Priestess Aishisu: I deleted my 4/5 2/3 fanfiction 'It's Not Over Yet' because it only got two reviews. However, I recently realized 4/5 is a great pairing. So I'm trying a 4/5 1/3. 1/3 seems pretty popular, and 3/2 certainly isn't popular. Also, I've only read two 4/5 fanfictions. If you know any, please send me the url and I would be eternally grateful. And if you were wondering, I did edit the story. It isn't your imagination.

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"Numbuh Five still thinks that you makin' a mistake here," Abigail Lincoln informed him, her hazel eyes earnest and worried under the brim of her red cap. "What about Lizzie?

Nigel blinked at her in bewilderment behind his sunglasses, befuddled both by her unusual words and her desperate tone. "And since when did you care about Lizzie? Weren't you the one who kept telling me to break up with her?"

"W–Well, yeah, but…" She trailed off, and gazed at him pleadingly. What could she say? The truth? But that wouldn't do her any good now. She decided to go with the next best alternative—the problem she was most concerned about, not including the real one…

"What about Numbuh Four?"

Nigel sighed. "I know, I know, he has a massive crush on her. But…what can I do? I love her, she loves me, can't Numbuh Four find some other girl?" He turned to leave, but without thinking Abigail sprinted forward and caught him by the sleeve. He turned back to her and blinked, somewhere between confused and impatient. She tried to think.

"Aren't you a bit…young to fall in love for real? Numbuh Five means, can't you find some other girl?"

"Like who, Eighty-Six?" He joked, but became serious again when he saw her expression. "Come on, Numbuh Five. You and I both know that there isn't any girl as close to me as Numbuh Three—well, besides you, but I certainly don't love you."

Abigail nodded, barely managing to hold back uninvited tears, and waited until he had left to burst into tears and throw herself on her couch. When she was finally able to speak coherently, she whispered one sentence into her pillow: "But Numbuh Five loves you, Numbuh One."

There, she had said it. The secret she had been harboring in her heart for almost two years, the secret she hadn't been able to bring herself to admit to admit to Nigel.

And now she would never get the chance.

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"Get. Out."

The words were low and harsh. The boy who spoke it had his head bowed in rage, his long blonde bangs hiding the tears in his sharp jade eyes. He was trembling with fury, fists clenched in his lap. He would rather look at his fists than at the girl in front of him.

"Come on, Wally," Kuki Sanban protested. "I said I was sorry. What am I supposed to do? I love him, and you never told me how you felt. If you had, maybe I would have—"

"Shut up!" Wally—a.k.a Wallabee Beadles—roared, finally snapping up his head to glare at her. "And don't call me that! Just get out of my sight—ah never wunnu see you again!"

Kuki's aquamarine blue eyes filled with tears. He had loved her eyes, once. But love only hurt him. He had opened his heart for the first time in his entire life and it had been crushed—crushed into a hundred pieces, a thousand pieces.

A million.

Then Kuki's eyes burned wrathfully. "Fine," she said dismissively, her voice dripping with pure fury as she flipped back her hair in an obstinate gesture. "Whatever. Be a big fat meanie-head." He snorted at her childish words, but she didn't seem to hear.

"It doesn't matter," she continued, her face and voice colder than he had ever seen or heard—from her or anyone. "I don't need to have a jerk like you for a friend anyway."

Once the words would have filled him with pain, but he was already overflowing with it. Wally clenched his teeth and watched her leave without reacting, then—once he was sure she was gone—slammed his fist onto the table next to him.

The wood splintered into bits like his heart, slashing through his skin. He didn't care. Wally clenched his fist harder as it bled, dripping onto his jeans. The slivers lodged deeper into his skin, but his heart hurt more than his hand.

He continued glaring at the door. Between gritted teeth, Wally growled out the one word which seemed to convey everything he was feeling, split into three syllables—

"God. Damn. It."

«§ψ§»

"Numbuh Five knew she'd find you up to somethin' like this!" shouted Abigail, throwing open Wally's door to find him packing. She saw his bleeding hand and gasped, dashing forward and beginning to pluck out fragments of wood.

He jerked his hand away. "Leave me alone," he muttered without looking at her, not wanting to see her eyes. He kept his own eyes on his suitcases, not letting her see the tears filling said eyes. (I just said 'eyes' three times in a sentence and one word before it. I need a bigger vocabulary—wait, is that possible?) But that didn't hide the tears on his cheeks. "Ah'm getting' outtu here."

Abigail's hazel eyes narrowed with a mixture of frustration and annoyance. Swiftly, she drew back her leg and kicked his suitcase, scattering his clothes everywhere. "Hey!" Wally yelled, starting to pick them up—but Abigail had other ideas. Yanking him to his feet, she spun him around so he was facing her and pushed him by his shoulders against the wall.

"Why you…" growled Wally. He squirmed and thrashed angrily, but her viselike grip on his shoulders only tightened.

Even Abigail—who had mocked his intelligence since they were nine—would admit that he was a good fighter, but she had always been taller than him and he only had one fist available. Besides, he didn't really want to punch her.

"You are not quitting!" she snapped, still not releasing him. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"

"Oh shut up!" he spat, still fighting like the wild animal she probably would be have been glad to inform him that he was acting like at the moment. "What do you know?!"

"What Numbuh Five knows is that you're my friend and that you're being even more of an idiot than usual, seeing as how you're about to make the worst mistake of your life!" she retorted, but her face seemed to soften. Releasing him, she asked with a gentleness he was unaccustomed to—even from the Abigail, the most caring motherly girl he had ever met—"You wunnu talk about it?"

Suddenly, without any warning at all other than the strange trembling sensation inside his heart, Wally found himself spilling everything out. "Ah've loved her since ah was eight!" he choked out. Tears coursed freely down his cheeks as he stared at Abigail, his eyes begging her to understand. "After four years, ah finally tell her how ah feel and she started dating Numbuh One a few hours ago! What would you do?"

"I—" she began, but he shook his head—and perhaps she was glad of that, for she had no idea what she would have said had he not interrupted.

"Don't answer that. Ah know ah'm stupid. Ah know yah wouldn't be as bitter and stubborn as I am! But ah'm not like you, all right?!" He repressed a shuddery sob, but suddenly rage filled him—not that this was something he wasn't used to.

"Why am ah even telling you this?" he asked, flinging his head back and glaring at her through his tears. "You've never been in love, even if yah did date Numbuh Two for a few months! You can't possibly understand how ah feel!"

"Oh, can't I?" Abigail challenged, but her eyes were filled with hurt. "Listen, Numbuh Four. Ah understand if you're mad at Numbuh Three. You might even be upset with Numbuh One. But…Are you really going to give it all up? Just turn your back on us? Are you going to leave Numbuh Two, leave the team, leave me?"

"Just get out, all right?" Wally hissed. His voice quavered, but he didn't let anymore tears fall. "Leave me alone."

Abigail stepped back, the hurt in her eyes turning into anguish. Her voice was low, as if she were trying not to cry as she told him, "You've already pushed Numbuh Three away, and now you're pushing me away. Soon you'll have no one left."

"Whatever," he grumbled, still not meeting her eyes. She turned and left.

Wally sneered and went back to picking up his things, but to his own surprise he put his clothes back in the closet. I don't care, he told himself. I don't care if I'm pushing her away. I don't need her, I don't need anybody!

But if he really cared as little as he tried to convince himself, then why couldn't he forget the hurt in her eyes?