Call of the Wolves

by kuku88

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

60. Chapter 60: Wolf's Rain

CHAPTER 60: WOLF'S RAIN

ME: Am I dead inside? *pauses* I am so dead inside.

BLOSSOM: What's wrong?

ME: Family stuff. School stuff. I hate Math stuff. I'm having trouble balancing my schedule. Lack of sleep. Lack of fun. Lack of happiness. Lack of everything in general.

BLOSSOM: O...kay? Well, if you study hard, you'll be sure to—

ME: Oh, don't you start too. I've heard enough of this sort of thing from my mom, who can be a little crazy tiger mom-ish.

BLOSSOM: *huffs, folds arms* Well, I never.

ME: *sighs* Sorry, I'm just tired. I'm fine, honestly. I'll live—sort of. Somehow. Ehhhh... *brightens* Anyway, I'm done this chapter! Read on and leave a review, please. It really helps me out.

Chapter 60: Wolf's Rain

---

It was still raining.

Raymond listened to the drum of the raindrops hitting the window as he looked through the shelves. Shamus stood nearby, wrapping some bandages around his arm. His long curly black hair was mussed, and he seemed dirtier than he usually was, his face and clothes streaked with mud. He was dripping water. His face was flushed red and he stamped his boots, looking cold.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, but fighting in any kind of rain wasn't ideal. Raymond had a feeling that all of Danes' soldiers on duty for the day would be feeling pretty cold by the end—if they weren't feeling sick.

He glanced back at his patient. "What did you say you needed again? Painkillers?"

"I'd appreciate it," Shamus responded, running a hand through his long hair. He grunted as his fingers hit some knots. "Jesus, I am a mess. There's a party tonight for Michael's return and I am barely presentable."

"It's not your fault. The circumstances are kind of out of your control, for one."

His companion sighed, looking defeated as his shoulders fell. "Raymond, painkillers aren't the only reason I'm here."

"What else do you need?" he asked, still rummaging through the cupboards. "Strange, I could've sworn there was a case in here somewhere..." he murmured.

"Nothing medical-related," Shamus said quickly.

Raymond looked up in surprise, a plastic container of aspirin in his hand. "Really?" It had been a long time since someone came to him actively seeking advice, let alone anyone from Danes' troops. None of Danes' men really trusted him. They all regarded him with calculating eyes and disgust, but they came to him for healing anyway.

Certainly no one had ever sought out his advice.

"It's about Ross," Shamus admitted, rubbing his hands together for warmth. His words pulled Raymond out of his thoughts. He hesitated. "I haven't seen him since I last checked on him a few hours ago before I went off to fight. He'd...fought with Sydney, and I don't know...he seemed upset." Shamus hesitated even more, looking up with searching deep, dark-brown eyes. "He—He even questioned the possibility of Damon killing Tyrone, even though he's always believed it was him."

Raymond drew in a sharp breath, once again taken by surprise. "He doubted Damon's alleged murdering of Tyrone?"

His companion nodded, seeming absentminded. "I can't help but think Ross is slipping back to his old state, before we went travelling. He used to be so sad all the time, I didn't know what to do. So we went travelling—we tried to run away; get as far away from Tyrone's black door as possible and forget. It wasn't easy, but we made it work. We were a dysfunctional family of two, and I started off a lot like Danes in terms of training. All I wanted was the best for him, but it made him resent me.

"Ross was a troublesome preteen. He was snarky, had spirit, and often got into trouble. He was disobedient, confident, cocky... But he also showed a lot of potential. I wanted to make him into the best fighter he could be, to take his mind off of the sadness. It certainly took my mind off of all the pain. But Ross fought me. We started travelling when he was almost eleven, and he was a fighter the entire time. I could always see when he was about ready to crack or even break, but three or so years after Tyrone had died when he was only eight-years-old, Ross made it clear he wasn't going to dwell on the fact that his father was dead.

"Another three or so years later, and slowly we started working things out. After travelling so much—from Australia to Canada to China and France and Germany and Nigeria—we went to so many places, and became closer over time. Somehow, Ross evolved into someone more dedicated to his training and it seemed like the sadness and negative fighting spirit of his was slowly disappearing. He still had a fighting spirit, of course, but now we didn't bicker seriously as much anymore. More years passed and more training and travelling went with it. Finally, we decided we'd come back to Townsville, USA. It was time to face the past, we figured. And with the truce slowly heading closer and closer to war, along with the disappearance of Michael's parents, it felt like an appropriate time.

"So now we're back and to my relief, nothing's yet to have broken Ross. Nothing, but Sydney. Ross had a tough past. His father and mother both died, his godfather turned out to be very likely evil... But it wasn't just that. There were the smaller things too, that we all deal with, the things that seem insignificant in the long run. Such as broken hearts from your first love. And yet, for Ross it wasn't insignificant. I thought things would be okay. I thought they'd move on. But now we're back and he's had to face everything all over again and they obviously haven't moved on... He's had to relive the past after years of trying to escape from it. From Damon to Tyrone to Sydney... Ross is starting to crack; I can tell. I haven't raised him for nothing, and I'm worried, Raymond. I'm scared for him."

Raymond blinked. "I...don't know what to say," he finally said.

"I'm glad you haven't said anything." Shamus smiled. "You're the first one to listen, and I'm really grateful. I'm thankful for everything you've done for us." He took a deep breath. "But now...I just—I want to know what you think."

Raymond paused in surprise. "You really want to know my opinion?" he asked.

His companion nodded. "I need your advice."

He put down everything he was holding, slowly, not quite believing his ears. "I, umm..."

"Just on how to help Ross. How to cheer him up without seemingly butting back in," Shamus said quickly. "You seem to have a way with kids, and I don't want things with Ross to go back to how they were before, so..." He trailed off.

Raymond thought about it for a few moments. The he took a deep breath and began, "I'm not going to lecture you, Shamus. From what I've seen...you're already a wonderful uncle. But, I will do my best to help you.

"What Ross probably needs is a companion; a shoulder to lean on. Now, you could be that shoulder, but you need to let him come to you first. Listen to him when he chooses to talk. Ask questions, but don't dig. Encourage him. Absolutely, definitely encourage him. Give him advice on how to fix his problems; suggestions drawn from experience. Tell stories about your own experiences; don't fully focus on his problem or it will make him uncomfortable. Talk until he starts to talk. But don't ramble or bother or annoy him. Don't be suspicious."

Shamus blinked, before he smiled. "Wow, thank you. That's pretty solid advice. No wonder you've been so good with the kids."

Now it was Raymond's turn to be surprised. He managed a shy smile back. "Ah, you're welcome. And thank you too. I-I guess I've had some experience with kids." Then he added quickly, "But a lot of it was learned from Damon. Oh—"

His companion shook his head. "It's fine, you don't need to worry about what you say in front of me. I know Damon was once a good man. It's... It's a shame, really—what happened to him."

He nodded but didn't reply immediately. I will always need to watch what I say around you, he thought.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair now. Thanks for everything, Raymond. You've been a big help."

"Ah! It's been no problem." He smiled at Ross' uncle, getting up to accompany him to the door.

"I'll talk to you later," Shamus said, before walking out.

Raymond shut the door and slowly slid down against the wall, watching the clock as the seconds ticked by. We can talk, but I need to think a lot about what I say. I need to be careful, and yet...there's so much more I want to—no, need to—say.

---

Ross was almost scared to touch anything. He could only take one step after the other, exploring with roaming eyes. He was afraid that if he touched something, it would turn into smoke and disappear underneath his fingertips.

He took a deep breath. Don't be stupid. He slowly reached out with his hand, gently touching a thick green book lying on the shelf. His fingers titled with anticipation.

Then he yanked it off with probably more force than necessary, but his excitement was starting to show through his nervousness. With quivering hands, he opened the book and flipped to a random page and began to read.

The title was "'Bat Species: Vampire Bat'".

Ross tried to hide his sudden disappointment, even though it was breaking through. He flipped back to the cover and realized that the book did have a title. It was faded and dusty, but there were golden letters curling to spell out "'A Classification of Bats'".

He looked further and was even more disappointed. The shelf before him was all about animals. There were books on owls, foxes, and most interesting enough, wolves. All an interesting read, but not what he was looking for.

Ross wanted answers. And not just any answers; answers to a very specific set of questions from his very specific past.

He turned to another shelf. This one was a little more informative, but barely. It was all still just information—not answers. This second shelf was all about potions. The next was about plants.

Ross kept going, growing increasingly disappointed and unhappy. There were nonfiction books and fiction books; books on magic spells and books on 20th century medical procedures. Tyrone had made his private library to hold information of all kinds, but it was missing the information that Ross actually wanted.

He continued to wander through the spacious but crowded library, until he came across a sudden desk. There had been desks earlier, but they were in an organized circle in the centre or side of the room with other desks. This new one was by itself, however, sitting alone in the corner against the wall. It wasn't large or particularly fancy. It was just wood, and it was lower and smaller than the other desks.

But that wasn't why Ross had stopped. He'd stopped because the desk held something surprising. The desk was arranged to be like a shrine, with wreaths and old, long-since forgotten wax candles. Flowers adorned the desk, all dying. The main centrepiece, however, was a large painting of Sylvie, Ross' mother.

Ross' eyes widened. This painting seemed different somehow. His mother wasn't smiling like in all her other portraits. She wore a simple pale white gown that billowed past her feet like a cloud, and her long sleeves were somewhat puffed—unlike most of her dresses, which were sundresses or ball-gowns. She wore a sheer veil that flew with her hair, which was flowing as if in the wind, lighter than usual. She looked pale, and her eyes were gentle but distant. She seemed to be glowing.

It was like staring at his mother's ghost.

Ross shuddered, taking a step back. The incense in the container on the table suddenly became evident. His father had erected this shrine for his dead wife for prayers. Ross was surprised Tyrone had never brought him down here, or at least made the shrine more public. Tyrone had been devastated by his wife's death, withdrawing into himself.

Ross wondered if he'd painted the portrait himself.

There were less scary paintings too; paintings of his mother smiling in various dresses. Pictures. Memorabilia from their time together.

Ross could see photos of himself as well, around five or four or even one with his parents. The images made his heart ache. He didn't even remember a time of such happiness.

He reached out to touch one of his mother's portraits, where she was smiling a bright, sunny smile.Mother, you had no idea how important your smile was, did you?

He took a step back and stared again at the ghostly painting. He wondered why his father would have this portrait done. Did he see Sylvie again after she'd died? If so, was he scared? Panicked? Overjoyed? And most importantly, would it have been real? Or did he just imagine it as he painted or as someone painted; imagined a life where Sylvie's ghost had chosen to stay with him?

Ross knew his father's mental and physical health had deteriorated after Sylvie's death, but it hadn't been a terrible descent. The shrine wasn't creepy and Ross knew his father had turned a little eccentric, but not insane. The only scary thing was the painting—his mother's eyes were painted to stare at you no matter how you moved, and her eyes looked like glass.

Moving away from the memorial, Ross found other paintings scattered around the area. Then he found one that was the exact opposite of the large, ghostly one.

This one was small, and Sylvie looked incredibly alive in it. She seemed to be glowing again, but this time more naturally—from the sun and not from the moon. The background was warm golden and yellow, and Sylvie stood out because she was laughing and she was wearing a pink sundress without sleeves, a sun-hat atop her head. Sunflowers adorned her hat and hair and the background, giving off a warm and happy vibe that the other portrait (even the other portraits!) failed to capture. Ross felt like this painting was significant because his mother wasn't making a particularly "attractive" face. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth was open wide mid-laugh. It was natural.

Ross reached out and picked up the painting, before realizing that the shelf it had been hooked to held a particularly strange book. This one was thick and brown and old-looking. It read "'Thanks for the Memories'" in golden cursive along its spine. Something about the book spoke to him. So Ross pulled it out.

Only, he didn't get to get it fully out. All of a sudden, part of the shelf swung open to reveal a secret compartment with a dark, spiky-winged symbol on the door. He opened it and felt suddenly excited when he found another book.

And this time, it had a leathery cover and was bound by twine! Ross could tell it was a journal right away. He picked it up and blew the dust off of it, noticing a spider scuttle away from the compartment as new dust flew into its web.

Ross opened the journal and began to read...

---

"That was a good throw," he mumbled, trying to rub out the pain in his eye.

"Oh man up." His sister folded her arms. "I didn't even bruise it. You'll be fine."

"I'd hope so," he replied. "I don't think Maggie would be very happy if one of her guests had a black eye."

"I liked you better when you barely talked," she countered, shooting him a look of daggers. "Or at least when you were still shy."

"I-I didn't mean it that way!" he stammered, his cheeks warming. "I-I just meant that if things aren't perfect, Maggie will get angry, and she's scary when angry. I didn't mean to sound a-accusing—"

She rolled her eyes, stopping him before he could continue. "Alright, I get it. I know. Jesus."

"Sydney..." He paused, unsure how to say what he wanted to say. "Are you unhappy?"

Startled, her head shot up almost immediately. "What are you talking about?"

"I just mean...you don't seem to be in a good mood. Did something happen?"

She didn't reply.

"Did you...and Ross have...a fight?"

She still didn't reply.

"Sydney—"

"Don't say his name," she spat suddenly, fierce and angry.

He recoiled in surprise. He hadn't expected such rage in response to his question. He'd read her mood as bitter and sad, not raging and mad. "Why? What happened?"

"I just—We—nothing, okay? Nothing happened."

"Sydney..."

She sniffed. "Don't."

He stopped, wondering what his next move should be. He wanted to dig further, but there was a huge risk in doing so. Besides angering his sister, it could also damage their currently healed yet still frail relationship. It was like dealing with a wolf with a broken wing. He wanted to help her, but he needed to let her trust him before anything else.

The silence stretched on until he finally made his decision. Holding out his hands, he approached her slowly. "Sydney...please. Tell me. What happened between you two?"

"Don't," she repeated, sniffing again.

But this time he knew it wasn't an indignant or angry sniff. It was a sniffle.

Sydney was holding back tears.

"Please," he tried again, still attempting to plead his case. "Please, just trust me."

"DON'T!" she screamed.

He stopped stepping toward her like he would if a wild animal got spooked and lashed out.

"Don't act like you'd even understand." Sydney wiped her eyes. "You're supposed to be the 'perfect boyfriend'. Everyone likes you because you're oh-so-sweet. Even my friends Sierra and Senna like you, for Christ's sake! You never mess anything up. You never break anyone's hearts. You just never fuck up." She paused, her shoulders heaving. Then she slumped, all the fight leaving her. "Unlike me."

"I—" His throat felt dry. He knew he wasn't perfect, but in a way, she had a point. He didn't quite understand her situation, because he hadn't experienced it. Girls may have had crushes on him, but they were always puppy love crushes. They were never devastated when he turned their confessions down. But it was different for his sister. She'd turned away a boy who'd harboured a crush on her for a few years. It had grown from puppy love to a little more than that.

And she'd broken that boy's heart. More than that, the boy was a friend. And his crush and her decision had negatively affected their relationship.

"See? You don't understand," she said, after he was silent for too long. She sniffled again and wiped her eyes. "I have no reason to tell you anything."

"No, that's not true!" he cried, disappointed that he'd messed up. "Sydney, please—talk to me. Tell me what happened. I want to help."

"You can't."

"But I can try—"

"Sidney, don't be stupid. You. Can't. Help. Tell me, what the hell can you do to solve this? Wave a magic wand and fix all my fucking problems? Fix all my imperfections? Fix me?" She waited a heartbeat before continuing, not giving him a chance to say anything. "See? You can't. So...can you just—shut the hell up?Please."

He winced. Her words were harsh, but he knew she didn't mean them. Sydney was prickly, but not cruel. "I'm willing to do all that I can," he responded.

"It's not enough. Until you can turn me into the perfect girl, you'll never be able to help."

He took a deep breath. "We have to at least try, don't we?" He saw the scalding look she sent him and changed his determined tone back to his usually soft and gentle voice. "I mean...I want to try."

She scoffed, looking as if she wanted to laugh even as tears finally began streaming down her cheeks. "Tell me, what the fuck could you do to possibly try and help?"

"I can listen," he whispered.

For a long time they were silent. Then she collapsed, bursting into tears as her dam broke. He rushed toward her and held her as she cried.

"I fucked up," she finally said in between sobs as she shuddered in his arms. "I fucked up badly, Sidney."

"It's okay," he whispered, patting her hair. "I'm here for you."

"I can't—I don't know how to fix this." She gulped, willing her tears to stop as suddenly as they'd come. "He won't let me back in, and I just—I can't do this. I can't fix this. He won't let me."

He continued to rock his sister back and forth, thinking back to the past. When Ross still had feelings for Sydney. When things were different.

Flashback

It was sunny outside. Too sunny.

Sidney groaned quietly to himself as he slathered on sunscreen, trying not to feel his skin crossing in the sunlight. He stared down at his arms, which dangled awkwardly from his sides. He had such small, thin limbs.

He wished he was bigger; stronger—but he was far from that goal. His mother and father didn't mind, but his twin sister always made it a point to mention how skinny he was.

Training was always difficult. When they did fencing, the lance was almost too heavy for his awkward limbs. He'd fall more often than jab, usually turning out to be the loser rather than the victor.

Once again, his parents hardly minded, but Sidney could always hear the whispers and see the judgement in others' eyes. His parents were used to it, but everyone else expected better from someone in Danes' social circle.

When it came to his sister though, she was an undefeated champion. She could dance circles around her opponents, who were often bigger than her. But even then, she won because she knew how to use her lithe size to her advantage. She could catch you off-guard because she was too fast, and her swing was surprisingly strong for a girl her age.

Sidney wished he was more like her.

"Sidney!" a voice called.

Turning, he met eyes with his friend Ross. "Hi, Ross," he greeted shyly, shifting so that the sun wasn't casting its rays on his arms.

"Wow, look at her go," his friend remarked, sitting down beside him. He didn't seem to mind the sun as much.

"She's improving a lot," he agreed. "Danes says she can probably move on to the next level of her training soon."

"She's amazing," Ross murmured, eyes wide in mesmerization.

Sidney felt jealousy prick his skin. I'll never be as good as her. He pushed the thought aside. "Yeah," he agreed. "She's very talented."

"Ross, there you are! I've been looking all over for you," a new voice called. The boy speaking caught up to his two friends, smirking as his turquoise eyes shone.

Sydney's duel was just ending. She was bowing to her partner, but now she whirled around at the newcomer's voice, just as Ross did. "Michael," she gasped, her eyes brightening.

The blond boy standing in the doorway smiled at her, before shifting his attention back to his friends. "Uncle Danes wants us to spar each other for the next match," he said. "No fencing, just barehanded battle."

"Sure," Ross agreed, hopping off of the seat he'd been sitting on and joining Michael. He glanced at Sydney before announcing loudly, "Let's fight."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as she leaned against her seat, getting comfortable to watch the match.

Sidney glanced at his sister, still dressed in her fencing uniform. "Who are you cheering for?" he asked softly, his voice barely breaking the silence.

She heard though. "Michael, obviously. He's so talented," she answered promptly, without even giving a second thought.

Sidney frowned somewhat, turning his gaze back to the two boys getting ready to fight. Poor Ross, he thought. He knew the boy liked Sydney, but his sister wasn't a huge fan of guys in general. Sure, she didn't hate them, but Sydney was always determined to prove herself as better than the guys around her. The only male she'd ever shown any interest in was Michael Hawthorne, nephew of Danes Hawthorne and an elusive social elite. Ross was in the same status as Michael, but somehow his more cheerful and friendly disposition didn't compare to Michael's elegant charm, in Sydney's eyes.

The two boys circled one another in the ring, and then the referee called out, "Match, start!" and the two dove at one another. Ross was faster, crashing into Michael first and gaining the upper hand by having his opponent fall to the ground with him on top. The two rolled around, grappling with one another.

Michael finally managed to shove his friend off of him with a heavy knee into his stomach, causing Ross to go "oof" as he rolled off. Michael stood up and dusted himself off, his eyes darting toward the audience.

Sidney followed his gaze to where in the spectator's box stood none other than Danes himself, assessing the match with cold, disapproving eyes. Somehow that made Michael feel even more determined, while for Sidney all it did was make him feel more down.

Michael made the next move, delivering an expert throw toward Ross' head, but the other boy dodged by ducking downward. He then grabbed Michael's outward arm and used both hands to pull him upward, throwing his opponent over his shoulder. Michael fell and rolled across the ground.

Ross smirked and walked toward his friend. "I win," he announced.

Danes watched for a moment later before turning around to leave.

Somehow, instead of discouraging Michael, that action filled him with even more determination than he already had, even though Sidney could barely imagine the pain he must've been in. Michael jumped upward and swung a reverse kick at Ross, but again the boy thwarted him, this time with a well-timed block. He then grabbed the leg and pulled Michael aside, before shooting his own leg out and catching his friend by the abdomen.

Michael gasped out and stumbled, and another kick from Ross sent him falling to the ground. He clutched at his side, groaning quietly.

The referee called out the end of the match and Ross walked over to help his friend up. "Hey, sorry about that," he said, offering his hand. His green eyes darted toward Sydney, who was watching with what seemed to be an interested but passive expression on her face.

"Nah, it's fine," Michael replied, sighing, before taking his friend's offer and letting him pull him up. He glanced at Danes, and the older man met his eyes.

The piercing cold gray stone of Danes' unimpressed gaze caused Michael to wince, and the man shook his head disapprovingly. "Technique, Michael. You lack technique." Danes turned around. "We will continue your training at sundown. You lack the talent that Ross has, and we need to amend that."

"Yessir," Michael said weakly.

Danes walked away.

As soon as the judgemental older man had gone, Sydney jumped from her perch and rushed toward the two boys.

Ross stood up straighter and smiled charismatically, thumping a fist to his chest. "I won," he announced proudly, his eyes closed as he smirked. He was clearly expecting some sort of praise from his crush.

But instead, Sydney made a beeline for Michael, joining him by his side and checking him for any serious injuries. "Are you okay?" she asked carefully, her eyes roaming his body. Then she remembered who she was talking to (and assessing the body of), and she blushed and looked away.

"I'm fine." He gave her a grateful smile.

Her blush intensified and she looked down this time, before giving him a smile back. Then she turned on Ross. "You should've gone easier on him! You could've seriously hurt him, you big goof!"

He blinked in surprise, obviously not knowing how to react.

"Sydney, it's fine." Michael shifted his weight onto another leg and winced. He stood up a bit straighter. "I expect all my opponents to fight to their fullest potential, without pitying me. I want to improve, after all." He gave his best friend an impressed grin. "Besides, those were some real cool moves you pulled out there. We literally just learned that flip yesterday and you've already mastered it! And that block-and-grab-leg-to-kick-opponent was really effective too."

"Thanks, bro," Ross said, grinning back.

"I guess it was kinda cool," Sydney agreed begrudgingly, before turning her attention back to Michael. "Come on, let's get you to an infirmary."

"I'm fine, honestly," he protested lightly, smiling. He let himself be pulled along by Sydney, however, and the two walked off.

Ross called a loud goodbye, which Michael responded to, while Sydney acknowledged it with a halfhearted gesture. Ross watched them go.

Sidney stood up, trying to ignore the blistering heat as he joined Ross. "Sorry," he offered softly and awkwardly, unsure what else to say.

Ross glanced at him in surprise. "What for?" he asked, looking legitimately confused.

Sidney blinked, this time being his turn to be surprised. "Err...about Sydney, I guess?" He blushed. "I-I mean, I know you want to...impress her, and she d-didn't really respond to that today and—" He cut himself off, still blushing in embarrassment.

Ross stared at him, before grinning and laughing. "Are you kidding? Today was awesome! This time she seriously acknowledged me and my skill! That was really cool, you know."

"B-But she didn't really act impressed!" Sidney cried, startled by his friend's optimism.

"That just means I need to better myself for next time and impress her even more!" Ross smiled, before his gaze turned a little sad as he glanced back at where Michael and Sydney had once been. "Besides, I know she likes Michael."

"You know?" Sidney repeated, taken aback. He'd always assumed that Ross hadn't noticed.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" his friend chuckled. "Of course I've noticed." His green eyes turned sad again, before brightening. "It's fine, I like the challenge. I just need to work extra hard!"

Sidney stared at Ross in amazement, mesmerized by his friend's cheerful disposition. Even if he hadn't managed to impress Sydney, he'd definitely managed to impress her twin. "Good luck," he offered.

"Thanks," Ross said, smiling back at him.

Just then, a new man appeared, having come outside from the mansion. "Ross, Sidney; time to come in! We made barbecue tonight."

"Awesome! We'll be right there," Ross called back.

The man approached them and smiled, giving the boy a noogie. "So, how was training today, little star child?"

Ross laughed. "It was a lot of fun." He glanced at the other man behind the one playfully ruffling his hair. "What did you and Father think, Uncle?"

The man behind met his eyes calmly. "You've certainly improved, mastering yesterday's technique like that. I'm impressed, but you still have much training to do. We'll continue at sundown with Danes and Michael and Darkai—if the other boy shows up. He's so...elusive."

Ross' excitement left his gaze as he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Uncle."

"Oh come now, Shamus, don't be so hard on the boy. He'd certainly deserve a break if only you'd let him have one."

"His training is far from over," Shamus retorted. "And I'm afraid he's getting too cocky for his own good."

"You seem to forget what we were all like when we were young," the man laughed. "Relax, Shamus. The boy still has a lot of time left."

"And a lot of potential," Shamus argued. "We need to take advantage of that while we still can."

"He's only seven," he responded, smiling.

"Yeah, Uncle! Listen to him. Can't I have a break?" Ross asked pleadingly.

His uncle frowned at him disapprovingly, but the other man added, "We were young once too, Shamus."

"Uncle Shamus was young once?" Ross joked. "Wow, I can't believe that. He's like thousands of years old now."

A flicker of a smile passed Shamus' face and he shook his head, reaching out to ruffle his nephew's hair. "I shouldn't give you a break after that smart-aleck comment."

"Aww, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Ross whined.

Shamus smiled again and shook his head. "Alright, fine. You may have a break, but just for tonight. We'll let you rest and let Michael catch up to you." He paused, his eyes going back to the mansion. "And we'll pay your father another visit."

Ross' face fell. "Is he still feeling unwell, Uncle?"

"That he is, Ross. He's getting better, but the doctor says he needs to rest for awhile longer."

"He's still really sad about Mom's death, isn't he?" Ross asked quietly.

Shamus fell silent.

"He'll be fine. Don't worry about him," the other man offered, placing a hand on Ross' shoulder. "Tyrone's a strong man. I'm not surprised he's upset, since your mother was the love of his life, after all—but Tyrone will be okay. I promise. His illness isn't a result of Sylvie's passing away from all those years ago, even though his sadness is."

Ross smiled at him. "Thanks, Damon."

"No problem." He nudged Ross forward gently. "Now come on, you little Tyrone, let's pay your father a visit."

"Alright," Ross laughed, "but you need to give me a piggyback ride there. And tell me more about the new kid! I heard his name is Deth Jackson Jr, right? That's a really weird name, y'know—why does it sound like 'death'...?"

Damon sighed but smiled affectionately as he kneeled down. "Alright, hop on," he said. Ross did just that and Damon carried him back inside, running at top speed, causing Ross to laugh and scream with excitement. Shamus followed at a much slower pace, shaking his head and smiling.

Sidney watched them go, not being able to help but admire his friend's determination despite all of his hardships in life.

Ross really was the star child.

And me? I'm just a bat flying in his shadow.

End Flashback

Those had been different times. Ross' optimism hadn't vanished, but it had certainly suffered a heavy blow when he found Damon standing over his father's dead body. He'd lost his father, his godfather—and then a year later, his crush.

When Sydney had chosen to say no to his confession, she hadn't just broken his heart, but also his remaining optimism. He'd been depressed for a long time, and Shamus had taken notice. Then the two just disappeared one night, off travelling on some grand adventure. Ross had done a lot of training during those years. Sometimes the friends would meet up, but never in Townsville.

Ross couldn't face Townsville anymore.

Until recently. When he'd come back, Ross had proven to be a changed person. He wasn't back to his former happy-go-lucky self, but his anger had been toned down. He had been forced to pretend to be shy, and somehow that had morphed him into who he was now: a kind, calm teenager with some attitude to him.

But it wasn't just pretending to be shy that had changed Ross. It was someone else too, someone Sidney had noticed Ross getting to know very well. And that someone was a girl—but she wasn't Sydney.

That girl was Buttercup.

Sydney finally calmed down, placing a hand on her brother's chest and pushing lightly. "Okay, you can stop rocking now. You're going to give me a headache."

He stopped. He pulled away and met his sister's red eyes. "Feeling better now?" he asked.

She took a shaky deep breath and nodded awkwardly. "Thanks," she sniffled.

"No problem. I'm glad to be of service." He smiled.

The two of them stood up, and Sydney turned to her brother. "Now that we've talked about my problems and got me to face my issues, I do believe it's your turn."

"What?" He blushed. "I don't have any problems to deal with—"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." She stared blankly at him. "You and Bubbles? Does that ring a bell? What the hell happened between you two?"

Sidney opened his mouth to protest, before hesitating. Do I tell her? he wondered. "I—"

DING-DONG. DING-DONG.

Sidney whirled toward the door eagerly—almost too eagerly—ready to escape his sister's nosy questions. "I'll get it!" he yelled, already rushing toward the door.

"We're talking about this later!" Sydney yelled after him. "You can't escape this! I'll bring this up when we go back to Michael's house for the party tonight if I have to!"

He didn't answer, too relieved to respond, instead moving from the training room (really just a large, empty playroom his parents had turned into a training room after the war started) to the front door. He opened it and looked outside, offering a smile. "Hello, who is it—?"

He froze.

The girl standing in front of him was shaking, blue eyes wide and blond hair stringy. She wore a blue dress with a darker-blue jacket thrown on top, and knee-high gray stockings and brown Mary Janes. She was combing her hands almost ravenously through her blond locks, as if she were trying to look more presentable.

Sidney blinked. It wasn't the fact that the girl looked like a trembling mess that had surprised him, but rather the fact that the girl was someone he knew all too well. Someone he'd been dating for awhile. Someone he'd broken up with after he'd come to terms with the realization that their relationship hinged a lot on the fact she was using him to feel better about her relationship suffering with a different boy. Someone he'd tried desperately to move on from in the short amount of time they'd been broken up. Someone he might go back to dating one day.

Someone once smiling and happy, now shivering and teary-eyed.

It was Bubbles.

"Sidney?" she whispered meekly, her eyes stretched wide. They looked like stormy skies, as if clouds were gathering in her gaze, ready to release an onslaught of rain.

"Yes, but—"

Bubbles seemingly gave up on looking more presentable. She tore her hand through her pigtail one last time, before dragging it slowly out. When she finished that, she lowered her hand and said, "I'm sorry."

"What for? Bubbles, what's the matter?" he cried, concern filling his body for the girl he'd fallen for not too long ago. Seeing her like this broke his heart.

Her heart seemed broken too. She began shaking even harder than before, her shoulders trembling as she gazed down at the ground and her eyes became hidden by her bangs. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry I pushed you away."

Before he could question her further, his eyes widened even more and he froze again.

This time, because she had thrown herself into his arms.

---

"'And that was the day Sylvie so brazenly confessed her feelings to me, and I realized that I loved her too. And I will always love her.

Signed, Tyrone'"

Satisfied with his reading, Ross closed the journal. He shut his eyes as well, a small smile tickling his lips. His parents had been like the perfect couple—the way his father described them together, Ross had the feeling that they really belonged with one another.

He opened his eyes and brushed his fingertips against the book cover. It felt worn, but in the good way. The way that meant it was worn from a lot of writing and carrying around and most of all, it was worn from so much love. Ross could tell that this journal had meant a lot to his father.

Ross got up, stretching. He enjoyed the pop in his muscles before he made his way back to the wall-door, and he walked back out into the dark, dingy room. The scanning device on the wall swung the wall-door shut behind him, and he began the long trek back up the stairs.

When he got to the top, he fumbled around some before finally managing to push it open. He peeked outside.

It was empty.

So then he slid outside and made sure the wall clicked shut behind him. He began making his way back to his room, until a maid nearly barrelled him over.

"Oh, excuse me!" the poor girl squeaked. She couldn't have been much older than him.

Ross helped her up. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, thank you!" She looked flustered, cheeks flushed pink as she let him take her hand and pull her up. Soft brown curls fell out from her maid's cap, looking almost pale pink in the light—like Sidney's hair.

"What's going on?" Ross asked, searching what little he could see of her face. He looked up when he heard a commotion from nearby—maids and butlers were running around the halls, shouting or chittering to one another.

"M-Master Ross disappeared," the maid stammered. "Mistress Sydney reported it and we are all searching for him right now. Master Shamus is deadly worried and Master Danes is threatening to—" She squeaked again, cutting herself off as if she'd said too much.

He blinked at her, before smiling a little. "Do forgive me for being so bold, but may I ask that you look up at me?"

"Y-Yessir," she stammered, before lifting her eyes.

Ross felt surprised. He had thought he knew all of the maids and butlers in the house, but he didn't recognize this one. She had light-green eyes that seemed almost blue, like fresh grass splattered with dew. "Are you new here?" he asked.

She nodded. "I just started yesterday, sir."

"What is your name?"

"It's—"

"Mindy, there you are!"

The girl squeaked again, wincing.

"What did I tell you about running off!? You are still unfamiliar with the mansion and can easily get lost, and you obviously don't recognize all of your masters yet!"

Ross glanced up to see a round woman totter closer. She was dressed in a traditional maid's uniform and had a stern face, as well as striking red hair pulled back in a sharp bun.

He smiled. "Hello, Gina."

Her gray eyes widened. "Master Ross! We thought you'd been captured by the enemy!"

"Oh no, I just got a little lost," he said cheerfully, not delving into the details of the hidden room. He wondered how much Sydney had given away. "But I'm back now!" He glanced back at Mindy, who was staring at him in shock. "I hadn't realized we'd gotten a new recruit!"

"M-Master Ross!" she spluttered, curtsying lowly. "I-I'm so sorry I-I didn't recognize you!"

"Mindy, you were speaking to Master Ross and you didn't even realize!?" gasped Gina. She smacked the girl lightly on the arm. "Bow your head, girl!" She looked up at Ross. "I'm so sorry about this; she's new here, you see, and doesn't know everyone yet—even though your portrait was one of the first I showed her"—here she shot the girl a scolding look—"so please forgive her, sir. She means no disrespect. I hope she wasn't too rude."

"Oh no, she was quite polite!" Ross smiled kindly at Mindy. "Don't worry about it. You're doing great."

She squeaked again and ducked slightly behind Gina, who frowned at her but didn't force her to step forward. Gina sighed, "Master Ross is a very kind man, Mindy. There's no need to be shy." She turned back to the aforementioned teenager. "We'll be taking our leave now, sir. We must report to Shamus that you are safe and secure."

"Thanks, Gina, but I think I'll talk to him." Ross' gaze glazed over briefly and he smiled almost sadly, causing Mindy to blink in surprise. But then he recovered and smiled cheerfully again. "I have some things I want to tell him. In the meanwhile, you can continue your work! I'm sorry for the hold-up, and for worrying everyone."

As he said goodbye to the two maids, he began the journey to his uncle's office. When he neared the door and lifted his fist to knock, he was surprised to hear sniffling noises. He pushed the slightly ajar door further open and peeked inside. "Uncle?" he questioned.

The man inside looked up almost immediately, wet eyes brightening when he saw the boy. "Ross!" he gasped, scrambling upwards. "You're okay!"

"I—" Before Ross could say anything further, his uncle had gathered him up in his arms and buried his face in his shoulder. "Uncle, I-I..."

"Oh, you had me so worried!" Shamus pulled back and searched the boy's face for any sign of injuries. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Uncle. I-I'm really sorry for worrying you—"

"Damn right are you sorry!" Shamus hugged him again, squeezing tightly. "Do you have any idea how worried I was!? Where were you? What happened? Damon didn't get you, did he?"

"No, no! I-I just got lost, Uncle. What did Sydney tell you?"

"That you fell through a wall, of all things," Shamus said. "We were worried it had been a trap set by Damon or something, when you didn't come back."

"Sydney didn't know which wall I fell through?"

Shamus shook his head. "I'm not sure. She wouldn't say. We just assumed that she didn't know." He paused. "You don't think she withheld that information on purpose, do you?"

"...No, no, I don't think so." Ross was actually pretty sure she had, but he didn't want to further worry his uncle. Instead, he attempted to make a joke: "Were you crying? I didn't think me disappearing would affect you so much like that—"

"Of course it did!" Shamus grabbed his face, cupping it with both of his hands. He gazed straight into Ross' eyes as he said softly, "You're the only family I have left. I can't lose you. I-If I did, then I...I don't know what I'd do... Oh, Ross—I'm so glad you're safe!" Tears appeared in his uncle's eyes as he managed to smile, wrapping the boy in his arms once again, his face buried in his nephew's shoulder. "I love you, Ross."

Ross' wide eyes began to close as his own tears began to form. He managed a smile and returned the hug, his head turned up to the ceiling. He took a deep, shaky breath.

"I-I love you too, Uncle."

---

He's not picking up. Why isn't he picking up?

Bunny sighed softly as she shifted her eyes away from the bright screen of her phone, sliding her cold feet underneath her purple sheets. She felt cold, even though the bed was warm and she was dressed in her cozy bunny pyjamas.

And yet, somehow, the cold still seeped in and gripped her like lifeless hands. She turned her head toward her window, where the purple curtains were drawn and the blinds pulled up just enough to reveal the rain pouring outside. It seemed to have gotten heavier in the time since she'd gotten home.

Since she'd said goodbye to Darkai. Since she saw Darkai and Bandit fighting.

Why isn't he answering?

Her gaze returned to her phone, where the screen had darkened from lack of action. She tapped and it brightened again, but nothing new appeared.

Only her lonely text greeted her, saying the same words she'd rehearsed in her head one too many times: "'Darkai, are you there? I keep thinking about our conversation before you said goodbye to me, and I wanted to talk to you some more. Please, I want answers.'"

She typed another text: "'I trust you, but I need to be fair about this. I can't blindly ignore your problems, even if you want to protect me by hiding them.'"

Another five minutes passed before she typed one last text: "'Please don't ignore me. I just want to talk. Please.'"

Then she sighed and closed her eyes, pulling her arm over her face.

Meanwhile, somewhere a little farther away, a phone was vibrating in a dark-haired boy's pocket. He couldn't respond though, because at that very moment, someone threw their fist toward his face.

BZZT.

He dodged by ducking, before bringing up his leg in a side-kick into his attacker's side. The man let out a sharp gasp and stumbled backwards, letting him gain the upper hand. He brought his leg up and swung down, right on the man's head.

Crack.

His opponent collapsed to the ground, the floor cracking in time with his bones as he fell.

BZZT.

Just then, another person came charging in, this time wielding small duel blades. She was closing in fast, swinging the jagged blades upwards, aiming for his neck. He did a flip backwards and kicked his legs upwards, grabbing the woman's own neck with his legs and then spinning. The momentum caused her to raise from the floor and then fly off into the wall. She skidded onto the ground.

A new man appeared, this one with a scar running down his face and a wild look in his eyes. He reached out, growling and spitting, aiming for the boy's neck.

He responded by grabbing both hands and gritting his teeth as he dug his feet into the ground. He pulled downwards on the man's arms, then smashed his head into his opponent's. After that, he brought his leg up to knee him square in the neck. Spittle flew from the man's mouth as he then dropped him. Five minutes had passed.

BZZT.

He looked around and saw one last man racing toward him. This one grabbed his wrist and the boy responded immediately: he swung the arm that the man had grabbed upwards, then grabbed his opponent's head with his free hand and kneed him in the face. Still grabbing the man's arm, he swung downwards. This caused him to flip onto his back, and the boy pulled his arm back against his knee, causing a cracking sound. The man winced upwards in pain.

The boy turned away, but heard the man struggle upwards almost immediately. He spun around and bent his back backwards just in time to dodge a flying fist aimed at the back of his head. He grabbed the man's arm and pulled, causing him to stumble forwards. The boy smiled almost darkly and punched the man square in the face.

Another crack sounded and the man gurgled out incoherent noises of pain, before slowly falling to his knees. His nose was bleeding, and his eyes rolled to the top of his head.

The boy glanced around. The room was now empty of conscious enemies.

BZZT.

He pulled his phone out and saw the texts displayed on his screen. The latest one read: "'Darkai, what are you doing? Why are you ignoring me?'"

He sighed silently, relieving himself of the little amount of frustrated impatience he had and reverting back to his patient, emotionless self. He typed back, "'I wasn't ignoring you, my little Bunny.'"

"'Then what were you doing?'"

He didn't answer right away. "'I was in the middle of something.'"

"'Ive been trying to get ahold of you for the past twenty minutes and that's all you have to say?'"

"'My apologies, Angel.'"

"'Darkai, we need to talk.'"

"'Then we shall talk.'"

"'Thank you. I really appreciate it.'"

A pause.

"'I just wanted to ask you if you could tell me anything about what's been going on between you and Bandit?'"

He began to type back, but couldn't finish because something whizzed by his face. He looked up and pressed send accidentally before he was done.

The person who'd shot the thing at him was smiling now, dressed in a dark-brown leather jacket and green sweatshirt. His golden eyes appeared a wolfish yellow in the waning light of the vanishing evening.

BZZT.

Darkai glanced at where the projectile had landed. Close by.

It was embedded in the wall, causing splinters. It appeared to be a sleeping dart. He turned back just in time to see a gaping maw and a body diving straight for him.

BZZT.

His eyes shot upwards toward a window as the man rammed into him.

It had finally stopped raining. The clouds were still thick and heavy in the sky, but he managed to make out the round shape of the moon before his eyes shot back to his opponent's animalistic, bloodthirsty glare.

His phone clattered to the floor, displaying his accidentally sent text and her upset responses. This was because his unfinished text read "'No,'"—and nothing else.

As he wrestled with his new opponent, his phone continued to buzz into the night.

BZZT.

BZZT. BZZT. BZZT.

He whacked his opponent in the face and attempted to pull away from him, but he couldn't escape the man's eagle grip. He did manage to seize his phone though, cursing under his breath when he saw his fuck-up, before being clawed across the face and chest.

Then the man stabbed Darkai in the arms, before dragging down. After that, he aimed for the ribs and chest, plunging metallic claws into the boy's flesh. Red liquid bubbled out from his skin and Darkai winced, gritting his teeth as his eye twitched and the pain began to seep in as his blood began to seep out.

BZZT.

Hissing in pain, he smashed his fist clutching his phone into the other man's wrist. This caused the man to let go and he struggled out, sliding the phone into his pocket.

His opponent howled in pain, rubbing his wrist as Darkai staggered up and away from him.

BZZT.

He'd have to deal with her upset feelings later.

Darkai jumped backwards and got into ready stance, prepared to fight back. His opponent snarled and got up, circling him like a predator with his prey.

The man made the first move, jumping at him again, but this time Darkai was ready for him. He leapt into the air and landed a heavy kick straight on the man's spine, causing him to slam into the floor.

BZZT.

Darkai grabbed the man by his hair and pulled upwards, smashing his fist into his opponent's face multiple times in an attempt to get him to fall unconscious.

The man's nose began to bleed and he tried to retaliate by attempting to bite Darkai's hands, causing him to pull back. He then leaped into the air, soaring upwards as far away from the man as possible as he tried to assess the situation.

BZZT.

The man jumped after him, and Darkai landed against the wall, leaping out of the way just as his opponent smashed straight into the wall. As the man tried to pull himself out, Darkai ripped the duel blades from the unconscious lady he'd fought before.

He ran towards the man and stabbed both blades into the man's back, watching as blood spurted onto his hands and the other male howled in pain.

BZZT.

Darkai's eyes darkened and he ripped the blades out before plunging them back in. He did this again and again, until he was satisfied that the motionless body wouldn't get up anytime soon.

All the while, his phone continued to vibrate in his pocket.

One stab. BZZT. Two stabs. BZZT. Three stabs. BZZT. Four. Five. Six. BZZT. BZZT. BZZT.

Seven.

BZZT.

Darkai stepped back, panting, when the body finally stopped wriggling. He didn't know if the man was still alive, and he didn't care. He stumbled, collapsing to his knees.

BZZT.

He pulled out his phone with shaking hands, staring at the screen. His vision was uncontrollably unstable, causing him to see trembling doubles. But when his vision finally adjusted and he could read the latest text, a single tear rolled down his bloodied cheek.

He unlocked his phone with trembling, numb fingers. Bunny's photo stared back at him, dressed in a light purple that was almost white. She was smiling, with a white ribbon tied around her neck that flowed out behind her, almost like little angel wings.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt himself start to lose consciousness. He was losing too much blood. He felt exhausted and numb, as if someone had ripped everything out of him.

But that wasn't all he was losing.

Bunny's latest texts read: "'I don't know what's going on anymore, Darkai. I don't know if I can do this. Are you mad at me?'" and '"I'm sorry. But I can't do this if you're going to keep ignoring me. I really do care for you. And I thought you cared about me too. So why are you doing this?'"

Darkai closed his wet eyes and took a deep breath, gripping his phone tightly as he fell to the floor and slowly closed his eyes for what would possibly be a long, long time.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he whispered, just as the blackness took over.

And her final text: "'If you don't want to talk to me, then maybe we should just call it off, or at least for now. I'm sorry, Darkai. I don't know what to do anymore.'"

---

Buttercup threw on her coat and slipped out of her room, tiptoeing down the quiet hallway toward the stairs. She paused when she heard a noise.

It sounded like water.

Buttercup leaned against the wall, hiding in the shadows and waiting as the bathroom door opened and someone came out. It was Bunny, and she looked like she was crying.

Forgetting that she was supposed to be on a stealth mission, Buttercup dove toward Bunny. "What's wrong?" she demanded, grabbing her sister's arm. "Why are you crying?"

Bunny jumped, purple eyes widening as she looked up to see BC. "I'm not—I'm not crying," the girl hiccuped, wiping her eyes.

"Oh sure, of course I believe that," Buttercup responded sarcastically. Her eyes softened as she took in Bunny's appearance though. "What happened?"

"I-I don't know. Darkai just...stopped talking to me," Bunny stated, looking pained. New tears appeared.

"Oh come on." Her sister relaxed in almost relief. "Darkai's been so good to you lately. I doubt it's anything bad. He seems to really like you, Bunny. Don't worry about it. Look, I'm going out right now and I'll go pay Darkai a visit."

"But...we don't even know where Darkai lives," Bunny replied, now looking even more pained. "I don't know anything about him," she whispered under her breath.

"What?" Buttercup blinked, not hearing the last part. She did hear the beginning though, so she smiled reassuringly and said, "I'll talk to Ross about it. I'm sure he can get ahold of Darkai for us."

Bunny sniffled. "But our curfew..."

"Shhh, just don't tell the Professor and it'll be okay." She ruffled her sister's hair affectionately. "You don't need to worry, BunBun. Darkai cares a hell of a lot about you. I'm pretty sure he talks to you more than he talks to anyone else!" More than Ross cares about me, and he's ignoring me so I can't believe that Darkai's ignoring you. She took a step back and waved. "Gotta fly! I'll definitely get this cleared up for you. Ciao!" Then she was gone, blasting through the window.

Bunny watched her sister's green streak disappear into the night sky, newfound tears streaming down her face. "He talks to me the most, and yet"—she closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath—"he still has so much to hide."

Meanwhile, Buttercup flew through the city of Townsville toward Ross' home—or Michael's mansion, technically—and wondered why Darkai would be ignoring Bunny. She hadn't really thought much of it, but now that she was, she couldn't help but find it odd. It just doesn't add up. He's been so lovey-dovey with her, so why would he just suddenly choose to ignore her? There has to be some sort of logical explanation for this. Maybe Bunny is just overreacting?

Buttercup mulled it over some more and almost missed her mark. Nearly bypassing her destination, she noticed just in time that she was flying past the mansion and managed to "skid" to a stop in midair before landing downwards, her signature green steak following behind her.

She stood before the tall black, iron-wrought gates and suddenly felt awkward. It was nighttime and visiting Ross at such a time suddenly seemed less like a good idea and more like a silly desire.

I have a good reason, she reminded herself, thinking again of Bunny. Yeah, or an excuse, the other side of her brain retaliated. She shook her head to clear it and prepared to press the calling button, but before she could, a voice shouted:

"Voice recognition, on! It's Vix, returning from a retrieval mission."

Buttercup spun around just as the gates beeped and a robotic female said, "Voice recognition recognized. Welcome back, Vix", and the gates creaked open.

The flame-haired boy stumbling forward had clenched teeth and was carrying someone slung over his back like a bag. He froze when he spotted Buttercup, eyes widening.

She could've sworn she saw a white eye and a green eye, but when she did a double-take, she saw that the boy had two green eyes. He was staring at her like she were an anomaly—which, in a way, she sort of was. It was an anomaly a female would be visiting a mostly male residence so late at night, that was for sure.

"Vin...cent?" she questioned awkwardly.

He blinked at her. "What? Who are you talking—? Oh." Realization seemed to dawn on him, causing his eyes to darken. "No, you...must have me confused with someone else. Now please excuse me; I have to get in."

"Oh...of course. I'm sorry." Buttercup stepped back and let him pass her. She glanced at the person he was carrying and her eyes bugged out. "Darkai?" she gasped.

The dark-haired male was most likely unconscious, his eyes closed and his body slumped. He was bleeding and covered in what appeared to be scratches, as if he'd been mauled by a bear or a pack of wolves.

"What happened to him?" she cried, flying over to him.

Vix froze, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as his round eyes darted from her to Darkai and back again. "He...uhh..."

Just then, the mansion's door opened and a silhouette stepped out. "There you are, Vix! Did you find him?"

Buttercup's head shot up. Ross!

The red headed teen's head jerked towards the door and he managed to awkwardly call out, "Yes, I found him! But...that's not the only thing I've found tonight!"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Ross was walking toward them now, carrying some kind of book in his hands. It looked like worn brown leather. Behind him, in the doorway, was appearing silhouettes of different people that Buttercup couldn't make out.

"Err...there was this girl standing at the gates..." Vix began, trailing off as Ross approached.

When he was close enough, the boy's emerald-green eyes widened as he recognized the "girl standing at the gates". "Buttercup?"

Vix's gaze shot towards her. "She's the Powerpuff Girl? Shit, I didn't recognize her," he muttered.

Ross' own eyes went from Buttercup to Vix after he said that, before finally landing on Darkai. His eyes widened in shock and he quickly turned back to Buttercup. "Maybe you'd like to come inside...?" he invited quietly, sounding pained and pleading, like he desperately wanted to go inside and check on his friend.

Buttercup jerked her gaze away from Darkai's unmoving body. "Err, yes—I'd like that very much." She paused. "Thank you."

He turned away, and she wondered how he was feeling. When he spoke again, his voice gave away nothing. "Come on in."

She followed slowly, floating a few inches above ground, hovering behind Vix as he staggered toward the mansion with Darkai's weight and the heavy awkwardness of the situation slowing him down. And yet, Buttercup, who was usually super impatient and always in a rush, found herself not minding the slow progress, mostly because she was no longer in a hurry to get inside. And she stayed behind Vix because she couldn't tear her gaze away from Darkai for too long. A thousand questions raced through her mind, going a mile a minute.

Why is he unconscious? What happened? How did he get so injured? What can I do to help? I wonder how long it's been... We can't have any more near deaths; there's been too many...

As they all got inside, they were almost immediately surrounded by maids and butlers and the actual residents of the mansion. One of the first people to step forward was the large, scary man that Buttercup recognized as Danes. His eyes were shadowed and unreadable as they landed on Darkai.

"What happened?" he asked gruffly.

Vix glanced warily at Buttercup. "Sir..."

Ross noticed his discomfort. He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, saying loudly, "Come on, BC. There's something I want to talk to you about."

She pulled her hand back. "No! I'm worried about Darkai." She glanced around, feeling some of her stubbornness vaporize with all of the unfamiliar faces surrounding her. She didn't want to make a scene, but she didn't want to be left out either. She turned back to Ross. "You can't take this away from me. I'm not letting you trick me."

Danes stepped forward. "I'm afraid you have no say in the matter, young lady. This is private business between us and us alone." He nodded at Ross. "You may go."

"But—!" She tried to protest, but one look from Danes shut her up.

Ross hesitated, before grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. When she looked up in surprise, he have her a reassuring smile. "Come on," he said softly, "I really do want to talk to you."

Now Buttercup hesitated. This was the entire reason she had come here. This was the perfect opportunity. Ross was speaking to her again; he wasn't ignoring her. She could respect the family's wishes and leave Darkai alone. Things would work out in everyone's favour. She took Ross' hand and let herself be pulled away.

As they walked, they passed by a girl with tan hair tied in a ponytail, who watched them go with her eyes shadowed by her bangs.

Isn't this what I want? Buttercup asked herself as she was guided out of the crowd.So why doesn't it feel right?

She glanced back at Darkai's body one last time, slung over Vix's shoulder like a rag-doll and lifelessly limp. Guilt stabbed her in the gut, and she immediately regretted leaving him.

"He'll be fine," Ross said, as if sensing her inner turmoil. She looked up, startled, but saw that he wasn't facing her.

She looked away, biting her lip. "Yeah, but...aren't you worried at all? He's your friend—"

"Of course I'm worried," he interrupted. "But...he'll be fine. Darkai's strong." This time, his voice cracked.

She looked up again and saw a tear streaming down his face as he kept his gaze strictly ahead. Buttercup felt her heart clench painfully. She squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back.

They walked together like that in silence for awhile, until Ross finally stopped. He was standing in front of a green-brown door.

"Ross...?" she questioned.

He didn't answer for a long time. "You shouldn't have come here," he finally said, his voice flat.

Buttercup's eyes widened as her mouth fell open. "Excuse me!?" She pulled her hand from his grasp. "I came here because I wanted to talk to you and this is how you respond!?"

"I'm sorry, Buttercup, but...I can't do this." Ross kept his back to her. "I'm too dangerous."

"No, you're not," she responded firmly, feeling exasperation claw at her voice. "I know you, and you're a good person."

"You shouldn't even know me."

"That's so unfair of you! Ross, look at me. I want to talk to you. I want to be friends with you. Don't I get a say in any of this?"

"No, you don't. You can't... You shouldn't... I can't..." He was shaking now, his voice just as unsteady.

She felt her eyes soften and she lowered her voice. "Ross, look. At. Me. Look at me and tell me you don't want to be friends anymore. Look at me and say it to my face. Then I'll believe you. Then I'll leave you alone. Forever. I'll never talk to you again. I'll say goodbye and just leave, right here, right now. I just want you to look. At. Me."

He took a deep breath and didn't turn around for a long time. When he finally did, tears were streaming down his face. "I can't," he finally whispered, breaking down. "I can't. I want to be friends. I like being your friend. I like you, Buttercup. I don't want to say goodbye. I don't want to lose anyone else."

"That's what I thought." Relieved, Buttercup managed a smile. She stepped forward.

He stepped back. "But...I also want to keep you safe. I don't want to lose you any other way, either. Buttercup, I-I..."

She stopped, disappointment climbing in. "Are you really going to say goodbye to me forever? Is that what you really want?" she whispered quietly.

"I don't know—I—" He looked like he was struggling to form words now, tears continuously pouring from his eyes. "I want to do the right thing and yet... I'm so selfish, BC—I want to keep you by my side too—all of you: Butch, Brick, Blossom... Everyone—I want to stay friends with all of you..."

"So stay friends with us," she said softly, taking another step forward and reaching out. "We want to stay friends with you too."

Ross groaned and covered his face with his hands.

Buttercup took a final step toward him, now standing right in front of him. She touched his shoulder, before extending her arms so that she had him wrapped in an embrace.

He froze, stiffening in her arms as his eyes flew open.

"You can choose to ignore me for the rest of your life but I'll never give up on you. I can guarantee you that," she promised gently. "In the end, it's your choice, Ross. But know that no matter what you choose, I—I'll always consider you my friend."

He took a deep, shaky breath as his eyes began watering again and his lower lip trembled. Then he began bawling in her arms, and she simply hugged him tighter.

---

Banana sat at her windowsill, staring out at the rain as she sewed. It hit the glass and dripped downwards, sliding across like teardrops on someone's cheek.

"Ow!" She looked down and sighed, lifting her index finger to suck on it. She'd managed to prick herself while sewing...again. She stared at the small spot of blood on her finger. For someone who's supposedly very talented at sewing, I feel like I've been pricking myself far too often lately. She sighed. She just had so much on her mind—she couldn't help but be distracted.

Banana took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to imagine a calm ocean to clear her head. It wasn't hard. The sound of water hitting the window helped the image form in her mind's eye. Soon she was imagining an entire beach, with gentle waves and golden-yellow sand, and...

Wait. Someone was calling her in her little imaginary beach.

"Banana! Over here! I got you your favourite ice cream."

She recognized that voice. Slowly turning around, Banana saw that amongst the backdrop of sand there stood a boy dressed in yellow swimming trunks. He was blond and grinning, waving at her.

As she slowly flew over to him, he sat down and patted the spot beside him. She joined him and he handed her the ice cream. "You owe me," he laughed, as she licked the cone.

"No I don't. I'm your girlfriend. In fact, you should treat me more often," she replied haughtily, unable to hide her amused smile.

He smiled back. "Aww, stop being so hard on me! My wallet's not that full, Bansy."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in sharply. Her eyes popped open in surprise and she was suddenly leaning against him—and he felt so warm...

When she looked up at him, he simply smiled and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Soon he was leaning in and so was she and—

Banana's eyes flew open. Her breaths came rapidly and hard, as if she'd been running for miles and miles and had only just been given the chance to catch her breath. She sat up straight and stared down at the table where the unfinished yellow skirt stared back at her.

She looked around. She was back in her room; there was no beach or sand or calm ocean waves—and most of all, no blond boyfriend smiling at her and trying to kiss her. She blushed. I must've dozed off, she realized.

"I need a break," she decided aloud, pushing her chair out and standing up. She walked to the window again, where it was still raining. "Guess I'll go out even though it's still pouring."

She slipped on a thick creamy-white hoodie over her t-shirt and bright yellow jeans. Then she flew downstairs and toward the door, not bothering to let the Professor know she was heading out. I'm just planning to stay out for a short walk anyway, she justified silently, stuffing her feet into pink converse and zipping out the door.

Banana pulled the hood over her head and flew through the city of Townsville, deciding to head to the park. The rain was heavy against her skin, but she was flying fast enough that it didn't bother her. When she reached her destination, she skidded to a stop in the grass and looked around.

Everything was wet.

Why did I come here? There's nothing to do. She kicked a stone and sighed, before slowly sliding down into a park bench. She groaned and covered her face with her hands.

"Michael, come back!"

"Sorry, sis, but I'm not passing this opportunity up!"

Michael...? Banana's head shot upwards as she pulled her hands from her face slightly. Her eyes shot toward the spot the boy's voice had come from and then they widened in disbelief.

It was Michael—her Michael. And he was awake and well, traversing through the wet grass as if he hadn't been unconscious for weeks and weeks.

Banana felt like a deer caught in the headlights, her eyes wide and her mind racing. She didn't know what to do. She felt trapped, rooted to the spot. And even though he was her boyfriend, she had the sudden urge to hide, but her feet wouldn't budge no matter how much her mind urged them to move.

And soon it was too late. The boy with the blond hair and turquoise eyes and yellow umbrella had spotted her. His own eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he dropped the umbrella. "...Banana...?" he finally asked.

Now, out of context, it would've been a very strange thing to hear, seeing a shocked boy ask "Banana?" after seeing a girl that he clearly hadn't been expecting to see. But for Banana Utonium herself, things were very in context when he said her name—although she almost wished she didn't know the context. Sure, she was happy to see her boyfriend awake again, but for some reason she felt panicked and caught off-guard. She was completely unprepared for this reunion and she knew it would be more awkward than touching.

They'd just already been apart for so long that she had started expecting his return to still be far, far away.

And yet, here he was.

"Michael," she breathed back in reply.

He clamped his mouth shut and swallowed, swinging his umbrella upwards and back into his hand. Then he ran toward her and stood over her, holding the umbrella above her head. "Aren't you cold? Are you okay? You're getting completely soaked! I thought you had a curfew? What happened? Why are you out here? How have you been doing? God I've missed you."

She smiled back tersely, unsure how to react—which question to answer, and which one she should answer first.

"Sorry, I'm asking too many questions at once, aren't I?" He smiled sheepishly and held out his hand. "Here."

She took it and he pulled her upwards, causing her to stumble into him.

He smiled down at her. "Let me start over. Hey, Bansy."

"Hey," she said softly, looking up at him with lowered lids.

"Okay, first things first: what are you doing out here?"

"I just wanted to take a walk." She frowned and he seemed to sense she didn't want to go into the details because he moved on to his next question.

"So...how've you been?"

She sighed, "Tired."

He smiled slightly. "Heh. Me too." He paused, staring down at her. "God, you're beautiful."

"Thanks." She managed to smile a little, finally feeling herself begin to relax. She reached upwards and gingerly brushed her fingers across his cheek—almost shyly and experimentally, feeling him straighten against her as he sucked in a breath. "I'm so glad you're okay," she murmured softly. "That you're awake and well." She smiled, tears appearing in her eyes. "God, I've been so worried about you."

"I've missed you," he whispered quietly.

"I missed you too." She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. "I thought I lost you."

"Well, you haven't yet. You're stuck with me for awhile longer."

She kept her eyes closed but she smiled in reply, and he must've taken this as an invitation because next thing she knew, she felt his hand tugging her chin toward him. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw his own eyes closing as he slowly began to lean in. Almost immediately, panic filled her body and she stood there, frozen and unsure if she wanted to kiss him right there and then, her thoughts spinning.

Luckily for her though, she was saved by the loud ringing of her phone. Pulling away from Michael, she took it out and picked up. "Hello?"

"Banana, where on earth are you!? You must get home ASAP! You should've told me you were heading out and also told me the location! Don't forget about your curfew!"

"Sorry, Professor, I thought I'd just take a quick walk—or flight—"

"Banana Utonium, you've been gone for thirty minutes! That is not a quick walk—or flight or whatever! You get home right now or we'll be having a long talk tonight!"

"Okay, okay. I'll be home soon. Sorry, Professor." After saying a hasty goodbye, she hung up and sighed, knowing full well she'd get a lecture anyway even if she did get home ASAP. She turned to Michael. "Sorry, but I gotta go."

He raised an eyebrow. "Caught redhanded by the Professor?"

"Heh, yeah." She scoffed slightly, an almost sad smile gracing her features. "Anyway, I really gotta go."

"Hey, wait. What about a goodbye kiss?" he asked hopefully, stepping toward her.

She shook her head. "Not now. Sorry again, Michael. But I really am glad to see you after so long. I'll see you later."

He watched as she blasted off into the air and disappeared into the clouds, just as the rain began tapering off and a rainbow started to appear. Michael then looked away from Banana's fading yellow streak to gaze at the scenery. "...We didn't even get to enjoy the rainbow together," he finally said aloud to no one. He sighed and turned away.

Why was she acting so strange?

The thought rang through his head, sounding like warning bells even as he attempted to shrug them off. She'd been happy to see him, sure, but she hadn't been enthusiastic. Michael wondered if he was just getting arrogant, expecting people to shower him with "I missed you"'s.

But...she's my girlfriend. Shouldn't she be happier that I've come back after so long? He quickly pushed the thought into a corner of his brain. I've been gone for a long time. She probably just has a lot of stuff going on I don't know about. I should ask her.

He began making his way back home, walking through the park pathway. He'd barely gotten ten feet before he had to stop and do a double-take. He drew in a sharp breath.

Before him stood a girl. And she seemed to be glowing. Her long, caramel-coloured hair tumbled past her shoulders. She wore a simple white dress but she looked like a model. From what Michael could tell, given the angle he was staring at, she was facing away from him but he could see the side of her face and she was eyeing the sunset with a wondrous smile on her face.

Before he could think to stop gawking and move on, the mystery girl he'd never seen before turned around, probably feeling eyes on her back. She spotted him and smiled warmly.

He blushed and nodded in reply, embarrassed to be caught staring, before walking over to join her, knowing that walking away now would only be rude. "Hi," he offered awkwardly. "I've never seen you around before."

"Oh, I've always lived in Townsville. I've just been gone for a long while," she answered, laughing a sparkling laugh. It sounded like chimes and stars all mixed into one piece of joy. "Eighteen months, to be exact."

"That is quite awhile," he agreed, hating how stupid and absentminded he sounded, just repeating after her. He just couldn't help but feel completely wonderstruck, his brain scrambling to comprehend the situation and the words coming from her mouth while even more words floated around in his own scrambled mind. "I didn't recognize you, which is why I was staring. I wasn't trying to be creepy or anything. Just saying because a pretty girl like you probably worries about creepers a lot—which I'm not by the way," he added hastily in an attempt to justify his staring, before wanting to strangle himself for feeling the need to justify himself in the first place. "I mean... Never mind."

She giggled. It sounded like warbling birdsong. "Aww, that's so considerate of you. Thank you, but don't worry."

He blushed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be. You are too cute. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sweetheart." She smiled. "My name is Cassandra."

"I'm Michael." He shook hands with her, surprised how lithe her fingers were.

Cassandra drew her hand back and looked up at the blue-gray sky that was now turning a rich purple-red. "It's gorgeous out," she breathed, staring up at the rainbow.

He followed her gaze and nodded, before locking eyes on her again. She was too pretty not to notice. "So where did you go for the past eighteen months?" he asked, trying to make it less awkward that he was looking at her again and he couldn't tear his gaze away and goddammit why wasn't his gaze tearing away—

"Oh, I was just...out." She sighed. "I was out without my father for awhile, so he's been really worried about me. We're all that we have left of our family, and he's always worried I'll disappear one day."

"It is a pretty big, scary world," Michael agreed, finally stopping his dumbfounded gawking in surprise of her genuine words. "I'd be worried too if my beautiful daughter was out for so long." He flushed again when he realized he'd used the word "beautiful". "Uhh—"

She just smiled in amusement and he felt himself relax as she continued: "Father is always worried about me going out on my own, but I can handle myself," she said, looking down at the grass beneath her feet. "He worries a lot."

"My parents and uncle are like that too," Michael offered, thinking back to Danes' insistence on keeping his niece and nephew under constant watch, and his parents' recent decision to do their best to keep him from going outside now that he was awake. "Heck, my uncle's even demanded I have a bodyguard." Then he quickly added, "But I can totally handle myself, y'know." This time he mentally kicked himself.

"I'm sure you can. And I wouldn't be surprised if my father decided to get me a bodyguard too," she giggled, before noticing the shifting shadows on the ground. She glanced up at the setting sun. The clouds were still thick, and the moon was now climbing up in the sky, looking like a silver Christmas ornament. She turned back to him. "Isn't it beautiful—? Ugh!" She suddenly winced, clapping her hand over her mouth.

"Are you okay?" Michael gasped, rushing to her side.

"I'm fine!" She spun around so quickly he stumbled backwards in an attempt to avoid getting whacked. Her eyes widened and for a second Michael thought they were glowing but then he realized that was just the reflection of the moon. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to almost hit you!" she gasped, removing her hand from her mouth. "I've just been having some health issues recently—" She trailed off and groaned, clutching her side.

"Holy shit are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I-I'm fine," she panted. "Sorry. I'm just...a little dizzy." She glanced back up at the sky and the moon and the clouds. "Oh dear, it's getting late. Father will be wanting me to go home now," she sighed. She straightened herself and quickly turned away from him. "I best be going now."

"I mean, if you're not feeling okay, I'd be happy to accompany you!" he called.

"There's no need!" she answered. "My father is a doctor, but since he's really protective he probably wouldn't like me bringing a boy back, and this isn't anything a little medical care can't solve! Thanks for offering, though! You're really sweet." She turned around and waved, before beginning to walk off. She called over her shoulder, "Bye, Michael! It was a pleasure meeting you!"

"Me too!" he called back, before mentally smacking himself. Saying "me too" in response to that really doesn't make any sense, you dweeb, he scolded himself. His gaze trailed back to her and he watched her white, glowing form vanish. What a charming girl, he thought. I hope I see her again. Then he walked away as well.

Meanwhile, Cassandra watched him go from the corner of her eye. When he disappeared, she smiled to herself, revealing sharp canines. Mission accomplished.

---

"I'm not answering." Bliss' voice came out muffled as she dug her face even deeper into her orange pillow, turning her head away from the vibrating phone on her desk.

Blossom stared at it, frowning. "Are you sure? He's been calling and texting you nonstop. It looks like he's really sorry."

"I don't care."

"Maybe you should just talk to him, Bliss. I feel like the two of you could straighten this out if only you'd stop ignoring him."

Sighing loudly, Bliss bounced in her bed twice so that her body was now turned toward her sister. She lifted her face and replied, "What, like you and Brick?"

Blossom visibly winced.

"Don't think I haven't noticed. He's been texting you a lot too, hasn't he?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." The pink Powerpuff Girl flushed, now looking flustered as she reached self-consciously into her jeans pocket.

"It's obvious you two had some sort of fight," Bliss continued, diving into her words head-first without hesitation.

"This isn't about me," Blossom countered, clearly a little agitated. "This is—"

"About me and DJ—I know." She pushed herself up and sat so that she was facing her sister. "But can you really play a love guru when your love life is full of problems too?"

"Come on, Bliss," she groaned, now sounding exasperated as she dragged a hand down her face. "Don't do this to me."

"I don't have to confront my problems if you're not going to confront yours."

"Mine are...different. Brick was a jerk and is now hanging out with some other girl." Blossom's tone shifted from exasperated to angry before going to sympathetic. "Yours... Well, what exactly happened between you guys?"

"Braker and DJ have been fighting a lot and I was just so sick of it I invited him to DJ's house for dinner. And...well, it didn't go well. That's when I realized just how much DJ was hiding from me." Bliss sighed and drew her legs to her chest, pulling the pillow up onto her knees and digging her face into it again. "So I kind of sort of blew up at him," she added, her voice muffled again.

"Oh." Blossom glanced down at her sister's orange phone, which was vibrating again. "I mean...he does seem really sorry."

"I don't care."

"Bliss, this sounds like a big deal. I really feel like you should talk to him. Your issue is a lot more urgent than mine."

She turned her face away. "No."

Blossom sighed and got up. "Hey, it's up to you. But your phone will always be here waiting for you. And you know he's waiting too."

Bliss didn't answer and her sister left the room, clicking the door shut. She waited until her the chiu! noise of her sister's pink streak faded off into the distance. Then she got up and floated over to her room, where her phone stared back at her, vibrating.

BZZT. BZZT. BZZT.

Bliss pressed the home button and watched as her lock-screen showed up, displaying all her missed texts and calls.

All of them were from DJ.

She was about to turn her phone off again when it suddenly vibrated, which within itself wasn't odd because it had now become her norm.

BZZT.

But she looked anyway, and her eyes widened in surprise.

This new text was from Braker.

She unlocked her phone. The text simply read "'hey'", but something about it made her want to answer. Maybe it was because this was the first text in the last couple hours not from DJ, or maybe it was just the fact that it was from Braker, whom was part of the reason she had begun to ignore her boyfriend in the first place.

"'Hey'," she typed back.

"'How's it going?'"

"'It's going.'"

"'Is it?'"

"'I mean...'"

A pause. "'Look, I'm sorry, 'kay?'"

"'What for?'"

"'I heard about you and DJ. I mean, I was there, but I left and...y'know.'"

She didn't answer right away. "'It's not your fault.'"

"'I'm still sorry.'"

She stared at the screen. '"Actually, you know what...?'"

"'What's up?'"

"'You're right. You and DJ SHOULD be sorry. You guys and your fighting have just completely fucked everything up.'"

"'Whoa, okay there. Look, I'm sorry, alright? I can't say much more than that.'"

"'Oh no. I'm not done yet.'" She violently tapped "send". "'You KNOW what I want you guys to say but you aren't going to say it, are you?'"

"'It's not because I don't want to.'"

"'Fuck, Braker. I can't do this anymore.'"

He was silent for a long while, and she stared at her screen waiting for his clever response. When it finally came, it wasn't what she was expecting. She'd been expecting more excuses. But no, his new message was short.

"'...Neither can I.'"

She could almost imagine him saying it to her, his voice barely a whisper as he gazed at her with half-lidded eyes. They'd darken and run down her body as he'd brush his hand against her hair, her face, her neck—going down, down, down—

Bliss shook her head to clear it, blushing violently. She sent three texts to him, all confused and confusing:

"'You know what? Forget it.'"

"'Fuck. I can't fucking do this.'"

"'Fuuuuuuck. Whatever. I don't care anymore.'"

His reply didn't help. It was just as confused. "'Uhh you okay?'"

"'No,'" she typed back. "'God fuck no.'"

"'Bliss?'"

She didn't answer, instead going back and going to DJ's texts, having finally resolved to answer them.

His latest text read: "'Bliss, for God's sake will you please stop ignoring me? I'm begging you here. Please.'"

"'Well, here I am.'"

His reply was almost immediate. "'Bliss? Jesus, finally! I've been trying to get ahold of you all day.'"

"'I noticed'," she typed back icily.

"'Look, I'm sorry, alright? Please stop being mad at me.'"

"'And what? I'll go back to being the blind girlfriend who doesn't see any of her boyfriend's faults?'"

"'What? No! You aren't that kind of girlfriend. You were NEVER that kind of girlfriend.'"

"'I don't think so. I've been pretty fucking blind so far.'"

"'You've always seen my faults. Almost too much, tbh.'"

"'Oh, really? Now I'm the overbearing girlfriend?'"

"'No! That's not what I meant.'"

"'Then what DID you mean?'"

"'I just meant that you noticed my flaws and faults and wrongdoings. So much so, you were the kind of girl I wanted to impress. To make you think I WASN'T flawed. To be the perfect boyfriend. Y'know?'"

"'That turned out well.'"

"'Okay, I'll admit it backfired on me.'"

"'You didn't even try! You picked a fucking fight with Braker during class-time! How is that something a perfect boyfriend would do!?'"

"'He was being a dick!'"

"'You were being a bigger dick by showing off!'"

"'I just wanted to participate.'"

"'Yeah, you're reaaaaally helping your case here, DJ.'"

"'Shit, I'm sorry, okay? I can't help it if I feel the need to justify a decision of mine.'"

"'Fine.'"

"'Bliss?'"

"'Fine. I'll forgive you on one condition.'"

He was silent for a bit, probably contemplating her condition while already guessing it deep down. "'What's that?'"

"'You tell me one of your many secrets.'"

"'Isn't that kind of intrusive?'"

"'Hey, if you want me to forgive you, I need to be able to believe that you trust me enough to talk to me. It's just one secret, DJ. One little, insignificant secret that has to mean something to you and actually be about you or this rivalry with Braker you have or your family or something. You can't cop out though. An example is to tell me about this Damon character. That's all.'"

"'Okay, okay. But how long do I have to get this secret to you?'"

She glanced at the time on the top of the screen. "'How's about 24 hours?'"

"'Hrmmmmmmm...'"

"'Fine. 5 days.'"

"'Alright. Can do, milady.'"

"'And DJ?'"

"'Yes?'"

"'Until that point, I am not dating you.'"

"'What?'"

"'Yes. I am serious. We are taking a break from one another until you tell me that secret and I judge it worthwhile. I'm sorry I'm being such a bitch about this but I need to be fair. I've accused Braker of hiding things from me, but this entire time you've been hiding just as much.'"

"'No, it's fine. I get it.'" A pause. "'So...as of now, we're officially broken up?'"

"'More like unofficially. For now. Maybe.'"

"'God you're confusing sometimes.'"

"'Gee, thanks.'"

"'Nah, I mean that in a beautiful way. Like you're a piece of art.'"

"'Okay, lover boy. Stop that before I find insult in your every attempt to butter me up. Get cracking on those secrets.'"

"'I mean it! You're a beautiful, confusing puzzle.'"

"'And you're a broken mess. Now come on.'"

"'...You're still pissed at me, aren't you?'"

"'A little bit.'"

"'Okay, fine. I'll leave the compliments till later then.'"

"'Thank you.'"

"'I'll talk to you later.'"

"'Yeah. 'Later.'"

"'And Bliss?'"

"'Yeah?'"

"'Thanks. I've missed you.'"

She stared at the screen for awhile. Then she typed something, deleted it, thought about it, and typed it again. She hesitated, before finally pressing "send". "'I've missed you too.'"

"'Oh, honestly? Awesome! I knew it!'"

"'Don't push your luck, mister.'"

"'Ah, sorry. Guess I'm just happy you're talking to me again. ;)'"

She rolled her eyes and didn't respond, instead turning her phone off. Then she sighed and flopped back onto her bed, digging her face into her pillow again. She ignored her vibrating phone, this time vibrating from not only DJ, but also Braker.

Bliss glanced up at the ceiling and sighed to herself, not flying her head. "Why are boys so fucking confusing?" she muttered, before slamming her head back down into the pillow, her long brown ponytail bouncing from the momentum.

---

ME: Ooooh, looks like some couples are breaking away from one another!

BUTCH: No fair! This was mostly an OC's chapter!

ME: Hey, they exist sometimes. Get used to it.

BUTCH: But this is supposed to be my story—

BUTTERCUP: Ours, doofus. You mean our story.

ME: Sorry, guys, but this is how the plot's going now. It's all planned out, so...yeah.

BUBBLES: Ooooh! So what happens?

ME: Uhh...I can't tell you! That'd spoil everything!

BUBBLES: Oh, right. Oopsie!

ME: Ah, well. Hopefully you guys enjoyed the new chapter! Leave a review, guys.

BRICK: When's the next time I'm showing up?

ME: *raises eyebrow* Why do you want to know? I would've thought you liked sitting a chapter out. Could it be...you actually want to be in this story?

BRICK: *blushes* What!? Hell no! I'm just asking so I can prepare to suffer through the indignity of the next chapter I appear in.

ME: Well, that's a secret, of course. And speaking of preparing, who else is getting ready for the new Powerpuff Girls reboot!? Let me know what you guys think about it so far in the reviews based on the trailers, clips, ads, teasers, shorts, pictures, songs, and more! I'm excited to hear everyone's thoughts.

BRICK: God, more stupid shit to suffer through.

ME: I dunno, man. It looks kind of cute, actually. I'm just sad they replaced the main VA's and that the animation isn't the best and that some stuff has been updated, but it looks solid so far.

BLOSSOM: Do leave a review! We'll end it here or else Kuku will probably start rambling about the reboot haha.