Authoress here.

How will I fit a lemon in here? Naturally, I'll have it on an email request only kind of thing so I don't get reported or anything.

START CHAPTER

Hiroshi Nakano felt terrible as he heard Shuichi's face over the telephone. Although he didn't want to believe what he was hearing, he knew it was true. Alira Montosuwa, who was currently sleeping, had been beaten by her father to the point where she had run away from home in fear that he would kill her.

"There's a bruise on her back that's the same shape as a belt buckle," Shuichi was saying quietly, obviously trying not to wake anyone else up. "And another on her chest."

Hiroshi was quiet a moment. "He must have hit her pretty hard to leave bruises that are still there," he finally said.

Shuichi sighed into the other line. "D'you think she'll be too scared to testify against him tomorrow?" Casting a glace at the luminous numerals on his beside clock, he corrected himself, "Er...today?"

"Nah," Hiroshi replied, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I've never seen her look scared before, so I don't think condemning a guy who deserves it will be much of a challenge." He sank down onto a bench, pushing a stack of newspapers aside.

"I've seen her looking scared," Shuichi answered softly. "When I saw the first bruise on her collarbone and shouted for Yuki, she looked terrified. She said she didn't think she could testify against him because she's afraid he'll hurt her again."

"Is the charge really child abuse since she's a legal adult?" Hiroshi asked, spinning a piece of hair around his fingers absentmindedly.

"When we met her, she said her eighteenth birthday was that Friday, and it was a Saturday that day. He gave her the black eye before then."

"True. So she has a case...but no lawyer..." Hiroshi mused. A passing subway train ruffled his already haphazard hair even more, and he winced away from the noise.

Too late to cover the mouthpiece, Shuichi had heard the train bowl past. "What was that? Are you in the subway?" he asked, startled.

Hiroshi frowned. "Yes," he replied grudgingly.

"You said you were sick. You lied to me!" Shuichi's voice was quavering, and Hiro instantly felt terrible all over again.

"I am, but...look, Ayaka asked me to meet her here tonight. She saw Alira and me together, and she's pissed off that I moved on so quickly. Don't tell Alira, okay?" he added, more gently then before. "It'll just make things worse."

Shuichi was clearly trying to suppress tears. "O-okay," he stammered, dragging the back of one hand across his eyes.

He was lying on his side in his bed when he felt a hand on his thigh. He jumped, and rolled over to be beside his lover, who looked somewhat ethereal in the pale moonlight.

Yuki said forcibly, "Hang up the phone."

Shuichi had time to say a quick farewell before Yuki seized the phone and put it firmly on the cradle. In no time, the pair were wearing substantially less clothing and had kicked the sheets to the floor in their passion.

In the room next door, Alira had woken up with a start. She sat bolt upright, and seized the clock. It was one thirty in the morning. She was supposed to get up at six thirty, but was currently looking upon that task as impossible. She sighed. As sleep was eluding her, she decided to head downstairs and see if she could sleep on the couch. She slid from her bed, still too groggy to remember that she had not yet put on a bra, and stretched her arms up in the air, yawning widely. She ran a hand through her ruffled hair before quietly opening her door.

It was at precisely the same moment that Yuki and Shuichi noticed the door was open that Alira walked past and peered in. Her face turned from pale gray to pink in an instant. She stumbled backwards into an open closet door, hitting her head on a shelf and knocking a pile of towels into her lap.

She rubbed her streaming eyes with one hand and the back of her head with the other. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to walk in you!" she babbled, thoroughly mortified. "I didn't see anything, I swear! Well, I did see something, but I didn't try to!"

Yuki, who had pulled on a pair of bottle green flannel pants, not bothering with underwear, said softly, "Shut up."

Alira instantly fell silent, and started to stand up. She swayed, and clutched a shelf to support her. Most unfortunately, the shelf was not designed to support anything more than a wide array of towels, and slipped forwards, knocking Alira over again and spilling the contents onto her and the floor.

Alira squeezed her eyes shut, and put her head in her hands when she had the chance to look around her. "I'm sorry, Yuki," she murmured. "For everything."

Yuki, who had been picking up a stack of jumbled washcloths, froze. "What?"

"For being here, for wrecking your kitchen," Alira said, sitting up and ticking off each issue on her fingers as she named it. "For getting you in trouble with the law, for reading over your shoulder, for smashing the shelves, for walking in on you, for being such a hassle, for-"

"For not shutting up," Yuki interrupted.

Alira sighed and let her hands drop to the pile of towels on her lap.

Shuichi exited the bedroom, having hurriedly donned a pair of plaid boxers and a white undershirt. "You're not a hassle," he said firmly, his violet eyes trying unsuccessfully to lock onto hers.

Alira laughed hollowly. "I am, and you know it."

"If you want to leave so much, then go," Yuki replied icily.

"That's the thing," Alira replied, placing the pile of towels in Shuichi's outstretched arms instead of taking his hand to stand up. "And that's why I feel so horrible. I know I keep wrecking things, but I don't want to leave, because...when I'm here, I feel like I belong. Like I'm home. But I'm even ruining your relationship just by being here! I walked in on you while you were...were..."

"Fucking?" Yuki supplied.

Alira stood up shakily, Yuki's comment having caused her to shut up temporarily. "Go back to bed. I'll pick these up," she said quietly a moment later, gesturing to the piles of fluffy terrycloth towels and other assorted bath necessities.

"Like hell you will. I'll never be able to find any of it again if I let you put it away," Yuki replied matter-of-factly. "You," he shot over his shoulder at Shuichi, who dropped the towels he had been holding. "Get to bed."

Shuichi muttered a complaint, but walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a snap.

Alira frowned at his retreating back. "You should go to bed, too."

"You're one to talk," Yuki remarked, placing a stack on towels on the shelf and sliding it into the back left corner.

"I couldn't sleep," Alira replied loftily, slipping in beside him to put a pile of washcloths on the shelf. Yuki reached out and shifted them to the other side to the closet before putting his palm flat on her back.

Alira reacted much like he thought she would. She twisted away and ducked under his outstretched arm.

"You really hate me, don't you?" Yuki asked, a small smile on his face.

Alira bent to grab a bottle of cologne that she wasn't aware she had knocked off the shelf below. She turned and put it back on the shelf. Before she could let go, Yuki's hand was over hers. Her body went rigid.

Yuki placed the cologne in its proper place, and she attempted to wrench her hand away. When he did not lighten his grip, Alira turned her head to look at him.

"You're still weak. Don't you remember the conversation we had when you first got here?" Yuki prompted. "I told you to get stronger. Did you listen to me?"

"Let go of me," Alira said, not even trying to mask her annoyance.

"No."

Alira's surprised look was all she offered as a reply.

"Try to get free."

"I can't. You know that." Alira sighed, her eyes downcast. Yuki had a way of making her feel much younger than eighteen.

Yuki's eyes narrowed, and he tugged her away from his bedroom door and down the stairs so they wouldn't disturb Shuichi. "You almost got raped," he hissed once they were in the living room. "How did you get away from him?"

Alira shivered, recalling the terrifying moments that she thought would be her last. "I...I hit him." She looked up at Yuki, her eyes full of some unidentified emotion. "I'm not going to hit you, Yuki."

Wholly annoyed, Yuki shoved her onto the couch. She rubbed her wrists mournfully, even though Yuki hadn't really hurt her. "No wonder your dad was smacking you around. You're a pushover." He flopped beside her, and she scooted away.

"This isn't the...That's different," Alira faltered, eyes flashing dangerously.

Yuki laughed quietly. "No, it's not. People beat you up, and you don't do a damn thing to stop it." He sank onto the couch beside her, and reached out a hand to toy with her hair.

She brushed him off, irritated. He was trying to accomplish something. Perhaps he wanted to touch a nerve to get her to become less helpless. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Yuki sighed and shifted his hand to his head. "You know, when you got here...I really did like you."

Alira's head snapped towards him, her eyes widened slightly. With one simple sentence, he had ruined her efforts to ignore him. "What?" she asked in a disbelieving whisper.

"You're exactly the type of girl I would've gone after if I didn't already have that damn brat upstairs," Yuki continued, his golden eyes watching hers to see her reaction to this news.

Alira stared for a moment before tearing her gaze away from him. She remembered her initial thoughts about him as well. They were fresh in her mind: her shock that she was in the home of the angelic novelist Eiri Yuki and the rock star Shuichi Shindou, the fluttering of her heart whenever he looked at her...and Hiroshi.

She froze. Hiroshi. Her boyfriend. Her throat felt like it had closed up. What she had felt for Yuki early on was lust; he was gorgeous. But what she loved about Hiroshi was, well, everything. Was an infatuation enough to make up for all the wonderful qualities that Hiroshi possessed?

"Do you...still like me?" she asked shakily, praying that he would say no.

Yuki shrugged. "I'd find a relationship awkward now that I know you."

Alira sighed her relief. "That's how I feel too. I'd rather forget I ever liked you and just be friends...or whatever we are now."

Yuki laughed softly. "You liked me?"

A flush crept on her cheeks. "At first, yes." But I can't lie to myself. If I didn't have Hiroshi and he didn't have Shuichi, he's the type of guy I'd go after.

She instantly felt a wave of guilt pass over her. To brush Hiroshi off like that after all he had done for her! She had told him that she loved him, and he had said the same. Why did she have to gall to define him as an obstacle between her and Yuki?

The very situation was proving to be uncomfortable. She had to leave before she did something that she would regret. Alira stood up. The squeaking of the springs alerted Yuki of her movement, and he glanced up.

"I'm...I'm going to bed," she stammered. "Goodnight." Yuki stood up as she was at the bottom of the stairs. She saw him and hesitated. "Did you...have something else you wanted to say?"

Yuki kept walking until he was beside her at the foot of the stairs. He opened his mouth to say something, reconsidered, and asked instead, "Do you have something to wear to the trial tomorrow?"

For a moment, Alira had forgotten that today, she would be testifying against her abusive father. She inhaled sharply. "Uh...I think so," she said slowly. Why would he care?

"What is it?"

Alira was confused. "A sweater and a skirt. Why?"

"My sister asked me to store some of her things here. I only said yes because Shuichi's boss is her husband. I think there are some suits in there that might fit you."

In no time, Alira was standing before a full-length mirror critiquing her reflection. The charcoal silk blazer over a red shirt (a bit lower cut than Alira would've liked, but still very good looking) and the straight leg skirt made her look very professional.

She turned around to face Yuki, still a bit embarrassed by the confessions made by the two of them earlier, and smiled nervously. "How do I look?"

Yuki's arms were crossed over his chest. He shrugged. "Better than before, I suppose."

Alira nodded, and turned back to the mirror. In the reflection, she saw Yuki frowning at her back. "You should get to bed, Yuki," she said quietly.

"You should talk," he countered, uncrossing his arms and striding towards her. She turned around and he stopped an arms length away.

"Fine. We'll compromise. I'll go to bed, and so will you." She realized only after the words had left her mouth that she mad just made a sexual innuendo. "That...came out weird," she said apologetically.

Yuki rolled his eyes. "Just go to bed."

Alira obeyed and headed for the door. With her hand on the frame, she paused and looked at Yuki over her shoulder. "Yuki?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Before he could reply, she had hurried from the room to get some more sleep.

Yuki shook his head. "No problem," he muttered.

In her room, as Alira slipped back into her pajamas, she glanced out the window in time to see a motorcycle go past. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the driver. What the...Hiroshi?

END CHAPTER

This chapter is for PenPusherM, who commented on my lack of updates. Sorry!

Authoress...well, still here, actually. Huh.