Okay, it must be noon. Maybe even 11:00. I check my phone and gawk at it.

It's only 9:00?

I've walked up and down the block (slowly, very, very slowly) at least nine times. I even went back to the apartment and took a nap! It had to be longer than an hour and a half.

I look around. A restaurant, a convenience store, a book store… ah, the convenience store! That should keep me busy.

(daYbYdaY)

I open the door slowly and look up as a tiny bell jingles above my head.

God, I hate those things. You can obviously see someone walk through a door, so why do you need to hear that stupid bell? It's so freakin' annoying.

The clerk, a boy who can't be older than seventeen, looks up from what must be a Playboy magazine and gives me a smile. I can tell he's checking me out when that smile turns into a broad grin. Are all guys pervs nowadays?

I ignore him and walk down the aisle, looking for something, anything to by. Anything to keep my mind off of that ticking clock.

I end up picking out a small notebook and cheap purple gel pen. That should keep me busy for awhile. I debated buying a pack of cigarettes everytime I walked past the counter, but I've never been much of a smoker anyway, so there really wasn't a point, right? I walk up to the counter, pull out a crumpled up five dollar bill, and slam it on the counter. That boy is still staring at me. He looks like he's about to say something, but I talk first. "That should be enough, right? Five dollars?"

Ouch, I sounded harsh.

He swallows slowly, like he's afraid or something.

Great, I scared a teenage boy.

I leave before he can even answer.

(daYbYdaY)

Somehow I end up at the park, sitting on a bench, legs pulled up to my chest, head between my knees. The notebook and pen are on the bench next to me. I've done nothing with them so far. Probably won't.

At times like this, when I'm all alone, I wish I could talk to my mom. I haven't spoken to her since I was eighteen, and I doubt she wants to speak to me. I don't even know if my parents still live in the same house. All I know is that my mom is the editor of some semi-famous magazine that my dad takes pictures for. I don't want to, don't need to know anymore. She doesn't like the person I've become. She misses her little baby girl, the one who listened to her and wore frilly dresses and wasn't such an awful bitch.

She's never coming back.

I listen to the birds, the wind, the silence. Occasionally I hear footsteps. They get louder, and they're pace slows down. They're looking at me, maybe wondering if I'm okay, but they keep on going.

This time, they don't. The footsteps are lighter, hardly even making a sound. They slow down, like all of the others, and then they stop.

I don't look up, don't even move a muscle.

And then I hear a crack. I debate whether I should look up or not, but I do. I turn my head to the side, my cheek resting on my knees. I resist the urge to gasp.

The first thing I see is blue. I whole, messy head of blue. It's a boy, I can tell. He's staring at me with blue, almost purple eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I let go of my legs and set my feet on the ground, letting my hand fall into my lap, and stare right back.

We sit there, just staring at each other, for what seems like forever. His eyes never waver. Even when mine do they move right along, keep the contact. What is with this guy?

I almost say something when he stands up. He's facing away from me, but I can still tell there's a smile on his face. I look at where he was sitting, the purple ink from the pen covering the notebook. Out of some habit, I look right at his butt, a huge purple stain covering the back of his grey jeans.

Something bubbles inside me, something that I haven't done in a long time. It feels weird, almost foreign, and for a moment, I try to resist.

My resistance isn't strong enough.

It starts out as a giggle, barely escaping my lips. But soon, my whole body is shaking with laughter, a few squeaks coming out hear and there. I feel tears streaming down my cheeks. It feels weird to be smiling and crying at the same time, but I let it go.

My elbows are on my knees, my head bent low, the laughter still pulsing through me. I can feel his eyes on my back, but I try to ignore it. And suddenly it stops.

I sit up completely straight, the smile on my face nonexistent. A take a deep breath, wipe away the tears, and look up at him.

He's still staring at me, but this time, there's a smirk on his face. I can't read his expression, but his eyes seem happy, so I stare right back.

"You must have some serious hormonal problems." He knocks the notebook and mess of a pen off the bench and sits down next to me. His hands are clasped together, so he rests his cheek on his fists and stares at me some more.

I shimmy under his strong gaze, trying to comprehend what he said. "Huh?" I let my mouth hang open. He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

"You just had a major mood swing there." He laughs again. It's a deep, throaty laugh, exactly the kind that I don't like. "You were giggling and happy one moment, and BAM! You were stone-faced. It was kind of amusing." He's still smirking, and I can't help but smile a bit.

"It's a woman's job to be like this." I look at the notebook and pen on the ground, then back up at him. "You know, you have a huge purple stain on your ass."

He keeps that smirk on his face. Damn, how does he do that?

"Eh, I really don't care." He looks at his knees, brushes his pants off, and stands up. I reach out to grab him, but my hand is back on my lap in a second. Whoa, Amu, keep your hands to yourself. He looks back at me. "It's a woman's job, hm… Your not much of a woman though, are you? You're more like a little girl." My mouth hangs open. He grabs a case (maybe for a violin?) from the side of the bench and starts to walk away.

"Wait!" I yell, louder than I expected. He stops, but doesn't turn around. "What's your name?"

"Ikuto," he says, and starts to walk away again.

Ikuto, Ikuto. I say it over and over again, scared that I'll forget it.

"I-ku-to," I whisper, barely loud enough to hear.

I like it.


A/N: I just feel like writing so much! And this chapter was over 1,000 words long, so that's an accomplishment for me. ^^
Sorry the plot is developing so slow. Something big will happen in the next chapter, okay?
Please review! ~Cherry