I do not own anything.

The blue haired college boy's eyes were only filled with the image of the pink haired girl who had neglected his existence. His damsel-in-distress, with her mascara running, leaned against her white vehicle.

His black sneakers were only a yard from her dark flats, but it wasn't enough distance for either of them. Ikuto's fingers twitched with desire to hold her small frame; whereas, Amu's feet twitched to run from this man's dangerous disposition. If she were to get in that car, there was no telling when she'd leap into that hard chest of his and weep her sorrows away.

"What, do you want me to open the door for you?" Ikuto teased. His hand landed on the car door. Hers held his before he could open it. Both jolted to a stop at the contact. Whenever she touched him, a consuming inferno would blaze in her fingertips and creep its sneaky way into her heart, leaving her breathless. Slowly, ever so slowly, they raised their gaze from their hands and finally land on the other's sea of blue or drop of honey. Before it could get worse, or better for some, the smaller of the two shot back her hand to her side.

"I can do it myself," She said. Her gaze never left the sight of him either. Trying to be inconspicuous, she would gaze at him through reflective surfaces. Right at that moment, she stared at the image of them together through the car window. The image, framed by the rubber and metal of the car, seemed like a picture. Amu's eyes looked at the camera, but Ikuto's gazed at her directly without any discretion.

"I'm sure you could, but to be sure, I'll open it for you," He teased once again, pulling the handle. She didn't find the humor in any of it, but how could she if he couldn't see it either? She stepped into the car and sat in the light leather seat. He closed the door and made it to the other side, sitting in his seat.

A curtain of silence draped over them. The one with nervous fidgeting hands sat in gratitude, but the other with a rigid form drummed his fingers on the wheel in rising hopes to start a conversation. Luckily, her lips formed words.

"How can you just forget Yoru like that?" Her words, frozen with hostility, sent a dagger to his dignity and a sharp-edged sword into his heart.

Ikuto remembered the dark days and even darker nights without his brother. The interval between his little brother's motorcycle accident and his funeral was a tolling two weeks. He had mourned alone with constant calls from Lulu and Utau. Every morning he awoke in bed was another bitter bite of the chilling realization that he had lost a brother.

"Do you really think that?" His frost-bitten words left her lips chap and her throat coarse.

"No," The high school student whispered with a dry lick to her lips. "You wouldn't forget him. I'm sorry I wasn't thinking." The silence snatched another chance, but Ikuto took it from him.

"Rumors say that I didn't attend my brother's funeral because I was raged at my brother for tearing up my motorcycle," The college musician said, as his tight grip on the wheel left imprints on his hands.

"Didn't your motorcycle only come out with a small scratch?" Looking at him through the rearview mirror, she sighed in exhaustion.

"Yeah. Two nights after your call, the auto mechanics called me to get my motorcycle. You know what they told me when I got there?" A silent tense pause replaced his sober voice. "'Better your brother than the bike.'" His usually calm voice seemed strained with anger.

"What did you do?" With her tight small jaw, she asked him. Her obvious feign of apathy fell away at the sight of her clenched fists.

"Do you think I would hit them?" He let out a hollow chuckle. His shoulders relaxed at the sight of her.

"If you didn't beat them into a coma, yeah." She responded as if that course of action was reasonable.

"I grabbed a nearby wrench and beat that bastard motorcycle into a pile of scrap metal." Amu could hear that pitch of satisfaction in his voice.

"If I recall correctly, you once called that motorcycle 'Baby'?" She suppressed a smile.

"If I recall correctly, 'Baby's' don't set fires to your brother," Ikuto stated. He hated to sober the conversation; however, he also hated that motorcycle.

"Your motorcycle was top brand, wasn't it? Was it worth it?" The girl in his passenger seat asked.

"Beating my anger out into my disowned 'Baby' and seeing those priceless faces? Definitely."

Boyfriend's Dead Brother

"Lulu, I don't want to meet this girl. I'm sure she's a nice girl, but I already have my eyes set out for someone." The skinny lad told his lady friend with green hair. Her glare stole the blue from the gray clouds.

"Tadase, I did you a favor with finding this florist part-time job for you; but you won't even meet a girl for my future with a man." She scoffed. Her comment victimized herself, and due to Tadase's notoriety as a pushover, he felt guilty.

"But, Lulu, you haven't met this girl. I mean she's a complete miracle." He sighed with a rapturous delight.

"And, she's the sun, moon, and stars. I get it." The lady rolled her eyes, taking her seat in the back room of the shop.

"If you get that, you must understand why I can't go." His naïve hopes that a woman wouldn't be stubborn couldn't help him in any way, for Lulu was cleverer than he.

"I understand because I feel the same way about my man. He's the ideal man. His slightly tan skin matches those wondrous blue eyes. His rough but soft and built yet lean build is just perfect." She squealed, losing her manners and wits for a mere second.

"Fine, I'll go; but it's only one time."

Thanks for reading.