Author note: I think that I might actually be the physical manifestation of a state of mind appropriately titled bum, and for that I deeply apologize; I seem to be incapable of updating. Period.
However, I was forced to take action and get off of my lazy arse and update due to the lack of any activity whatsoever in the SXS section. Is it just me or is our fandom dieing off like parched mosquitoes in the annihilating sun? Whether it is reviews or stories, there seems to be a deficient in the crazed love of Shizuka and Seto. With the retirement of Setine (maybe- please come back oh-great-one) from the SXS World it seems to me that less and less people are participating in this beloved pairing. I'm a reader that is very selective in my reading/reviewing just because there are so many stories out there that it would be too physically exhausting to try to sort the good ones from the bad. So I employ the faultless and epitome of efficiency (note the sarcasm) system of 10+ reviews per chapter. Although I often end up overlooking many fantabulous stories, I generally hit the really good ones. But looking over the SXS section, I see few new stories, few reviews for good stories, and few authors (another faultless system I assure you) that I recognize. I've been a lurker for quite a while and it saddens me that people seem to have lost interest in what could potentially be an extremely interesting couple if done right. I don't believe in outgrowing a pairing (my love is Dramoine and has been for years). So I've decided to attempt to lead by action. I'm notorious for updating once every other millennium. You'll have better luck waiting for the next blizzard in Nevada then one of my updates, but I'm going to try to update once a month now to revive the fandom.
So without further a due… Chapter 2
Undiscovered
Stolen time-it can't be wasted. There may not be a tomorrow. There wasn't supposed to be a today.
"Congratulations." What was he suppose to say? Married? She was only nineteen, not yet out of university-too young.
Always.
What the hell could she be thinking? Marriage. Who? In the twenty-six months, twelve days, and three hours that he had come into her company, she never mentioned a love interest nor did she show any sign of having another man in her life. Did she meet this man before him? Could he provide for her? Give her all the things she deserved? Did he love her? Did he even know her?
"Thank You." Her defeated response whisked him out of his thoughts. He saw her upper lip tremble as she lowered her head. Those honey dusted eyes glazed over as she starred down, down. Dull. Devoid. And what lovely eyes they were. Soft, yielding, the right shade of maple to complement his wrong shade of frost. She would burn a hole through his head, heart. He would let her.
Gladly.
She seemed to be struggling, not knowing what to say, yet bursting with anticipation to speak, talk, or ramble, maybe even scream like a little child in order to warrant a response.
Her visage, tonight it was ever changing. Departed were the normal cheerful encounters, instead like the chased chameleons through wild jungles of desperation, her demeanor gave off a range of colors that foreshadowed the final blur to come. Blue and orange, though complimentary, in the end they just make an ugly malicious brown, a brown, which he could drown in.
Maybe she could too-Drown.
Choose to drown.
With him.
Even the jaded, at times, indulges in little dreams; then they would wake up, and everything would be right again. Be the same.
Suddenly, she looked up; the glow of the crescent moon gave her pale skin an unhealthy pasty look. It was so unlike her, so ill suited for her usual demeanor-warm. She was like a zombie in one of those god awful western films with the glowing eyes and the decaying cheeks. It was too cold for her. Yet, he couldn't look away.
Her eyes flashed up towards him. They were gleaming. She seemed angry. No longer sad or impassive. She had settled on what her reaction should be. Good. She was growing up. Like a wounded animal, it lashes out at anything in its path, especially against the one whom wronged it.
"Do you even care about me at all?" She was demanding now. "Why are you so indifferent? Do you not understand? I'm getting married." Her tears, he liked them. Making her cry, it was empowering, lovely. Yes, he definitely liked them very much.
She was waiting for his reply. Waiting.
Roles were reversed.
She tried again. She was always more persistence then him when it came to the matters of the heart.
"You do care, of course you do, because we are friends. Aren't we?" Self-indulgence-denial. She was so young- so so young.
"We are acquaintances." Now was not the time to convey any of his feeling about her. She was getting married; he didn't need to reveal anything at all. He had no obligation, and she had no right to demand anything form him. She was getting married.
"Just acquaintances?" She seemed to revert back to her timorous self at that moment. Her voice- shaky and dripped with an unspoken plea for him to contradict her, to give her enough to hate him or love him, to give her something.
" Just acquaintances." He was resolved in his answer. He would define them for her.
Because she had to ask.
He had never seen her so ruthless as she was now. The usual aura of self-preservation was stripped from her now. Revealing all the intricate tangles of her anger, pain, and humiliation.
"Acquaintances don't reveal the most intimate parts to you. Acquaintances don't sneak out in the devil's hour to just watch you stand in silence with the exceptions of sparse grunts and occasional jumbles of words that mean nothing. " She was baiting him again. Try to evoke a response, a waver of will, a glint of the eye, but he would give nothing. Offer her no comfort. She was getting married. This was her fault. She was changing their situation. He did nothing wrong. It was all her.
"Why?" he couldn't help himself. He needed to understand this.
"Why what?" she was still furious.
"Why are you making us pay?" it wasn't like him to be vague, but he had to understand if she understood what the hell they were in the first place. They could not suppose anything, neither of them.
"I don't know what you're trying to say."
"This is stolen time."
Her brow furrowed deep as she tried to comprehend, but she was just too young. In every sense of the word. "What's that suppose to mean?"
He didn't owe her an explanation, but he was feeling exceptionally gracious that moment. "That's what we have. That's what we are. Thieves that steal time from the night, and we never got caught. So we kept stealing. The rush, the beautiful rush; that was you and I. Now, you want to turn us in. Make us pay for our crime. Make us stop. You're hurting me. Hurting you. Tell me why?"
Her lip quivered, loosing color- her radiance. Like a solemn white flag waving in the breeze after enough blood was shed to quench the thirst of the battlefield.
No. Tonight she would drown in red instead.
And he would not join her.
End
A/n2: This and Chapter 1 were overly emo, but the rest of the story will turn a new more subtle tone after the plot starts crawling along.
(If you didn't read the author note at the top please do)