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"Wait here a second," Yamada smugly held up his hands as we reached the stairs leading up to his front door. "And I'll take these," he grunted as he grabbed the bags from me that I had helped him lug back. "Don't go anywhere, Rika. I'll be quick!"

"I won't," I promised, watching him ascend the stairs. The door gave a soft thump as he gently kicked it closed behind him.

Yamada missing from my view never failed in making me uneasy. I folded the edge of my skirt between my fingers. I had now, selfishly, made him an unknowing participant of a dangerous, dangerous game. What exactly was it about Yamada that enabled me to repeatedly act with only my own self-interest in mind? This cruel facade would have to end tonight. I dreaded the pain, but I would simply have to set my desires aside.

"Come on up!" Yamada's shout travelled through the now cracked open door to me. As I drew closer to the door's threshold, I began hearing the serene notes of an orchestra. A dinged up portable record player sat on the kitchen table. Although it looked like it hadn't been used in years, it still successfully played a soothing melody. Yamada stood in the space between the kitchen and living room, his patented grin resting on his face. "What do you think?" He gave a swift sidestep and motioned to the living room table. "I think I've really outdone myself."

The red roses I had discovered earlier all sat neatly in a clear vase. A thick golden ribbon was tied around the lip of it. On either end of the table were two wide stemmed glasses, each of them half full of a dark mahogany wine. In front of everything he placed a small white plate that held a few cakes that had been left over from our trip to the market. "This is too much, Yamada," I gasped as I walked towards him, my eyes scanning his work in wonder. Candles had been meticulously positioned on the windowsill and side tables, casting soft flickering shadows on the walls.

"Nothing is too much for my Rika," he disagreed. Before I reached the couch, Yamada pulled me over to him by my waist. "And now that I know your true feelings, I have no reason to hide my own." His hand extended up the length of my back. Pushing him away failed to cross my mind. I stood simply in awe of Yamada. What other person, without a second thought, would pluck up a stranger from the street and proceed to pay for their clothes and food, give them a bed to sleep in, a home to share? "I have reason to believe that I'm falling in love with you." I could hardly hear Yamada's declaration, because in an instant I knew the answer to my question. I felt tears collect in the corners of my eyes and then fall down my flushed cheeks. Yamada hesitated, "Oh, uh, unless I misunderstood?"

My father had done it as well. An abandoned child was left to the church as a whole that night, not any one person in particular. My father, by no obligation of his own, had chosen to take on the task of raising me. "Ah, no," I mumbled. My hands covered my eyes in embarrassment. "You didn't misunderstand." I attempted to wipe the unrelenting tears away. "It's just that you, um, reminded me just now," I choked through the words, "of someone I miss dearly." Yamada shared my father's curse of foolhardy generosity. It was precisely because of that resemblance that I was clinging onto this dream. It was this exact resemblance that persuaded me to throw caution aside to have just a few more hours with him.

Yamada peered down at me with a pained expression as if he, too, could feel my grief. He cupped the side of my face, tears dampening his fingers. "I know the types of wounds that loss can cause." His face softened. "I've cried these same tears, Rika. I could see myself in you the second I spotted you. Why do you think I've been so kind?"

My chest heaved as I let out another sob. I wanted to believe that there was a chance of Yamada understanding. That if I explained it all right there in that room as the candles melted down, he wouldn't think I was telling him some long, cruel joke. "The types of demons that chase me can't be killed with kindness, Yamada. I cannot be the cause of an-"

Suddenly, Yamada's lips met mine. I was thankful for the interruption. 'I cannot be the cause of another death,' was what I had almost haphazardly blurted out in the heat of the moment. Before he pulled away, Yamada noted, "I told you once already, Rika." He held my face with one hand to look at his, slightly pressing my cheeks with his fingers. "I've known plenty of danger in my life." Yamada left a single kiss on my forehead before he leaned back and in one swift movement lifted me up and laid me sideways across his arms.

"Uwah!" I yelped as I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck for balance. He chuckled and made his way to the couch.

"It'll take a lot more than that to scare me off." My back thumped against the couch cushions as he plopped me down. "So that means," Yamada lifted himself onto the couch as well, "that you're stuck with me." His knees straddled my legs. Yamada was still smiling, but his eyes turned uncharacteristically serious. "And I don't want my Rika running off without me or trying to battle whatever demons these are all by herself."

If only it was that simple.

As if he had read my mind, Yamada then whispered, "Give me a little credit, Rika, and I may surprise you." I felt his lips again, this time they pressed impatiently against my own. His one hand gripped the armrest above my head while his other reached for his belt buckle.

"Hah," I breathed deeply to catch my breath. "Wait," I began.

"Have faith in me, Miss Rika," Yamada murmured quietly against my lips. He successfully slid the buckle out of the pants' loops. "I'll make everything better."

BANG! BANG! "Yamada!" A deep voice yelled from outside as they slammed their fist against the bar's door.

Yamada's head shot up. "God damn it," he groaned. He waited for one more knock before looking back down at me with an apologetic smile. "Hold that thought, please." He lifted himself up off of the couch, dropped his belt on the floor and quickly made his way to the door and down the stairs. I sunk down into the couch, wishing it could engulf me into its depths. I placed both hands on my chest, noticed my quickened heart rate, and closed my eyes. After composing myself, I was able to sit up. I could hear the hushed voices of Yamada and the visitor downstairs. The music coming from the still turning record drowned out any specific words. I wiped my face of any remaining tears with the back of my hands. My eyes wandered to the belt that sat on the ground. I could feel my cheeks heat up. Yamada was clearly done holding back.

The downstairs door slammed closed. I reached forward to the wine glass sitting in front of me and chugged a mouthful as Yamada walked back in. My face puckered from the dry, bitter taste, "Ugh."

"Not a fan?" He asked, motioning to the wine. His lips formed a smile, but his eyes were clouded with despair.

"Is everything okay?"

Yamada reached up and brushed the sides of his eyes. "Yeah, uh." He sighed. "Just some, um, pretty unfortunate news..." He cleared his throat, attempting to hide the emotion in his voice. He made his way back to where I still sat. "The wine and cakes are supposed to be eaten together. To balance each other out," he explained, changing the subject. What happened? And why are you pretending that you are not hurting? I wanted to ask it, but he didn't seem to want to delve further. I supposed even Yamada had secrets he couldn't reveal. He let out a disheartened sigh after reading the worry on my face. He reached down and I could feel his hand pat my head assuredly. "Nothing can be done tonight," he promised. After a pause, he moved to pick up his wine glass. He lifted it up and then back down to mine with a swift clink. "Cheers to pretty blonde girls," he said, letting out a chuckle before taking a long gulp of the wine and removing his hand from my head.

I raised my glass slightly and took a sip. Yamada promptly picked up a piece of cake and held it expectedly to my mouth. "Try this and then drink again," he suggested. I opened my mouth to taste the vanilla sponge that was sweetened by a thick custard. Lifting the glass again, I took a second sip of the wine. It was much more tolerable, its bitterness cut by the cake. Yamada tossed the remaining bite into his own mouth and took another gulp of his drink before setting it down. I felt his body sag into the couch beside me. His head fell back. His eyes scanned the ceiling. After a pause, he moved his hand to mine. "You know, on nights like these, I got used to finding myself hours later with no memory, surrounded by too many empty bottles. But as I'm sitting here, next to you, Rika, all I can feel is grateful." He squeezed my hand. "Grateful that you stayed last night." His head lifted and turned to look at me. His eyes were red from crying earlier, but shined with sincerity now. "And hopeful," he continued. "Hopeful you'll continue making that decision over and over with me until it's no longer even a question." I drank the last of my wine and sat my glass down. The wine did not leave the same burn that the day before's drink had, but I did notice the same fuzzy feeling. The flickering lights cast by the melting candles warped and danced on the walls. I leaned in towards Yamada and combed my fingers through his dark hair, stopping at the back of his head.

"Yamada," I whispered. Even I was not sure what words were going to come out of my mouth. "I have reason to believe that I'm falling in love with you," I quoted him as I placed a kiss on his lips. Yamada smiled gently and opened his mouth to speak, but I continued, "But I can't be saved. And I'm afraid. Because I know that if I make the same selfish decision that I did last night, you will be killed." The wine was thoroughly affecting me, bringing out such bluntness.

Yamada sighed as I leaned back. "She tells me with such a pleading expression, like she's begging me to convince her otherwise," he chuckled ruefully. "You may think I'm just a drunken fool, but I don't make promises I can't keep." Everything I had learned thus far about Yamada told me that was true. Opening up to him was dangerously easy. It wasn't an act that he played and it wasn't just me that got caught falling into his spell. I could see it in his guests' faces at the bar. I could sense it while we were at the market as he paid unfair prices just because it would help his neighbors.

"My name," I turned my head from him. Run, my body told me. He will take it all back if I tell him. I gripped the fabric of the couch, fighting my own instincts. "My name is Yui."

All I could hear were my own quick breaths. "Yui," Yamada muttered as he pulled me across his lap, my back to his armrest. My heart threatened to jump out of my chest as he repeated it. "Yui." His arms wrapped around me. "It sounds natural coming from your lips." His hand met my cheek and his fingers brushed across my lips. A familiar pit in my stomach reemerged. The immediate need to run had subsided, but a deep ache in the depths of my gut remained. Sweet. The air smelled deliciously sweet. Yamada's face drew nearer and the scent grew stronger. Was it just the lingering scent of cake? I closed the distance between us, giving a quick lick to his lips. What I sensed was different. It was something... different.

Yamada beamed at me. The thumping of his heart drowned out the record player's notes. My face flushed. More. I needed more. But of what? He returned my kiss tenfold. Our lips parted and I could feel his body heat grow hot through his clothes. More. Give me more, my body begged. "Let yourself be vulnerable with me," Yamada ordered. He pulled back slightly and released his grasp around me to pull his shirt up and off. "'Cuz I don't make a habit," he started as he shifted me off of his lap, "of taking in pets that I can't care for." Yamada reached down to my dress and tugged it up, pulling it over my head and tossing it onto the couch on top of his shirt. "And in fact, when they're as cute as Miss Yui," he emphasized my true name, "I find myself downright spoiling them."

I could feel a cold sweat form on my forehead. My mouth was dry. Was it from the wine? My mind whirled, incessantly attempting to pinpoint what was making me feel this way. I hardly noticed that I now sat practically naked in front of Yamada's gaze. He was pulling his pants down. "Y- Yamada," I whispered. Misunderstanding me, Yamada leaned down, giving a deep kiss. He softly bit my lip. "Mmrh," I mumbled against his lips.

Something was wrong.

I raised my hands onto his shoulders and as I violently pushed him away, "Gah!?" he accidentally bit my lip, CRASH, and fell backwards into the living room table.

Something was very wrong.

The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the room along with a dull scratch of a needle against the ended record. A drop of blood pooled on my lip where Yamada had bitten. My tongue reflectively licked it away. A familiar taste. The ache in my stomach grew angrier. And then the smell returned. That sweet scent. I peered down at Yamada. His body wasn't moving. Blood started trickling from glass cuts onto the table.

More, my body yelled.

I moved over to him and crouched down. My face hovered above his own.

More, it begged.

I could sense his blood, still deafeningly rushing through his veins.

Give me more.

Taking in deep ragged breaths, I opened my mouth widely...

Give me more.

...and pierced Yamada's neck with my teeth.

I. Need. More.