Well, fine, I'll just write my story for DB then shall I? Just so you know, I'm a ridiculous person and become easily offended when no one reviews. I'd much rather you flamed me than ignored me, then at least I have a real excuse to whine. So now, to punish you all for NOT reviewing, I will write a boring crappy chapter.

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The television glowed softly, casting unnatural shadows across the two girls' faces. There was a guilty look in both their eyes, as though they shouldn't be there. That was what they both were thinking. The third had left earlier, around 11pm and they both were feeling a nagging sensation at the back of their minds, as though they should be suffering just as much as she was.

The ebon-haired one picked at her polka-dot pyjama pants uncomfortably. The red varnished nails of the other tapped nervously at her unnaturally toothpaste-commercial-white teeth.

"Look, Buruma, we obviously can't do anything about what's happened and sitting here feeling like shit isn't going to make Juu feel any better, especially when she's not here."

She sighed, "I know, Chi, but it just feels… wrong, you know? Like somehow we shouldn't be having fun when one of our best friends has just lost someone… it doesn't seem like the right thing to do. I know, I know, she's not going to know if we stay up all night gossiping and watching movies, and being sad while she was here didn't make her feel connected to us anyway but I still just feel bad."

Chichi flopped onto her back and stared at the mottled-green ceiling of Buruma's room. A good deal of her most cherished childhood memories took place in this room, with Juuhachigou and Buruma. She could remember helping paint the ceiling bright pink, when they were 10. She could also remember the look on the Briefs' faces when they'd seen the 'work of art' as the three girls had put it.

She remembered a lot of things about this room, and all of them involved both of her best friends. It just didn't feel right to have a sleepover without Juu. The soft murmur of the television stopped and the room was steeped in silence. She chewed on her bottom lip. They had to do something to keep their minds from straying into melancholy. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked across at Buruma.

"B, we need to DO something. We're only going to feel worse and worse if we just sit here. Something drastic, to keep our minds busy."

"Makeover? Drastic makeover?" Chichi wasn't entirely sure that would keep their minds occupied and she frowned slightly.

"How drastic are we talking here?" She watched as Buruma stood up and wandered into her ensuite, something the less materially-blessed Chichi had always been jealous of. Her once again vibrant returned brandishing a pair of scissors, her wallet, and a dangerous glint in her cerulean eyes.

"Well, I have scissors and a blow-dryer and the chemist down the street sells hair dye, so I think we're talking pretty drastic." Chichi grinned evilly, the glint in her eyes as dangerous as that in her friend's.

"You know, I've always fancied myself a red-head," Chichi smiled, flicking her hair dramatically. "And you…" she paused and studied her friend critically "a blonde. Definitely a blonde." Buruma frowned, obviously not convinced she should transform herself into a normally-coloured teenage girl. "You know, Ami used to be a blonde."

With that comment, Buruma began seriously considering it, throwing a long chocolate brown suede coat on over pyjamas and slipping her feet into a pair of quiet sneakers. "Chi, just grab a coat from the wardrobe and we can slip out, my parents will either be asleep, or assume we're just grabbing a midnight snack." Chichi nodded and shrugged on a red coat, stepped into her slippers and left the room with Buruma.

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Juuhachigou rested her forehead on the cool windowpane of the car. She felt guilty. Another negative emotion to add to her growing collection. She knew Buruma and Chichi blamed themselves for her getting upset and leaving but it really wasn't their fault. It was just that nothing could make her feel better and so there was really no point in trying, in sitting around pretending to be happy again. So she had called her father and he had been all too glad to take her home. So now they drove through the silent night, the occasional pool of yellow from the streetlights making her wince, and she wondered why it wasn't raining, why the heavens wouldn't let her feel like it was just a movie.

She wanted it to rain, so that she could tell herself it was just too cliché to be real, and then, when she finally accepted it was true, at least other people would be miserable because of the rain.

Death brings out the sadism in us all.

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Ha! It's short too! That's what you get for NOT REVIEWING, you SCUM.

Review or die you big stupid-heads.