Hi! I'm back with another update. Bet you all thought I died. No, I'm here. You might want to re-read chapter one, you've probably forgotten what this is about. From here on, unless otherwise noted, this is in Ayumi's perspective. And without further ado, here's Strawberry Tea, Chapter 2~

I looked up at the large gray building before me, thinking how strange the luxurious shop looked in comparison to where I lived, this plain, dingy apartment. I headed up the stairs to the ninth floor, where I lived.

I hate elevators. I'm terrified of them. I never use them if I can help it. Besides, exercise is good for you, and I don't exactly have a park to go jogging in.

Arriving at my apartment, I just barged right in, the door lock is broken anyway. I tossed my stuff on the counter, thankful I got home safe. By the time I left Count D's shop, those creeps were gone. Small mercies.

Come to think of it, it was his grandfather's shop, wasn't it? Oh well.

I walked to the bedroom with its peeling gray paint and ancient wooden bed. "Hi, mom!" I called. "Hi, Hon." answered a dry, creaky voice.

A tousled head of gray hair lay on the pillow, the body hooked up to several grey machines through the use of tubes and wires, a breathing apparatus under her nose.

She was dying. And no doctor we went to could tell us why. They said it was a staph infection. But nothing was working and she was dying. She wouldn't go to the hospital, and I couldn't force her.

So we brought Hospice here. And I kept vigil on my mother whenever I could, watching her slowly drift into death.

Mom didn't eat dinner any more. She had IV's and feeding tubes now. But I still needed to eat- the bowl of ice cream was ages ago. I grabbed some shrimp ramen- my favorite- and chowed down.

I didn't eat a whole lot- didn't need to- and ramen was warm and filling. My BMI was 18.2. That's underweight. 5' 4", 106 pounds. With my brown hair, I thought I looked vaguely mousy.

Oh well, some are born with it, some aren't. No use crying. And jealousy is unattractive in any case. Though that Count D certainly was.

Wait. What?

Count D looked... what? Well, it must be said he had a nice face. Acne-free, fashionably pale, nicely-shaped, not too thin, filled out without being overweight. So? I'm a freaking senior. In High School. I'm 18. I can notice boys. doesn't mean I have to fawn over them either. Besides, he looked like he was too old for her. He was, what, 24? 25? Too old. And I need to focus on school, and mom. No boys.

But D was cute.

Ok, sorry for the short chapter. I wanted to leave it there. I shall be back soon (hopefully, and if we're all lucky) with Strawberry Tea, chapter 3!

Peace, love, and stress-huggles,

~Broken Wings.