Hi there, readers! I'd give you cookies for reading this chapter, but...I ate them. Sorry.
I have some homework I should really be doing right now, but screw that.
(shakes fist at school) You heard me! Screw that! I've been bogged down with crap lately, so I haven't been on the computer and internet as much as I'd like. I'm going to make up for it soon, I swear, and I'll stop neglecting my stories. Some will forever remain unfinished...but most will be completed, I promise!
My right hand is cold. The left one isn't, but the right one doesn't want to move right now. Odd. And it's making it hard to type.
Still, I carry on!
Oh yeah. Sorry about the delay on other story chapters. I swear I shall get Saiyuki 13up soon! Don't kill me, Ankara!
START CHAPTER
Yuki had sent the two teens upstairs after they chatted for roughly ten minutes, claiming their pointless talking was giving him a migraine.
"How old are you, anyway?" Shuichi had decided to take Alira to the spare bedroom that she would be staying in. He sat down on the bed to chat with her as she unpacked.
"Eighteen last Friday," she replied, not looking over at the pink-haired boy sitting on the bed. Her bed. At least, it would be for tonight. "So I'm my last year of high school right now."
Shuichi nodded. "So...you ran away from home?"
She stopped with her hands on a shirt she had been about to pull from her backpack. "Yes."
"Why?"
"I would rather not talk about it."
"Sorry."
She smiled at him in the mirror as she stood up. "Don't worry about it."
She was watching his reflection in the mirror on her wall, and saw him jump when the phone rang seconds later. "Could you get that?" he asked hesitantly. She was, after all, standing by a phone.
Picking it up, she said, "Hello?" in a rather shaky voice.
"Hey, this is Hiro. I was wondering if Shuichi got home alright," the voice, decidedly male, answered.
"Would you like to talk to him yourself?" she asked.
"That'd work." There was a pause. "Who is this, anyway?"
Ignoring him, she tossed Shuichi the phone and exited the room, heading downstairs.
Confused, Shuichi picked it up. "Hello?"
"Who was that girl?" Hiro asked right away.
"Huh?"
"The chick that answered. Who the hell was that?"
"Oh, her." Shuichi tried to sound as offhanded as possible. "She's...a friend of Yuki's from awhile back. Nobody special."
"Is she hot?" Hiro was curious about her, that much he let Shuichi know. What he didn't let slip is that he knew Shuichi was lying about her. They'd been friends for long enough for him to tell this kind of thing.
"Well..." Shuichi, on the other end, paled. "Um..."
Hiro waited patiently. "Yes?"
Shuichi sighed into the phone. "Yeah, I guess she is."
Hiro chuckled. "Expect me there tomorrow, then. I have some lyrics to drop off anyway. See ya!"
"Bye," came the dull reply before Hiro hung up. Shuichi sighed.
How complicated things were getting these days.
-Downstairs-
Standing alone in the kitchen, Alira turned in a circle a few times, taking in the perfect cleanliness. You would never guess that two men lived here.
Then again, they're gay men, Alira reminded herself. Which means you can't go falling in love. The very idea made her smile. Falling in love with a gay man. That would be a definite change from the straight, football obsessed men she was used to.
"Enjoying yourself?"
The smile faded as she turned to look at the blond angel of a man, Eiri Yuki. "Got any food in this unbearably clean kitchen of yours?" She looked around and shivered. "I need to spill something. This is just too weird."
"Get used to it. Help yourself to anything in the fridge." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a bit rumpled but still very attractive.
Yuki, she had recently learned, was a famous romance novelist. Commenting on his newest book or giving him suggestions wasn't something she was really up to, even though she could tell he was stuck. He acted a bit different when he had something on his mind, she had noticed.
Pulling open the fridge, the first thing she saw was alcoholic. Just to spite her overprotective parents, even if they couldn't see her, she grabbed a beer and moved to lean against the counter.
Yuki looked once at the drink, then his eyes shifted to her face. "Except for that."
She paused, her fingers on the tab. "What?"
He crossed the room and grabbed hold of the can. "You're underage, dumbass. You can't have that."
"You're not my father," she snapped.
"Thank God," he replied acidly, yanking the can away from her. He put it back in the fridge and removed a bottle of juice instead. "How old are you, anyway? Sixteen?"
"Eighteen," she replied icily.
"Still young," he replied. Then, he tossed her the bottle of juice. She missed it spectacularly.
The plastic bottle bounced twice, hit the counter, and rolled slowly back to be two feet in front of Yuki. Alira and Yuki watched until it stopped. She then lowered her hand and didn't move to get it.
Yuki picked it up and waked over to her. He pressed it into her hands. "You're the biggest failure I've ever met," he remarked, sounding highly amused.
She was reminded of her father.
"You're a failure! You don't deserve to live!" her father had shouted, raising his hand again to slap her. She cringed but dared not block the blow. That would only make him angrier. Her lip was bleeding now, but she still stood there. She had to. Her right eye hurt terribly. He had hit her again. No matter what, she didn't cry. It was worse if she did.
A piece of hair fell in front of her eyes as she was remembering the previous day. Yuki, unable to help himself, reached out to push it away, as it was bothering him quite a bit.
Alira flinched back without thinking when she saw his hand, and ran into the counter, dropping the bottle of juice. Yuki, his hand still upraised, was visibly confused.
"I'm not going to hit you, idiot," he said, stepping forward again.
She sidestepped him and headed for the doorway, but he caught her wrist and stopped her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
She tugged against his iron grip to no avail. Damn, he's too strong. I can't get away.
"You act like I'm about to murder you or something." He still didn't let go of her. The panic was visible in her eyes when she realized he could easily overpower her.
Holding her in place, he reached out to brush the hair away. When she tried to pull back again, his finger slipped and touched her cheek just below her right eye. He felt powder underneath his fingertips before she jerked backward. Makeup? He caught both wrists in one hand and touched beneath her other eye. Nothing. Why would she only put makeup under one eye?
Suddenly, he pulled her to the sink and dipped his hand under running water. He washed off some makeup from her right cheek, and was startled to see a bruise under her eye.
"Who hit you?" he asked, watching her eyes drop to look at the spotless countertop.
She didn't answer.
"You thought makeup could cover up something like this?" he demanded, yanking her arms so she would meet his eyes. "Who the hell did this?"
Alira looked away and didn't answer.
Yuki was growing angrier now. "Tell me right fucking now, or I'll give you another black eye to match this one."
"Go ahead," she said quietly. "I don't care anymore."
"I just might. Stop protecting this asshole, dumbshit." Yuki was secretly half ready to hit her, but restrained himself. Play nice, he reminded himself. "Tell me who hit you."
"I can't-"
Yuki's eyes flashed dangerously as he interrupted her. "You're staying right here until you tell me."
Alira met his eyes his time. Hers were hazel, more green than brown, he observed. Identical to the woman in his latest story. "I can stand here all night."
"So can I," he replied, pulling her to the living room. He sat on the couch, effortlessly tugging her down beside him. "But," he continued. "Standing is pointless when I have a perfectly useful couch right here."
"I don't get it," Alira said suddenly, breaking into the moment of silence. "Why do you care?"
Yuki smiled at her.
Oh my God. She found that her heart was beating faster. He's...gorgeous.
"I won't stand by while a pretty girl gets beat up by somebody stronger than her," he replied, realizing he sounded like the wonderful man in a romance novel.
She was silent.
Yuki said softly, as he realized that she wasn't going to say anything, "Your dad is a bastard."
She jumped and stared at him. "H-how...?"
"I could tell. I've seen it before. Tell you what: I won't kick you out if you want to stay here until this all blows over, okay?"
Tears fell now, taking dark eyeliner with them on the path down her cheeks. She raised the back of her hand to her black eye to wipe the tears away.
Without warning, Yuki took her in his arms and pulled her close.
"I'm g-going to get eyeliner on y-your shirt," she said shakily.
"Shut up already," he whispered, moving a hand to the back of her head to hold her there. "I don't care. If you're going to cry, just cry, dumbass."
Obeying him, Alira cried herself to sleep.
Yuki looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms. Her eyeliner was gone now, most of it on his the shoulder of his shirt. The makeup had been washed away and a livid bruise was clearly visible.
He slid down the couch so he could lean against the armrest as he held her. She looked so innocent and fragile, sleeping there in his arms.
If she didn't care about the black eye, what had her father done to make her run away from home?
Eiri Yuki was pissed again.
END CHAPTER
Yeah. I am obsessive compulsive.
AND I LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT!
Overly sugar-hyped authoress over and out.
