Chapter 13, people, Chapter 13! I bet you were all waiting impatiently for this chapter, eh? Haha, at least I hope you all were.
I will be honest right now; I am at a total loss as to what to write for this chapter, because a lot of my main ideas that could take place now, will wait a couple more chapters before I use them. Mainly because the future situations will be perfect for those ideas.

Anyways, yes, I hope that I can please all of you, and I hope that I come up with at least one main idea for this chapter, especially since my chapter titles only get their names from my ideas.

Please R&R. I was quite disappointed in the lack of reviews from my last chapter, which I actually thought was very good.

I will not post my next chapter until I get at least three reviews on this one, because I really want to know what you thought about this particular chapter!

Chapter 13

Passion, Lies, and Vengeance

They were so soft, so smooth and tender, pliant beneath his, slowly calming, relaxing, opening, accepting him. They no longer fought back, but calmed, receiving him into their warm, moist interior, moving against his, caressing his in return, exhaling soft murmurs of pleasure and compliance. They felt so plump, so full, as though they could consume his with every shift, every move. His wanted to be lost, felt lost in their softness, felt consumed by their tenderness.

His were harder, restrained from pent up rage and arousal, slowly giving her a view of they ached and needed, yearned to be against hers. But they moved tenderly against her, slowly trying to ease hers to open, to comply with his wishes and allow him entry. When she did, they roughened, just a bit, but enough to cause heat to pool within her body.

Passion swirled about them, pulling them deeper and deeper into the ocean, nearly drowning them as it increased tenfold when they accepted each other. Her skin was so soft and pale beneath his fingertips, his was taught and tightened with muscles, rough but smooth at the same time, a grand mixture of textures.

His hands dug into her hair, reveling in the feel of the silky curls grasped within his fingertips, fighting the need to yank her head back and roughly plunder her mouth.

Her body tensed, consciousness and conscience warring at her arousal, her need to feel loved and be loved, and her muscles tightened in response, giving him a fair warning, which he did not heed to.

"Stop."

It was nothing but a quiet murmur against his lips, drowned out by a soft moan that managed to escape her lips as he increased the weight of his own on hers. In reaction to her sudden display of need, she jerked back violently before her hand flew in the air, a blur that gathered speed before it reached his target.

Smack!

"I said stop."

His head flung to the side, his cheek reddening as a sharp pain flowed through from one side of his face to the other.

Body jerking back from the blow, he raised a hand to his face, touching the 'wound' caused by her infuriated hand. He could swear one could probably see her fingertips on his cheek.

"What the hell was that for?" His voice rose with each word, filled with embarrassment and sudden anger.

"I told you to stop! Don't you ever listen to other people, or are you too fucking busy thinking about yourself to register the fact that there are other people in goddamned world who talk to you?" Her face contorted with rage. "That could have turned into rape if you hadn't stopped! You … selfish bastard!"

His body jerked back more violently than when she had hit him, and his hands balled at his sides, shaking with fury, the embarrassment increasing tenfold.

"Then I guess those little moans meant you hated it, eh?"

His words were spat at her, consumed with vehemence, and her face brightened a furious scarlet as she blushed.

"You asshole. Is that all you care about? Fucking girls, making them moan? That's why you ditched me last night!" Her fist clenched in rage, fighting the urge to punch him in the face. "You left me, all alone, at that fucking bar, with nowhere to go, no way to leave, no keys, nothing! You actually left me there, me, a person who had been drinking, someone who had no way to get home!"

He made a move to say something in reply, but she cut him off, hitting him hard in the chest.

"I'm not done! We can't forget Tai and Sora now, can we?" His eyes widened. "Yeah, they were so able to drive us home! Sure, yeah, let's put Sora behind the wheel, while she's so drunk she can barely walk, and see if we live through it! Oh no, you don't think about them, instead, you expect poor Takeru or Kari to get off their asses at 3am and come pick them up! Really, you truly are an asshole at times. And then, to make it worse, seeing that you didn't give me a fucking key, by the time I actually get back here; I'm stuck sitting outside, in the cold, while it's snowing! Did you even think about that? Did you ever even think, for one second, about how I would feel, being left here, all alone, without anybody, freezing, sitting on your freaking doorstep? Yeah, I sat outside of that fucking door, because it was locked! So, yes, I sat outside that fucking door, and waited for what felt like hours for you to come back and let me in."

His heart clenched tightly at the image of the girl, seated outside his door in the shadows of night, sobbing violently, her face in her hands, cursing him for leaving her, hurting her.

"Do you know really how long I waited? Takeru finally came by, like probably an hour after he got back with Sora and Tai! He told me that you called Sora's cell, half expecting the drunken girl to answer it and somehow manage to make her way here! How the fuck do you expect a drunken person to make their way to this apartment, and tell me that they have a key for me? What if Takeru hadn't answered? Would you have woken me up and let me when you got back? Or would you have simply walked in and ignored, leaving me behind like you did last night?"

His body jerked back at the harsh words of prediction, feeling his stomach twist violently, nausea rising in his throat. Hurt tore through his body, before the realization hit. He was lucky. He was very lucky that Takeru had answered the phone. And if he had come home that night, if he hadn't spent the night at Aiko's and returned home, he probably would not have even noticed her sitting at the doorway. He probably would have simply just walked by her, intent on getting inside and sleeping after several hours of sex. He would have left her outside all night long, to freeze and cry, to hurt and ache.

Tears brimmed her eyes, her body shaking with the effort it took not to throw herself away and cry. "It hurt. It still hurts! Do you have any idea how much it hurts? To be rejected, to be forgotten, to feel hated, like a useless piece of luggage? Because that's what I feel like, and if I am that way to you, I'll just leave. I will, I'll just leave, so you can bring all the girls you want back home, so you can fuck as much as you want, without needing to worry for about one second a day about me." She turned, beginning to tug at the drawers, pulling out her clothes, her rage and anger taking over, pushing her over the edge as tears poured quickly down her hot face. "I'll leave. It'll make you happy." She choked on the sobs.

He couldn't watch her, couldn't take seeing her shake and cry, watching as she leaned against the dresser, crying her heart out. He was unsure of his movements, of what to do, but he went with his instincts.

Warm arms embraced her bare torso, hugging her around the waist, pulling her close to his warm chest. His breath was warm and heated against her throat, teasing tenderly against her skin.

She shook like a poor frightened animal, going limp in his hold, dropping the clothes in her hands as she used them to cover her face, her cries growing louder with each sob.

"I hate you sometimes. I really do hate you. But I can't. I can't hate you, Matt. I don't know why, but I really don't hate you."

At her confession, he spun her around in his arms, tilting her chin with his fingers, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him. "Mimi, please, look at me. I want you to see my face, look in my eyes. I want you to see me."

Slowly, her heavy lids lifted, exposing the glassy, whiskey eyes that had been in hiding. The orbs lifted towards his, glancing at his own ocean blue ones. Her lashes glinted in the light from the tears, as the said liquid trailed down her cheeks slowly, leaving wet lines in their wake.

His blue eyes were turbulent oceans, consumed with violent emotions, ranging from hurt to passion, pain and desire, but the more prominent emotion was that of guilt, sorry.

"Mimi, look, I'm … sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. I just … didn't think. I didn't mean to cause you any pain. I'm just…" he cut off, glancing away. "I'm really sorry. I know it's not enough but …"

Roughly wiping at the tears, she shook her head. "No, no, it's all right." He glanced at her in disbelief. "No, really, I'll be okay now. Seriously." She pushed away, moving as she gathered her belongings, carefully placing them back into the drawers. "I just need some time alone, okay?"

Matt pulled away, feeling at a loss of what he could do. This type of situation had never occurred before, he felt helpless, confused, and hurt. He wanted to feel relieved, but he barely did. Just a hint of it touched the back of his mind, but it did nothing. All he felt was a constant pang of fury aimed towards himself, a constant throbbing pain composed of self-hatred that was a constant reminder of his selfishness.

But she said that she was all right, he stated his apology sincerely, he spoke to her while looking into those tear-moistened eyes, fighting the need to kiss away the tears trickling down her cheeks. He watched as various emotions flitted through those pale brown eyes, anger, hatred, depression, self-hate, and finally, the realization that she could possibly forgive him. He prayed to Kami and whoever else was listening that she could find it in her heart to forgive him.

Turning away from her, he walked away from his quest of redemption, shutting the door behind him as he focused on the day ahead instead of seeking relief for his selfishness.

Stuffing the clothes back into the drawers, Mimi rubbed roughly at her eyes, fighting the constant onslaught of tears that were easing through the cracks in her mind's dam. She had meticulously, carefully built that dam over the years, trying hard not to let the slightest thing break it, but, for some odd reason, it now possessed a multitude of cracks in a spider web fashion, each one releasing waves of tears.

Sitting on the bed, rubbing her face viciously, brushing hands through her knotted hair, trying, in vain, to push away the emotions and tears, she let out a low moan of inner agony.

She felt so stupid, so vain, and so … selfish. She knew that it had been childish of her to attack Matt; she knew that she was being selfish by claiming that he had no right to do what he had done. But she was a guest in his house, and guests had to follow certain rules. She knew that there were very few rules in this apartment, barely limiting her to what she could and could not do. She was allowed to tell him her thoughts, to yell at him if she wanted, to state her opinion, and she was certainly allowed to hurt because of his actions.

So why did she feel so terrible for screaming at him? Why did it hurt so much to blame him when she had been left out in the cold? Why did it seem so wrong for her to have told him it hurt?

Was it because of the pain she saw reflecting in his eyes? Was it because she saw the realization hit him so hard it made him jerk back?

She wasn't sure anymore. She, a woman who had been so certain, was unsure. Unsure about her emotions, his emotions, her reasons, and all that surrounded her. She was unsure of what was actually right and wrong in the world.

Rummaging through her drawers, she searched for comfortable clothes; she yearned for comfort, for chocolate and ice cream, for sweat pants and baggy t-shirts, for the most anti-male chick flick that ever existed. Most of all, she yearned to feel the comfort of being loved. When she felt relaxed enough to wear such average, boring clothes, to not be able to worry about make-up or hair, to be able to sit down and indulge in sinful sweets, she felt beautiful. She loved herself for being able to feel so relaxed, to, for once in her life, not need to focus all her attention on what she wore, how she looked, in order to impress others. She was able to be herself, and she loved herself for that. When she felt that love, it made her immensely happy, almost conceited, but she felt the best when she was able to love herself.

Finding a baggy pair of black sweat pants, she tugged them up her legs, resting them on her hips. Her thoughts were constantly racing through her mind as she unearthed a large, blue t-shirt, yanking it over her torso after putting on her bra.

Running her hands through her hair, she looked at her reflection. Her hair was disheveled around her face; she looked tired, pained, and hurt. She looked like hell. Her make-up from the previous night had smudged in her sleep and from her tears, leaving dark lines trailing down her cheeks, causing large smudges of black and red to appear around her eyes.

Searching through her make-up kit, she managed to find a couple of Q-tips, as well as make-up remover, before beginning the process of removing any unwanted mascara and eyeliner.

Finishing the short process, she returned to gazing at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen, bloodshot, and shiny from the tears, and she wanted terribly to cry again. This time it was a yearning to cry from joy. She looked ugly, not like the usual made-up Mimi that everyone saw in public. She looked tired, boring, and ugly, and she knew that her image reflected her personality perfectly now. She was ugly, she felt ugly inside, and had always wanted to be able to look ugly on the outside.

Finally, she was able to be the person he had always told her she was. She was nothing but a made-up doll, created to look pretty, but who actually looked terribly disgusting under all of the make-up and cover-up.

Turning away from her reality, she slowly made her way to the doorway, wondering if she should actually show her face. She had been embarrassed enough for one day, and would not possibly be able to deal with any more of it. She felt used, hated, and worthless.

Just as her hand grasped the doorknob, the telephone rang; shrill, tearing through the silence in an angry whistle.

Jerking back from the sudden sound, she placed a hand to her rapidly beating heart, trying to ease her breathing. It was just the phone, nothing else.

Before putting her hand on the door, she then came to a realization; she had no ice cream, no chocolate, and certainly no chick flick. She ached for those three things in particular, and found herself then going through her drawers, withdrawing a pair of black jeans, purple long-sleeved shirt, and, in sheer minutes, she was made-up like the usual Mimi.

She passed Matt as she headed for the door, glanced at him as he spoke on the phone. She mouthed that she was going to the video store nearby, and would be back soon. He had simply nodded in return, keeping his gaze focused intently on her for a mere two seconds before averting it towards the counter.

Sighing heavily, jacket tugged on over her shoulders, winter boots covering her legs up to her knees, she exited the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind her, spare key in hand, locking away her heart, keeping the key to herself.

"Why didn't you write me? Why? It wasn't over for me, I waited for you for seven years. But now it's too late."

"I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you everyday for a year."

"You wrote me?"

"Yes ... it wasn't over, it still isn't over. "

She could never get enough of this movie, watching as the characters fell in and out of love with each other, aching to be with another while hating each other the next minute, praying that Duke would eventually get through to Allie.

Sitting back on the leather couch, she was blissfully alone, having found the apartment empty once more upon her return. Munching on her chocolate, she watched as the Notebook developed, crying when it grew emotional, laughing when it became comedic.

Eating the Aero bar in her grip, she broke off the pieces, placing them into her mouth and letting them melt, washing away each piece with a glass of milk, reveling in the flavour of the dark chocolate.

Just as her favourite part was coming up, just as her lips were forming a smile, the door was unlocked and then opened.

Ignoring the man entering his apartment, she focused all her attention on the movie, so intent on watching it that she did not hear him speak that first two or three times.

"Mimi. Aren't you even listening to me?

Turning her head sharply in his direction, she shook it, lifting the remote to pause the DVD, and then shrugged. "What do you want?"

He turned his back to her, going into the kitchen with a bag of groceries in his hands; they had just run out of bread, cheese, and eggs. "I wanted to know what you were planning for Christmas Eve. That's all."

"Oh, that." Mimi leaned back in her seat on the couch, placing another delectable piece of Aero into her mouth. "I'm not really sure yet. I wasn't sure of what you were planning. I thought that we were going to stay in, do take-out and watch a movie or something. I wasn't really sure what you were planning on doing, so I didn't make any plans with anyone. I mean, anyways, it's not like I ought to make plans with anyone, I mean, Sora and Tai will be together, Kari and Takeru, too, Jou will probably be at work, Izzy will probably be with his girlfriend, and so on. So, yeah, I didn't make any plans." She took another bite of the bubbly chocolate. "Why?"

Matt shrugged, sliding a loaf of bread into the cupboard. "Oh, no major reason in particular. It's just, I recently got a call from a friend who wanted to hang on Christmas Eve, he wanted to just walk around, hang out in bars, like the old stuff we used to do. We haven't seen each other in a while, and he's visiting for a short while, so, he thought it would be nice to get together."

Mimi frowned at the blond boy, scowling as she swallowed the piece of chocolate. That was quite unusual of Matt, to give so many details and information about such a small, little topic. It was almost as though he were making it up as he spoke, telling it aloud to himself in order to ensure that what he spoke sounded decent and believable.

"Oh, really? Well, that sounds nice." She sipped her milk. "What's his name?"

"Oh, um, uh." Matt paused, taking that moment to place a jug of apple juice into the fridge. "Oh, don't forget that we need to eat the rest of yesterday's sushi. There's still quite a bit left from lunch."

"Don't change the topic, Yamato." She stood, hands on her hips, her scowl deepening as he blushed a bright, vibrant red. "Tell me 'his' name, please."

"Oh, um, oh, shit, you know what? I can't remember. It was an odd name, and I always get all my friends' names confused from time to time. So, yeah, I forgot." He tried to laugh, but it came out as a nervous bark as he scratched the back of his head.

She stepped forward, and he moved towards his bedroom. "Yamato Ishida, you will tell me this very second the truth. You're friend isn't visiting. And if you even do have a friend visiting, it certainly is not a guy. I know for a fact that you're lying, definitely lying and doing a horrible job at it. So, why don't you save yourself the trouble of embarrassment, and tell me the fucking truth!"

He visibly winced at her use of the profanity, which he knew she only used when irritated, angered, or extremely upset. He was curious to know which of the three she would be when he told her about the conversation he had on the phone earlier.

(Flashback)

"Moshi, moshi."

"Yamato?"

Matt's stomach lurched at the sound of her voice, bringing back memories that he wished he could erase, causing the reality of the previous night's situation to increase tenfold in his mind. He scowled into the receiver, his voice laced self-hatred as he responded to the woman's question of his name.

"Yes, it's me Aiko."

"Oh, goodie! Look, Matty, about last night, I'm really sorry for getting so sick. Sora called me today, like, five minutes ago, and asked me how last night went. I was like, what do you mean? And she was like, well, didn't you and Matt screw? So, like, our conversation went on something like that. And then, I kinda realized that you wanted to date me, and that last night, I kinda royally screwed up 'cause I was puking, and all." She paused. "So, yeah, I wanted to see if you still wanted to try that date thing."

His hand gripped the phone tightly, and his mind swirled with a multitude of possibilities, of what may happen if he said yes. That's when he realized that he was fully sober now, he was not under any influence, and he most certainly did not want her anymore.

Opening his mouth to reply with a denial, she spoke up again.

"Oh, yeah, Matty, I'd be paying and all, and taking you where you want to go. I know it's not, like, traditional and cool, but, you know, you did stay with me when I was sick and took care of me." He could almost see her strange, feminine, thin-lipped smile. "So, the date would also be like a thank you thing. Like, you know, thanks for making sure I didn't die."

He sighed, thinking over the facts in his mind, wondering just what would happen if he said yes. If he said yes, Mimi would hate him eternally, not because he would be going out with Aiko, but because he would be ditching her again, on Christmas Eve, the night where the couples and friends were supposed to be together, express their love for one another. The night where, if a woman was stuck alone, she would grow a great amount of self-hatred, depression, and feel inadequate for all of the male species. He did not wish that of Mimi. But Aiko did owe him …

He came to his conclusion with a heavy sigh.

(End of Flashback)

"All right. I was lying." He looked down at his toes.

"Well, thank you for finally speaking the truth." She sat back down, leaning against the back of the sofa. "So, whom are you going out with Christmas Eve?"

He muttered something inaudible, and she cupped her ear in his direction, scowling at him anew. "What did you say?"

"Aiko."

Her vision spun, causing the room to become a violent mixture of colours swirling around her body, as her heart snapped into a million pieces and her stomach stumbled all the way to her toes. Her body visibly jerked under the impact, tears instantly springing to her eyes.

Yamato Ishida was ditching her for Aiko, again. What was worse was that it would be Christmas Eve, a night she had always looked forward to, one of her favourite Japanese celebrations in the world, because it made her feel more like a woman than she had ever felt before. She had yearned to spend Christmas Eve with someone, anyone, who loved her, who would hold her, embrace her, caress her, and simply be with her and only her.

Now, she was going to be alone, sitting in this empty apartment, watching some Christmas movie, eating popcorn, crying, as he went out with that woman, touching her, holding her, laughing with her, to take her back to her place and showing her how much he wanted her.

Fists clenching into tight balls, she took in several deep breaths, trying to slow down her heart rate and breathing, trying to relax her body so that when she stood and did what she wanted to do, she would have enough strength and force, enough power to perform the action.

Forcing her lips to curl into a smile, she stood, grateful that her legs did not shake from the effort. She strode in a strong, powerful manner over to Matt, still smiling brightly, so hard it actually made her face hurt.

"Well, Yamato, that's great! Really, it's great for you. I'm really happy for you. Really, I am. Congrats. I hope that you guys have a good time."

The tension that was visibly present throughout his body eased, and he sighed softly, thinking that her reaction was honest and pure, truly, and absolutely congratulatory.

"Thanks Mimi. The only reason I said yes in the first place was because, well, she said she owed me, and I didn't want her feeling guilty or anything because I helped her out and she didn't return the favour."

"Oh, that's all right."

"Good."

Suddenly, he saw and felt her fist connect with his face, before darkness enveloped his world.

How'd you like it? I liked it. My boyfriend gave me the idea for the end, and I got so excited I started writing it right away! I liked the idea.

So, are there any predictions for the next chapter? I bet there are. Haha.

Anyways, please don't forget to R&R!

BIG THANKS TO:

DatGurlNesha, who has been an awesome, amazing fan of mine since I first began the story! Thank you so much for all your support so far, and an even bigger thanks for nominating me for sushimonster742's Digimon FanFiction Awards!!! I feel so honoured!
Please don't forget to vote for whoever you think deserves to win, whether it's me or not! The voting starts in May or something, from what I understood, haha.

Ciao.