Yaaaaay, I updated? After so many months, like omfg, right? o.o

so, anyway, since it's summer, i'll try to update as fast as I can, all right? Cuz this is ... well, this is apparently a popular story, considering from the reviews.

So ... chapter two is here! :D

Chapter Two: A Tickle of a Feather

"It was a tickle of a feather against my mind,
A feather so light, I thought I had imagined it."

When she opened her eyes, she could already tell from the smell of where she was that she was not in her flat, nor Kuukai's nor Nagihiko's. This smell was something else entirely—a mixture of soap and spice—and nothing at all that was woman. Yes, this smell was entirely man.

Her conscious screamed at her Open your eyes! Go, get up and go away! but she stayed under the warm, dark covers, her head resting on white, puffy pillows. Wherever she was, or whoever had rescued her, had obviously treated her with care, though she was a stranger.

When the sun filtered in through the small patches of skylight in the room, she opened her eyes, groaning. Her clothes were the same she had worn last night, which was a humongous relief. Her pink hair was ruffled, strands of frizz covering her hair like a rat's nest.

"You're awake."

The voice was a deep, melodic voice, and it had come from around the doorway. She closed the door to the fear in her heart, and lifting her golden orbs, she was met with dark cerulean eyes. The door in which she had closed now burst open—because those eyes were so familiar. She knew those eyes, and Amu could know from the way he held himself tightly, the darkening of his eyes so slightly, that he had noticed her fear. She knew the fear was shown in her eyes, because she felt completely exposed, like she was naked. Her hands were shaking so violently, but carefully, slowly, she closed them into fists.

"I won't hurt you," he said, so quietly. There was something in his voice—a determination as he stared at her with his lips pressed tightly together. "I promise I won't hurt you. You have no reason to fear me."

She had no idea what he had did, but there was something about him that she found out that he was telling the truth. That he really didn't have any desire to do anything for her. And with that, she took a deep breath, and suddenly, the fear was wiped out from inside her.

"Besides," he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a grin. "I have no attraction for A-cups."

Her face flustered, from the base of her neck to the tip of her forehead, and clumsily she gripped the edge of her blanket, consciously covering her chest, though it had been futile since he had just left room while calling out, "You can leave if you want. Though you should eat before you leave since I've already prepared breakfast."

A muttered "P-pervert" was all she had said, and though she knew he couldn't hear it, she said it anyway. Her feet touched the plush carpet of his apartment as she clambered off his bed, and then she froze.

His bed.

She didn't know him, but he had placed her on his bed. So, where had he slept? It was obvious from the layout that it was a one bedroom/one bath apartment, but that hadn't mean ... that he had ... slept on his ... couch?

Quickly padding out of his room, she walked down the narrow, short corridor and found herself in the living room. It was comfy and open—the living room was connected to the kitchen and dining room. There was a small, leather black sofa in the middle of the room, and two love seats on either side. The TV seemed proportional to each furniture piece; it could be seen from any angle of the seats. The curtains were the same color as her bed sheets—a dark navy. Casting her eyes away from his living room, she looked for him and found him in the kitchen. His back was turned to her, but he seemed to sense her arrival.

"Um ..." she said, causing him to turn around, his shoulder leaning against the wall beside the stove, and eyebrow cocked in curiosity. "Well, I have to brush my teeth and—" She paused. The subject of 'showering' seemed too intimate, and required stripping and clothing, and she didn't want his clothing, no matter how nice he seemed. "and ... s-soap."

She blushed. Of course soap would be in the bathroom!

He pressed his lips together, glancing over at the dining table. "Soap is in the bathroom. And as for brushing, I have a fresh toothbrush under the sink, in the drawer. You can use that."

She turned swiftly then, not wanting to see his amused expression, and sprinted into the bathroom, locking the door. She leaned over the sink, her breaths short. Reaching over and turning on the water, she splashed water onto her cheeks, wanting to calm her blush.

She hadn't felt any burst of fear with this man that she had with others, and it alarmed her. She shouldn't trust him, not at all. Because no matter what he was, he still a stranger. A stranger, that had the same traits as she remembered as her rapist. But, that couldn't be true, could it? She had been walking home from school then, and that had been in Kyoto. She had moved after that, back to her birthplace, Tokyo. He was not her rapist. He couldn't have been. And her memory had been foggy, but she remembered those eyes. Those eyes were not like his, no matter how coincidental it seemed to her that the color was the same. His eyes had carried dark, dark emotions; emotions that looked like lust and sadistic feelings. This man's eyes seemed fathomless; there was something about his eyes, and no matter what expression he wore, there was some kind of eternal sadness and self-hatred in his orbs. It made her want to know him, to console him and—

I can't trust him.

Decidedly, she raked a hand down her face, sighing heavily.

:.:

It had been when she sat down across from him in one of the chairs in the dining table that she remembered. And when she had, in that moment, her eyes had widened, and she quickly ran, knocking over the dining chair, back to his room, and rummaged through her bag till she found her metallic pink phone. Flipping it open, she read her screen, and her stomach had twisted in guilt. You have missed 23 calls and have 19 new voicemails.

She bit her lip as she quickly dialed the number so engraved into her memory.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Hello? Hello, Amu, are you there? Are you all right?" She nearly choked as she heard his voice—it was full of such concern that it neared on the tone of franticness.

Realizing she would be waiting him too long, she breathed slowly, before quietly replying, "It's me, Kuukai. It's ... It's Amu."

"Oh, crap ... Oh, shitty hell, Amu!" She flinched at his tone, but couldn't help the relief waft over her. Just by hearing his voice made her feel safe. "Where the hell have you been? I-I thought something bad happened and that it was all my fault ..." His voice had resorted to a whisper, and before he could torment himself further, she spoke up.

"I'm fine, really, I am, Kuukai," she said. She paused, then said, quietly, "I'm so sorry, Kuukai."

"I would tell you it's fine, but it really isn't," He paused, and she could hear his shorts breaths. "Where are you? I'll come and get you. Give me the address and I'll come and get you."

She told a deep breath, but before she could have replied, the phone was plucked out of her hand. She knew who it was, but before she could do or say anything, he had already replied. "She's with me."

The voice sent shivers down her spine. It was the same kind of voice, the flirty, sultry voice that had been directed at her just a few years ago. She looked away.

Amu could hear the buzz of his voice from the other end, as though he was yelling. She couldn't make out the words, however he must have been speaking from her behalf for the man's mouth was quirked up into a smirk.

After a while, he had closed her phone, tossing it to her from the entrance of his room. "I'll be walking you to his flat. Get ready." And with that, he left.

She took deep breaths. It was fine, it was totally and completely fine if he had managed to convince Kuukai to let him do this. But, then she thought, why? Why had he done it in the first place, walking her home?

After minutes of contemplation, she grabbed her bag and stepped out to find him in the living room, his frame beside the door. He was avoiding her eyes, she noticed.

"Are you ready?" he asked, turning around to grab a coat from the peg.

She nodded mutely. Without turning to see if she was following, he opened the door, nearly walking out, though a figure was already on the other side of the door, hand poised as if she were to knock.

She heard his voice then, the shock and horror clear in his voice. "Utau?"

Urgh, I hate this chapter. It felt so filler-ish. But Utau being here and everything will all fit sooner or later.

Okay. Review ~

This thing was finally updated! :D