A/N: I think this will be the last time I write some other couple for an entire chapter. I feel like I've started writing another story here and I want to be able to get back to where I was before. So after this, I'm going back to Tai and Matt, okay? I'm also thinking of writing the rest in third person. I guess I'll decide later.

You don't have to read this chapter if you don't want to. This is basically just an account of what happened to Koushirou during the months he was gone. If you're interested, though, go ahead and read it.

Disclaimer: See past disclaimers.

I never wanted to leave in the first place. The family that I'd had for most of my life was family enough for me, and I'd been content with having them with me. The family that wasn't always there, well, they were a completely different story.

I guess I'd better start by saying that I'm adopted. I've known my whole life, and I'm comfortable with it. As far as I'm concerned, they're my true parents, because they fully love me and support me, and I give my love and support back to them, and, since they adopted me when I was barely around a year old, I don't remember anything before them being my parents.

My grandmother, as always, had a completely different opinion. She is against adoption, and feels very strongly about it. She says that if a woman cannot conceive a child, then she was not meant to have one, and that is it. She thinks my mom was messing with fate when she adopted me, and she never quite accepted me into the family. It was so bad that my parents moved away from the rest of my family, who all more-or-less agreed with my grandmother, since she was like the Queen to them, and whatever she said was law. We moved out here to Odaiba when I was two years old, and Odaiba has been my home ever since.

The only one who totally supported my mother and father's decision to adopt was my mom's sister, Tsubasa. Tsubasa was definitely the 'oddball' of the family. She was an artsy type who enjoyed wearing what was already out-of-fashion, usually sported her paint-splattered once-white apron, and was quite the liberalist. She was the most open-minded person I'd ever known of (before I met Sora), and she and my mother were the best of friends. When Mom moved away, Tsubasa was heartbroken, and the only reason she didn't move over here along with us was she was already married and had kids of her own, and she didn't want to make such changes in her life at that moment, but she always promised to move over here if my mom ever needed her close by.

And so, when my grandmother called my mom about four months ago, we were so startled by the phone call (we didn't know she even had our phone number), that Mom just had to answer it. Grandma wanted us to go back home for a few months, and quickly said she was telling the whole family to return home again, so that we wouldn't feel special or anything silly like that.

Tsubasa had died in a car accident.

The funeral was to be in a week.

The only reason we didn't start packing immediately was we had to wait for my Mom to stop screaming and crying on the living room floor.

After we were on our way (my dad had the brilliant idea that we would save money by driving the whole way), I couldn't help but contemplate whether or not I should have told Jyou. I was glad that I'd been able to have that last night with him, and I'd at least dropped a hint, so I wouldn't feel so guilty. I'd be away for so long, though. It wasn't that I didn't trust Jyou or anything, because I completely did. I just didn't know if I'd be able to be without him for so long.

I called him whenever I could, and since I didn't want Jyou, and probably the entire gang, on the next flight in, I never told him where I was or why I'd left. I didn't think Jyou would just hop on a plane and fly over to accompany me on my stay there, because I knew he had more sense than that, but if he found out, he'd tell the others, and certain people (i.e. Taichi and Daisuke) would drag him onto the nearest plane without a second thought. They tend to get a bit carried away sometimes.

The drive wasn't so bad. The stay was hell on earth. I wouldn't have minded having to stay in the car until we were ready to go home. My grandpa locked himself in his room the entire time. I bumped into him once or twice on one of my many journeys to the refrigerator for a midnight snack (I suppose I got that bad habit from him), but that was the only time I saw him. I don't think he slept much those few weeks.

My grandma kept talking about how Tsubasa wasn't the most obedient daughter of them all, but she at least had the dignity to stay within 'house law', and every time she said that and gave my mother that look, I had to grip the edges of my seat to keep from shouting at her. It isn't polite to shout during mourning time, I think. I couldn't believe she was actually saying Tsubasa was at least a so-so daughter. I think she shed maybe three or four tears for show. I seriously think that was about it.

My mom's older sister joined Tsubasa's husband in sharing heartfelt memories with some of the other family members, and I heard one that I'd always liked about Tsubasa painting a picture of her mother as a monster. My grandma said something that cut that memory short, but I asked my mom to tell me the whole story again that night, and we laughed more than we did during those whole three and a half months.

Mom pretty much stuck with Dad and me during the whole thing. We didn't stay in the room too much, but we retreated into our room when she thought she was going to start crying, and we did our best to comfort her. On the third night, we stole a photo album from the living room, and spent most of the day studying each photo with Tsubasa in it and listening to Mom tell us all about the memories the pictures brought up to her mind.

Mom stuck the photo album in the suitcase and we brought it home with us. She figured she was the only one that could truly appreciate it anyways. I didn't tell her, but I took a picture out of the album to keep for myself. It's one of Tsubasa and Mom laying on the couch, when Tsubasa was sixteen and Mom was fourteen, with their long legs stretched out and their feet on the coffee table, hugging each other and smiling almost innocently at the camera. I noticed Mom's nails were blue in the picture. Mom used to love it when Tsubasa painted my mom's nails blue with a blue marker.

We were supposed to leave after a week or two, but then Grandpa died of a heart attack. The last words I'd heard him say were the words he said to me when we both went to the refrigerator for a glass of milk at one in the morning.

"She was all I really had, you know," he'd said softly. I hadn't known what to say, so I'd remained quiet, and then he gave me a small smile, grabbed the jug of milk, and walked back to his room, still carrying the whole milk jug in his arms.

I had thought about that for a while before falling asleep that night, and then I realized that the only reason my grandpa stayed with my grandma was for his children, and even then, his children always obeyed their mother first and foremost. I think my grandpa was always second-best to everyone in the family, because my grandma was so domineering in the household that no one ever even thought to go against her. Tsubasa and Mom were the only ones who really loved Grandpa more than Grandma, and since Mom had moved so far away from them, Grandpa was only really loved by Tsubasa, and she was always calling him on the phone and visiting him.

After Grandpa died, Grandma laid down a new rule that she wasn't allowing anyone to break: we were all to stay there another three and a half months, to ensure that everyone got over the loss and no one left in too much grief. Basically, she wanted to make sure we were all okay so that no one went and killed himself or herself, because she didn't want to have to deal with another funeral.

When we finally left that stuffy house, I felt a lot more refreshed than I'd felt in a while. I felt like I was leaving all the bad feelings behind me, and I was going back to my ordinary, yet never-boring life, where I could smile again, be myself again, and not be the 'family mistake' anymore.

Then, I walked in on my loving boyfriend making out with my trusted friend on his couch. It may be unnecessary to say, but I didn't exactly regain the happiness I thought I'd left behind.

After that, I decided to continue attending the multiple get-togethers my friends always had, but I decided to let him approach me. I was tired of having to comfort everyone. I wanted to be recognized again. I wanted someone to comfort me for once. I did receive that comfort, and starting that night, my mother and I began to heal all of our heart wounds together, and I started to once again remember the happiness.

"I'm so sorry...I didn't know you were going through all of that," Jyou said, sounding depressed and guilt-ridden.

"Well, it's not like you knew what was happening or anything," I said slowly, but still feeling I did deserve an apology.

"Geez, Koushirou, why do you do that? You never tell anyone when anything is wrong, because you don't want to be a burden, and think no one wants to hear your problems. You've done that constantly ever since I first met you. How can you stand it? Don't you ever just unload?"

"Well, yeah. Actually, I used to unload everything on Sora all the time, because she's so understanding...but I haven't talked to her much since I got back."

His hold on me tightened, and I became aware of our body posture again. I figured that I was probably making his legs go numb, so I shifted until I'd slid off of his lap and sat close to his side, turning towards him.

"Well, I can understand that," Jyou muttered to himself.

I smiled at him and tried to ruffle his hair, something that always annoyed him. He narrowed his eyes at me and automatically began fixing his hair with his hands. I shook my head.

"Leave it messy. You look so adorable with messy hair, Jyou," my voice whined softly.

His hands paused in their movements; the cute, whiny voice always got to him. He sighed and dropped his hands. Suddenly, he pulled his shirt up. My eyes widened. His chest was so pale and smooth...I'd missed it so much. I was about to reach out to touch him when I noticed what I probably was supposed to notice in the first place.

"Oh," I said to myself, blushing. "You got a piercing. Someone made you do it, right?"

The bellybutton piercing actually looked pretty sexy. Kind of like you could play with it with your tongue...damnit, I was away from him for too long. Must regain some sense...

"Yeah, Matt kind of blackmailed me into doing it. I hate it."

"I don't," I said, my voice kind of low and thick.

He raised an eyebrow and I cleared my throat.

"I mean it looks nice. Yeah, really nice."

"Uh-huh."

I leant down and tried to lick his stomach. It tasted like I figured it'd taste, kind of like if you chewed on an earring. Yes, I've done that before. I get bored sometimes and my mom leaves jewelry lying around.

Jyou blushed a lot and tried to push me away. "Wha-what are you doing?! Damnit, Koushy, you are so freaky!"

I sat up again, trying to look at him dryly. "Never bothered you before."

"I didn't mean freaky-freaky, I meant freaky-weird. You know what I meant."

I blinked at him. "What?"

He pulled his pillow up to hide his boiling face. "Never mind," he croaked.

I laughed to myself and reached out to mess his hair up again. "Old reliable Jyou, you never change."

"Shut up," he told the pillow.

~ ~ ~ ~

A/N: I always figured Koushirou was the type of boyfriend who enjoyed doing weird things to...oh, author's note, right. Sorry. Poor Koushy-baby. Mean old witch. (The grandmother, not Koushirou.) Sorry if the whole story of where he was bored you, but I wasn't sure whether I should use that idea or not. Well, it's done with, so that's good.

A second note: Do any of you have Pitas accounts? If you do, then could you tell me how to change the layout? I don't know HTML. It sucks. Could any of you e-mail me if you could explain to me how to change a layout? My e-mail is: fredisdead44@hotmail.com