Okay so... I really don't have anything to say but express my deep gratitude for all the reviews everyone sent my way. Thank you so much, you all!

Sammie and QH-pyon: You two are so sweet. :) I'm glad to see you here again, Sammie. Directing this to both of you, I'm glad that you are "enjoying" the different sexual orientations bleh bleh. Not sure how I'm supposed to word that... My father holds a "grudge" for gay people because... I don't know: He thinks that kids nowadays say that they're gay "just to be cool." But I disagree with him. Wholeheartedly.

Guest: So I see you're interested in the homeless man, huh? Well, within these next few chapters, I guess I'll somehow throw him back into the plot. How does that sound to you? :)

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own GA.

I present to you, Chapter 3! Enjoy. :)

Nazareth, Panda, Words, and IvyLex - This chapter is especially for you guys. :) Everyone else, sit back and enjoy the read!


Riddled with uncertain quakes, I numbly pottered down the cobblestones in the vague direction of my destination.

So maybe the homeless man helped me. Big deal. What if he was a stalker? Oh God.

Shut up with the religion already.

"Hey it's not my fault," I muttered.

You're you. Of course it's your fault.

"There's no such thing as God, and that's final," I snapped.

You are making absolutely no sense at all.

With a huff, I stormed through the apartment lobby. Drenched from head to toe in cold rainwater, I was evidently in an irritable mood.

But some idiot just didn't notice.

"Miss?"

"I'm fine. Just ring me up when they need me."

What I really wanted to say was, Go away and let me be.

"They?"

I glowered, somehow walking myself in a circle on the tiled floor. "You know what I mean," I snapped.

The dark-skinned man merely nodded before turning away.

Scowling and shivering a great deal, I stabbed at the elevator button repeatedly.

Six minutes later, I collapsed into my suite.

A quiet meowing greeted me.

Still shivering, I bent down. "Hey ugly," I said fondly. "How're you doing?"

The cat with a torn ear merely mewled happily at my presence and rubbed himself against my drenched pant leg.

Despite the cat's actions, it did nothing to help my shivers disappear.

"Alright fine. Blackie, shoo. I'll get your food later."

He sat on his haunches and stared up at me. You stink like poo. You meanie poo.

"Thanks for that observation, mister. Now go away."

His large green eyes blinked. Meanie. Tail high, he turned and padded away.

The back of my mind imagined butterfly wings sprouting from his back.

"Bloody shap," I muttered.

The room looked bleak and wobbly. The abstract paintings hanging from the walls looked like oversized monsters, sucking on paint-coated walls. The couch and coffee table were a meddled blur as my eyes zoomed in and out on them oddly. Honestly, I just felt like a big pile of poo.

You sure have a fondness for poo today.

Shut up.

Whatever.

Tugging at the dank black shirt clinging to my stomach, I senselessly peel the drenched material over my head, somersaulting my hat to the floor in the process. The feeling of the fabric leaving my skin was absolute heaven. Here we go with religion again.

Shivering, my hands found their way towards my opposite arms, rubbing the unwanted goosebumps. Struggling out of my wet bra, I spit in distaste at the hair that found its way into my mouth.

The wet jeans slide agonizingly slowly to the ground as I growled. The pants were busy dragging dead, damp skin along with then.

Discarding my wet, soggy clothes in a disgusting puddle in the ground, I totter up the hard stairs, avoiding each marble step as much as possible.

Too bad I couldn't fly.

Who in their right mind designed this apartment to have marble floors anyway? The stupid steps are all swirly and white and most unpleasant to the unclad feet.

Stupid marbles. Stupid floors.

Finally reaching the upper story, I dashed towards the nearest bathroom and slammed the door. Groggily registering the slippery floor, I squirm into the bath without another thought.

In the shower, the warm water bred another problem.

It was absolutely impossible to get warm. The blistering heat did nothing to soothe the prickled skin that coated my body.

Eyes pulled open, I stayed bent under the showerhead, waiting for my body to respond to the unnatural heat pulsing from above me. Warm hair clinging to the bare of my back, I held out my fingers. Watching the water droplets slide from my fingertips, I cloudily keep my head down. Sheet after sheet of water enveloped me.

My fingers resembled that of Ursula's, or Cruella de Ville's… it's so wrinkly and crinkly, and the water extends my stubby fingernails…

I wanna be an octopus…

Maybe a Dalmatian fur coat wouldn't cling to a person's body so much in the rain…

You're making absolutely no sense.

Closing my eyes, I lean against the perspiring wall. Head drooping, I run my index finger in stiff circles around my bellybutton. The water is starting to feel good.

"Oi, idiot! How long are you planning to stay in there?"

Bursting into a coughing fit, I blink, albeit stupidly, resuming my newly discovered fingernails through dizzy eyes.

A loud pounding vibrates through my head. "Get outta there, you hear me?"

That hurts. Shut up, brain.

On a second thought, the waves of a commanding voice are not merely in my head.

Sliding to the ground, I swirl my fingers at the water gathering at the bottom of the tub. My fingernails, it seems… have disappeared.

A small voice is currently claiming that I've gone crazy.

Lies.

"Jesus! Mikan, get out of the damn shower."

The slightest mention of Jesus and religion briefly snapped me from my reverie. The muffled shouting coming from behind the white door was now accompanied by scratching. Blackie was there too, clawing at my door.

Distracted, I attempted to make a snow angel in the water. "What'd'you thinkof a Dalmatian furcoat… I want a doll-mate-shin furry coat with ducks on them… and pink Starbucks cups."

"What? Mikan. I swear, get out of the shower or else I'm coming in."

"Duckyducky momomo." Even to my own ears, those words sounded rather odd.

Dipping my ears underwater, another session of shivers got the best of me.

"I swear, Jesus Christ, just get out! What did you do before you came home? You're drunk, aren't you?"

And there's Jesus again. His blurry, accusing voice was grating against my nerves. Flapping my arms while lying down in the cooling water, I earned myself a bruise from floundering against the tub too hard. Yowling, I spat, "I ate Starbucks."

"And just how is that possible?"

I didn't answer.

My bellybutton looks like a little well filled with water…

Without any warning, the white door bursts open.

Ducking my head underwater, I dumbly blow bubbles before looking up. Through the foggy glass, I murkily make out a colorful silhouette. "Go away," I mumbled as I turned my head, grimacing at the painful tingles. Without attempting to, I gurgled water, inhaling the darned substance through my nose

With a gasp and another coughing fit, I jerk upright. The water droplets splay the walls with a splutter.

Without a single damn warning, the glass door slides open.

Lying back down, I turn over in the water. "It's cold. Go uh-way."

"And you're naked."

"No one assed you to come in he-ear."

"You're delirious."

"I don't want baloney."

"We're not talking about books idiot, get up."

I splash in the tub. "No."

"What the hell is wrong with you? You must be drunk."

"Cold."

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged out of my water haven and brutally wrapped in a towel. Staggering under the pressure of two pressured hands, I feel the floor's lulling pull.

I hear a sigh. "You're sick."

"Hunger-y."

"You're not eating, idiot, dry yourself first. What on earth were you doing prior to coming back?"

Finding myself on a carpeted room somewhere in a room, I peel my eyes open.

The lighting was shaded; it wasn't too bright, but I could still make out the fuzzy outlines of a bed and several other household objects. Everything looked like a ball of fur.

Dalmatian coat…

Curling into a wet ball, I flinch at the contact of my wet hair. "I don't wanna."

"Mikan, just stop. In case you haven't noticed, you're naked."

Maybe it was those three words that got me moving. State the obvious would you. Inching slowly, I crawled towards the fuzzy bed and huddled in my towel, desperate the assuage the goose pimples dotting my arms.

"Are you drunk?" The suspicious voice cuts like a knife through the cold air and hits me in the head.

"I wist."

"You wish?"

I nod feebly and drop the towel. Shuffling naked under the covers, my eyes scream in ecstacy as they close.

"'Hoy, Mikan. Get up. Your hair is wet."

Turning around, a sharp stabbing in the nape stops me. "I don't wanna. You're not my mom."

"I'm close enough to your mom. Now get the fuck up."

Pulling myself up painfully onto my elbows, I cough stupidly. "Make it quick."

"I'm doing you a favor here, idiot. I was supposed to have a date with my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" I echo hollowly, watching my brother walk towards me with a metallic hair drier in his hand.

"Stupid." He flicked my forehead and told me stand up. As I dizzily complied, he cringed at my apparent lack of clothes.

That didn't bother me anyway.

It's not like I have a model-esque body or shapely thighs.

"Put some clothes on," he said sharply.

"Ugh!"

Can't a girl get any peace, like falling asleep, for instance?

Blinking, I covered myself with a towel and sat with my legs crossed on the bed.

Lulled to sleep by the blasting sound of the blow drier, I soon found myself trapped in a dark fog of haze.

"Idiot."

"WHAT!"

He stared at me oddly. "Your boobs are showing."

I growled. "I don't care. Is my hair to your liking now?"

"Why yes it is," he answered sarcastically.

I blurrily realized that his orange-y hair had been tied into dozens of tiny bunches, sprouting him a ridiculous hairstyle. I wrinkled my nose. "I hate you."

"I know you do." With a short peck on my head, he shooed me, naked and all, back into my covers before tucking me in.

…..

The stupid darned device rung once.

Then it rung a second time.

Three minutes later, Never Say Never refused to blast through my ears.

The fourth time, the red Galaxy cellphone was hurled across the room.

And the bloody fifth time, it turned off by itself.

Ten minutes later, the cursed cellphone began ringing, refusing to stop ringing until I threw my covers back, tripped against a stupid towel on the floor, and after acquiring another bruise on my leg, stopped it with my own hands.

By now, the incessant ringing in my ear refused to cease.

Crawling agonizingly back into my warm bed, only for the phone to ring. Again.

"Bloody idiots."

Then that ruined sleep for me.

Noticing a sheet of orange paper on the bedside table, it took me forever to decipher what on earth my supposed brother left me. My hand found its way to a lamp, switching it on. In blue ink, I slowly made out the inscrutably neat handwriting.

Baby sis,
I'm at a photo shoot. Your clothes are in the drier.
I'm sorry for setting so many alarms on your phone… figured it would take seven alarms. See you tonight.
~Your lovely brother

"Tonight?"

What tonight? There's nothing besides microwaved Kraft dinners tonight.

I stood up again.

Big mistake. "Ow, ow, ow. Christ. Good lord!"

Now I'm stuck in a room. Clothe-less, freezing, and completely dumfounded. And mindlessly rambling about something related to religion.

What's more, I felt like complete garbage in my own room.

What the heck happened to you?

"I'm drunk."

You're not convincing anyone here.

So maybe that was a lie.

The phone rang, causing my sore bottom to jump up. Fumbling with the lock screen, I put the receiver to my ear. "Hullo?"

No answer.

"Hel-lo?"

Still no answer. By now, I am ready to do just about anything to get this bothersome device out of my sight. "Who's calling? Just answer me already!"

Growling, I kick my bedpost in abhorrence.

Moments later find me naked in my bed, dumbly cradling my pained big toe.

The phone rings again.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"Oh so now you decide to answer me."

That phrase sent my patience up the wall. Grinding my teeth, my vision dotted with spots, I snarl, "I answered you earlier!"

"No you didn't." I swear that idiot is trying to get on my nerves.

Fed up, I fall against my pillows. Grimacing against the thin ripples of pain shooting up my spine, I gave up. "What is the occasion tonight?"

"The first night I'm allowing you to go to a bar."

"I'm already twenty-two. I don't need no permission goin' to a bar."

His sharp voice surprises me as I bury myself under the pillows. He ignored my grammar and instead acknowledged my words instead. That bastard. "So that means you have gone to a bar before?"

"Ugh, stop being so overprotective."

"Whatever. I texted you the address. See you half an hour. Don't forget your phone, kiddo."

"HALF AN—," and the call died.

Chewing on the insides of my mouth, I still couldn't see clearly in the dim lighting of my bedroom.

I want to sleep. I want to bloody sleep, not play hooker in a bar.

Fine. If my brother wanted a bitchy sister, it will be shoved up his arse easily.

Already more than a little annoyed, I stumbled towards my closet. Yanking the doors open, I stare groggily at the hangers and jumbled piles of clothes.

Grabbing whatever was in front of my face, I found myself in a mint-green cable knit sweatshirt. Ignoring the ruffled white fringes, I pulled on any random pair of pants with my eyes half-closed.

The ending result gave me a drastic appearance. A little cockroach corpse was hanging from my hair. Besides the sweatshirt, instead of pants, I was wearing a pair of men's Squidward swim trunks and an orange strapless bra over my sweatshirt.

Yep, this is because I'm drunk.

I'm not drunk.

I'm drunk.

I'm not drunk.

Not drunk.

But still, maybe I could eat the cockroach.


I'm scared of cockroaches. Especially they're icky bodies...

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