I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!!!

Anyways, thanks for all the lovely, kind reviews; I'm glad I'm getting such a variety of reviews, and that more people reading the story are reviewing. It makes me happy that they are content enough with the story that they feel the need to review about it. It makes me really happy

Anyways, that's pretty much the only tidbit I have to say. Oh, yes, I'm back at school now, so it might take a bit longer to post, it depends on how much work I have within the next few weeks (and I have a decent amount of work to do).

I must say, that I absolutely hate this chapter, I don't know why, maybe it's because I spent WEEKS (okay, exaggeration, but you know what I mean) trying to figure how to write what I had in mind, and it totally did NOT turn out how I wanted it to be. So, this is another chapter I will most likely ATTEMPT to rewrite after the completion of this story. That's all.

Here's the chapter.

The story is almost done, by the way! Just a chapter or two left! I'm excited!! I can't wait to see how it ends!

Wait, I know how it'll end.

Haha.

Chapter 23

Dear Diary, It's Valentine's Day…

Dear Diary February 14th, 2010

Hello my old friend, it's been quite a long time since I've written here, hasn't it? The last time I remember writing to you was actually a few years ago; there isn't a date on the last entry. I suppose I must have still been in my teens, working at that pathetic excuse of a Hotel, dating that pathetic excuse of a human being, that scummy lowlife.

Did you know he broke into my house last week? Oh, I was so scared. I'm glad that I didn't have to confront him, though. If I had seen him, or even spoken to him, I don't what would have happened, but it probably would have resulted in me having some sort of panic attack.

I hate him. Just the mere thought of him brings back memories of horror and pain. I will still have nightmares from time to time, and they have grown far more frequent as of late. Even before the break-in.

I think they started when I left Japan.

When I left Matt.

I have not told you of the beautiful, most amazing person I have ever met, now, have I? I don't think so.

You only know of him as an old friend, a childhood friend with blonde hair and blue eyes. Only, unlike Michael's, his hair is beautiful and soft, and his eyes are not angry but loving and tender. I love his eyes. I like to compare them to the Great Coral Reef, beautiful and amazing, kind and soft. Michael's were more like the Terra Fuego, that angry, rough passage at the bottom of South America. His eyes were stormy and angry, furious and jealous, filled with so much rage and hate that it make my marrow shake with fear.

I hate him.

I don't hate Matt.

But he must hate me right now.

We spent the most amazing month together, talking and laughing, touching and hugging, kissing and making love. It was the most beautiful time ever. I loved it. I still love it.

Some days, I wish I were back in his arms, falling asleep after a passionate session of love making, cuddling and relaxing in the soft moonlight. I always feel so warm and secure in his arms, like nothing bad could ever happen to me.

Ever since I left him, so much has gone wrong.

Although, I must say that the break-in came at the perfect timing; now I must sell my home and buy a new one. It's perfect.

But … the question is still raised: "does he still love me?" I left him for nothing, I gave him my all, and he returned his all with pleasure, and, just after he told me everything in his heart, after he gave me his very heart, I returned it and left him. I feel … terrible.

Oh diary, I'm such a horrible person. Why did I do that? Why did I leave him there, as though he meant nothing to me? Why couldn't I have just stayed and relaxed in his arms for just a bit more time?

He definitely hates me.

If not, well, at least I hate myself.

It's funny, my dearest diary; ever since I met Michael, I seem to have been hating myself quite a bit. But when I was with Matt, in his arms, comfortable and secure, I have obtained this new sense of confidence in myself. I came to love myself.

It's beautiful, actually.

To be able to love oneself is such a great and outstanding achievement.

I hope I can be in his arms once again so I can love myself once more.

But I have a plan. I won't tell it to you just in case someone finds it and tells the world. I want to keep it a secret for as long as I can. The only ones who know right now are my closest American friends and my boss, Mr. Hefner. He's so kind to me. Ever since Michael broke in, I've been staying at the Mansion, in a really gorgeous suit.

I did my photo shoot. It had the most spectacular display ever: a gorgeous garden scene, with sprinklers overhead giving the onlooker the impression of April showers. Of course, as the saying goes, "April showers bring May flowers," and Hugh had, in fact, brought in flowers that bloom in May. Real flowers. It smelt so nice and relaxing.

Of course, my outfit was nothing short of spectacular. I started off in the simple, cute denim overalls outfit, with a pair of cute, gold sandals. But, as you know, it doesn't stay on for long. My 'real' outfit was like the one done in my December shoot last years, only instead of snowflakes, there were big sunflowers.

The petals tickled my skin; I laughed so much.

But they said the best pictures were of me laughing.

Hugh said it makes a beautiful centerfold, and he's proud of me. My cover shoot is next week. I'm so excited.

Did you know that not only I made the Model of the Month, but Model of the Year? Yes. He said I'm not the first to do it, but the first person to get it two years running. I'm so excited. He said that I'm as natural and beautiful as Carmen Electra. I don't think that I'm as pretty as her, but I do know that I am pretty.

Matt always told me that I was beautiful.

Can you please tell me why I'm back here? Can you give me a real good reason as to why I didn't just stay and do what I needed there? I suppose I do need to be here, just to supervise, watch over everything, and do my stuff personally, but … still …

I would rather be with him right now, laughing and talking, having fun on Valentine's Day, instead of stuck in a room, writing this.

Did I make the right choice? Is it okay for me to have come back? My plan is going along perfectly on this side of the world, but is everything all right at home?

I spoke with Sora the other day, and we talked about random, girl stuff. Whenever I mentioned Matt, she seemed to stray away from it, and didn't tell me anything at all about him. Could it be that he found someone new? Someone better?

I hope not.

But, then again, I don't want him feeling sad and hurt. I don't want him sitting around his apartment all day, crying and sobbing, thinking about something he couldn't change.

I did this for a good reason, for a good cause. I can only hope that he sees my reasoning behind it.

It's almost time to do the yearly Valentine's Celebrations here, so I have to go get ready. This year, I'm Aphrodite. I can only wonder who's doing Cupid and Eros.

I promise to write to you more often; I feel like such a terrible person for neglecting you for so long. Then again, I guess I am a terrible person.

Kami, dear diary, I miss Matt so much.

I love him, I really do.

I hope that I made the right choice.

Sincerely,

Mimi

He stood in front of the mirror, checking out his appearance at every angle and view, wondering whether the pants fit too snugly or too big, whether his shirt matched or not, and whether his hair was all right as it was. It turned out that the pants fit perfectly, and were coloured a nice, black, which went well with the loose, dark red work shirt he wore. It was tucked into his pants, giving him a formal appearance, but the first couple of buttons were undone, giving him a slightly more relaxed feel and appearance. His hair, actually, turned out quite nice. It was still the same length as the previous month, maybe a few centimeters longer, but remained masculine at the same time, keeping a healthy, vibrant gleam to it that many males lacked. Even Tai was occasionally jealous of his hair.

Sighing heavily, he turned from the mirror and headed into his bathroom, where he quickly wiped his face with a damp cloth, before brushing his teeth.

Today was a big day.

It was Valentine's Day.

And it was, for sure, a very important day.

Turning away from that mirror, he flicked off the bathroom light, turned off the bedroom light, and headed to the front door. His wallet was currently located in his jacket's pocket, which was, along with his jacket, hanging in the front entranceway.

Tugging on the leather coat, he zipped it up, jingling his pocket to find his car keys, before yanking the black shoes onto his feet.

Yes, today was a very important day.

Shutting the door behind him, he made his way down to his car in the lot surrounding the apartment complex, and, once he shut and locked the driver's door, turned on the engine, and proceeded to leave.

He was scared.

He was nervous.

He felt like a teen going on his first date.

But he felt rejuvenated.

He was a new man.

He had made up his mind just over a week ago, and he planned on keeping his decision as it was.

Yamato Ishida was moving on.

The café was small and quaint, set up in a very distinct, Americanized British style, with private tables for two, and a small menu filled with sweets, teas, coffees, and a selection of small sandwiches and soups. It was very similar to the café that the 10-Year DigiDestined reunion had taken place, only more … private.

The small shop was decorated with glossy, red-heart banners draped from one light to the next, while a glossy Cupid hung by the doorway. Confetti hearts covered the white tablecloths in red and pink hues, reflecting brightly off of the shop's light. The specials of the day were written on a chalkboard in red and white, the American letters – used solely for tourists – that needed dots used hearts, while another Cupid had been drawn in Anime-style on the board.

"Hmm, today's special coffee is … cinnamon and chocolate latte. Sounds good, but not my style." He turned away from the counter, heading towards the seat he had told his date he would be sitting in.

Brushing some of the confetti off of his pants, he sat back and relaxed as a waitress appeared at his table, asking is he was ready. She was clad in a short, pink, ruffled skirt, and an off-the-shoulder, square-necked, long-sleeved corset top, with pink ties at the waist, cinching it so her small breasts appeared larger and fuller.

Smiling at the young girl, he answered, "I'll just have a water for now. I'm waiting for someone."

Returning the grin, she nodded before heading off. His eyes roamed over the long legs clad in thigh-high, sheer, white stockings with ruffles at the top. This place certainly went all-out for Valentine's Day.

Leaning back in his seat, he thanked the waitress for the water, before taking a sip, using the cool liquid to moisten his lips and throat, suddenly feeling rather parched. His mind had wandered once more, traveling from the simple thoughts of Valentine's Day, to the entire concept of his date. Was he really ready to move on? He was certain the answer was yes. But, then, why did his stomach clench in warning every time he thought of moving onto another woman? Why did his mind scream with agony, begging him to have some form of sense and wait? Why did it hurt to say, "Yes, I'm moving on"?

He still wasn't sure why, but, what he was sure about, was that he had made up his mind, and he was not going to change it because of some girl in his past.

A woman came to stand by him, her tall, tanned, lean body clad in a short, red skirt, and a simple white, tank top covered by a small, red jacket. Red heels clicked on the floor, and her long, skinny legs were exposed. Her shoulder-length, ebony hair was thick, full, and lush, tumbling in waves, making it seem longer, having a nice, bright shine. Her painted lips curled into a bright, white smile, her cheekbones shifting oddly in reaction. Her heavily made-up, chocolate eyes glowing brilliantly, and she ran her long-fingered hand through her thick locks.

"Hi, Yamato." Her voice had a thick, South-Western European accent that screamed Spain and hints of Portugal. "I'm very sorry, I was caught up at work."

He smiled up at the woman before him, gesturing to the seat in front of him. "It's no problem." She sat down. "I've only been waiting for a few minutes, and I told the waitress to come back in a bit, so we can order together."

"Oh! How romantic!" Her eyes brimmed with immediate, dramatized tears. "Oh, sweet, Yamato, you're such a nice boy."

Grinning, he sipped his drink. "Well, Maria, I guess I'm just that kind of guy." He winked, earning another laugh from her. "Now, shall we order?"

"Oh, si, yes." Her laughter was thick and lush, voice dark and sultry, filled with dark promises that would come true if he were good enough.

Sitting back, reveling in the sound of her voice was she told him about her day, he contemplated the menu, occasionally glancing up at her just so that she would know he was listening. But, despite the sound of her exotic, accented voice, all he could hear was a sweet, bright melody playing in his mind.

At this particular moment in time, he wanted to be rid of that melody and the memories it brought; he wanted to be able to move on and forget the past, to abolish all nightmares from his mind, and to finally be able to detach himself from something that sucked all the life from his soul.

Maria had been the perfect exit, the perfect strategy and person for him to forget everything and to begin anew. She had showed up at the bar he had been frequenting the past few days, searching silently for a new woman in his life, while pushing his sorrows back with a few singles. His eyes had fallen on her, and he, himself, had fallen hard for her immaculate, sexy yet sophisticated appearance, and her loud yet beautiful laughter that seemed to consume the room. They had talked for a short period of time, discussing random topics, and wound up exchanging numbers. It had taken him an entire day to work up the courage to ask her out, and to force back that nagging voice in his mind that kept telling him that he was making a big mistake.

The waitress returned, short skirt and all, and, as he ordered, he couldn't help but eye her legs once more, before handing her the menu and grinning at Maria, mentioning his liking for their outfits.

The tanned woman blushed darkly, agreeing in response, and he leaned forward, forgetting all about the past, focusing on the now.

The keys fit perfectly into the lock, and everything clicked perfectly in place as the knob turned, granting them access to the apartment. Her eyes fell on the clean, carpeted floor of the living room, as well as the shining, hardwood floor of the hallway. The leather couch became one of her favourite items to gaze upon, and, as she slipped out her red heels, she spun around to face him, grinning broadly.

"You have such a lovely home! It's so nice."

Blushing faintly, he couldn't help but scratch the back of his head in response, grinning in return as he slipped out of his shoes. "Well, I guess you could say that I have a good sense in style."

Laughing at that, she immediately sat herself on the couch, reveling in the feel of leather against her bare legs. "Oh, Matt, going out with you today was one of the best decisions I've ever made."

Slipping his jacket off of his shoulders, placing it inside his closet, he turned to face her, his lips curled into a grin. "Do you want anything to drink? We kind of just ate, so I won't bother offering you food, unless you're still hungry."

She waved a hand aside, the smile still playing on her lips. "I'm not that hungry for food." He arched a brow as she stood, making her way over to him in a slow, sensuous walk that screamed eroticism and sensuality. "Can you guess what I am hungry for?"

He couldn't help but smile broadly as she raked her nails over his chest, gazing down at her. His body roared to life at her touch, blood coursing quickly, heart beating furiously against his chest, and he couldn't help but fight back a groan at the images that filled his mind. However, what he did not notice was that it was nothing but desire; his heart rate may have quickened, but it did not pitter patter with love; it simply pounded with lust.

"How about I show you the rest of my apartment?"

She immediately caught the hint, and smiled in response, her hips swaying slightly as she spun away from him. "Well, then, show me, kind host."

Taking her hand, he lead her quietly down the hallway, noting in his mind that he would show her the bedroom last, just to build up anticipation. "Here's the kitchen, it's where I put stuff in the oven."

"Oh, do you like preheating the oven?"

This time he was the one to catch her hint, and it hit him right in the middle of the face. "Oh, I certainly do." He led her away. "Now here's the washroom, I must say I love taking showers. But I have a motto: Shower in pairs, save water."

"I just love that motto."

He completely neglected to show her the room, the place where she had slept and rested while visiting, the place where he had stayed with her until she fell back asleep after fitful dreams and nightmares. The room simply contained too many memories that he wanted to push away, too many reminders of one of the best times of his life.

"And here is the master bedroom, where my bed is located. I must say; the mattress is quite comfortable." He gestured towards it, leaning against the doorframe. "Go ahead, test it."

Giggling, she threw herself on the mattress, bouncing slightly on the comforter as he grinned. "You're right, Matt. It is quite nice."

"Good, now, you stay there, and I will be back in a few minutes, all right?" He grinned. "I promise."

Turning away from her, he exited the bedroom, making his way to the kitchen, where his shaking hands gripped the counter for dear life. He had been fighting the deep, gnawing fear the entire length of their date, but, not once, had he let it take control. However, now that he was alone in the kitchen, with nothing but his thoughts to contend with and focus on, he had no choice but to let the fear slowly grow and consume.

He had no clue why it was manifesting his being now, at this very moment, and he wasn't necessarily sure why it was even happening, or what had triggered it. All he knew was that it wrenched his heart, and tugged painfully at the strings of doubt and pulled the hidden memories from their chest to be opened and unleashed upon his mind.

He wanted to move on, he needed to move on, to focus on something other than the woman who had broken his heart, but he just wasn't sure anymore of how he was going to be able to do it, to say no to the past, to push all the memories aside and forget them. He felt so clueless, confused, and uncertain that it actually scared him.

He wanted to sleep with her, wanted to take Maria and use her for this one-night stand, but at the same time, his heart told him that he would be making a serious mistake, and that he would regret it for all eternity. What could he do that was right? What was right? All he knew was just what qualified as being 'wrong'.

Wrong was Mimi leaving him to die.

Wrong was her leaving without saying she loved him.

Wrong was delving on the past for too long.

Wrong was letting her actions hurt him deeper than he ought to have let them.

Wrong was sleeping with this woman he just met.

Wrong was still being in love the siren that had used and abused him.

But was it really wrong to feel love? What was so wrong in loving someone? Was it because she obviously did not love him in return? Or did he love her just out of sheer stupidity?

He felt so unsure.

His conscience warred with itself in his mind, one side screaming for him to take Maria and treat her like a woman, while the other shouted that he was being stupid and selfish, yelling that he should kick her out and call Mimi, to tell her just how he felt despite the expensive phone bill.

But he needed oh-so badly to forget, to just lose himself to this moment and time, to erase all horrendous memories from his mind by focusing solely on the exotic beauty lying on his bed. He wanted to take her and show her just how he could treat a woman, just why she would always be dreaming about him afterwards, how no other man could ever compare to his skills.

But …

He wasn't sure that he could. Was he really able to just jump into bed with this stranger, and, like magic, remove all memories from his mind in those minutes? Could he really be able to stop himself from imagining that it was Mimi under him, that it was Mimi crying out his name in bliss as he touched and caressed her?

He hated this feeling, this sense of uncertainty when he should feel so positive and sure of himself and his surroundings. She was gone, far away, for good, and with her the uncertainty should have also left. But it didn't, and it perplexed him to such an extent that he actually felt dizzy from the confusion.

Sighing heavily, he sat down at the kitchen table, resting his head on the hardwood surface as he went over the questions that whispered through his mind, trying to find answers that seemed impossible to unearth.

Was he really ready to move on?

Was he doing the right thing?

Was it too early? Too late?

Was it because he didn't feel much for Maria?

Or was it because he still loved Mimi?

Was that why the woman he chose had a name similar to Mimi? Was that why her name also started with an M? Or was it simply by coincidence?

Had he grown attracted to brown-eyed women? Or was it that just the two main women he had fallen for simply had brown eyes?

Was he trying to compare Maria to Mimi? Did he choose a tanned woman out of protest? Did it do it on purpose, just so that she didn't have the same, beautifully pale, smooth skin as Mimi?

There were so many questions, all involving a woman who should have been removed from his mind. He did not know the answer to any, and it frustrated him.

"Kami, I'm so confused. What do I do? My body tells me one thing, while my mind and heart tell me something else." He fought back a sigh of sheer irritation. "God damn it, which choice is the right one?"

He just was not sure anymore. One side of him told him to get rid of her, while the other said for him to keep her, but, which one would be right, and which would be wrong? He was so uncertain. He wanted to take her, to feel the powerful, much-needed sexual release consume his being and leave him relaxed and calm. But, at the same time, he wanted to remember Mimi, to call her and hear her voice, to go to her and touch her, to tell her he loved her and hear her reply with the same words.

Fear was what stopped him from picking up the phone and dialing the number, and it was the same fear that stopped him from going into the bedroom and telling the woman to get out and never come back. Which fear was stronger?

There were so many questions about right and wrong in his mind that it caused all other thoughts to become muddled and mixed, swirled and intertwined in his mind, forcing him to focus on the present thoughts.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he loved her. He did not know why, seeing as she had broken his heart, but he loved her and that's all that he cared about.

He knew that if she did come back, she would hurt at the idea of him sleeping with another woman, and something told him, some though buried deep in his mind, that she would one day return and love him just as much. He wasn't sure why she would ever return, but something told him that she would.

He didn't want to do this; he didn't want to sleep with another woman and have images of Mimi in his mind. He didn't want to touch someone and see himself touching her. He absolutely refused to pretend that it was Mimi he was kissing, when, inside, he knew that it wasn't. The only person in the world he wanted to touch and kiss intimately was her, and nobody else. He wanted to feel her, and only her, in his arms, pressing her lips to his, touching his body intimately as he brought her to a powerful, love-filled release of sheer ecstasy and pleasure. He didn't want to touch anybody else; didn't want them to feel the same love he felt for her.

The reason was that he only loved her, and he could never love anyone else. She was his other; his 'opposite', and he could only ever love her.

Standing, his mind made up, he made his way over to the bedroom; finally reasonably intent on doing something he was certain of. Although he had so many questions, he knew one thing; he was in love with one and only one woman, and could never possibly love someone else. Maria had her 'other' out there, waiting for her to arrive, and he knew that it could not possibly be him; he already found his 'other'. He was lucky.

Opening the door to his room, he didn't even pause in his tracks to gaze at the woman lying on his bed, her body shifted in a very sexual position, lips curled into an erotic smile as she wagged a finger, telling him to come to her and teach her carnal knowledge.

Instead, he sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair as he went to do what he meant to do.

"Maria, I need to tell you something."

Sitting up, she arched a brow in confusion as she stared at him. "Yes, Matt?"

Sighing, he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, before shoving them in his pockets. "I … I don't want this." She looked ready to ask something, but he cut her off before the question left her lips. "It's not that I don't want you; you're a beautiful woman, but … you deserve someone who will love you. We've only just met, and, well, to be honest, I'm in love with someone else. I guess you could say I just realized it today. It's just … I don't want to start something I know I won't be able to finish." His hand left his pocket to delve into his hair, before returning to its earlier place. "You really deserve someone who loves you and only you, and I just can't give that to you. I'm sorry, but, well, what I'm trying to say, in the politest manner, is that I won't sleep with you, and I'm asking you to leave."

He frowned as she smiled and stood, the scowl deepening as her hand brushed through his hair in a soft, tender caress, but one that was not sexual or possessing intentions that were sensual. It was almost like a friend brushing back a strand of hair.

"It's okay, Matt, I understand. I am not angry, just a little sad; you are such a nice boy, and it would have been nice if I were the one you love." He went to speak, but this time she cut him off. "But, if you love someone else, I fully understand it, and will not try and change your mind."

His brows arched in confusion at her compliance to his demands, and he watched her stand. "You're not … angry, or offended?"

Shaking her head, she walked over to him, brushing back his hair. "No, I guess you could call me a romantic at heart. I'm a deep believer in finding your 'other', and, if I'm not yours, then I don't think it's right to steal you from the woman who is your 'other'." She smiled at him. "I must say, I really am just a bit sad, but I will live. It's not the end of the world." Leaning forward, she gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day, Yamato." She reverted back to the formal version of his name.

He stood there, alone in his room, listening to the sound of her fading footsteps, waiting for something, anything, as she opened the door, and, as the click echoed in the silence of the apartment, a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

He had been waiting, for Kami knows how long, to hear that telltale sound of the door shutting, of the lock fitting in place, of the barrier being formed between him and any other female in the Universe. It was the sound of his resolution, of his strength, and of how he, out of every male in the world, could stand up and say that he loved one and only one woman.

But where was that woman now?

Slowly, he sat on the bed, buried his face in his hands, and, quietly, cried as he thought about the loss of the one thing he truly loved. But deep down, somewhere in his aching heart, there was a faint glimmer of light, and he cried, not just because of pain, but because he was proud. He had been strong enough to fight temptation, and, in the end, feel some sense of hope.

All right, so there it is, one of my final chapters.

Again, I hated this chapter, with a passion, because it caused me so much mental turmoil in my writing world, it was not funny. I would open it and just STARE at the screen. But, you know, staring at a screen doesn't really work when you want to form words ON the screen.

So yeah, I hate it. A lot.

But I love you all, and your reviews.

Again, please don't forget my Review/Update rule.

P.S.: THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING SO PATIENT! I AM TRULY SORRY IT TOOK SOOOOOO LONG!!! YOU'RE ALL SUCH AMAZING FANS! THANK YOU!

I love you guys. .