She had woken up as uneasy as she fell asleep. There's been a heavy knot in her stomach since last night, and she has no idea how to undo it.

Yet it feels right, having the feeling there. Almost a painful pleasure that's keeping her skin tingling and chest fluttering, keeping her anchored to the ground so that when she has to witness him again, she won't feel like running away.

Breakfast was filled with talks of plans for the day — it seemed like everyone else had something to do for the weekend except for her. Go figure. Whatever, she'd have some time to practice her cooking in peace!

And then the softened voice of his… curling around her… and somehow, she found the strength to not react. She barely looked his way. Even when he talked to her directly, trying to get a rise out of her. She took it all with a smile. And all she got back was his stare burning into the side of her face.

What's he so angry for, anyway? She scrubs at the dirty dish harder. That I want to pretend like nothing happened? I'm doing us both a favor!

And it's true, isn't it? It's not that she… hated what happened last night.

It's that… it doesn't feel like something they're ready to talk about.

She sure isn't.

Her belly fills with butterflies and she gasps as the memory of his touch trails over it.

He touched me so good.

She shakes her head violently. What! Am I thinking?!

"Ergh!" she growls loudly, gripping the same dish tightly in both her hands. "Quit it!"

"Quit what?"

Why does his voice sound so smooth and deep and ugh! She freezes for a moment, shivering as the sound of him washes over her. Okay, this is actually getting ridiculous.

"This stain won't come out," she says, forcing her voice to stay strong and even, scrubbing at the plate again.

She can't be imagining things — he's coming closer. The irritation is rolling off of him in waves. It's only them alone in the house now. Did everyone have to leave right after breakfast?

After a long stretch of silence, he breaks it with a tense chuckle. "Don't break anything, Akane."

She freezes. The fact that he said her name… like that… he has to know what he does to her. There's no way he can't see how still she is right now.

What is she expecting? What does she want? She can practically feel his body heat, no matter the distance. Why does she want him to get even closer?

Why doesn't it scare me like it used to?

Maybe he opened the door she locked up the day she met him when he touched her body. Maybe he found the key on her bedroom floor somewhere.

Even his temperature is so familiar, so distinct and coating her — she must have gotten used to it all that time ago.

He hovers behind her. So close. Not close enough.

She doesn't dare to move, or at least she tries not to. Her breath is so heavy that it's shaking her body up slowly. Anticipating his furthering presence. The hot water runs over her hands. Even if it burned, she doesn't think she'd move away.

His chest grazes her back. Mmm. Her eyelids flutter.

He chuckles. "Sorry," he breathes onto her temple as his hand slides onto the dip of her waist, to her stomach, then back again and oh.

"W-why?" she stutters, licking her dry lips. His grip goes tighter for just a split second and she nearly moans.

"Just… had to get something."

And then he's closing the cabinet above her head, holding a box in his hand.

She blinks stupidly up at it, like he took her ability to form thoughts and come to reasonable conclusions when he let her go.

When did he let her go? She's so lost.

"Been saving these for awhile!" he says, shaking the snack in front of her face.

And contrary to the cheerful tone in his voice, he's smirking like the jerk that he is, and it all goes downhill from there.

Why would she think he was trying to do anything except to toy with her?

She grits her teeth and turns away, rinsing the plate and practically slamming it onto the dish rack. He laughs behind her.

"You feeling alright, Akane?" he mocks her, dragging her name along like he always seems to do with her.

She doesn't answer him. She doesn't want to. She nearly shatters the cup she washes next with her grip on it.

"So, you really having no plans to—"

"If you're not gonna do anything, get lost," she says coldly.

She drowns him out, but he's always so loud in her ears, in her sight. Even when he's extinguished her. "Hey."

She shakes her head, dismissing him. Her vision is starting to tunnel onto her working hands. The crease between her brows feels like it's growing permanent.

"Hey, look at me?"

She grunts, shaking her head even harder. But he still doesn't take the freaking hint. His hand covers her shoulder. "Akane…"

"Don't touch me," she growls, ripping her body away from him. Again, he's making her say this? Unbelievable!

Only one more dish and she can get away from him — she washes it quick before drying the counter and getting away as fast as she possibly can.

"Don't try and run away again," he says, blocking her way.

"You're kidding me, right?" He always says something that drives her nuts! He must be delusional!

He quirks one thick brow, not breaking his stoic expression. "Does it look like I am?"

She tries to step around him, again and again, but for some reason, she always hopes that she's gotten faster than him somehow, stronger. But it's never the truth, and she hates it.

And she hates him right now. Looking at her like that, like he's ready to attack any second, ready to hold her down…

She backs up and he follows until she's against the wall. "Why do you think it's okay to treat me this way?" she says under her breath, emotion seeping through the anger, the way she doesn't want it to, because he pulls her to either end with no effort at all and it just pours out.

He tilts his head, brows furrowed. "What?"

She gathers her breath. "Why do you play with me like I'm some doll, Ranma?!"

He blinks in surprise, taken aback. She takes the chance to slink away and start to run out of the kitchen. But before she can leave, he grabs her roughly by her upper arm and pulls her back to his chest.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he says low, head dipped so that it's levelled with hers.

The back of her head hits his shoulder with how hard she turns to face him. She scoffs in disbelief, staring up at him in fury. "You know exactly what you're doing! Hands off of me! I can't stand you, you jackass!"

But her struggle only keeps her chained to him. He grabs both of her arms by the insides of her elbows and holds them back to either side of him.

She growls, but it only makes him sink his fingers into her flesh, and she hisses.

"You are seriously so dumb sometimes, it's amazing," he sneers.

Some noise of pure frustration escapes her, and it sets her body off. She writhes against him, trying to shake him off only for his vice grip to pierce her even harder. But it's not until she throws her body back against his that he hisses and forces her still.

What was that… at her lower back? The possibility makes her face heat up for a new reason.

"Fuckin' stop it, 'kane," he curses, voice rough.

She pants, arching her back away from him. "I don't want this. Let me go already."

She doesn't know why it's so, but the guilt immediately hits her. Why does it feel so wrong to say, especially when she's been meaner? When he's been far worse to her? Did her words hurt him just now? She doesn't want to believe so. But she can't ask. She can only stay still and wait patiently for him to release her.

After a long pause, he sighs heavily, like he'd been holding his breath since she's spoken. His grip goes looser, but he doesn't yet let go. And she doesn't move.

"The fact that… you're the clumsiest, most naive, most ungraceful, uncutest girl I know…"

She scrunches her face in rage and disgust. Is he checking off a mental list? Is he reminding her again of how undesirable she is, rubbing it in her face?!

She's about to stomp down on his foot and never speak to him again, but he lets her go and lets his hands wrap around her waist so gently that it takes her somewhere where everything's made of exploding stars and clouds. Her stomach flips and it doesn't stop.

He doesn't know if his hands are just that large, or if she's just that small. She looks down and finds his fingers touching on either side of her stomach, above her belly button. His thumbs rest on either side of her spine. She can't help but melt. Even when he's so mean.

The power he has over her is actually dangerous.

His lips brush against the shell of her ear and she feels it all over. "And I still… I still… w-want…"

But he cuts himself off, and it leaves her guessing.

Why can't he ever just say it?

Her anger doesn't dissipate, but it settles. Her heart beats a new rhythm, one so harsh as it pounds with life, the same heartbeat of his that she feels against her back.

He sighs in frustration. Her face twists with the pain of it. For the moment, she understands.

But then she doubts herself. Like she always does.

She doesn't know his truth. What it is he feels for her. The reason he holds her like this.

Like he wants her. Needs her. Close, even when they're tempted to tear each other a part.

But it's too much for her heart. Isn't it? She can't live like this. Always on edge. Addicted to him and what he does to her.

Or maybe it's all the things he won't do that she's obsessed with. When it comes to her, he's a master of holding himself back.

So what does that make me?

Maybe she's as much of a coward as he is. But is she the one to blame?

There's too many things she doesn't know.

And it pisses her off. How she tries to protect herself, and he takes it the wrong way. How she barely has any self-control when he's around. How his actions don't match his words. How she doesn't know of everything he tells her, with or without words, what is true.

Yet she always craves more. No, they're just a few reasons why she does.

He rubs his thumbs into her back. It draws a quiet moan out of her. Her cheeks go redder from the embarrassment of it.

"Ranma," she says, voice nearly cracking.

"Y'know, I… can't stand ya either," he says halfheartedly.

Then why… then why…

She breaks free and grabs the box he'd gotten just a few minutes before. She shakes her head, laughing in her barely restrained anger.

"I don't think that's the case with you, Ranma," she says, throwing the box right smack in his face. She escapes, wishing she'd choke on her tears instead of shedding them.


Yeah, he kinda lost his cool because she was ignoring him. So what? She didn't have to be so damn difficult. Or sensitive.

Or so fucking cute.

And now she's mad again. Well, she was mad already, wasn't she? But it didn't seem that way… more like she was… who even knows? That's what set him off, made him need her reaction. For them to be on the same playing ground.

Angry is normal. Angry is safe.

Better than the weird limbo she put him in not even a day ago. He still doesn't know what to make of last night or a couple hours ago. Why he still feels guilty when she treats him like he always does her wrong.

And then talks to him like she wants absolutely nothing to do with him!

He looks down at his hands. He can still feel the warmth of her waist on them. How small she felt, just like the first time he ever held her wrists. Whenever he's reminded of how delicate she is, how… feminine.

It does things to him.

And seeing her like that, doing something as simple as the dishes, wearing something as bland as a skirt. So focused and unbothered on her task. Not talking or touching or thinking about him.

He clenches his jaw and his fists. She has no right to always be in his head, and then not think about him. That's what she gets for not… ugh.

He slumps forward, groaning as he places his head on his knees. Why's he acting like some egotistical bastard?

Akane'd say it's 'cause he is.

And as much as fighting with her energizes him… turns him the hell on… he misses the moments when she smiles at him.

Okay. Maybe he can swallow his pride just to get that back.

He's done enough mulling around in his room. He heads to the kitchen, finding it the same way he left it. He peaks into the family room to see if she magically appeared, but it's empty. She must be in the dojo then…

As he comes closer, he hears her.

And someone else.

His blood goes hot, searing his veins. Who the hell is alone with her?!

He tiptoes to the door, pulling it slightly open without a sound, and peers inside.

She's… training. Alone.

But no. He definitely heard someone else. A guy. He wants to storm in there and take her away before anything can happen. No one should be here, without him knowing, alone with her! He barely contains a growl as he thinks about someone else… touching her.

What the fuck has gotten into me? But he's too far gone, too lost in the feeling. He never liked it when she wasn't by his side, anyway.

She stands still, taking in a deep breath before getting into position.

Then a leg separates hers further… and he recognizes his pants.

He's gonna kick his ass.

But he doesn't move yet. He wants to see how she reacts to Ryoga. If… if she… likes it when he touches her, too.

The possibility makes his heart drop.

He opens the door just a bit more, unable to look away as Ryoga gets behind her.

Slips his hands onto her hips.

Says something in her ear.

When did that motherfucker get so bold?

He's throwing punches before he can even process it, only landing one into what he thinks might be Ryoga's shoulder. He wants to get that lost fucker in the face but he's quick, so damn quick, and he's wild, sweeping his leg across the air and missing.

"Ryoga," he growls, sliding across to the other end of the dojo and flinging his arm back, ready to blow.

The fucker ducks and rolls around him, backing up into defense. "Ranma, what is wrong with you?" he pants. Good. Let him get worn out. He can keep going.

She says his name, but the pounding of blood in his ears makes it sound far away. He bares his teeth. "What the hell are you doing here?" he barks.

"Ranma," Akane shouts behind him, sounding scared and pissed. "He was just helping me train!"

"That's not what I asked," he snarls, his eyes locked on Ryoga's.

"I just ended up here, Ranma. You know how that happens," Ryoga says. And he says it like he's insane and he needs to calm down, but it only pisses him off more and ooo he can't wait to beat his ass.

He pounces.

He's in the air. Until he's not.

Something catches onto his leg and he goes crashing down, straight onto his face. He shoots right back up, staring daggers into Ryoga, but he's even further away than before.

"What the fuck?" he mumbles, confusion overriding his anger.

Bare feet pad over in front of him.

"Ranma." Her voice is ice.

He looks up at her, fists on the floor. "What?"

He can't help the way it comes out all wrong. But if she can be mad at him for no reason, why can't he?

She puts her hands on her hips. The same hips that he touched, the same ones Ryoga touched, and then he's flaring up again, shooting up onto his feet and getting in her face.

"So you just let any guy touch you, huh, Akane?"

He's never been slapped so hard.

He's never had the nerve slapped out of him like this, either.

The sound seems to echo. So does the pain of her palm on his cheek. He feels all his blood rush to it. And then all he sees is Akane taking Ryoga by the arm and pulling him away.