Enjoy.


Chapter 5: Amu's POV

Amu laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling while Paris Paloma played through her earphones. She had been using music to keep her brain silent for the past two days. She didn't want to think about him every waking moment, and for that reason, she hadn't gone back to the park after that night. If she didn't control herself, she'd visit that park every single night and would stay there until the dawn broke. She needed that control otherwise he would eat her alive. Figuratively, and if he was telling her the truth probably literally too. She had two days to come to terms with all of the information the internet could give her, and although she held everything with a grain of salt, she couldn't help but to find some explanations in those websites that could be tied to his behavior.

She sat up when her stomach grumbled and started to debate on what to eat. She didn't enjoy cooking very much, and she didn't have the money to get some delivered. Well, where does that leave me? She guessed that she'd just have to figure it out.

Her fork twirled around aimlessly in the bowl of instant ramen noodles she ultimately decided that she'd cook up. Simple, quick, and not much effort from her was needed. The lights flickered in the kitchen, and her shoulders tensed with the oncoming paranoia. Just about every noise set her off and she had to admit that she was on edge. With everything that'd bee going on and with his talent of coming and going, her brain wired itself to prepare to see him in any scenario, at any time. And with that admission she turned on Spotify and drowned herself in music again. Her noodles were overcooked and the seasoning packet she used wasn't a flavor that she really liked but it was edible, so she was going to eat it regardless.

Amu sighed. Part of her wished that she'd never encountered Mr. Violin. That both times they'd met each other were just extremely vivid, very lucid dreams that she had. But real to her or not, it was happening. And he, was fascinating. It'd been two days since she'd last seen him ranting to her about humans in the park. Two days since then, and she'd been staring at research paged on her laptop ever since. Everything she'd read just pointed to him telling her he was some kind of supernatural womanizer. He really could have left the supernatural bit out of it if he wanted to tell her he wasn't looking for commitment. Amu almost laughed at the thought. He was too good looking to not have any flaws. And flaws, he did have.

If she had believed in what she'd researched she would've been freaking out. According to Google, the skin of a Gancanagh was toxic. To touch them would result in a highly addictive feeling of arousal and passion. Sexual pleasure and the false feelings of wanting love and affection overwhelmed the body; so much so that the basic human needs like eating and sleeping were abandoned. The need for the Gancanagh's pleasure came as often as an addict would need cigarettes or alcohol and if not taken care of, the withdrawals were more often than not fatal. How this benefitted this particular Faerie, she had no idea. After her sources began to look repetitive and inconclusive, she'd stopped searching.

She began to humor the thought of him telling the truth and it had made her cheeks burn a bright red. She started to imagine him in the position of touching people and making love with anyone, and in turn, the all too familiar tendrils began to unfurl within. If he were someone mystical and inhuman, why did it have to be a creature so explicit? Her thoughts felt illegal; like it was a topic she practically needed to pay for in order to pursue thinking. Part of her wanted to play pretend, ignoring all of what she believed was rational just so she could play the part with him. She enjoyed reading in the park as a form of escape, and somehow she has begun to loop in seeing him as another. He made her feel things she had never thought she would, and they were still complete strangers. At least this time, I have a name, she thought. Strangers with a name; wouldn't that now make them acquaintances? One step further, Ikuto.

BANG!

Amu practically catapulted out her seat, an empty bowl in her hand. She quickly dumped the bowl into the sink and ran to the front door of the house and pulled it open without a moment's hesitation. "Yeah?"

"H-Hinamorri Amn...…" A familiar voice slurred. Her eyes landed on the person in front of her and she couldn't help the small sigh of relief to see her father, totally plastered and leaning against the door frame all out of sorts. But she'd take him rather than some paranormal psycho murderer.

"What is it, Dad?"

Her dad's dark-brown curls laid on the top of his head in a messy fashion. His breath smelled rancid and so she stepped away, wrinkling her nose and allowing him the space to walk into the house.

"Yer mother in ther...?" He motioned to the other room. "Sh-he wants me to come talk."

Her brows furrowed together and she tried hard to decipher his ugly English. "Oh... I haven't seen her?" She closed the door and locked it before she maneuvered around him and headed towards the kitchen. She motioned up the stairs and looked back to him. "Go look?"

"Amu! Where do you think you're going tonight?" Her mother yelled from the living room. Amu halted and took a sharp right to the living room instead. Her nose immediately took in the undeniable scent of weed once her body entered the room and she made way for her dad to come in from behind her.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere..." She replied, confusion in her tone.

"You were! You were going to sneak out that damned fire escape!" Her mother said, her pitch escalated to a yell. "If you're planning to leave, you may as well just do it; just like your sister."

Amu's brows pushed together once again, and she could feel the beginnings of a headache form. Ami was staying with their aunt because she just couldn't handle the amount of yelling that constantly happened while she was here. The only reason Amu stayed behind was because she wanted to ensure her parents' capability to take care of themselves was strong. But at times like these, she genuinely regretted not leaving with Ami and constantly played with the thought of climbing down the fire escape that was outside of her bedroom window.

"I really wasn't going to go anywhere..." Amu denied, shrugging her shoulders. Now I might, her thought contradicted.

But her mother seemed beyond all rationality. "You treat both of us like we're children! You know, we're the ones who raised you."

Oh Lord here we go, Amu struggled to keep her eyes straight rather than rolling into the back of her head. She bit her lip and made good work to keep her expression as reactionless as possible.

"We pay the bills, we put a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food in your mouth! You're ungrateful and always have been," her mother sat on the couch with her legs crossed and she stamped out her blunt into an ashtray.

Amu stood there and worked hard to separate her mind from her body. There was so much she wanted to say, but it would be such a waste of her own precious life to say it. She wanted to tell her parents to both go to rehab. She wanted to tell them that just because they make each others lives a living hell didn't mean they had to do the very same to hers. For a long time, Amu based her decisions on what would help her parents. She didn't go out with friends if it meant spending money, she didn't take any time to figure out a career she wanted to work towards business because that would have meant leaving her parents alone.

For her to see the backlash of a mistake that was made eighteen years ago when her dad got her mom pregnant was unfair. It was just a fling for them and it wasn't supposed to be anything serious. She'd guessed that their own parents made them marry each other and when she came along, Ami did shortly after. Amu supposed the reason they acted like this was because they didn't have the chance to act like teenagers when they were one and so they're doing it now. And although she could understand it, it was still not her fault and they needed to keep their regret and anger over the past far away from her.

"Look, I'll just head out and give you guys some space, then..." Amu tried again, "but I'll be back later on to make sure you guys don't do something you'll regret afterwards. There's ramen in the cabinet, and I think there's still some pizza in the fridge but you'll need to warm it up." She had turned around and made her way back to the entrance of the kitchen when she heard her mom call.

"We don't need you to take care of us!"

Amu paused and shook her head, before walking up the steps to head back to her room. The faint chatter amongst her parents ruptured into muffled bickering right as her room door closed behind her.

She really hadn't planned on going out. She really, truly didn't and in fact was going to prep for school the next morning. She wasn't ready to talk with Ikuto and she surely wasn't mentally prepped to intake any more fantasies. She pulled out her phone to check the time and immediately groaned. It was only seventy forty-five; not even close to the time she'd usually seen him come around while sitting in the park.

She stopped to stare into the mirror. She was wearing her jeans again with a plain white shirt. Her hair was down and it looked clear that she hadn't brushed it in the last two days. She grabbed a grey hair tie from her nightstand and used her fingers to brush her hair back into a high bun. She stared at her face and debated whether or not she should put makeup on before deciding against it. She may have had time, but she was getting antsy. Instead, she grabbed the tube of lipgloss that she had sitting on her dresser and quickly put on a layer before walking over to the tall, walnut bookshelf that stood in the corner of her room.

She grabbed a book off her shelf, not caring enough to pick a specific one. She grabbed her purple readers' light, and opened the window in her room to the fire escape. She paused with her head out the window, replaying her mother's rant from earlier before scoffing, shaking her head in mild amusement.

It's almost like she hadn't looked her mother in the face and told her she wasn't using the fire escape. Well... She shoved her leg out the window and stepped out onto the landing of the rusty, metal staircase. It was creaky, but secure enough to use. Cold air cut through her pant-leg, and she immediately regretted not grabbing a jacket. Goosebumps popped up all on her bare arms, and she turned her head and stared back into her room before climbing down the ladder. She would've climbed back in and grabbed a jacket, but she truthfully didn't want to go back in that hellhole. Her feet touched the last bar and she jumped off and onto the leafy, littered sidewalk that was on the side of her house. She brushed off her jeans before walking off into the direction of the park.


R&R is greatly appreciated. ^^