Hi! We can talk later about how much I own none of this. Right now, you should read.

(Note: This was the chapter that made me feel like this was worthy of an M rating. You've been warned.)

Chapter 2

So warm…

She thinks idly, as water sprays from the faucet above her head. Her eyes are closed. Her hair clings to her cheeks and flows down to her back. Water droplets cascade down her face, trickle across her skin, rivulets pooling down by her feet. She leans back against the pristine green tiles, soap on her back staining them with white suds.

The sound of someone rapping at the door reaches her ears, breaking her from her reverie. She calls out a quick response of "I'm in here," hoping that whoever (probably her dad and his strange insistence on 'morning potty privileges,' as he calls them) would walk away. She doesn't hear any further knocks, so she slinks back into the spray of the shower. She sighs, clutching her washcloth so that she can begin washing the soap off.

The plip-plop sound of feet on the cold bathroom floor sends her into a panic. She hadn't heard the door open, (!) She hopes it's just her mind playing tricks on her. She pulls back the pale curtain, pokes her head out just a bit. There's no one here. She laughs a little bit to herself, bringing the washcloth to her chest, and pulls the curtain back into place.

"Hey," a voice whispers in her ear.

She giggles a bit. "Oh. Hey, Takuya, it's just you. You scared me for a sec…" She stops, turning to look at the object of her…dreams? Nightmares? (Could she call them nightmares, if she's only afraid of what happens after, and is kind of…excited…during them?) "Wh-What the hell are you doing in here?" She screeches, reflexively covering herself with her hands.

"Nothing," he mutters, and he flashes her with a grin that makes her heart flutter – though out of fear or excitement, she's unsure. She locks eyes with him, and she gets a little lost for a second. Water drips down his face and gets trapped in his hair, and it takes a lot of willpower not to watch it swirl on his skin and dance along the ridges and contours and…

She reaches past him to turn the temperature down, but he grabs her wrist. She tugs back, pushes him away, yet he still steps closer. "So…" she starts, heart rate skyrocketing at the increased intimacy between them, "– so, could you leave?" Her voice is high, her breath coming flustered gasps, her cheeks stained red. She can feel the water roll off his arm and onto hers. It's surprisingly warm.

"Sure," he says, grin still on his face as his eyes ooze with emotions she can't (or rather can, but won't) name, "if that's what you want." He moves in even closer, using his left hand to brush her wet hair behind her ear and caress her cheek. She vaguely notes the feeling of his breath on her nose, and thinks of how easy it would be to just lean and touch his chest. "But I think you don't want me to leave. Am I right?"

She looks down, uncertain, unsure, afraid. The sound of water pinging on the floor, patting on the curtain, plopping on their skin is all that is heard for a few tense moments. Fear swirls in her chest like water down the drain, and she wonders where her parents are. Words are unable to fall from her lips, wafting away in the area between her brain and her tongue like the steam above her head.

Deceptively slowly, she nods, her forehead briefly touching his chin.

"Hmph," he says behind a smirk, "such a dirty girl." He says it slowly, huskily, almost like it's a compliment. (She feels oddly like she should accept it if it is one.) "What," he says, noticing her furrowed eyebrows, "isn't that why you're in the shower?" He chuckles a bit as blood pools in her cheeks. "To be cleansed?"

He reaches for the washcloth with his right hand, gently pulling it from her grasp. "Let me help you with that." He lathers it with soap. Runs it across her face. Wets it and wipes away the soap. Kisses it. He repeats the action on her shoulders.

Knees.

Toes.

Then he goes…

Water falls. Steam rises. Soap covers her. She watches it wash away. She still feels so…

Unclean.

…Ω…

She wakes a little less composed than before. Her hair is splayed all across the bed, her clothes are rumpled, and she's upside down. All in all, she had a pretty weird dream. She rubs her eyes, turns to her open door, and catches sight of her father standing guard with a baseball bat in hand.

She doesn't think she wants to know.

"… Dad ?" She slurs sleepily, confusion coming through the haze of mmm-sleep her clouded mind has set up. She wipes at her face to find dried drool. (Gross.) Her father turns around, looking both embarrassed and relieved, and smiles at her from his position in the doorframe. He runs a hand through his curly blond hair that trickles a bit down his forehead, yet she's noticed that it has started to recede with age.

"Hey, baby girl," he replies, "sorry I woke you up. How are you?" He comes in closer, his hazel eyes taking note of her disheveled appearance, and sits down on her (sweaty, smelly, bare) bed. His eyebrows quirk up slightly. "You have a bad dream?"

She looks at the man whose hair she inherited, and furiously shakes her head. "Something like that. Nothing you should worry about." His eyebrows furrow a little more. "Seriously daddy, I'm fine." His large, imposing figure leans in closer, scrutinizing her. He shrugs his shoulders.

"Okay," he says questioningly, "you're 'fine.' But if you ever need anything – "

She pushes her father's shoulder playfully. "Yes, daddy I know I can come to you. Speaking of, Mom and I are going to the mall…" She replies, and her father sighs dejectedly. She listens as he grumbles about going to get his wallet, and she gives him a hug. "Love you Dad."

"Mhmm," her father replies playfully, "of course you do. You and your mother both just love me and my wallet. Especially my wallet." He smiles at her, leans in to kiss her forehead, shuffles out into the hallway.

"Hey, Dad," she calls out, "can you check the shower out for me?" Her father looks perplexed, and asks if something was wrong with it. "I just – uh – I thought I saw a bug in there earlier." He rolls his eyes, and she breathes a little easier knowing that he accepted her lie.

"Sure, Izumi. Your personal ATM/ exterminator is on the job." He quips, and she laughs a little bit. "Love you, kiddo."

"Thanks, Dad. Love you too." She says, smiling as her father walks away. She listens as his feet slap against the quiet cushion of carpet, hoping to drown the ghost of the sounds and sensations of her dream amidst the flood of shame that burns inside her.

She fails miserably.

So...that was Chapter 2.

First of all, Happy Thanksgiving guys! Did you know that I'm thankful for all of you wonderful readers? Because I am. In fact, I'm so thankful that you guys exist that I wrote this chapter before I started a 1000 word paper (that I pretty much started, finished, and turned in the day it was due.) for one of my classes. Yeah, I love you all THAT much. (But I'm never doing that again.)

Secondly, yeah. That chapter though...what'd you think? Leave a review down below. Or PM me, it's whatevs. I'm a pretty sociable guy. (We can even talk about unrelated stuff if you want, I won't tell. It's all good.)

Alright, I'll leave you alone so I can either sleep off this food or finish the (hopefully) last section of Chapter 3. Did I mention I'm almost done with Chapter 3? Oops, spoilers. Ok, bye now! See you soon!