A hundred city lights embellished the masses. Noise to be drowned by even greater noise, until it all melded into boisterous mush over the ears. Every turn was the birth of a new light—an already fleeting flash to cue the shutter of another camera. Within the world of dazzling lights that followed the brightest stars, it always came as a mild shock to remember that dusk had long since passed. A dimmed backdrop over a carpet dyed red.

The smiles meant to appease her endless admirers had left a slight soreness to her cheeks. As much as she relished those moments spent under the spotlight, the acclaimed actress longed for the night to finally be over. The people that surrounded her were simply restless. Insatiable. The strands of her pink hair tucked coyly behind her ear, flaunting the diamond teardrop earrings she wore as she faced the last camera for the evening. Temptation and allure lined the fullness of her tinted lips, so much so that the man behind the camera turned a touch red when she smiled his way. To him, it was a tremendous privilege to be able to photograph tonight's biggest star, and there would be no greater shame to his agency than to not capture Nakano Ichika in all of her luster.

Black cloth formed the front of her halter criss cross dress, ending shortly down her thigh. A diamond-shaped cut formed the window between her cleavage, draped in black mesh cloth. Silver made up the cuff around her arm, the bracelet around her wrist, and embedded the belt fastened tightly around her slim waist. Draped around her arms and lower back was a shawl scarf, made of thin fabric that wrapped around her like a slipped off stole. On her feet, she wore lace up stiletto heels that tied just above her ankles, stepped along to mark her eventual exit from the venue.

"Your car is waiting, Ms. Nakano," said the large man beside her. He wore a black suit that fitted his bulky, muscular frame as he stood imposingly over those who strayed too close to the acclaimed actress.

"Thank you very much," Ichika replied with a nod. Her bodyguard then escorted her to the private sections past the red carpet, where chauffeurs patiently waited. Ichika was thankful. Leaving the venue a little earlier had turned the crowd's attention to her fellow co-stars. If it were up to her, she would want nothing more than to sink back into the covers of her freshly-made bed, confined within the walls of the luxury hotel built among the upper echelon districts of the city. If it were up to her, the evening would end just like that. However, an actress is nothing without her appearances, and an after-party was scheduled to take place soon after the premiere of the movie she starred in.

Ichika sighed. For now, the opened door of her limousine and the white leather seats was all that could provide respite for her busy night. She stepped one foot into the car.

"Do you not speak English, pal?" the voice of her bodyguard sounded from behind her. Ichika turned, watching the large man reach into his coat. "This is your last warning. Back. Off."

"Just tell her my name," pleaded a man's voice. "She'll know who I am. I am sure of it."

The bodyguard drew a black handle. With the press of a button, bright sparks jumped from the metal prongs at the end, accompanied with loud crackles. He let out a long sigh. "Alright. You asked for it."

"W-wait! I'm telling the truth! Tell Ichika—no, I mean, tell, Ms. Nakano that my name is—"

"Fuutarou… kun…?"

Ichika slowly stepped back out. Just behind the tall frame of her escort was a face she had not seen in a long, long time. A faraway memory of an even further flame—dimmed to smoke and embers with the countless nights she had spent motionless in her bed and the tears that she could not stop from spilling onto her cheek. In the long years she had grown apart from that foolish girl she once was, looking back on it now felt akin to remembering a stranger. A vestige of a past self to a past life—and all the regrets that carved its name into the walls of her heart. She remembered all of it.

She remembered everything.

"My apologies, Ms. Nakano," her bodyguard's deep voice shook her senses back. "I'll get rid of him. This will only take a moment."

"Ichika!" Fuutarou called out to her. "It's me! Uesugi Fuutarou. Do you remember? We—"

He hesitated. The taser was poised no further than an arm's reach from him, and he felt a heavy hand seize him by the shoulder. Any closer and he was going to—

"Stop." Ichika was closer now. "It's alright. He's… an old friend. There won't be any need for that."

"Just doing my job." Her bodyguard tucked the taser back into his coat while keeping a close eye at the nervous man beneath his chin. "What would you have me do with him?"

"You can just leave us for the night. I'm sure we have a lot to catch up on." She gestured to the open seat of her limousine. "You're an awful long way from home, Fuutarou-kun. Why don't we talk somewhere more private? Care to join me?"

Before Fuutarou could answer, the bodyguard loudly cleared his throat. "Afraid I cannot allow that, Ms. Nakano. This man has been following us since we left the venue. He's suspicious."

"That was…" Fuutarou began. "I… I can explain."

"Do not worry about him," Ichika answered to her bodyguard. "This one is a gentleman. A bit short-tempered, but still a gentleman. Fuutarou wouldn't dare lay a finger on me, even if he wanted to." Her last words carried a tinge of malice, but Fuutarou knew better than to question her now.

Ichika looked at Fuutarou, and the cute little faces he was making. After all this time, he still found a way to force a laugh out of her. And just like the long days that separated them, it had been some time since Ichika could freely speak her native tongue in public. "How long has it been, Fuutarou-kun?" She asked in Japanese."Nine… no, ten years?"

"Yeah… somewhere around that…" Fuutarou nervously laughed. The bodyguard still had his eyes close to him, and when Fuutarou tried to carefully approach, he was suddenly stopped.

"Hold it right there," the bodyguard continued. Without another word of explanation, Fuutarou felt the heel of his shoes being kicked and spread apart. His arms were just as spread forcibly shoved so that he had nearly collided with the car. He felt the sides of his legs being roughly patted down.

"H-hey! What are you doing?" Fuutarou called back.

"It's just procedure. Nothing more."

"But I'm not carrying anything. Why would I—hey! Ow! You're twisting my—"

The tall man ignored his winces and cries. Words were hardly anything worth considering when it came to his profession, and he had more than enough doubts when it came to the dark-haired foreigner in front of him. By his current means, he will figure out exactly what Fuutarou's motives were.

Until the cold words halted him still. Like the bitter bite of ice shoved against skin, Ichika reminded him that she was standing right there. "Did I not make myself clear enough?" said Ichika. "I told you that won't be necessary. Let go of him."

Her bodyguard coughed. "L-like I said, I am just doing my job. This is all a p—"

"Your job is doing what I tell you to do. Now, do not make me repeat myself."

The two men hesitated. After a short click of his teeth, the tall man released his hold over Fuutarou. One look at Ichika's narrowed gaze was enough confirmation to forfeit his place beside her. He fixed the cuffs of his sleeves, and with a slow bow of his head, slowly returned to the premiere venue.

It was just the two of them now, and all the stiffening silence that made for an odd reunion.

Uesugi Fuutarou looked a little different. Only a little. Ichika could clearly remember the way her old tutor had carried himself until the day's end, with arms crossed or propped against his hip. He always stood tall. Just like those bygone days they could never go back to; just like how he stood now. From the dark strands that made that silly haircut of his, and how it all fell just above the golden hues of his eyes. At some point in her life, Ichika wondered what was the point of looking so serious all the time. So rigid and so stern. Either way, a part of her had always thought that was what made Uesugi Fuutarou so adorable in the first place.

But what struck her as a little different was the dull look in his eyes that met hers. They were all too familiar.

Ichika looked over her shoulder. Curious attendees to the red carpet event had already started to look their way. Whether they were obsessive fans or paparazzi, Ichika knew the signs of what made for bad publicity, and the kinds of people who had an eye out for a scandal. She would have wanted to avoid something like this, but then again, some things might be worth the trouble. After all, Fuutarou had come all the way here. Ichika sighed, then gestured to her car door. "Are you coming along," Ichika continued in Japanese. "Fuutarou-kun?"

Fuutarou slowly nodded. All around him were curious gazes and he wondered how someone could ever get used to a life like this. The moment he stepped into the expensive car, Fuutarou wondered just how lavishly one person could live. Luxurious adornments for a luxurious life—so much so that it made the Nakanos' old car appear humble. Expensive leather seats ran lengthwise from one interior to the other, curving to a single seat as it neared the front. Accent lights that tinged the walls to a cool, alluring azure, and highlighted small pockets of ice with bottles of wine lodged into them. There were a few untouched glasses.

Ichika opened the small window beside her head. "Take us on a longer route, please," she requested to her driver.

"Certainly, Ms. Nakano," he replied with a nod, and shortly after, they had departed from the venue.

"Your driver speaks Japanese?" Fuutarou asked as he took his glass.

"I'm grateful that he does," Ichika replied, swirling the glass of wine. "It's hard to find good help these days, but I make do.

"Good help, huh… Then, I'm guessing that bodyguard from earlier wouldn't be the first that comes to mind." Futuarou adjusted the cuffs of his suit, remembering the moment he felt goosebumps on his skin. Compared to the warm, gentle memory he had whenever he thought of Ichika, hearing her speak so coldly to another person was… different.

Ichika gave a nonchalant shrug. "Don't think too badly of me, Fuutarou-kun. I'd hate to spoil our reunion with a bad impression. It's just that you can't always be nice when it comes to this job and the people you work with. I'm pretty sure you're the one who taught me that."

Fuutarou let out a halfhearted laugh. "If that's what you took away from our old relationship, then I'm worried if I did my job correctly."

Ichika laughed. "Well, we all graduated, didn't we? I'd say you did more than fine, considering how much of a mess the five of us were. Our father was surely pleased, and you got your paycheck. Isn't that all you wanted?"

"I suppose…" He shifted his gaze sideways.

"Would you care to drink with me, Fuutarou-kun?" Ichika asked.

"I don't see why not," Fuutarou replied, still getting accustomed. "It would be rude of me to let you drink alone."

Ichika smiled. She reached for the bottle that embedded itself within the glowing bed of ice. Streams of sanguine took the shape of the two wine glasses, leaving behind the subtle aroma of cherries as it settled. "So," Ichika continued, "pretty obvious question for me to ask—why are you here? You're an awful long way from home, and it's not everyday I find a familiar face on this side of the world. You on a trip or something?"

Fuutarou had a small taste of his wine. Somewhat sweet and astringent. Truthfully, he was never one to fully appreciate the taste of red wine—much less that of an expensive variety. He was not even sure if he liked the taste all that much. "No, nothing like that. I guess the short answer is that I was feeling a little nostalgic."

"Sounds to me like that comes with a story." Ichika smirked. She took a slow sip of her wine. "Unless it's normal for you to travel halfway across the world just to say 'hello'. We do have cellphones, you know."

"I thought it would be strange to suddenly message you out of nowhere…"

To his surprise, the actress ahead of him burst out laughing. "And just showing up to my movie premiere all the way in America is any better? You really are Fuutarou-kun! That's hilarious!"

"It's not like I just decided one day that I—" Fuutarou sighed. "Let me start over. What I mean is that I've been… thinking about a lot of things."

Ichika's laughter died down. Not too quick and not too slow, but just steadily so. For some reason, that detail alone had put a small halt to his thoughts. Perhaps he was just overthinking it, but it seemed as if Ichika was a little too expectant of his words. Like her demeanor had shifted so cleanly. So effortlessly. It made Fuutarou wonder if Ichika was truly laughing in the first place.

That was right—Nakano Ichika was an actress in her prime. A liar that played everyone else for fools, led astray with saccharine words and fictitious smiles. "Is that so?" Ichika leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "And that would be…?"

Fuutarou cursed the fact that he hesitated. Why did he feel like he had to keep his guard up around her? "Sorry…" he apologized. "My mind is a bit of a mess right now. Maybe I'm just overthinking things again."

"You always had trouble being honest with yourself, Fuutarou-kun." Ichika chuckled. "Then, how about a different topic? Another obvious one—how have you been these past ten years? I'd say you're looking well, minus those tired eyes of yours."

"Ten years…" Fuutarou repeated the words again. "Honestly, it's hard to imagine that it's been that long. They really did just fly right on by. To answer your question, well, you already know that I left to study in Tokyo."

"Did you?" Ichika questioned, and that gesture alone was enough to make Fuutarou hesitate again. Another widening to the gap that made them strangers again. "Ah. I think I remember the girls mentioning something like that. That was a long time ago, so forgive me if my memory is a little fuzzy."

"That's… alright," Fuutarou replied. He had only hoped that none of that emotion had shown on his face and Ichika was only saying that out of courtesy. "You're right, it has been a while. Either way, I've since graduated and earned my doctorate. I'm working at a hospital now. The rest isn't all that exciting to talk about."

"I see…" Ichika smiled, taking another sip of her wine. "Then, I must at least offer you a late congratulations. That's what you worked so hard all that time for, right? All that time you spent in school? I'm curious, Fuutarou-kun, have you become that smart and successful man you always dreamed of being?"

The words were not quick to leave his mouth. It was true, he had always dreamed of the days where his hard work had paid off. That the long hours spent studying day after day, night after night, and every time he could force in between, would all bear fruit from his endeavors. College was painstaking work. He seized every opportunity that was within an arm's reach of him—no, he reached beyond that. He had stepped over others' heads; he stood the highest among all of them. It was his victory and his alone that drove his family's debt collectors back to the grubby holes they crawled out from. It was him that let his father finally breathe, and it was him that brought that smile to Raiha's face.

Wait, Fuutarou thought to himself. Just when was the last time I even saw Raiha smile? His younger sister should be well on her way to finishing college, but for some reason, that image of that small girl in overalls was all he thought about when he remembered her. She was an adult now. She had her own life now, just as he had his. It was true that it had been a while since Fuutarou had visited home, but that was necessary when it came to his line of work. Just like Ichika had asked—he was successful. Surely, Raiha must be content with how their family is now. They were finally normal…

Right?

And after all of that, all Fuutarou could manage—when faced with those deep sapphire eyes and her discerning smile across from him—was a timid answer. When he thought about the sacrifices he made after all these years, he could only think of words not even befitting a fake smile. Something that subsided all the lies that gilded his pride. "I guess so..."

Ichika did not respond.

"A-anyway!" Fuutarou choked from the quickened sip he took of his wine. "I could ask the same for you too, Ichika. But the answer to that goes without saying, doesn't it?" He gestured grandly to the lavish car they were sitting in. "Looks like you finally made it big! I mean, look at this car, all the fancy events, and this delicious wine. I was shocked when I first saw you being interviewed on TV. Eventually, your face was all over Tokyo. You've really risen to the top."

"Oh, this? It's mostly because my agency insists," Ichika said with a listless laugh. "They're the ones that push all the promotions, but there is just no pleasing them at all these days. I have an appearance early tomorrow, and a flight the day after. It just won't end with them. And now, they're even pressuring me to attend the after-party from the premiere."

"You don't want to go?"

"I never do." Ichika stretched tiredly. "Good for keeping up appearances, and all of that Hollywood nonsense. I'd much rather be back at my hotel, wrapped up in my blankets with some music playing in the background. Ah… just thinking about it right now makes me want to just…" She took a slow sip of wine, letting the taste linger on her lips a while longer. A soft moan escaped her lips.

"Ha." Fuutarou laughed. "I see that part hasn't changed that much about you, Ichika."

"Well, of course! When your agency has your schedule filled to the brim, laying down and doing nothing becomes a luxury. A long, hard fought luxury."

"Then, am I intruding or something? I know it was sudden and all."

"Hmm… I wouldn't say that…" Ichika raised her glass, letting Fuutarou's face line up with the empty half. Above the gap between her middle and ring finger, and placed atop the thin, fragile stem of wineglass, she could make out every poorly disguised emotion that lined her old tutor's expression, and the thoughts that muddled his mind. "I'd say right now, Uesugi Fuutarou is just a little more interesting than another night of pretentious food and meaningless engagement."

"When you say it like that, it almost makes me think you're just studying me."

"You know how much I disliked studying. Me and my sisters."

"Oh," Fuutarou said. "Speaking about your sisters, how have they been? Are Miku and Nino finally getting along these days? How about Yotsuba? Has she made good use of that athleticism of hers? I'm sure she must have been scouted or something. And has Itsuki…"

"You haven't kept up with them yourself? After all this time since graduation?"

A shallow laugh was all he could manage at first. Anything to mask his recollection of the years they all had spent apart. All of the years they had drifted apart. "I never found the time," Fuutarou eventually said. "With things being so busy in Tokyo and with my career, I just never found the time. It got to the point where it just felt… awkward for me to try and say something. It's not like it's easy to just say 'Hello' when it's been this many years. After all that has happened since…"

His voice quietly trailed off. Blurred shapes of the city lights and colors smeared the outside of their car window, each sight just as forgettable as the last. It had been a long time, indeed. Withered cherry blossoms of a simpler time—a simpler Uesugi Fuutarou. When the last thoughtless words to a thoughtless speech had left the microphone; when the final farewells had all been said, all Fuutarou could remember was the litter of cherry blossoms that trailed between them. Him, and the five turned backs that eventually became one with the parting crowd that made for his distant memories.

A tired sigh interrupted his thoughts.

"Fuutarou-kun," Ichika said. "Do you ever regret that day of the festival?"

He had been silent for a while. His eyes fixed only to the top of his wineglass, and the dull reflection of Ichika's legs as one crossed over the other. Fuutarou wondered, just what kind of face was he making back then. Was it the same as he was making now?

"Do you ever regret not having chosen any of us? Whether it was Nino, Miku, Yotsuba, Itsuki…"

The subtle noise of stretched and shifting leather closed the distance between them. In a slow, careful advance, Ichika had taken the seat just beside him. Her hands found her way gently resting on his lap, his forearms, his chest, and finally his shoulders. Sweetness filled the warmth of her breath as she leaned close to his ear.

"…or even me?"

Ichika had let Fuutarou have his way long enough. She knew just when that look in his eyes would turn skittish. All that made her do was lean in closer. And when he would turn away, Ichika's palm was already there to gingerly guide him back. They were close now. As close as they once were, deeply gazing into the other's eyes on that moonlit night. He remembered the cold brush of the evening wind and the distant smoke it carried with it. He remembered the delicate look of Ichika's lips as she lay. A memory he so desperately replayed in his mind, over and over again.

"That's what you were thinking, right?" Ichika said. "It's written all over your face."

"I…" Fuutarou swallowed. "Ichika, I…"

"I loved you too, Fuutarou-kun."

And slowly, the warmth of her fingertips fell from his cheeks. Even as she said those words, the look in Ichika's eyes felt neither close nor distant—just perfectly so, so that his mind would fall into a frenzy. Every part of him wanted to find the traces of the real Nakano Ichika within those careful words. Or were they careless? Words fitting for a role she had fulfilled long ago—sealed with a final kiss to say farewell—before being left somewhere to be forgotten. Maybe it was all just what he wa—

"Was that what you wanted to hear?" Ichika smirked, as if the words truly were written all over his face. "Was I right? Did hearing that really make you happy?"

Fuutarou could not find it within him to care anymore. He had more than enough opportunities in his life to cast away his pride. He hardly knew how much of it he had left, anyway.

"I… was a coward," he finally stated. "I was hesitant and I was afraid. I couldn't imagine what would happen if I made a choice. I wanted you all to be happy, even if that meant being forgotten. I thought that was right, I thought I was right. But all of this time…" Fuutarou paused. A part of him truly wished this alcohol could have been stronger. Maybe that way, he would have all the false courage that could turn any coward into a fraud.

"All of this time, I couldn't do it." Fuutarou looked forward. "All of this time, I couldn't forget how much I really did love you, Ichika. Back then… all that I threw away… all of what I really wanted all of this time. It always felt like I was missing something. I really did regret... all of it."

"And?" Ichika asked, leaning a little closer. "What does that have to do with right now? What does any of that have to do with the two people sitting right here, right now?"

Fuutarou sucked in his breath. "I… want to start over, Ichika. Both you and me. I know we haven't seen each other in a long time. I know I might not mean anything to you now, but I can't go another day without telling you this…"

"Fuutarou-kun…" Ichika stared at him. "What is it that you exactly want from me now?"

"I want…"

Again, the look in Ichika's eyes had hardly changed. Nothing reminiscent of a smirk, a laugh, a fluster. Neither pity, disgust, nor hesitance. Only the slow parting of her lips and the lick of cherries that fell in between. Closer and closer, until Ichika was all that stained his thoughts, and her name was the only word he knew. 'Ich-i-ka'. Every syllable sounded more luscious than the last, repeated again and and again. Every curve on her body snatched his gaze and drove him mad. Closer and closer.

And he so willingly succumbed to their careless tryst.

He wanted more. Intoxicating sweetness. Far sweeter and far guiltier than he could ever imagine. Anything to make up the years he had been a fool, and even that would hardly satiate him. However long this kiss would last, it would never be enough. He wanted to tug every part of his brain so that it all ran sluggish—so that this spot on his lips could hold onto the taste of her wine a little longer.

The space around them would eventually turn hot. Stuffy. Careless layers of cloth slipped off their shoulders. Shawl, jacket, coat, and buttons. Even as one of their hands crudely slammed onto the window switch; even as the rush of the outside wind disheveled their hair and ruffled them together—it all felt too stuffy. If he could have ever imagined this moment, then words like'gentle' or 'slow' were not the first to describe that faraway fantasy. Yet, here they were. And that feeling was just as wild as he could ever imagine.

It was like a dizzying haze. One without the misguidance of poorly drowned liquor so that it could truly burn in his memory. He saw and heard and felt it all. Perhaps that was why he so easily agreed to all the words she whispered in his ear. It all sent shivers down his spine. It drove his body mad.

Sometime during their ardent engagement, Ichika had ordered her driver to stop the car right then and there.

"I'll be in some trouble if they caught me bringing you home." Ichika winked, slipping back on her coat. Those words alone were enough to completely enthrall him. She gestured for him to follow, and the next thing Fuutarou knew, they were both standing outside. The car left shortly after.

"Where ar—"

Ichika pressed a finger to his lip. He only could think about the feeling of Ichika's hand as she guided him. Compared to the extravagant premiere where they had met each other again, this corner of the city was remarkably dim. Quiet. Cold. A place as lifeless as the cracked concrete walls they walked beside, and the shriveled weeds that grew in between. Clicks of her stiletto heels stepped down the dirty alleyway, and Fuutarou followed closely behind her.

It hardly mattered where they were. It could even have been right here, right now. Pressed against the walls, muffled and moaning in a place where no one could ever see or hear them—or perhaps, the unsuspecting thrill that someone might have. A stranger who would have never known that those stifled sounds of pleasure had come from the Nakano Ichika. If they both had stayed another second careless, then perhaps. Perhaps.

Instead, four poorly insulated walls made for the space of their intimacy. Four walls stained from smoke, dust, and dew. A dim flicker of the outside sign that led to rooms just as lifeless as the last. Blotches of mismatched paint and peeled wallpaper further marked the walls, reminding all those who found themselves here just what kinds of people they were. Careless. Dirty.

A secret to bury within the stained sheets. Acts that made the proud actress no different than the ones her peers and colleagues endlessly gossiped about, carrying that snobbish crinkle to their noses Ichika had always loathed. Let them soak in their bitterness, their envy. She would much rather be here than anywhere near their vanity.

Just hearing her name muttered over and over again confirmed that. Feeling the hot breath that breathed down her skin, riddled with desire and craving meant for her and her alone. Her body was a tease—a painful temptation in every way and curve Fuutarou's eyes shamelessly followed. She knew very well how impatient one's gaze can grow, and still, Ichika wanted to tug the strings. She delighted in it. She wanted to see just how excited and insatiable he could be as she slowly made her way onto him. Every slipped piece of cloth, an inch more of her soft skin—it all was enough to make any lover's mouth water.

Her heels kicked off. His collar and buttons tore. Straddling over his hips, the two sank further into the gaudy patterns of the couch covers. When she was this close to him, Fuutarou had lost all his inhibitions. He caressed and handled her like she wanted more. Like her laughter taunted him and whatever scraps of pride he stubbornly held onto.

Muffles breath escaped the few gaps between their lips. Her name and his desires.

"Ichika… I still love you."

She stopped.

They slowly parted. In between the short puffs of her breath, Ichika asked, "What… did you say?"

Repeating the words sent loud thumps across his chest. Louder and louder until he could muster the words again. "I still love you, Ichika. I loved you then and I do now. So—"

"Fuutarou-kun." The sound of his own name had never sent this much of an icy chill down his veins. They were the only two people here, but those flatly-stated words might as well have come from a stranger. It was the second time he had heard that voice tonight, where Ichika's words turned cold. "I think we're both misunderstanding something here, Fuutarou-kun."

"Misunderstand?"

Lightly, Ichika shook her head. A listless chuckle followed. "You… really shouldn't be saying things like that out of nowhere. It really ruins the mood."

They parted a little further. The strands of her pink hair had turned to a disheveled mess that swayed to one side. However, the apathetic look on her face felt strangely disconnected with their act. Like the way she looked at him now juxtaposed with the slip of her dress, yanked to the side to tease the flesh underneath.

"I don't understand," Fuutarou muttered. "I thought… I mean, we're doing this right here. I know it's sudden but—"

"Did you…" Ichika cocked her head. Her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, making sure his gaze could not stray as she asked him, "Did you think that two people needed to be in love to do this kind of thing…?"

And just like that, Fuutarou felt his blood turn cold. He felt it, but every other part of him felt warm. No, hot. Ichika was still straddled over him. Her warmth still touched the parts of his flesh that screamed out her name. Hollering. Screeching. His body responded accordingly to the tease of her hips as Ichika adjusted to a position where both their eyes could meet, and hers would be just higher than his. A thin line of moonlight crept through the smoke-stained curtains, illuminating the pale skin on Ichika's bare shoulders.

Fuutarou swallowed. "But… I said I wanted us to start over. I know that I don't understand what love really is like right now, but if the two of us—"

"'Right now?'" Ichika repeated as she looked him up and down. She thought she had imagined it at first, but it all became a little more clear. "Oh. I see. I think I'm beginning to understand now." A regretful sigh escaped her lips. "And here I thought you just weren't the best kisser…"

"What do you mean?"

"Fuutarou-kun. Have you ever been with a woman before? At all?"

Another scar to line the walls of where his pride once rested. "No… I haven't. Like I said, I've been preoccupied this entire time."

"And you still want me?" She carelessly laughed. "Come on, you don't expect people in my line of work to be shy around these kinds of things, do you? We are people-pleasers, after all."

"I mean… I wasn't expecting me to be your first or anything either," Fuutarou quietly muttered. "I just didn't think you'd be so open with it. "

"Oh, I've been with lots. Men. Women. Sometimes both at the same time." An empty smile lined her lips. "Do you want to know just how many? Or which ones have been my favorite? Which ones were… favors?"

"Ichika…!" Fuutarou gasped. "You're joking, right?! That sort of thing is—"

"Who knows? Maybe I am just lying again."

A drop of sweat fell from his brow. Somewhere deep down, he wanted to refute all of it. The years had crafted Nakano Ichika into the most talented liar of all, and Fuutarou wanted to see through it all. Even if it meant asking questions that he might soon regret. "Are you…?"

She leaned into his ear, whispering the kinds of things that festered his vague hope. "I wonder about that… maybe I am lying. Maybe I'm not. Can you ever tell? Could you ever tell?" She stalled a moment to make out the quickened beats of his heart. Her gaze returned over him, pushing his back to the worn-out couch. "How much of it is allowed to be true, and have you still want me—just like how you want me right now? Do you want me to start counting now? One…"

"Stop…" Fuutarou quickly shook his head. "I don't want to—"

Ichika chuckled. "I'm joking. I'm hardly that cruel, you know. We can even stop if you want." She began to tug back the fallen parts of her dress. Her legs lifted off his lap.

And like he had truly lost himself, Fuutarou could not let her go.

"You still want me? After all of that?"

No response.

"You really are a man." Ichika sighed. Her body fell back into him, feeling the honest parts of his body that his words would never reveal. "You might really end up hurt, you know…"

"I know," Fuutarou muttered. "Is it wrong that I still want it? That I still want you? Even if this is the closest I will ever get?"

"Don't say things that would make me pity you, Fuutarou-kun. It really does kill the mood."

For the first time that night, Fuutarou really did laugh. One last moment to enjoy these feelings before he would bury it all away for good. The final scars of his first love and the bittersweet memories that made for the people they once were. He looked straight into the moonlit glare of her eyes. Deep shades of blue that had never looked further away from him. Further than any place he could ever reach.

"Will I ever be able to see you again, Ichika? After all of this?"

Ichika smiled. "Who knows? I am a busy woman after all. The two of us are practically strangers now, aren't we?"

"Then... will you accept this stranger for tonight?" Fuutarou smiled back. "Will you be able to start over with someone who won't say things to kill the mood? Someone who won't say that he loves you when you've only just met?"

"I think I might be able to." She placed one hand over his cheek. Somewhere within those memories she had tucked far away, a young, naive Nakano Ichika would have been the one to blame for the single tear she shed. Perhaps it was never as easy as she thought it would be. "Just know one thing, Fuutarou-kun," continued Ichika. "The kind of people we are now, and the kind of people we once were. Whoever they may have been and whatever they may have felt… are different. Everything that happens here… everything that happens tonight… it all means…"

"…Nothing."


Author's Note

If you hated Nothing then you'll love Everything!

This one shot originally started off as a joke that became a little too crafted. Believe me, this felt awful to write, but sometimes you just gotta be a little spiteful, even if it's to yourself. I absolutely hate this. I feel guilty and sad and awful and the person I see in the mirror is not someone I recognize.

Anyways, not a lot to really ramble about here like I normally do. One shots are pretty neat but I doubt I'd be able to pull another one again. Remember—this is NON-CANON. Everything is canon! Wait, no nothing is canon. No, I mean that Everything is canon, but Nothing isn't. That makes sense… right? Either way, back to Everything!

_φ(。。) "If you're a fan of the Fuutarou x Ichika ship, then BOY do I have the fanfic for you…"