Disclaimer: I don't own La Corda D'Oro.

OK, so the last one didn't get too many reviews and now, I'm down on both knees, begging you people to please review at least once! Or else, Story 3 will never be continued! And perhaps I won't even bother adding stories anymore! Anyway (yes, I completely changed my mood), enjoy this one and review!

Summary: When Len suffered from the mental tortures of love, he chooses to take his mother's advice, much to his chagrin.

Loveliest Love Letter

Len was sitting, doing absolutely nothing by the window, head rested on his closed fist, sighing every now and then as if his cat died. And Misa just happened to walk past the door and chanced a swift glance at him; enhanced by her mother instincts, she sensed that her beloved son was indeed in need of some motherly aid.

Thus, Misa did what she thought she should do – she walked into the gloomy room – the room that was once bright and cheerful until it was infected by Len's aura – with a smile on her face that shooed the bad spirits away. But Len didn't notice, much to her disappointment.

She seated herself beside him, looking happy and at peace, whilst he sat carrying a sullen face. "Len, is there a problem? You seem spaced out and that's very unlikely of you," she said, peeking into his face with her gentle eyes, only to be greeted by a pair of cold, golden ones.

"It's nothing of significance, mother," he replied, turning away.

She just heaved a sigh and put a tender hand on his shoulder, giving it a couple of light pats. "Ah, so there is a problem; and the way I see it, it's about a girl." How she knew it was about a girl was beyond his thinking prowess.

The ways of a mother are just too…mysterious.

Needless to say, Len was puzzled and the word 'girl' kept ringing in his head, coursing deep into his veins, hitting him like a steel, baseball bat. And his head hurt – well, it has been hurting since that very morning.

"You know, Len, you can sort out your problems by jotting them down on paper. I know! Why don't you write her a love letter? I think your words might be able to sway her. You have a way with words that can woo girls, you know. What have you got to lose?" And Len shook his head, eying her mother through his unruly hair (it was neat a while ago but since he's been facing a dilemma beyond his capacity to solve problems, he took his frustration out on his locks by running his hands through it frequently).

"Maybe the majority of youth? Isn't that quite cliché? As far as I can remember I do not have a way with words," he said, an eyebrow raised. "But it's worth a shot, Len," she said, lifting herself up and went out of the room, guessing that she's done quite enough for her grumpy son.

Len looked thoughtful and stood up as well, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and paced around the room. "Perhaps," he muttered to himself. "—perhaps I should try."

The cobalt-haired teen walked briskly to his room and upon reaching his desk, he brought out a thick stack of clean sheets of paper and five very fancy pens from his drawer.

He seated himself on the mahogany chair, cleared his throat, and went through his broad vocabulary; the same one he had recently forgotten after he began fantasizing about a certain Kahoko Hino dressed in a white gown with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Now, we can all picture this, right?

Len began sweating and panting, like he just ran twenty miles for the past hour.

His hand was unsteady and some black ink stained the white paper. Frustrated, he crushed the innocent piece of paper with his left hand, and threw it out the open window. Yes, the window, because he had overlooked the fact that he had a trashcan right beside him.

He could have sworn he heard someone yell 'Ouch! My eye!' from outside, but, nevertheless, he didn't care and he took no fault in the act.

He sighed and threw his head back to recover some of the many thoughts he had come up since this morning. He wondered where all the 'I love you quotes' went.

Now he questioned the reason why, in Pete's name, he even fantasized about love.

But this was no time to ponder about the idiotic things he's been through sine this the sun woke him up, he was going to write with his spectacular words and his legible, script handwriting a love letter.

He rubbed his right arm (because it was tingling) and his right hand, seemingly, began moving intensely. He scribbled and wrote, scribbled and wrote, scribbled and wrote, scribbled and wrote.

Misa peeked into his son's room, although she was aware that Len has many times stated 'Don't come into my room without my consent' after each time she tried to check on her little boy, who was no longer little.

But she was quite certain that he wouldn't even notice that she was there, unlike the usual Len who could sense so much as a tiny mouse by his door. And it still remained a mystery to her on how he could do that. A mystery…

However, that was insignificant for she saw her only child scribbling seriously in bold, script letters on a thin sheet of paper, his head steady, and his wrist moving briskly.

She gasped silently and eyed him more. 'Len…' she thought, noticing the stern and determined aura Len was giving off. And all this because of one girl. 'I must meet this girl when I have the chance.'

Misa smiled and her grin changed into an 'O' after seeing the speed of his hand intensify tenfold. His range of his movements extended and Len had almost gotten up from his seat.

It was passion! Passion! Burning passion!

And the pen against the paper rubbed so much that it produced smoke! Misa could sniff the dirtied air and she wanted to cry. Her son had finally found a heart.

Or was it just the soup she left unattended that was burning.

She realized that it was the soup from the way she exaggerated the scene – burning from intense passion was pretty much far-fetched, don't you think?

Misa sighed and walked away, knowing that Len was quite good with writing. But what worried her was what he actually managed to write with all the big movements.

Meanwhile, Len was still jotting down his frustration on the paper, and it didn't actually look like a scene of two men fighting with blades. It was more like an inner-conflict, a confused lad of some sort.

But with burning passion, nevertheless, without stressing the 'burning' part.

'It's…done…' he thought, dropping the pen and letting it roll off the edge of the table.

He wiped his sweat off and gazed at his perfect handwriting and at his own silly words.

He never thought he would really take his mother's advice.

He never thought he would ever have to write a love letter.

He never thought he would ever have to address a love letter to Kahoko Hino.

And he was confused which among those thoughts sounded the weirdest.

'At least this whole ordeal was done without having mother to see me. Now, the problem is how I'll get this delivered…' he thought, scratching his chin. 'Len, what're you doing? This…this is ridiculous.'

Yes, it was, frankly, an act of stupidity for him.

He wanted to punch himself in the face and then shred that letter into strips of nothingness.

Was this the feeling of love?

Judging from the way his heart pumped faster than normal, from his crimson cheeks, and…words, it was the authentic love monster, itself, taking its toll on the young man. Kudos to love for it had succeeded on manipulating his young mind. Well, it was the impression Len gave to love after watching tons of girls swooning over Yunoki's shadow.

He found it humorus, actually, being affected by love just like that. The thought of himself being smitten was funny, very funny that it was stupid enough to drive Einstein mad.

He shook the thought off and folded the paper twice, putting it in his school bag, having decided to leave the problem about delivering the letter without getting caught red-handed by anyone who had contact with Kahoko for tomorrow.

For now, he had to get some shut eye, even though it was only two in the afternoon.

--

--

Len walked around the General Education building quite nervously, amidst the fact that the place was deserted.

Now what was he doing here again?

Oh yes, he came to deliver his token of love to Kahoko's locker, after his mom told him to do just that. And he was ashamed that he, once again, had to leave the problem-solving to his mother even though he was already at the age of sixteen. He was practically an adult – just from observing his mature and quiet nature, he seemed like an adult.

Now that he thought about it, this was rather ironic. He was a mature, young man, with etiquettes, and yet here he was, sneaking around early in the morning like a little kid who had stolen a muffin from the kitchen, to do a sinister act thought out by her brilliant mother.

Len was in too deep and if he was to turn back now, he would be a chicken – a chicken with a lot of feathers to be specific. And he was not a type of poultry, whose only purpose is to serve as a decent meal.

He felt a lump in his throat and the air became thick, making it hard for him to breathe. Either that or he was just putting more pressure on himself.

He spotted Kahoko's locker, the same one he sees her using everyday. And how would he know which one in particular she owned? Well, Len sometimes sneaks around – for no logical reason at all – to catch a glimpse of the fair maiden. And so far, he hasn't been caught, not once.

Putting that thought aside, he shook the images of himself behind pillars taking innocent peeks of Kahoko off his already cluttered mind and slid the envelope into the narrow gape.

Problem solved? Not quite. In fact he has an even bigger problem and that is the outcome of his deeds.

God, he hadn't considered that part – rejection or mutual feelings. If she rejected him, he'd be crestfallen, humiliated and downright broken up inside. He might never fall in love again for fear of the same, tragic – yet somewhat hilarious – fate. However, if she does accept, what will he do? Will he follow the footsteps of the many TV dramas he sees his mother watch?

Hug her? Kiss her? Make a marriage proposal? State his unfaltering affections for all eternity? This was harder than he thought. How ever did his father do it?

What if she asks him out on a date? Aren't guys supposed to be the ones to make the first move? What if the time for their first kiss came when he was off-guard? Did he know the proper procedure of this…mating ritual among the youths?

What if he eventually ties the knot with her? How many kids will she demand? Will she force herself on him during the evening or will he be the one to accomplish that task? Will they have twins or triplets? What if she does something suggestive to him? What ever will he do?

A few more what-ifs crossed his mind and Len's face has turned ten shades darker than his usual dark pose. And only the sound of Kahoko's voice managed to wake him up from his reverie. "Ah, Len, what're you doing here? I'm sure it's not about music since the concours ended a while ago."

Len gulped, coughed, and turned around. "I simply lost an item here and I came back for it. Now that that matter is finished, I'm leaving."

"Why are you talking like that? Anyway, why would you lose an item here? Aren't you in the music-"

"Let's speak about this later at the rooftop," he found himself saying.

"OK. I'll see you at lunch." He gulped. Death's arrival was far too early.

God help him.

--

--

Lunch, it was lunch time and Len was not feasting on his lunch.

Apparently, he lost his appetite a while back.

Pity.

Len was nervous, to be frank, and all because of Kahoko Hino, the clumsiest girl he has ever met.

And speaking of Kahoko Hino, here she comes with a crooked and nervous smile on her face. Len knew what that smile meant, if it was even considered a smile, that is – rejection. And he could almost here the angels sing the word 'rejection' in a tone that would break a glass.

Great, just what he needed – angels who would tip him during times of need. Just like now – Kahoko was already standing in front of him.

None refused to speak.

But Kahoko was tough enough to break the ice with a 'hey' that Len considered as the beginning of a broken friendship and a devastated feeling. "You read it?" he asked, though he was certain enough that she did, seeing that it was right there in her hand.

"Yeah," she replied, nonetheless. "It was quite…ah…lovely…quite ah…abstract?"

Was he exaggerating it? Do all girls have the same quirks? "Anyway," she began. "What do you want to talk about?" And Len looked quite annoyed by her words, for he was sure that he put all his bloody feelings in that letter. Perhaps it was not enough love? Not enough passion?

But he was desperate. And he didn't really expect this, much to his chagrin. His arms wanted to hold her really tightly and then kiss her till her soul comes out, just so he can get the fact that he loved her to death into that thick skull of hers. And he did, much to his surprise and hers.

Len grabbed her shoulders, firmly but somewhat gently (if at all possible), and crashed his lips onto hers without giving her so much as a 'pucker up'. Kahoko, on the other hand, couldn't move in astonishment – astonished partly because there was another side of Len she had yet to familiarize and that he just French kissed her out in broad daylight.

Len wrapped his arms around her securely, not for the purpose of keeping her from falling but to keep her from escaping. Yes, he wouldn't let her escape until she answered 'yes'.

However, to his surprise, Kahoko did not struggle at all but did what he least expected. And that was to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. And to return his kiss with equal fervor.

But he didn't give a damn for that matter, and just pushed her to a wall nearby and pinned her wrist down with his hands. Fortunately, no one heard the muffled noises since they were alone. Indeed, his brain still works under a cluttered condition.

However, this time, his head was not functioning quite well for it came up with thoughts contrary to his whole person. What was it? Well, his mind kept urging him to stuff his hand into her very short skirt. And must he say that he's fairly grateful to whomever designed the girls' uniform for he or she made it short.

But, of course, he didn't do it… Perhaps in the future when he takes her as his bride? Maybe more? He hopes so. Or he will have to resort to brute force (though he's certain that his wife-to-be would very much enjoy that).

Len felt Kahoko smile beneath his heavy kisses and from time to time, their eyes would meet for a brief moment. But he wasn't ashamed this time around.

Not ashamed that he just took advantage of kahoko's weak structure and the heat of the moment; not a single guilt.

Proud, perhaps?

Happy?

It was like he was sleeping – with her snuggling to him, of course because nothing'z more heavenly than having the girl of his dreams right next to him – on a fluffy, white cloud that continued to drift slowly.

But science had to destroy everything and went and popped his dream cloud with its cold facts and harsh words. This time, it used air as an excuse to break them apart, much to his utter annoyance.

He panted and so did she, cheeks red, and eyes steady. "I won't take no for an answer, Kahoko," he began, pushing his body closer to hers to keep her from fleeing. "That's quite unacceptable and unless you want to go home, you will…"

"I'll what? Be your girlfriend?"

"Precisely."

She nodded, cupping his face with her hands after the letter flew out of them; not that Len minded keeping an evidence of his sappiness.

He got the girl and solved his problems, now isn't that cliché? And there was no need to keep that love letter; in fact, he would like to tear it apart.

But what did the letter contain? Well, Len put his sweat and blood into this letter, if it was really a letter, that is.

On the floor the paper lied open and it only contained two words…or names.

'Hino Kahoko…' it said. It was written quite legibly and neatly onto the paper; perfect strokes, and unbroken lines. Yet, the meaning was unclear.

Where did all the burning passion go, you ask? Well, aside from the few scorch marks on the paper, it was something that wasn't actually seen.

Back then, Len was burning with passion and all it takes for you to understand this phrase is the pronunciation. Yes, imagine a hormone-driven teen uttering the name of his loved one.

Now wasn't that a lovely love letter?

--End

OK, so the last part is quite confusing, right? So luckily for those who read up until here, imagine Len seductively calling out to Kahoko and you'll get my point. Understood?

I'm glad most of you liked Len being a vampire! Maybe next time he'll be a phantom! Review if you want to see the next story!