Disclaimer: If I owned yugioh I would be
as happy as a girl could possibly be.
but as i don't- see, it isn't mine-
you cannot sue- if the impulse hits you must decline.

HA! That was so corny... and so bad it's almost funny. To me. Ha. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Thank you, and good night!

chapter Three:
It's ridiculous-
that something so simple could become so...
Complicated.
It's ridiculous.
It's hard to believe,
Scandalous,
Devastatingly impossible.
Everyone would wonder how it could be the truth.
But no one will ever know.
Because it's completely improbable.
Implausible.
It couldn't possibly be for real.
It's ridiculous- or so it seems.
Because the frightening fact is...
It's absolutely, irrevocably
True.

He hated that he could remember. The very fact disgusted him. Why, of all things to recall, of all events to fondly (or not so fondly ashis case may be) recollect from all the happenings in his lifetime, did he have to remember the one that revolved most around her? He sat in his office, brooding of course, and recalling all the time he had spent with her- and currently she was also known as the current bane of his existence.

So what if on that very day, four months ago, their relationship began? Not, of course, that it was a relationship; they had both agreed on that. Really it was more of casual sexual dalliance. So when they first got together didn't matter. The very fact that he knew the exact datethough, appalled him. He didn't need any more reminders of what she did to him- what she was capable of doing to him. So why, then, was he worrying?

On impulse, as he had been on his way home earlier that night, he had gone into a small, pleasant looking flower shop. A plump old lady had stood behind the counter, smiling absently at him as he walked in. The fresh floral scents surrounded him, natural and not too strong. And that reminded him of her. A reminiscent smile came unbidden to his face as he thought about the only girl that had managed to ever make such a favorable impression on him.

The old woman chuckled a bit and asked, "What sort of flowers does she like, dear?"

He blushed, then quickly scowled and turned away to try and hide it. He hadn't come in to buy anything; he just thought the shop looked faintly interesting. But, a tiny little voice in the back of his mind sneakily reminded him, the next day was their- he shuddered at the very word- anniversary. And weren't girls supposed to be really particular about things like that? That was what he had always heard anyway. Surely she would love a specially bought gift for their four-month. Of course, she was just as opposed to committing to anything as he was, so honoring an anniversary might only serve to scare her off. He really wasn't a relationship-savvy sort of man.

Grumbling, he began to look around in hopes of finding something worthy of purchase. "She- I think she likes roses," he said gruffly, carefully keeping his eyes away from the shopkeeper.

She just smiled, and pushed a brown holder-vase sortof thing that was restingon the counter towards him. "Here. We have red and pink,and alsosimply rose petals for sale."

"Petals?" he asked skeptically, wondering what use anyone could get out of those.

The old woman laughed in that chirping laugh of hers again and said, "Oh, I think some of the more romantic people like to get those for special occasions. You know, a room scattered with soft, beautiful petals is quite a sight to come home to."

A momentary flash fantasy hit him- bed covered in the rose petals, her warm, solid body under his, petals sticking to their hot, sweaty skin-

"Um sure, I'll take a bag of those too." He pulled out a single rose, and said, "And this. I think this will be perfect."

"Of course, young man," she said as she rang up the purchase. "If she loves you as much as you love her, anything you care enough to give to her will be cherished. I wish the two of you every happiness in the world. But I think that you should tell her how you really feel. That would make things so much easier for both of you." She handed him his rose.

"Wha-"

"Oh I can just tell. You really are quite obvious about it." She grinned hugely. "Have a nice evening, sir."

So he walked out of the shop, flustered and a bit grumpy, and feeling quite hostile toward insightful old women who were too damn perceptive for their own good. That's how he found himself back at his home, thinking and worrying about the girl's reaction when he gave her the rose.

The time hadslipped past midnight already- he had gotten home at nine and spent three hours considering whether or not he should go through with it. Of course, he was still frustrated and furious that she had so much power over him, but while he had her, he was certainly going to make the most of her and enjoy it while he could.

Originally, it had been his plan to leave as soon as things got more involved. But she was too sweet, too amazing, too addicting. He couldn't give her up- even if he wanted to. She was a NEED; he just couldn't do it. He wasn't sure what to do or how to feelabout that. He would give her the damn rose. Naturally, he wasn't happy that the old woman had talked him into buying it in the first place, but he had it and he might as well see what happened from there. If she were happy, he would stay. But if she didn't care, then he decided he wouldn't care either.

As much as he loathed the very idea, it didn't change the fact that she was very close to being his entire world. All that she was had consumed him, and he was determined to either end his ridiculous obsession or make her feel the same way. Whichever would turn out, he knew he had to do something. The seemingly harmless "no-strings-attached" relationship he had with her was becoming unhealthy, and it was much too harmful to ignore.

He wanted to have her- and he wanted everyone to know that she belonged to him. So what if he was a little possessive? She was worse- he was totally, fully, completely, andirreversibly under her spell. And the irony? She had no idea what she did to him. Hiding your emotions for years was not without its benefits. He had her-not to mentionthe rest of the world- fooled. And while he had been pleased with that, it made for falling in love with him- because she was sure he wouldn't, or couldn't return the feeling... well, it made loving him a difficult endeavor.

"Why is this happening to me?" he wondered, holding his head in his hands. "Why does she have to be so damn addicting?"

The night was slowly waning away; it was getting to be late. Looking at the clock, he groaned to see that already it was 12:45. He put the rose on the desk by his big silver briefcase and drug himself out of his chair and into his room. He cut off the light and crawled into bed. Unhappily he tossed and turned himself to sleep, not particularly looking forward to the morning.

(Flashback continued)

There were very few options. One road led to complete and inevitable failure- crushing all her dreams, ruining all her chances, and dashing all her hopes upon the cruel, breaking rocks of a horrid reality. No mercy would be shown, and so many things would be destroyed.

The other road? It led to a fate as horrible. It led to:

"Kaiba! I'm coming over there right now, and we are working on that project!"

"Save your breath Gardener, your yelling is helping no one. I told you, I'm not spending my precious- and valuable- time to work on some silly project with you."

"You can't stop me! I'm going to get this done; and if you don't help me I'm going to take all the credit. First off because I would have earned it, and secondly because you are a total asshole!"

"Thank you, you're really too kind."

Seto Kaiba was smug. Why? Because he was making someone else miserable- a certain thorn in his side named Tea Gardener. He was delighted to hear her irritation rising, and as cruel as it was, he truly loved to vex her.

But his rather dubious reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed shortly by the entrance of a scruffy-haired boy. "Big brother?" the boy- Mokuba- inquired lightly, "what are you doing?"

Seto covered the receiver and said, "Just a second Mokuba, I'm on the phone. It's not important though, and if you'll wait just a moment I'll be right with you."

"Who are you talking to? It doesn't sound like a business call."

Tea, though Kaiba's hand had covered the phone, still managed to hear the delightful ringing of Mokuba's unmistakable voice. Now, she could leave well enough alone. After all, what could she possibly gain from a little bit of Kaiba torture? (At this point, you can be sure she wore a very malicious grin) Or... she could yell as loudly as she could to make sure Mokuba heard her and knew who was speaking. The choice was just too hard.

"HI MOKUBA! IT'S ME, TEA!"

Oh Seto was going to kill her then. Mokuba grinned and said eagerly, "Ooh, can I talk to her Seto? Come on, I haven't seen her in ages. Please?"

Receiving a stiff nod- which only meant that the question had been acknowledged and was not any sort of agreement- Mokuba rushed over and snatched the phone. The end result of that conversation- which, from his end, sounded much too sugary for Seto ever to have to hear- was that Mokuba had agreed to have Tea over, and make Seto agree to collaborate on the ever-important chemistry work.

Little did either oblivious teen know, their death warrants had just been signed. Death to their sanity, death to any caution, and death to all former, intensely hostile feelings of hatred. Indeed, what was about to begin was a clandestine affair of the most turbulent, torrid, (possibly even traumatic) nature they could ever have imagined.

After all, they would both soon fall victim to a desperate addiction.

End A/N: Thank you all for reading this! I thought it was alright for the third chapter; not as long as I had hoped, but I'm going to make up for that in the next chapter, which will be detailing exactly how the two got to be so hooked on each other. Alright, that's it.

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I.L.B.