always the best choice. Trust your instincts, Bubbles!" urged her sister.

"Why are you so insistent on me listening to my heart? I thought you'd be the one insisting I use my brain the most."

"You'll be using your brain if you listen to your heart," Blossom countered, "I promise."

"That's not much help," groaned Bubbles, leaning against the lockers. "Blossoooom... Why are you so insistent that I focus on my emotions?"

"That's because...I recently realized I needed to listen to my heart, so I did. And everything worked out fine; in fact, they worked out better than fine! I now know what I truly want, and I actually got what I truly want," Blossom explained happily.

Bubbles became quiet. Then she sighed and floated to the floor. "I wish I was in your situation right now. I don't know what I want or how to get it. I don't even know how I feel."

"That's why you have to pay attention to the details and listen to both your brain and your heart. It'll really help you," her sister insisted, landing beside Bubbles and placing an arm around her shoulders. "Now come on, let's go to lunch. I have something exciting I need to share, remember?"

"Blossom..." Bubbles stopped walking, which forced Blossom to stop as well. "I don't know if I can do this."

The pink Puff pursed her lips and reached out to grab her sister's hands. "Listen to me, Bubbles. You can do this. You just need to analyze the data and the emotions you have inside. It's not hard when you know what you're looking for."

"But how do I find what I'm looking for?"

"Perhaps it'll find you," suggested Blossom.

"Oh my God, this is like such a cliché Disney movie," Bubbles mumbled, covering her red face with a free hand.

"That may be so, but it's true. And you'll see that as time goes by. But for right now, just enjoy the time you have. I promise it'll be worth it. Take your time with your analogies and your problems. Rushing it won't solve anything; you need time to consider your recondite feelings."

Bubbles sighed. "Why is this so hard?"

"It'll get easier," Blossom promised. She grasped Bubbles' hand a little tighter than the first time. She tugged gently. "Now come on; the cafeteria awaits!"

Bubbles followed at a slower pace, letting her usually reserved sister do most of the flying. What's gotten into her? She's in such a good, excited, Disney-esque mood. She couldn't help but wonder, a million possibilities racing through her head. She wished she was in Blossom's position, with Blossom's mood and attitude and sureness of what she wanted and what to do.

When they got to the noisy cafeteria, it took a few seconds before they realized that it actually wasn't as noisy as usual. Although, two loud voices pierced through the air...:

"You're the one who chose not to listen to me!"

"I didn't know! And at first I figured I'd listen to it later, but your huge meltdown this morning made your news seem like a big deal so I would've been willing to listen to it then, but then you made the decision for me!"

Bubbles and Blossom exchanged looks. The voices were Butch and Buttercup.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"I'm not," he replied, smirking. He spread his arms out wide. "I'm back, baby."

She continued to gape at him, taking in his red hair and red uniform and most of all, his red eyes—eyes that had been closed for so long. "You're really here?"

"Yeah. You can pinch me or something if you don't believe me." He held up his arm, looking amused.

She hesitated before reaching out tentatively to pinch him. "You're real," she breathed. "You're really back, Brick."

He traded amused looks with his brothers, before turning back to her. "I know. That's not all, but that's it for now. I have something I want to share, but I need to wait for Blossom." Brick glanced at the door, as if the girl he was waiting for would pop out right at that moment, cued in by his statement.

"Blossom already knows, doesn't she?" She shook her head. "She probably sent me a text and I didn't even see it."

"I sent you a text," a second boy added, looking offended. "I told you I did."

"Wait...you mean that was your news? You were trying to tell me that Brick is back?"

"Well, duh. What the hell else would I want to talk about that was so important?" He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms, clearly still irritated about that morning.

She scoffed, already losing patience at his attitude. "Oh, I don't know—the latest video game or something? How am I supposed to know what you consider important?"

He glared at her. "I made a pretty big deal out of it."

"Yeah, I started thinking it was actually important later!"

"Gee, thanks. Much use that was."

"Why didn't you just tell me!?" Her voice rose.

"You're the one who chose not to listen to me!" His voice rose as well, and half the cafeteria fell quiet, all turning to stare at the two hotheaded super-powered teens.

"I didn't know! And at first I figured I'd listen to it later, but your huge meltdown this morning made your news seem like a big deal so I would've been willing to listen to it then, but then you made the decision for me!"

He folded his arms. "You make this sound like it's my fault, Buttercup."

"Isn't it? You're the one who chose not to tell me. You decided not share the news even though it was perfectly fine if Ross and his friends heard it! You were just being an unfriendly asshole!"

Now he was mad. "OH, REALLY!? WELL, AT LEAST I WASN'T A FUCKING BITCH! YOU KNOW YOU HURT MY FEELINGS!"

"YEAH WELL, I ACTUALLY FELT BAD TILL YOU STARTED BEING SUCH A JERK ABOUT IT!" she yelled back.

"BULLSHIT!" he shouted. "You never gave a shit!"

"How do you know that!?"

"I just do, okay?"

Buttercup threw her hands into the air. "Good fucking excuse, Butch!"

"Guys, calm down—" Brick tried.

"AT LEAST I'M HONEST!" Butch hollered.

"AT LEAST I'M NOT FUCKING STUPID AND THICKHEADED!" Buttercup shot back.

"GUYS! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Brick yelled. Students who'd been watching watching or filming or chanting "fight, fight, fight" stopped and wondered what Mr. I've-Been-Gone-for-so-Long would say. The two greens stared at Brick as he said, "Enough, both of you! This is in public, and you two are being immature idiots!"

"Thank you," the supervisor whispered, who'd been too afraid to approach the arguing superheroes.

The cafeteria doors slammed open and everyone's attention was drawn away from the greens. The newcomers were Blossom and Bubbles, and Blossom didn't look impressed. Buttercup swallowed.

Stomping toward her sister, Blossom stopped in front of the green Puff expectantly. She raised an eyebrow.

"...Sorry," muttered Buttercup.

Blossom gestured at Butch. "Don't apologize to me."

Buttercup gagged and turned to him. "I'm sorry," she forced out through gritted teeth.

His stiff posture seemed to relax a little, but he was equally hostile when he said, "Yeah. Same here."

Neither was fully sincere, and yet they were still honest. They were just too awkward to send "proper" apologies out of pride and anger.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence as the cafeteria started bustling around again, already bored of the display, Buttercup turned to Brick. She wanted to look at anything but Butch. "Didn't you have some...umm, news to share or something?"

"Oh yeah. Almost forgot." An easy smile took over, and Brick gestured at Blossom. "We do have something important to tell you all."

Blossom blushed, smiling. "Okay, so the news is that..." They started together, and both of them paused at the same time for dramatic effect.

"What? What?" urged Buttercup. She wasn't sure what other surprises she could take that day, but if Blossom knew, she wanted to know too.

Brick smirked and Blossom grinned. "We're dating!"

No one said anything at first. Until...:

"I knew it! I knew you two would end up together!" Princess broke the silence. She was beaming, as if she had won the lottery.

"Way to go, Brick," added Mitch.

Then all of their friends began freaking out, most at the top of their lungs, talking all at once. The cafeteria fell silent once more as they looked at the table again, expecting another fight but getting a celebration instead.

Buttercup gaped at them, not sure what to say or how to feel. She finally settled on a grin. "Wow, congratulations, you guys."

Brick smirked back, leaning in closer to Blossom and giving her a peck on the cheek. She blushed. "Brick...! Not in front of everyone, please."

Meanwhile, two tables down at the far end, Vincent watched with his eyes hidden beneath his bangs.

"Vince? You okay?" Ross turned away from the spectacle to check on his friend, concern filling his green gaze.

Vincent didn't reply immediately. Instead, he gripped the fork tightly, causing it to snap in half. Then he stood up quickly, dumping the rest of his lunch into the trash. "I'm going to go."

"Are you sure you're okay?" called Ross as the redhead stalked away.

He paused, before slowly turning around and looking up. He was smiling, flashing his pearly whites with green eyes looking like arches. "I'm fine!" he said brightly. Then he turned away again and disappeared.

Ross shared a concerned look with Sidney. Neither believed their friend.

Back at the table where people were celebrating Brick and Blossom, the red Ruff stood up. "I have to go," he exclaimed.

Everyone let out disappointed groans.

"Abandoning your girlfriend so soon?" Butch raised an eyebrow.

Brick bristled at his brother. "For your information, I just feel a little tired. I'm going to go lie down at the infirmary."

Blossom reached up to feel his forehead. "You feel okay, don't you?" she asked, concerned.

"I'll be fine," he promised. "Nothing a short nap won't fix."

"Okay, I'll see you later then." Blossom awkwardly removed her hand.

"See ya." He grabbed his counterpart and kissed her. When he saw her stunned expression, he winked. "That's how lovers say goodbye, Blossie."

As he flew away, he heard Blossom exclaim, "He's still so cocky!" That statement made him smirk again, this time to himself. The hallways were mostly empty. Students loitered about and some were actually sitting and eating, but most people preferred the classrooms. Brick stopped at a specific door in a specific hall. But as he was about to open the door, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye.

The thing was moving, and fast—too fast to be a regular human. They were a blur of red and white, and for a brief moment Brick caught sight of some green. He instantly knew who the person was. He also knew it would most likely be a trap, but his curiosity won out as he flew after the newcomer.

After all, I have a score to settle with him, he reminded himself. They vanished out a door that led into the courtyard. Brick followed tentatively, being reminded that this was the place he'd first fallen unconscious, which had led to his amnesia. He stopped in the middle of the yard, before calling, "I know you're here! Show yourself!"

No one answered at first. But then someone asked, "What's the magic word~?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Please," he added.

And as if it really were magic, leaves parted as someone stepped out into the open. They wore a small smile that seemed calculating and deceiving, along with baggy, white robes and a painted cat mask. The mask hid one of their eyes. Their hair was a long, shaggy red, and they had a thin sword in its sheath behind their back.

"Vix," Brick spat.

"Good afternoon, my friend." Vix smiled again, raising his arms. The sleeves folded where his hands ended. "I see you're back and finally 'normal' again."

"That's right. And I have you to thank for everything I've suffered through the past few weeks," growled the red Ruff.

"I know." Vix's smile disappeared as he lowered his arms, lifting the mask to reveal a green eye that immediately flashed to white. He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing bandages. "And I'm sorry."

"What...?" Brick squinted at his former friend, wondering why someone like Vix was apologizing. "What for? Or rather, why apologize?"

"...Because of this."

Brick didn't have time to figure out what Vix was trying to say, as the very next moment he had to pull up a shield against a flash of silver. Brick gasped and stumbled back, having not been prepared at all for the surprise attack.

Vix's glare vanished as his eyes widened and his lips parted. "Oh, you actually blocked that."

"Yes," grunted Brick, sweat dripping down his chin. "What the fuck are you trying to do, Vix? I would've thought you'd give me time to prepare for a fair fight."

"I'm just trying to do my job," he answered, raising the sword before swinging it back down. "And since when was I ever fair?"

Brick winced but the shield blocked the blow. "Fuck off," he snarled.

"No can do, my friend. This is war."

The red Rowdyruff froze. "Wait...don't tell me the war's already started."

"Oh, you didn't know? Oops." Vix didn't look very guilty. "I had the advantage of surprise and it looks like I screwed it up. Oh well." He didn't look very disappointed either.

"Bandit must be stressed as all hell," Brick muttered, completely ignoring Vix.

"Mmm-hmm. He's been attacked too, y'know. I don't know if he told you, but Coal slashed his chest and stomach."

At first Brick just stared at him blankly as the words slowly registered in his brain. When they did, a boiling anger took over and he screamed, "That fucking bastard!" His eyes flamed with hatred and anger as he roared, finally releasing the shield.

"Now that's more like it," murmured Vix, smiling.

Flames exploded out above the grass, lighting up the area as if it were an arena. They surrounded Brick, whose eyes had become red, and he was growling, arms hunched with fingers stretched out like claws.

Vix pulled his sword out from its sheath and moved first. He rushed forward in three bounds before jumping into the air and slashing down. Brick easily blocked the blow, kicking the sword aside before grabbing Vix by the collar.

"Seems like you've recovered quite a lot," smirked Vix.

Brick's only response was an animalistic snarl, before he flung his opponent aside. His super-strength caused Vix to fly so far that he ended up crashing into the wall on the other side of the courtyard. He took five seconds to recover before staggering upwards, one of his green eyes misting into a milky white. I'm lucky I have my eye. I'm one of the few who can go toe-to-toe with the Ruffs, all thanks to this eye, Vix thought, panting.

Brick spiralled into the air, a red blur as he smashed into Vix again. This time they smashed into a tree trunk, and he gasped for air. Brick let go and his victim fell, coughing.

"Burn," whispered the red Ruff, before flicking his fingers.

Vix's eyes widened as flames seared his flesh and he screamed. His eye went into overdrive, healing the burns as fast as it could. Blood dribbled from his overworked eye, and he couldn't stop from screaming in pain—and fear. Vix had never fully recovered from his departure with Damon and his parents' death; fire had claimed all three of his parental figures, and it still terrified him.

Vix's cries seemed to reawaken the humane side of Brick. The red vanished from his eyes as he seemed to realize what was happening, and they stretched wide. He started, mouth falling open before he snapped his fingers again. Flames sparked from his hands as the rest of the fire disappeared. Vix whimpered, blood and tears streaking his cheeks as he collapsed on the ground.

"Shit," the red Ruff muttered, staring at his opponent.

For a long moment no one said anything as Vix let the tears out of his system. Flashes of the past kept appearing in his mind, and burns littered his flesh. He tried to heal them, but his eye flickered white once before going back to green. Blood continued to pool from his eye and he dug his face into the grass, trying to ignore the stinging pain.

"Why did you attack me?" Brick finally asked, kneeling down beside him.

"I needed to test your condition and report back to Danes," murmured Vix, after he had recovered enough to reply. His face was still wet, but the tears had stopped. His cheek remained lying on the cool grass. He could see a ladybug crawling on a blade of grass just inches away, before it spread its wings and flew away. Vix slowly, shakily forced himself to sit up, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Brick said nothing.

"Hey, remember when we used to collect bugs and try to raise them?" Vix stared at the grass, taking in all the bugs that had been formerly invisible to him. Ants pooled out of an anthill. A spider dangled on a thread of silk from a branch above. The ladybug from before had settled on a leaf, probably eating aphids. Dark beetles scuttled across the dirt.

"Yeah," Brick answered, also staring at the ground. An earthworm wriggled near his shoe.

"They usually died." Vix slowly reached forward and picked up a small ant, eyeing it as it struggled in his hold and tried to bite his nail. He smiled slightly.

"Feeling nostalgic?" asked the red Ruff, eyeing his former friend with mild distrust and unsureness. Vix could be very unpredictable; he had to be careful around him.

"...Yeah," he confirmed, before crushing the ant in between his fingers. He flung the dead bug back to the ground. Brick frowned but said nothing as Vix continued: "I guess you could also say I feel self-pity." He smirked weakly, staring at a butterfly unfolding its wings nearby. "I failed again."

"You didn't necessarily fail," Brick said awkwardly, "you just didn't—"

"No, I failed." He picked his sword up and threw it half-heartedly at the butterfly, missing by a few inches. The insect fluttered its wings and immediately rose into the air.

The red Rowdyruff Boy bit his lip, furrowing his brow. He wasn't sure whether Vix would break or not. Despite being Danes' soldier and fighting against the Ruffs quite often, he seemed to constantly teeter between nostalgic friendliness and immense hatred around the Rowdyruff Boys.

"I didn't succeed, so I failed." Vix closed his eyes, trying to ignore the blood that blurred his vision. He was quiet for a few moments. Then he asked, "Remember when Damon found out that we were keeping so many bugs? And that most of them were dead?"

"...Yeah—Yeah, I remember." Now even Brick sounded somewhat nostalgic, his gaze misting over.

Vix smiled, recalling that moment...

Flashback

"Boys, what is the meaning of this?"

Seven young boys jumped at the bellow, each exchanging glances that asked "who's in trouble this time?"

"Boys!" the voice called again.

Abandoning their board game, they rushed toward the kitchen, where a man was kneeling, hunched over a cupboard. He was holding something clear and filled with dirt, staring at the inside.

"Uh-oh," one of the boys whispered, his blue eyes wide.

"'Uh-oh' is right, Boomer." The man stood up and held out the something for all to see. It was a jar. "Can anyone tell me why we don't have any more raspberry jam and instead have a jar full of dirt?"

A redhead with even redder eyes stepped forward. "We were making an ant farm, Damon."

"...An ant farm," he repeated blankly, raising an eyebrow. The boy nodded and Damon sighed. "Brick; boys... I don't mind if you guys want to pick up bugs and put them in jars to take care of, but you have to tell me first. And please use empty jars first." He paused. "Where did the jam all go anyway?"

A brown-haired boy with orange eyes pointed into his mouth.

Damon sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Of course."

"We just wanted to raise some bugs," a yellow-eyed boy offered.

"That's fine, Blaster—but as I just said, you have to use empty jars. It's wasteful to use full jars. And you boys forgot one—no, two—of the most important aspects of raising a bug."

"And what's that?" asked a boy with black hair.

"That would be air holes, Butch." Damon couldn't help but smile, shaking his head. "And food."

Brick turned to Boomer. "Boomer, we told you to feed it!"

"I did! I gave it some cucumbers," Boomer said defensively.

"Ants don't eat cucumbers, Boomer," Damon stated, adding his two cents.

"Why not?" He turned his wide blue eyes on the older man.

"Hmm...how do I say this..." Damon paused. "Most ants just don't like cucumbers. I have a lot planted so we don't get an ant infestation."

"Idiot," Butch exclaimed.

"Butch, don't be so mean to your brother," scolded Damon.

A boy with purple eyes and brown hair put up his hand.

"Yes, Bandit? You don't have to put up your hand, you k—"

"Ants." Bandit pointed at something behind Damon.

He spun around and gasped, eyes widening as he spotted the teeming mass of ants, each carrying a crumb of cake. "BOYS!" he bellowed.

"Yes, Damon?" they asked in unison, since they were already in front of him.

"Who left their cake out in the open?" he demanded.

No one came forward.

"Boys," he warned.

Vix gulped and quietly put his hand up.

Damon's eyes softened and he sighed. "Vix..."

"Am I in trouble?" he asked.

Damon considered it, before sighing again and shaking his head, but with a small smile. "No, you're not in trouble. It's just that you know ants come out in spring and summer, right?"

"Right."

"And they like cake."

"Yeah."

"And there's nothing wrong with having ants living in your backyard. It's just—they really don't belong in the house. If they're pets, it's fine, but they could cause an infestation. And I don't think you want to find ants in the drawers or in the fridge or beneath your feet, right?"

"...Right." Vix looked sheepish.

He smiled. "So there you go. That's why you shouldn't leave any food out in the open." He ruffled the redheaded boy's hair. "Don't worry about it though. We just need to get rid of these ants."

Vix smiled and nodded. He followed Damon toward the windowsill, or ants marched one-by-one. "Thanks, Damon."

"For what?" he asked.

"For not getting mad at me."

Chuckling, Damon squeezed Vix's shoulder. "You're welcome. I don't see any reason to get mad at you for this. As long as you boys learn your lesson, then everything's fine. It's okay if you want to collect bugs; just remember to feed them and keep them in check! And don't leave food out in the open. That's all."

Vix gave him a hug. "You're the best father a boy could ask for."

Damon's eyes widened but then warmth filled them and he smiled again, reaching out to hug his adopted son back. "You're the best son a man could ask for."

When they let go, everyone helped to gather the ants and set them free. For a dozen minutes or so, it was pure chaos as they laughed and chased the black, six-legged critters that scuttled across the floor. Vix was beaming, happy to be spending the day with his "brothers" and his "father".

He finally felt like he had a family again.

End Flashback

"Those were different days," murmured Brick, gazing up at the sky. Clouds flitted overhead, blocking the sun's rays.

Vix nodded. "I miss those days the most," he added quietly. "It's been a long time since then, and yet I still want to go back. Why did Damon have to do what he did? If he wasn't found guilty of murdering Tyrone—"

"Then he never would've met you."

Vix froze.

"I'm sure you don't want that. I know how much you cared for him—and Damon loved you. Just as much as he would a son. Because that's what you were to him."

Tears pricked Vix's eyes again. Then he burst, sobbing and wiping desperately at the tears that streaked his bloody face. Memories of all the times Damon told him that he loved him; called him his son; taught and took care of him... They all came rushing back, burning images in his mind. He remembered child-like innocence, child-like love, and child-like hope. He'd been so naïve as a boy, and yet it had been so good back then. Damon had been there, not as a psychopathic murderer that tore his "family" apart, but as a caring and loving father who was enough to replace the mother and father that were missing from Vix's life.

Damon had filled that hole, but he'd also ripped the healed heart apart after Vix found out the truth about him.

"I trusted him. I loved him. I thought of him as my father. But he was insane and murderous and a liar..." He sniffed, rubbing his eyes. His fingers were wet with blood and water. "He's the one who destroyed everything."

"But he was your father. In the time he was able—before Danes found him—he took care of you," Brick pointed out.

Vix didn't reply.

Brick decided to venture a little further: "He gave you the Eye—"

"He made me a biological weapon without me even knowing!" shouted the boy with two eye colours. "He lied. He said it was to protect me and save my life, but he wanted to use me."

"How do you know? Maybe he was telling the truth," Brick suggested quietly.

Vix looked away.

"He loved you, Vix. He always loved you."

"He lied to me," he whispered.

"Yes, and that changed your opinion of him, but his opinion of you never changed."

He felt his eyes leak again. "What do you know, anyway?" His voice rose. "You weren't even there the day Damon died in that fire! You weren't there on my birthday, the day I was taken away—" He stopped when a sob took ahold of his throat, closing it up.

Brick flinched at the reminder that he'd failed to protect two people he'd cared so much for once upon a time. "I'm sorry, Vix."

"...'Sorry' changes nothing. Sorry doesn't bring the old days back. It doesn't bring the Damon I want to remember back. It changes nothing."

"But what if he's not who you think he is?" the red-eyed teen asked, a tint of desperation ringing in his voice.

Vix faced him, and their eyes met. "What if he's not who you think he is?" Brick didn't reply so he continued: "Face the music, Brick, before you get hurt any more. Look at the evidence."

"There's still the possibility—"

"Don't cling to false hope." He cast his eyes downward, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "It only hurts more."

"Are you telling me to become like you? Someone who just gave up hope and decided to become a broken puppet for someone else to toy with?" Brick demanded, exasperated. "Doesn't that hurt just as much?"

The two met gazes again and the red Ruff swallowed hard, just realizing how harsh his words were.

"...I never wanted to give up hope, you know," whispered Vix, "and part of me wants to believe that Damon was innocent. But what can I do? The evidence argues otherwise. It's over, Brick. Give it up."

"No, I won't." He shook his head. "I-I have something that could prove Danes wrong—"

"What?" A flash of interested eagerness appeared in his former friend's eyes, but it vanished just as quickly. "What is it?"

Brick opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come. What if I'm wrong? However, determination set in and he forced himself to say, "I have these journal pages—"

Vix furrowed his brow, pausing. "Wait, Damon's journal? The one he was always writing in?" When Brick nodded, he said, "But I have those p—"

"VIX, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?"

Both of them froze as Vix's jaw snapped shut. He spun around and sniffed the air. "Maxim," he snarled.

Brick took a step back, nearly tripping over his feet. "Shit," he whispered, eyes wide.

"Get out of here," Vix said, wiping his face. He rid himself of the tears and got rid of most of the blood, before smoothing his clothes and hair down. "I'll handle Maxim."

Surprise graced the red Ruff's features. "What...?"

"You heard me. Get out of here," growled Vix.

"But why?"

"Because I'm feeling kind thanks to nostalgia. Now go, before I change my mind and feed you to the wolves."

Brick took another step back before he began to fly. "Thank you, Vix."

His blast-off caused a large wind to blow through the courtyard, rustling red hair and green grass. The red streak had already disappeared from the sky when he finally replied, smirking, "You're welcome."

Another breeze passed, letting his air flutter in the wind as he turned toward the sound of stomping footsteps. He braced himself for the appearance of Maxim, smoothing out his clothes and combing his fingers through his hair. Vix almost forgot to breathe—almost.

"You useless, worthless piece of rubbish!" roared Maxim, manifesting into view. "How dare you abandon me like that? What the hell do you think you're trying to do!? We were to meet up at the back of the school—do you have any idea how long I waited!? You're a completely worthless soldier!"

Vix bristled but he didn't let the old man's words get to him. Instead, he smirked calmly, "It shouldn't bother you, Maxim. Why, the way you move so slowly would make me assume you get left behind quite often."

"Why you little—!" hissed the older man, eyes bulging. His face turned red as he glared at the boy before him. "I should have this reported to Danes!"

"Go ahead, I don't care." Vix shrugged nonchalantly. "Anyway, I've already completed our mission."

Maxim frowned at him, clearly not believing him.

He rolled his eyes. "We were supposed to check on Brick's condition, right? He's fine now."

"The keyword would be we," grumbled Maxim.

"No, the keyword here is that I work alone." Vix finally showed a spark of darkness, narrowing his eyes warningly at the man. "And anyone who gets in my way will be cut down. Even you."

"Is that a threat, boy?"

"Not a threat, just a warning. If you want to have a partner with you at all times because you're so scared, then go join Coal." He paused. "Oh wait, I forgot. You can't."

Maxim bristled. "How dare you speak of the d—"

"Later, Maxie old man. I'm already tired of this conversation, so please excuse me as I return to Christie's side—since y'know, I have a job as her bodyguard," Vix called over his shoulder, leaping over a tall, chain-link fence. He didn't keep the boastfulness out of his tone, as being the bodyguard of Danes' niece was a high and honourable position.

"That little shit," grumbled Maxim as he followed more slowly. He had wanted to yell some more at the boy, but even he couldn't stop Vix from carrying out his duties, especially when they were direct orders from Danes himself. "I can't believe I have to put up with him!"

Vix could hear him, but he didn't comment. Instead, he let the rage grow inside of him like the flames that he was so scared of. And he ran. He ran as fast as he could; away from Maxim, away from Brick, away from his past. He just wanted to go "home" and talk to Christie. Maybe she can cheer me up. As soon as he thought that, he blushed slightly. Yeah, right. He was nearly at Danes' mansion when his phone rang. It was Christie.

"Hey," he greeted the caller.

"Where the hell are you?" she demanded, sounding short of breath. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she was running. He could hear her feet pounding against the road, wherever she was..

Vix paused, sensing that something was wrong. He wanted to slow down, but he knew that if it really was an emergency, he'd have to be faster. So he sped up and asked, "What's going on? Why do you need my protection so bad?"

"I-I don't!" she protested, sounding flustered. He heard her skid to a stop, and then the sound of rustling leaves filled his ears. "I just need some back-up, th-that's all."

"Well, alright. But what's going on?" he repeated.

Christie didn't answer for a few heartbeats. "Shit," she finally whispered. Then Vix heard footsteps, and the sound of her breathing.

"Christie?" he hissed.

"Can't—talk," she gasped, "being—followed—"

"What?" Then she let out a cry and Vix heard a crashing noise. "Christie? Christie!" he shouted. No one replied directly, but he could hear footsteps again. This time they were slower, but more ominous, like thunder on the horizon.

"No! No, get away! Leave me alone, you creep!" He could hear her cries, but they sounded far away.

"Christie!" he yelled into the phone, even though he knew it was useless. He stood there, trembling just slightly, eyes wide and mind racing. What just happened? Who's chasing her? Will she be okay? Then another thought entered his mind:

I should be there to protect her.

Feeling sick, Vix wondered what he should do next. He could try and trace her call, or he could talk to Danes. But that would involve having to face the man's wrath, as well as humiliation in front of the likes of Maxim. The second option wasn't very appealing—although the first one wasn't very safe.

As Vix continued to debate his choices, still trembling just a little bit, he didn't hear the footsteps approach the phone. He didn't hear it being picked up. He was muttering a creative string of curse words when someone's gruff, heavy voice sounded from the other side of the phone.

"Hello?"

Vix froze, startled and nearly falling over from surprise. "H-Hello?" He winced, hating the stutter that appeared in his voice.

"Is this Vix?" the man on the other end asked. "If it is, do not ask me how I know your name."

"...Yes." His voice steadied, but his heartbeat continued to pound against his ribcage. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry and scratchy. "Who are you? What did you do to Christie?"

"She's fine, I can promise you that. As for who I am, I can only say that I'm someone new and someone old at the same time. You know me, and yet you hardly know me."

Vix noticed his shaking hand and forced his body to stop. "Is this a riddle?"

"Just know that as of this moment, Christie is safe. But I can't promise for how long she'll be safe. You know what tonight is, don't you?"

He glanced up at the sky. "Oh no..." he whispered.

"That's right. It's a full moon tonight," the man replied, a hint of amusement in his otherwise blank tone. "Do you dare rescue her tonight?"

"What do you want from her?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. But I can promise you one thing: I'll be at Damon's cabin, waiting for you until 1:00 am tonight exactly. If you don't show up, then the girl might be in some danger. Or if you show up with back-up, she'll also be in danger. Come, and come alone."

Vix had stopped breathing by the man's second sentence, and he almost didn't hear the rest. "Damon's cabin?" he repeated, feeling dizzy. "How do you know Damon?"

"We go quite far back." There it was again; the hint of amusement. "Now farewell, Vix. I look forward to seeing you...again."

Before he could ask any more, there was the click that indicated that the man had ended the call. Vix was dazed, unsure if what had just happened was even real. By that point, he was very close to Christie's home—but now he slowed down, feeling afraid.

By the time he finally got back, his heart and mind felt almost as numb as his legs.

"I know," Banana said quietly.

Bunny viewed the papers with wide eyes. "Are these your new designs? No wait, they don't look like your style..."

"They're Blaster's," Banana confirmed.*

"It looks like his art style, but hardly his style of fashion," commented Bunny, still viewing the designs. They were named "Pain", "Hurt", and "Heartbreak". But the one that really caught her attention was "Alpha Female". "Th-This one...looks like you."

"I know," Banana confirmed, taking the design and eyeing it. "I-I don't know why... I did some research on the term 'Alpha Female' and a-apparently it's the female that the alpha wolf male cares for and protects the most." She blushed. "I-I'm sure it's just a coincidence though. Blaster was probably just drawing himself as a female. We do that sometimes, and it looks like we drew our counterpart—"

"O-Or maybe it really is you...?" Bunny suggested quietly, meeting Banana's eyes.

She fell silent.

"I'm just suggesting that m-may—"

"Hello? Is someone in here?"

Both of them froze as they heard the new, very familiar voice. "Speak of the devil," muttered Banana, before calling out, "We're here, Blaster!"

"Oh, hi Banana—and Bunny?" called Blaster, appearing in the room with bundles of fabric in his arms. "Are you here to work?" he sounded awkward.

"Umm...sure," Banana said quickly, sort of lying. "But uhh...what about you?"

"I'm just here to dump my supplies into the supply bin. Lunch is short, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know." Banana knew he was trying to be casual, but neither of them had forgotten their awkward apology.

Blaster rummaged around in his bin. "Can you believe that recently someone took a bunch of my discarded designs? I mean, they were discarded for a reason—they were absolutely terrible—but they were also really personal. And now apparently someone's just taken them. I hope it was the janitor and they threw them out, and not some student."

Bunny sent Banana a questioning look, and the yellow Puff coughed slightly. "Oh no, I wonder why anyone would do that? I've never had anyone steal my discarded designs." She paused. "M-Maybe they were actually really good...?" She held her breath.

He paused. "Don't flatter me." He turned around, a small but sad smile gracing his soft, somewhat feminine features. "I know they were terrible. Except one I kind of liked, but it was too personal—I mean, again, they were all personal—but this one in particular held a lot of meaning to me..." He shook his head, turning back to his fabrics. "Anyway, I don't know what got into me when I designed them. They were absolutely horrid."

"Don't say that! They're great," she protested. He gave her a funny look and she blushed, before correcting herself. "I-I mean, I'm sure they were great."

He sighed slightly, shaking his head, that small, sad smile still on his lips. "Thank you, but no; they really weren't."

Banana frowned but said nothing more about the subject—she didn't want to be found out as the one who took the designs—at least, not yet, anyway. She glanced around. "I-I've been meaning to ask you something, Blaster..."

"Hmmm? Shoot away," he responded, folding floral cloth.

"I know you don't care much for him, but have you seen Michael around at all? He's disappeared off the face of this Earth."

"I don't know," he replied after a brief pause. While he sounded stiff, Banana judged that he was being honest.

The door opened again just then, and this time Ross came in. "Hi, guys," he greeted.

"Oh! Hi, Ross. You're back," Banana remarked.

He nodded. "Alive and well." He smiled weakly. "For the most part."

Blaster remained quiet, not hostile but not extremely welcoming either. "Do you have something you want to share with us?"

Ross froze, flinching. "Ohhh... Right. I umm... Urgh, I just—yeah, I've got something to tell you because I figured you deserve to know..." He trailed off.

What's wrong?" she asked, feeling her heart drop a bit.

"How do I say this?" he murmured. "Without hurting you?"

"What happened?" she demanded.

Ross swallowed hard. "Michael—h-he's been shot recently."

Blaster stopped organizing his fabrics, head snapping upwards to stare at Ross. Banana gaped at him in shock. Bunny's eyes widened.

"...I'm sorry," the brown-haired teen added weakly, apple-green eyes just as upset as Banana felt.

"Don't tell me this was because of the gang wars again," she cried, her voice breaking.

"I'm sorry." He dipped his head. "But that's exactly what it was thanks to."

She felt ready to cry. "Is he okay?" she forced out.

"He's alive, but in critical condition. I-I think he'll be fine." Ross didn't sound very sure, like he was trying to convince himself that Michael would survive as well.

Banana buried her face in her hands and let out a small wail.

Blaster turned to Ross. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry I had to tell you guys. Banana, I know how much you and Michael—" He trailed off.

Blaster walked toward his counterpart and sat down beside her. "Are you feeling okay?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want to cry?"

She shook her head again.

He sighed and placed an arm around her shoulders, bringing her in closer to him. "If you need to, then go right ahead. It's fine, Banana. We won't judge. And I promise, it'll all be okay. Michael's strong, right? I'm sure he'll survive." While even his gentle voice shook and didn't sound 100% sure, it was sure enough that it soothed her.

Enough so that she let herself cry. Just a little at first, as she carefully unlocked the gates that held back her tears. Then the floodgates burst open and the sobs came pouring out in waves. She weeped, leaning against Blaster. He said nothing, just holding her in his arms as he gently rocked them back and forth. Ross and Bunny watched silently, their own eyes blurred with tears. Blaster rested his face in her soft blond hair and she buried her own tear-streaked one in his shirt, bundling the fabric up in her fingers and letting it all out. A small part of her hated being so weak (and ruining Blaster's fashionable sweater), but at the same time she felt relieved that Blaster had let her release these feelings.

When the tears faded and she was left sniffling, he made a move to pull away. Fear twirled around her as she gripped his shirt tighter, and he paused, not letting go. "Don't leave me alone yet," she whispered.

Bunny and Ross were respectfully quiet as the two yellows hung on to one another. Finally, Blaster gently removed his arms. When her fingers tightened around the fabric again, he smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Bansy. But I have to go." His voice was a soft, patient murmur.

Realizing that she was acting needy, Banana coughed and let go. "O-Of course. Go ahead." Her eyes were still wet, but she refused to let any more tears fall. She hated appearing weak.

"I'm sure Michael will be fine," he offered, "so just stay strong, okay?"

"Easier said than done," she muttered, blinking hard as she looked away, arms folded over her chest, where her hurting heart was stored.

He sighed softly, before leaning forward and brushing strands of blond hair away from her forehead. Then he surprised her once more—this time by leaving a peck on her skin. She looked up in shock, but he just smiled. "Bye, Bansy." He turned around and flew off.

Banana continued to gape at the door he'd just been standing at, and would've kept staring had it not been for Ross stepping forward. "I'm afraid I have to go too; bye, guys. I'm sorry about the news—I'm hurting too, but I'm sure if we all stay strong and believe in Michael, things will be fine," he offered.

"Sure," Banana mumbled, staring down at her hands. I have a boyfriend, she reminded herself. She listened to her sped-up heartbeat. So why do I feel like this?

When Ross was gone, Bunny floated over to her sister, landing beside her. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"I-I'm fine," Banana managed to say, "but..." She trailed off.

"But?" prompted her sister.

"N-Nothing. I just"—Banana paused—"Bunny; so what did you think of Blaster's designs?"

Bunny frowned, wondering why her sister was changing the subject. Denial? She glanced back at the papers. "They're gorgeous, even if he doesn't think they are."

"Right." The yellow Puff busied her hands with needles and cloth and other supplies, rearranging them into neat piles. "Help me get ready, please."

"What are we doing?" asked her sister, eyes wide.

Banana paused, holding a piece of glimmering gold in her hand. Perfect for Blaster's "Alpha Female" design. When she replied, her voice was quiet but heavy: "We're going to make Blaster's designs a reality."

Raymond awoke to feel sharp pain everywhere. It filled his lungs and his arms and legs. Pain even stung at his eyes. The world felt dry and crackling with heat around him, and there was so much red... The place was burning all around him. He turned and nearly screamed, but instead clamped a hand over his mouth, letting out little more than a choked sob. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he managed to force it back down. Rubble pierced into his back, but a hand stuck out of it all nearby.

That hand... It belonged to one of his parents.

He looked around, trying to move his arms and legs. He winced. His ankle had gotten sprained earlier, and now every body part was splayed at awkward, uncomfortable angles as well, thanks to his fall. "Hello?" he rasped, trying to peer into the flames. "Is anybody there?" No one answered him. Not even his brother's soothing voice called back to him. Raymond couldn't help but wonder, Is he dead too? The thought made him shudder, with an uncontrollable desire to cry.

Pulling himself up, Raymond ignored the sharp, protesting pain that screamed inside of him. When he lifted his hand, he was startled to see blood. It came from a wound on his head. He dragged himself down the pile of debris, grimacing every time something jabbed into his stomach. He tried to ignore the flames. When he finally reached an open space where there was a gaping hole in a formerly whole wall, he finally heard something—no, someone.

"There's a kid stuck in here!"

For a second Raymond thought they were talking about him. But no... Their voices are too far. He grabbed hold of the wall and pulled himself up, nearly screaming in pain. He twisted his head and looked up, peering past the ledge that he'd fallen from earlier, before losing consciousness on the pile of rubble. He could make out two bodies... One was lying down, and one was standing.

He gasped. It was his brother and some strangers! His older brother seemed to be nearly unconscious, but the newcomers managed to rip away the burning wall that separated them. For a second Raymond was scared they would shoot him like someone had his mother and father that very same night, but then something miraculous happened.

They pulled his brother out and carried him away.

At first shock gripped him, but then Raymond was trying to run forward. Instead he fell flat on his face, and without even realizing it, tears began trickling down from his eyes. "I'm here too," he whispered, hacking as the smoky air filled his lungs. "Please rescue me..."

But no one came.

A large of piece of burning debris fell down in front of him, blocking him from his only chance at seeing his brother again. Darkness was closing in, so with the last of his strength Raymond turned and dragged himself out of the gaping hole behind him. He stumbled outside and fell into the grass, his choking sobs mixing with the dirt. He dug his face in his arms and imagined never getting up. He imagined giving up right then and there and letting himself rot to death. Raymond couldn't see reason to live.

His mother was gone. His father was gone. His brother was even gone, saved by men who'd been too busy to notice the second boy down below.

The tears blurred his vision and stung his eyes, making it hard to see. But still he hung on, too determined to die. Or perhaps he was too terrified to succumb to death. Seconds ticked by where he played with the idea of dying.

And yet, in the end, he decided to try and survive. He wanted to live and find his brother someday. He wanted to succeed. He wanted to be the better brother.

Because despite his brother's comforting presence, Raymond had always been jealous of him. He'd seen his brother as both an idol and a rival, one he couldn't seem to get close to, despite their technically close relationship. But how close are we really? Raymond wondered bitterly. He tried to help me but was quick to give up and let himself die. And yet, he still ended up being the luckier, more successful brother. He had been saved, while Raymond had been left to burn.

Resentment suddenly filled his veins, perhaps to replace the pathetic gaping hole of sadness in his heart. He gripped the grass until his knuckles turned white. His eyes bore signs of darkness. I will be the better brother. I want to succeed this time, my brother. You may be family, but you left me for dead tonight. But I will show you. I will beat you. I will avenge our parents. I will even avenge myself. I won't just survive—I will thrive.

Raymond dragged himself forward in the grass, determination pushing at his veins. He managed to pull himself up and stagger toward a tree, where he collapsed against it and watched as his house burned, watching as the remnants of his brother and parents disappeared in the smoke. He blinked back tears, holding himself up with a frenzied desperation and determination.

Just you wait and see; I will come for you. And I will show you how much better than you I really am. Because I will come back as the better, stronger one when compared to you and everyone else too. And never forget.

Wait for me, Damon.

*(A/N: References to chapter 46!)

BANDIT: ...Uh, wow. Wasn't expecting that.

ME: Heh. Were you, now?

BRICK: Let me get this straight. Raymond...is Damon's brother?

ME: ...Yes.

BUTTERCUP: Do we see more of them next chapter?

ME: ...Yes.

BUTCH: Do we see more of me next chapter?

ME: ...Yes.

BUTCH: Especially since you made me look like such a pussy here—

BLOSSOM: Butch! Watch your language. *turns to me* Uh, Kuku—a-are Brick and I going to appear more too? Since we're dating and all?

ME: ...Yes.

BUBBLES: Boomer and I made up?

ME: ...Yes.

BANANA: And I'm going to make Blaster's designs?

ME: ...Yes.

BANDIT: Bunny and I had a scene, huh.

ME: ...Yes.

VIX: And Christie was kidnapped while you made me look like a p—*notices Blossom glaring at him*—I mean, a weakling.

ME: ...Yes.

BLISS: *sarcastically* Gee, I wonder who kidnapped her...

BUTTERCUP: Are you going to update soon?

ME: ...Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes to everything!

BRAKER: Can you spoil the ending?

ME: ...Y—NO!

BRAKER: It was worth a shot.

BANDIT: Well, happy birthday again, Kuku. And don't forget to review, everyone! We'd really appreciate it.

ME: *bats eyelashes* It could be your birthday gift to me~

BANDIT: . . . *face-palm*