A/N: Ah JESUS! I'm on a roll. Okay I've got nothing to say. Nothing interesting…read on if you're so inclined.

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Chapter One

It was a normal day the day I had to drive up to the psychiatrist, a perfectly fine Monday the fourth in October. Actually, the weather was kinda cruddy- raining, hot, and sticky. Disgusting weather. But, I had to go there- I'd promised, after all. I muttered a very inappropriate promise under my breath as I pulled into the small parking lot. There weren't many cars- a blue Volvo and two silver cars, I think a BMW and a Toyota. My car was much different, by which I mean really crappy and banged up. I'd been in eighteen accidents in one month, all in this car- a shiny, dented, gray-blue minivan with a crucifix hanging on the rearview mirror and a long, web-like crack on the windshield, running from the upper-right corner. And it was just my luck that all I'd crashed into were inanimate objects- otherwise this car'd be gone. The police were just pretty dumb in keeping track of underage drivers, I figured. But I digress.

I parked the car in some parking space- don't tell me you expect me to remember the exact parking space. Because, in actuality, I really don't care what the # you want right now. I got out and locked the door.

The Loon House, as it's popularly called, was a one-story building built with beige bricks and some kind of cement-like base. Pretty boring building. The garbage cans and benches and flowers outside all were screaming of the blandest colors, just to add to the effect that you were really the one going out of your mind. I think they make crazy houses like that so you'll think you're insane and they get more money- everything around you is so calm and bland and you realize that you're just this huge bundle of disorganized and imbalanced chemicals that wants to scream just to make sure there's noise in the building. But most people hold in the scream, building up anger inside of them so they finally believe they need to go to therapy. There was no roof. I get by.

Straightening my jeans and shirt, I pushed open the heavy glass door and walked inside. The interior…was even more sterile looking than the exterior. The carpet was- of course- beige, and the walls were the white stucco swirly type. The chairs were cheap metal, probably aluminum, with gray cushions. There was a fake wood table smack in the middle of the room, which held onto a stack of broken-up People magazines. A couple of decorations lay around- paintings of whales and rainbows (not together, of course- if whales and rainbows lived together, I'd lose my mind), carnations in a big blue vase. Nothing special.

I walked up to the woman behind the front desk. "Uhmm, Ma'am?"

She didn't look up from her papers. I grimaced. Front-desk-ladies are not on my lists of favorites. "Ma'am?" This time I put more urgency into my voice. She just clawed at the papers with her fake acrylic nails.

"MA'AM."

The woman looked up, looked me over, and rolled her eyes. "Yes?" she asked, agitated that I'd kept her from the only thing in her work that occupied her.

I bit my tongue and tried my hardest to refrain from saying anything that would give the loonies in this building spasms. I stared at her for a minute, though, noting the big, dry beehive hair and the crusty, greasy lip coating on those fish-like puckers. After I was sure I got my point across, I snorted. "Can I get the schedule for a Miss Kagome Higurashi?"

"Who wants to know?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

Blood was coming into my mouth now from biting my tongue too hard. "Her boyfriend. Inuyasha Miyazaki."

She paused and shrugged. "One minute Sir," she breathed, far too exhausted from sorting all those heavy, HUGE papers to deal with the likes of some stupid delinquent kid. Looking in the shiny reflection of the metal countertop of the desk, I had to admit it- I guess I do look like a delinquent. I have long, white hair that runs past my back and a tendency to scowl. I'm pretty good-looking, but there's a few people I do not like to hear that from.

I tapped my fingers for about three minutes while the stupid dyke flipped through a dozen yellow and pink legal papers, going extra slow as to not break her nails. She finally turned back in the chair, reading from a blue paper. "Who was it again," she asked lackadaisically.

"Ka. Go. May. Hih. Gur. Ah. Shi," I pronounced. She grimaced.

"Kaaaagome Hiiiiguuurassshhiii…that would be…" She looked me over again, and seemed to get my point. "Her appointment ends at 4:15 PM."

I looked at my watch- I had about ten minutes to wait. I gave her a fake smile. "Thanks for nothing," I spat, and sat down on one of the chairs. An old man sat across from me, reading Home Improvement magazine with great interest.

Well, I guess you've gotta know why I was there. You see, my girlfriend,- Kagome Higurashi- despite all her perfection, is kind of broken down. She cries every time somebody mentions death and guns because she saw someone get shot and killed last summer. The following Fall, she had to go to therapy.

So.

Bored, I picked up an old issue of People magazine and started to glance over it. I pretended to read it. I soon noticed some movement from the corner of my eye- rhythmic, rapid movement, a kicking motion of some sort.

That movement was to be the biggest nuisance I knew.

Nonchalantly I looked up from my magazine in the direction of the movement. The person moving was a boy, my age. He was sitting in the oddest position I had ever seen- legs crossed, hands folded on his lap, looking up at the ceiling. He wasn't bad-looking- not at all. He had a wide sort of face with a small, sloping, pixie-like nose. His face dipped into a small, pointed chin. He had jet-black hair that was chin-length and wavy. His eyes were big and innocent and gray. He really looked like he had just woken up. He was kicking his denim-clad leg, rapidly, just looking up at the ceiling in total obliviousness.

"Can you stop that." The guy paused dead and looked at me, leg no longer kicking, blinking in confusion. No more movement. "Thanks," I huffed.

I turned back to People magazine and started to pretend the read again. But I couldn't- I could feel someone staring at me. In a frantic attempt to ignore it, I flipped through the magazine and made believe I was looking for something, further digging my nose into the glossy pages. Again through the corner of my eye I could feel some kind of movement- but not obvious movement. Discreet movement. It really didn't take long to notice the guy was staring at me.

"Hi," I said, bluntly, scowling all the while. It's one thing to flop around like a fish- it's another to stare at someone. I glared at him.

He smiled, pleasantly. "My name's Jakotsu." He had a weird kind of voice for a guy- feminine and sort of high-pitched, but you could tell he was a guy. And the tone of his skin was weird, too- pale. Reeeeaaallly pale.

"Yeah," I muttered. I looked away. This conversation was over.

But he didn't think so. "I'm in high school, kind of like you. Except you look kind of short. I have no talents and no life and I don't really wanna be anything when I grow up. The only thing I'd be good at is prostitution."

I looked back at him. I blinked, furrowing my eyebrows. "Uhh. Okay."

"You trying to ignore me?" he asked. "Because it's not working."

"No, I'm not trying. It comes naturally."

"You're funny."

"You're not laughing."

"I know. Actually," he said, squinting in my direction, "I like you. You're pretty cute." He winked.

I could feel my eye twitching. This guy was annoying, and a freak- an annoying freak. That's the worst combination. "Wha…whatever!" I exclaimed, frustrated. I grimaced and looked at the front page article.

He giggled. "You've got a really cute angry face. What's your name, cutie?"

"None of your business," I snapped.

"Oh, come on, don't be a prick," he urged. "I gave you my name- now I've gotta know yours."

"Actually, you don't!" I retorted. "And I'm not a prick!"

"I don't see why you just can't tell me your name," he said, rolling his eyes. "Why you've gotta make a whole big deal about it. Just tell me your name- you're required to."

"Who the hell decided that!" I exclaimed.

He thought for a minute. I smirked, figuring I finally defeated him. Feeling good about myself, I went back to my magazine, when he said:

"I decided. And you're the one who talked to me first, so it's kind of like being a guest in someone's house. You have to be courteous to me."

I growled from the back of my throat. This asshole- weird freak. He smiled at my anger. I don't know why he was smiling at it, but the more he smiled that weird, lopsided smile that made his mouth open a little bit at the corner, I got pissed. "I DID NOT talk to you first!"

"Yeah you did!" he said. "You said: 'Hi.' And it was really nice- because you've got the cutest voice, you know- it's gruff and kind of sexy."

"ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT!" I yelled. "PISS. OFF!" His eyes widened in some kind of surprise. I sighed in relief and looked up- to see the old man and the desk woman staring at me like I'd just broken a commandment. Great. Just great. I pissed off the loonies.

Just then, my savior walked out of a heavy oak door with a yellow-tinted window- a petite, black haired girl, with a light blue skirt and yellow shirt under a dark blue mini-jacket and rings of moisture around her eyes. Looking totally past the fact that she could be unstable at the moment, I jumped up from my seat and said, "Kagome!"

She looked at me and broke into a smile- and I felt bad at the sight of it. A tired smile, the corners of her lips pulling up just a little bit. "Hi…I knew you'd come. Shall we go now?"

"Yeah," I said, tossing the magazine back on the table.

"Oi! You're going!" the guy exclaimed, eyes widening. Like he was surprised I wasn't sticking around to listen to him flapping away.

I looked down at him, still sitting there, and smirked a little. "Hell yeah. I wouldn't stay in this hellhole for a second longer if they were selling ramen and funny-face balloons. Not with you, at least."

He pouted, sinking into his chair sulkily while crossing his arms. "Aww. I was hoping we could talk a little longer."

"That's exactly what I'm avoiding," I said, gathering up my jacket.

He smiled, pleasantly. "Oi. Oh well. Bye-bye, then."

"Inuyasha?" Kagome asked. "Are we going?"

The guy groaned. "You're straight, too?"

I walked as quickly as I could towards Kagome, taking her bye the arm and dragging her out. "Bye, Inuyasha!" I heard him call.

I gave him the finger as I opened the door and left.

"Who was that guy?" Kagome asked, buckling in.

"Some weird homo," I replied. I paused uncomfortably, again noticing her moist eyelids and shaking hands. It was kind of tough for her…she'd always been the emotional type…I buckled in, and started to talk out of my ass. "How was your uhhhh thing?"

She sighed. I shifted the car into reverse and started to drive away. "It was fine. It's all a little tiring, but it's fine. How was your day?"

"Shitty," I said. I drove out Hell's asphalt harbor and onto the residential street that proceeded into town. "You wanna go eat or something?"

She sighed again. "Actually I just feel like going home because I'm really tired. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah," I grumbled. "It sure is…I'll drop you off home, then."

"Thanks," she replied. I turned left where I should have been turning right to go to McDonald's or something, but I had to drop Kagome off at her house because she was tired.

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A/N: Hehe. Good chapter on my part…okay…Mu-ha.

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own Inuyasha, but I own my stories. While I am not smart enough to make them into a best-selling anime cartoon series, I am smart enough to put a disclaimer on shit that's rightfully mine.