Author's Note: **watches as everyone's eyes pop out** Oh my! She's
uploaded! Why yes, yes I have. I realized that putting this story on
hiatus while I worked on my other one (Renaissance of the Heart) was quite
unfair to all of my wonderful reviewers of this story.
Now, I'm not saying that I'll be uploading weekly with this story, but I will be working on it. I hope you're all happy to hear that, 'cuz to tell ya the truth, I sure am. I missed this story a lot. I'm actually really happy with the way it's turned out thus far.
You know what? I've had enough of the no romantic action between the two main characters. I took another step toward it in this chapter, so I hope that it will be enough to hold you until the real ooey gooey romance goodness begins in future chapters. Besides, after what happened at the end of the last chapter, it's about time something happened, ne?
Well, you'll just have to read on! **cackles evilly**
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah...I don't own Kodomo no Omocha or any of the characters. If I did, those two would have gotten it on a lot earlier than in the series, I'll tell ya that much! And I would have extended the episodes as well. Maybe I'll create my own anime series. **smiles dreamily as stars appear in her eyes**
Oh, right. The story. Here!
* * *
"How is she?"
"...Okay. The doctor said it was just smoke inhalation and a twisted ankle."
"I still think she should have stayed in the hospital."
"She didn't want to." Hayama folded his arms across his toned chest, his chocolate gaze practically burning into the mahogany door on the opposite side of the hallway. He could hear slight shuffling emanating from the bedroom as the resting actress stirred in her four-poster bed. His eyelids drooped wearily for a brief moment, though not from fatigue.
It was from stress.
Natsumi sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Well, how long does she have to stay off that ankle?"
"A few days," Hayama replied. "It's only a mild twist."
"Her friends are really worried. So am I..."
Hayama looked sharply at her, squinting his eyes in a defiant scowl. "You had your share of constant worrying in the past. Don't trouble yourself anymore with her stalker issues. That's my job."
Natsumi bit her lower lip softly. "I have to admit, she's handling it a lot better than when I handled mine."
"What do you mean?" the bodyguard asked, peering at his sister out of the corner of his eye.
A frown creased Natsumi's brow as she stared intently at door. "Sana's been through so much...The letters, the plane incident, the restaurant..."
"Get on with it, Natsumi," Hayama urged, not wanting to hear the painful moments his client had experienced.
The singer sighed as she shook her head disbelievingly. "All I'm saying is that she's still strong about it," she confessed. "All that happened to me were a few letters and one appearance, but that was enough to put me through therapy."
Hayama's chocolate eyes swiveled from his sister to the door as she spoke.
"It's a wonder that this whole thing hasn't had a psychotic effect on her," Natsumi concluded.
"Kurata...cares a lot about the people around her."
Natsumi glanced up at her brother, slightly tilting her head to one side inquiringly.
"She tries to make it seem like it doesn't affect her in any way, so that no one else will worry. It's as if she doesn't care so much about what happens to her, as to her friends," the bodyguard continued, his unrelenting gaze settling on the brass doorknob. "She's cried once so far. That's the only time she exposed how much turmoil she was really in, and that's the only incident I have to remember to realize the pain that she's going through right now."
Natsumi stared, wide-eyed at the stressed man. "I assume that you're the only one who has seen her cry, as well?"
"...Yes. Kurata's a good actress, but it was right there when she saw the pilots' corpses and a letter addressed to her in blood, that her emotions broke through the confining walls of her heart. It was right there when she fell into my arms, crying."
"So she really is weighed down by anxiety. She's just too afraid to release it," Natsumi mused, her voice barely above a whisper. "...You care about her, don't you?"
Hayama was silent as his golden bangs curtained his pained eyes.
"I've seen your gestures," Natsumi declared. "You're much more careful with her than you've ever been with your previous clients. Was the plane incident the trigger for your compassionate actions?"
A few seconds passed before the bodyguard shook his head slightly. "Not really...before we entered the airport, a couple of drunks were hitting on her. I beat the crap out of them," he stated flatly. "That was the first time I felt real anger and possessiveness over her. It was strange..."
"It is," Natsumi agreed. "Because some of the girls you've guarded were in the same situation, yet you feel something for this certain one. Why is that?"
Hayama pondered deeply for an answer to his sister's query. Why had he felt that sudden rush of anger when he saw their grubby hands reach for his client? Why were his fists clenching even now at the mere memory?
"She didn't scream."
"What?" Natsumi rebounded, somewhat shocked at his simple declaration.
"She didn't scream," Hayama repeated. "She looked them straight in the eye, and even swore at them. I didn't hear her shriek or yell at all. All I could see was the fire in her eyes, that blazing defiance. I guess I can say that I somewhat admired her for it."
"Ironic, isn't it?" Natsumi thought aloud. "She glared maliciously at some drunks who could have seriously harmed her, yet had a nervous break- down when she saw the dead bodies of people she didn't even know."
"Like I said, she cares more for others than herself."
"And it's that attitude that keeps all of her emotions locked inside her heart," the singer added thoughtfully. "If your theory is correct, Akito, and that she's really only acting fine because she doesn't want to cause her friends to worry about her..." she trailed off quietly, searching for the correct words.
"Then it's your job, as the only person she's ever revealed her true feelings to, to share her pain and sorrow," Natsumi finished boldly, staring intently at her younger brother. "Otherwise, she'll crumble."
'Otherwise, she'll crumble...' The words reverberated harshly in Hayama's mind as his eyes widened.
"I think it's time for her to have a good weep like she did on the plane," Natsumi commented softly, noticing that her words were getting through to him.
"But...she didn't want to tell me what was wrong at the restaurant before the fire started. She just hurried to the bathroom."
"She doesn't have to tell you her problems," Natsumi chided softly. "Just give her a shoulder to cry on. Let her know that you'll be there for her, I suppose."
'Give her a shoulder to cry on...let her know that I'll be there for her...' Hayama abruptly pushed himself off of the wall into a rigid standing position. 'I won't let her carry it on her shoulders by herself.'
The singer smiled saucily at her younger brother. "By the way, are you going to call the others to come here?"
"Maybe."
"Fuka-san and Aya-san will surely enjoy their company."
"That's why it's a 'maybe' and not a 'yes.'"
The singer stomped her high-heeled foot roughly against the beige carpet. "You're so mean, Akito! Have a heart!"
"Hn."
Natsumi rubbed her temples frustratingly. "Well, are you hungry?" she asked, looking concernedly at the stoic bodyguard.
"No," Hayama replied curtly, resting his eyes upon the door once again.
"It's past midnight," Natsumi stated. "You've been standing here since we came home around six o' clock."
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" she tentatively asked. "In that case, I'll be heading home. Mami-san said that you can get whatever you want from the kitchen anytime."
"Okay," Hayama responded, not bothering to look at her.
Natsumi exhaled slowly before turning and walking down the hallway. "You better take my advice, Akito," she called over her shoulder, as she disappeared behind the corner.
'I will,' Hayama thought determinedly. His fingers slowly coiled themselves around the brass doorknob, turning it and giving him access to his client's bedroom.
The lamps standing on the wooden nightstands on either side of Sana's canopy bed were glowing brightly, illuminating the room for her to read her book comfortably. Her pillows were propped up against the headboard, her leaning against them with the book held loosely on her lap. At the sound of the door creaking open, Sana glanced up.
"I thought you were resting," Hayama commented, closing the door behind him.
"This is resting," Sana responded, smiling.
"I meant sleeping."
"No you didn't," Sana disagreed. "You wouldn't be in here if that was the case."
"I was hoping you'd be awake," the bodyguard confessed.
Sana brushed a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear, the smile gradually leaving her lips. "What's up?" she asked, concern flashing through her inquiring eyes.
Hayama slowly made his way to the four-poster bed, his gaze focused on the calm girl. 'Too calm.' He saw the agitating look of anxiety creep into her chocolate pools, slightly dulled by the dark blue half-circles beneath her lids.
"Natsumi and I were talking," he began, stopping once he reached the side of her bed.
Sana looked thoughtful for a moment as she closed her book. "I thought I heard voices outside my door..."
"She's worried about you."
"I'm fine, really."
"No you're not!" Hayama's voice rose, not exactly shouting, but pretty loud for a stoic man like him. Sana winced at his blazing tone. "You're a strong person, Kurata," he stated, calming albeit. "The fact that you've going through all of this without going psycho is amazing. But don't hold everything in for the sake of others."
Sana inclined her head, peering down at her slender hands as they clutched the white satin sheets. "You don't understand, Hayama."
"Hn?"
"Everyone...Everyone is in danger because of me," she whispered, gently closing her eyes. "Seeing me in such a stressful state would only add to their load of worries."
"I understand why you'd act differently around them, but," Hayama exhaled slowly, combing his fingers through his golden mane. "But not around me."
Sana's eyes snapped open as she continued to stare at her clenched fingers.
"I'm here to protect you," Hayama went on. "But my job is also about making you feel more at ease, and stopping your constant worrying. Seeing you happy and content would naturally be a relief, but knowing that it's just an act hurts even more. It means that I failed."
"Hayama," Sana spoke softly, lifting her gaze to meet his. "You've helped me so much already. If you weren't there on the plane with me when I found the pilots...I probably would have gone psycho."
The actress paused to swallow, swiveling her gaze to meet the paned window beside her bed. "The truth is, I'm forced to act like I'm fine. It's what Fuka-chan and Aya-chan want."
"But it's not what I want," Hayama stated coolly, dropping down beside his client on the flocculent mattress.
"You like seeing me cry?" Sana questioned, turning to face him.
"No. I like seeing you be true to yourself." Hayama looked down, surprised at the book being dropped onto his lap. His keen eyes read the title "My Daughter and I."
"That's the story of my life," Sana stated. "Mama wrote it, explaining how she found me wandering the streets one day, nearly starved to death."
"Why are you..."
"When I was four years old, my parents were murdered on my birthday," Sana began. She could already feel a barrier of tears shielding her glossy eyes. "My last name was Takasugi back then.
"My mother...My real one, I mean...had just brought out my birthday cake, with four candles embedded in the sweet frosting. The next thing I remember is a coat of red staining the chocolate dessert."
"Four candles," Hayama echoed softly. "So, that's why you went into a trance back at the restaurant," he deduced.
"The purpose of the book was to alert people of the murderer," Sana continued. "I was really frightened at the time. I kept thinking that he would come back and shoot Mama. It was the worst time of my life...before this, that is."
A shaky sigh slipped through her petal-like lips as she shivered. "I don't mask my true emotions just because I don't want my friends to worry about me, Hayama. What I'm afraid of is making them feel constant fear. Aya-chan and Fuka-chan knew how scared I was back then, because I didn't hide it. But I knew that at the same time, they were afraid of the same thing happening to their families. I don't want them to go through anything like that again..."
Sana bit her lip softly as she clutched the sheets with pallid knuckles. "It's out of habit that I act this way, you see."
Hayama just stared at her, his lips parted slightly in surprise.
"If you really want to know how I feel right now, Hayama," Sana choked out, a single tear rolling down her soft cheek, "I'm scared. Really scared." She could feel her shoulders starting to tremble at her confession as another pair of salty tears trickled from her blood-shot eyes.
Shock was a major understatement of what Sana felt when she was pulled into a warm, muscular embrace. Her head rested against the crook of her bodyguard's neck, as she wept on tanned flesh. "I'm sure many people were trapped in the restaurant," she cried out, her voice muffled by her sobs. "Some were probably even killed!"
Hayama gently nuzzled his face in her chocolate tresses, soothingly stroking her back. "I won't lie to you," he confessed. "There were a few deaths today, and some people are still tramped within the crumbled building. But none of it is your fault."
"But it was set on fire to get to me," Sana argued as her tears stained his black men's tank top.
(A/N: I also had him wearing a men's tank top in my other fic. I can't help it; men look hot in those! **giggles**)
"Listen to me Sana," Hayama ordered, using her given name. "You are the victim of someone with a sick mind. Whatever he does is not your fault, and never will be. Instead of feeling remorse over the deaths that have occurred and taking full responsibility for them, avenge them."
"What?" Sana questioned, lifting her head up to look into his eyes.
"Avenge them," Hayama repeated, brushing a damp lock of her chestnut hair away from her wet cheeks, his other arm still draped loosely around her waist. "He's trying to break you down. Don't let him. Show him the strong woman you are, the one I saw that night fighting against two drunken bastards with passion blazing in her eyes."
A minute passed by as Hayama gazed boldly into the actress's swollen eyes, with her returning a slightly less defiant stare. "...Will you help me?" Sana whispered softly, her hands placed gently on her defender's muscled chest.
"Always," Hayama assured.
"And protect me?"
"Always," he repeated.
Sana could feel her bodyguard's hot breath against her moistened eyelids as she clutched onto the fabric of his cotton shirt, either desperate not to let him go, or craving to be nearer to that sense of security. Maybe it was both.
Hayama's response was tightening his grip around her slim waist, pulling her small frame closer to his torso. Still seeing a slight flash of terror and anxiety in her chocolate eyes, he did the only other thing he could think of to wash away her worries.
Inclining his head to meet her lips, he kissed her.
* * *
Author's Note: Wow, you don't know how happy I am to finally get a romance piece out. Now I can concentrate more on their relationship rather than the stalker. **squeals** I'm as giddy as a schoolgirl! Well, that could be because I'm a schoolgirl, but still. I'm happy!
Please review. I understand that it's been quite a while since my last update, but I would like to know that my story is still being read. Good bye for now!
Now, I'm not saying that I'll be uploading weekly with this story, but I will be working on it. I hope you're all happy to hear that, 'cuz to tell ya the truth, I sure am. I missed this story a lot. I'm actually really happy with the way it's turned out thus far.
You know what? I've had enough of the no romantic action between the two main characters. I took another step toward it in this chapter, so I hope that it will be enough to hold you until the real ooey gooey romance goodness begins in future chapters. Besides, after what happened at the end of the last chapter, it's about time something happened, ne?
Well, you'll just have to read on! **cackles evilly**
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah...I don't own Kodomo no Omocha or any of the characters. If I did, those two would have gotten it on a lot earlier than in the series, I'll tell ya that much! And I would have extended the episodes as well. Maybe I'll create my own anime series. **smiles dreamily as stars appear in her eyes**
Oh, right. The story. Here!
* * *
"How is she?"
"...Okay. The doctor said it was just smoke inhalation and a twisted ankle."
"I still think she should have stayed in the hospital."
"She didn't want to." Hayama folded his arms across his toned chest, his chocolate gaze practically burning into the mahogany door on the opposite side of the hallway. He could hear slight shuffling emanating from the bedroom as the resting actress stirred in her four-poster bed. His eyelids drooped wearily for a brief moment, though not from fatigue.
It was from stress.
Natsumi sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Well, how long does she have to stay off that ankle?"
"A few days," Hayama replied. "It's only a mild twist."
"Her friends are really worried. So am I..."
Hayama looked sharply at her, squinting his eyes in a defiant scowl. "You had your share of constant worrying in the past. Don't trouble yourself anymore with her stalker issues. That's my job."
Natsumi bit her lower lip softly. "I have to admit, she's handling it a lot better than when I handled mine."
"What do you mean?" the bodyguard asked, peering at his sister out of the corner of his eye.
A frown creased Natsumi's brow as she stared intently at door. "Sana's been through so much...The letters, the plane incident, the restaurant..."
"Get on with it, Natsumi," Hayama urged, not wanting to hear the painful moments his client had experienced.
The singer sighed as she shook her head disbelievingly. "All I'm saying is that she's still strong about it," she confessed. "All that happened to me were a few letters and one appearance, but that was enough to put me through therapy."
Hayama's chocolate eyes swiveled from his sister to the door as she spoke.
"It's a wonder that this whole thing hasn't had a psychotic effect on her," Natsumi concluded.
"Kurata...cares a lot about the people around her."
Natsumi glanced up at her brother, slightly tilting her head to one side inquiringly.
"She tries to make it seem like it doesn't affect her in any way, so that no one else will worry. It's as if she doesn't care so much about what happens to her, as to her friends," the bodyguard continued, his unrelenting gaze settling on the brass doorknob. "She's cried once so far. That's the only time she exposed how much turmoil she was really in, and that's the only incident I have to remember to realize the pain that she's going through right now."
Natsumi stared, wide-eyed at the stressed man. "I assume that you're the only one who has seen her cry, as well?"
"...Yes. Kurata's a good actress, but it was right there when she saw the pilots' corpses and a letter addressed to her in blood, that her emotions broke through the confining walls of her heart. It was right there when she fell into my arms, crying."
"So she really is weighed down by anxiety. She's just too afraid to release it," Natsumi mused, her voice barely above a whisper. "...You care about her, don't you?"
Hayama was silent as his golden bangs curtained his pained eyes.
"I've seen your gestures," Natsumi declared. "You're much more careful with her than you've ever been with your previous clients. Was the plane incident the trigger for your compassionate actions?"
A few seconds passed before the bodyguard shook his head slightly. "Not really...before we entered the airport, a couple of drunks were hitting on her. I beat the crap out of them," he stated flatly. "That was the first time I felt real anger and possessiveness over her. It was strange..."
"It is," Natsumi agreed. "Because some of the girls you've guarded were in the same situation, yet you feel something for this certain one. Why is that?"
Hayama pondered deeply for an answer to his sister's query. Why had he felt that sudden rush of anger when he saw their grubby hands reach for his client? Why were his fists clenching even now at the mere memory?
"She didn't scream."
"What?" Natsumi rebounded, somewhat shocked at his simple declaration.
"She didn't scream," Hayama repeated. "She looked them straight in the eye, and even swore at them. I didn't hear her shriek or yell at all. All I could see was the fire in her eyes, that blazing defiance. I guess I can say that I somewhat admired her for it."
"Ironic, isn't it?" Natsumi thought aloud. "She glared maliciously at some drunks who could have seriously harmed her, yet had a nervous break- down when she saw the dead bodies of people she didn't even know."
"Like I said, she cares more for others than herself."
"And it's that attitude that keeps all of her emotions locked inside her heart," the singer added thoughtfully. "If your theory is correct, Akito, and that she's really only acting fine because she doesn't want to cause her friends to worry about her..." she trailed off quietly, searching for the correct words.
"Then it's your job, as the only person she's ever revealed her true feelings to, to share her pain and sorrow," Natsumi finished boldly, staring intently at her younger brother. "Otherwise, she'll crumble."
'Otherwise, she'll crumble...' The words reverberated harshly in Hayama's mind as his eyes widened.
"I think it's time for her to have a good weep like she did on the plane," Natsumi commented softly, noticing that her words were getting through to him.
"But...she didn't want to tell me what was wrong at the restaurant before the fire started. She just hurried to the bathroom."
"She doesn't have to tell you her problems," Natsumi chided softly. "Just give her a shoulder to cry on. Let her know that you'll be there for her, I suppose."
'Give her a shoulder to cry on...let her know that I'll be there for her...' Hayama abruptly pushed himself off of the wall into a rigid standing position. 'I won't let her carry it on her shoulders by herself.'
The singer smiled saucily at her younger brother. "By the way, are you going to call the others to come here?"
"Maybe."
"Fuka-san and Aya-san will surely enjoy their company."
"That's why it's a 'maybe' and not a 'yes.'"
The singer stomped her high-heeled foot roughly against the beige carpet. "You're so mean, Akito! Have a heart!"
"Hn."
Natsumi rubbed her temples frustratingly. "Well, are you hungry?" she asked, looking concernedly at the stoic bodyguard.
"No," Hayama replied curtly, resting his eyes upon the door once again.
"It's past midnight," Natsumi stated. "You've been standing here since we came home around six o' clock."
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" she tentatively asked. "In that case, I'll be heading home. Mami-san said that you can get whatever you want from the kitchen anytime."
"Okay," Hayama responded, not bothering to look at her.
Natsumi exhaled slowly before turning and walking down the hallway. "You better take my advice, Akito," she called over her shoulder, as she disappeared behind the corner.
'I will,' Hayama thought determinedly. His fingers slowly coiled themselves around the brass doorknob, turning it and giving him access to his client's bedroom.
The lamps standing on the wooden nightstands on either side of Sana's canopy bed were glowing brightly, illuminating the room for her to read her book comfortably. Her pillows were propped up against the headboard, her leaning against them with the book held loosely on her lap. At the sound of the door creaking open, Sana glanced up.
"I thought you were resting," Hayama commented, closing the door behind him.
"This is resting," Sana responded, smiling.
"I meant sleeping."
"No you didn't," Sana disagreed. "You wouldn't be in here if that was the case."
"I was hoping you'd be awake," the bodyguard confessed.
Sana brushed a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear, the smile gradually leaving her lips. "What's up?" she asked, concern flashing through her inquiring eyes.
Hayama slowly made his way to the four-poster bed, his gaze focused on the calm girl. 'Too calm.' He saw the agitating look of anxiety creep into her chocolate pools, slightly dulled by the dark blue half-circles beneath her lids.
"Natsumi and I were talking," he began, stopping once he reached the side of her bed.
Sana looked thoughtful for a moment as she closed her book. "I thought I heard voices outside my door..."
"She's worried about you."
"I'm fine, really."
"No you're not!" Hayama's voice rose, not exactly shouting, but pretty loud for a stoic man like him. Sana winced at his blazing tone. "You're a strong person, Kurata," he stated, calming albeit. "The fact that you've going through all of this without going psycho is amazing. But don't hold everything in for the sake of others."
Sana inclined her head, peering down at her slender hands as they clutched the white satin sheets. "You don't understand, Hayama."
"Hn?"
"Everyone...Everyone is in danger because of me," she whispered, gently closing her eyes. "Seeing me in such a stressful state would only add to their load of worries."
"I understand why you'd act differently around them, but," Hayama exhaled slowly, combing his fingers through his golden mane. "But not around me."
Sana's eyes snapped open as she continued to stare at her clenched fingers.
"I'm here to protect you," Hayama went on. "But my job is also about making you feel more at ease, and stopping your constant worrying. Seeing you happy and content would naturally be a relief, but knowing that it's just an act hurts even more. It means that I failed."
"Hayama," Sana spoke softly, lifting her gaze to meet his. "You've helped me so much already. If you weren't there on the plane with me when I found the pilots...I probably would have gone psycho."
The actress paused to swallow, swiveling her gaze to meet the paned window beside her bed. "The truth is, I'm forced to act like I'm fine. It's what Fuka-chan and Aya-chan want."
"But it's not what I want," Hayama stated coolly, dropping down beside his client on the flocculent mattress.
"You like seeing me cry?" Sana questioned, turning to face him.
"No. I like seeing you be true to yourself." Hayama looked down, surprised at the book being dropped onto his lap. His keen eyes read the title "My Daughter and I."
"That's the story of my life," Sana stated. "Mama wrote it, explaining how she found me wandering the streets one day, nearly starved to death."
"Why are you..."
"When I was four years old, my parents were murdered on my birthday," Sana began. She could already feel a barrier of tears shielding her glossy eyes. "My last name was Takasugi back then.
"My mother...My real one, I mean...had just brought out my birthday cake, with four candles embedded in the sweet frosting. The next thing I remember is a coat of red staining the chocolate dessert."
"Four candles," Hayama echoed softly. "So, that's why you went into a trance back at the restaurant," he deduced.
"The purpose of the book was to alert people of the murderer," Sana continued. "I was really frightened at the time. I kept thinking that he would come back and shoot Mama. It was the worst time of my life...before this, that is."
A shaky sigh slipped through her petal-like lips as she shivered. "I don't mask my true emotions just because I don't want my friends to worry about me, Hayama. What I'm afraid of is making them feel constant fear. Aya-chan and Fuka-chan knew how scared I was back then, because I didn't hide it. But I knew that at the same time, they were afraid of the same thing happening to their families. I don't want them to go through anything like that again..."
Sana bit her lip softly as she clutched the sheets with pallid knuckles. "It's out of habit that I act this way, you see."
Hayama just stared at her, his lips parted slightly in surprise.
"If you really want to know how I feel right now, Hayama," Sana choked out, a single tear rolling down her soft cheek, "I'm scared. Really scared." She could feel her shoulders starting to tremble at her confession as another pair of salty tears trickled from her blood-shot eyes.
Shock was a major understatement of what Sana felt when she was pulled into a warm, muscular embrace. Her head rested against the crook of her bodyguard's neck, as she wept on tanned flesh. "I'm sure many people were trapped in the restaurant," she cried out, her voice muffled by her sobs. "Some were probably even killed!"
Hayama gently nuzzled his face in her chocolate tresses, soothingly stroking her back. "I won't lie to you," he confessed. "There were a few deaths today, and some people are still tramped within the crumbled building. But none of it is your fault."
"But it was set on fire to get to me," Sana argued as her tears stained his black men's tank top.
(A/N: I also had him wearing a men's tank top in my other fic. I can't help it; men look hot in those! **giggles**)
"Listen to me Sana," Hayama ordered, using her given name. "You are the victim of someone with a sick mind. Whatever he does is not your fault, and never will be. Instead of feeling remorse over the deaths that have occurred and taking full responsibility for them, avenge them."
"What?" Sana questioned, lifting her head up to look into his eyes.
"Avenge them," Hayama repeated, brushing a damp lock of her chestnut hair away from her wet cheeks, his other arm still draped loosely around her waist. "He's trying to break you down. Don't let him. Show him the strong woman you are, the one I saw that night fighting against two drunken bastards with passion blazing in her eyes."
A minute passed by as Hayama gazed boldly into the actress's swollen eyes, with her returning a slightly less defiant stare. "...Will you help me?" Sana whispered softly, her hands placed gently on her defender's muscled chest.
"Always," Hayama assured.
"And protect me?"
"Always," he repeated.
Sana could feel her bodyguard's hot breath against her moistened eyelids as she clutched onto the fabric of his cotton shirt, either desperate not to let him go, or craving to be nearer to that sense of security. Maybe it was both.
Hayama's response was tightening his grip around her slim waist, pulling her small frame closer to his torso. Still seeing a slight flash of terror and anxiety in her chocolate eyes, he did the only other thing he could think of to wash away her worries.
Inclining his head to meet her lips, he kissed her.
* * *
Author's Note: Wow, you don't know how happy I am to finally get a romance piece out. Now I can concentrate more on their relationship rather than the stalker. **squeals** I'm as giddy as a schoolgirl! Well, that could be because I'm a schoolgirl, but still. I'm happy!
Please review. I understand that it's been quite a while since my last update, but I would like to know that my story is still being read. Good bye for now!