11. 33% - Kid

Tick. Tock.

The only sound to ring in the overly sized room was the clock that hung high above between two windows; perfectly in the center. Curtains were draped over the windows, blocking rays of light from entering the abode, casting dark shadows to dance around him. Slender, pale fingers bent and grasped a spongy ball, rhythmically shifting it back and forth.

Honey glazed eyes traced the familiar walls surrounding him, re-memorizing a place he called home. There wasn't a piece of furniture out of place within the four walls of his bedroom. Not a piece of clothing, not a hair on his head, and certainly not a piece of dignity as he waited on a response - unsuccessfully patient.

Irritation bubbled inside his chest, unable to quell it from spilling out and into his, usually, reasonable brain. The ball that was previously captured between thin hands, slammed against the wall ahead of him. His body pulled itself up, perfectly in the center of it - not a centimeter off. Those same fingers slipped a sleek phone from its rest in his pants. Bangs hung low as he unlocked the device in his hold.

Ping.

Dark eyebrows raised in surprise. A bubblegum hair person appeared, big doe eyes staring back full center on the screen; which was too large for any one person to own. Swiping one finger against the surface, the message popped up in front of him. Words were devoured as if this was the last meal he was expecting for weeks, soaking in on each letter and comma that was used. Not wanting to leave them in suspense, he compiled a message within a few minutes. Eyes scanned back and forth; was this the right thing to say? It had to be perfect - like everything else in his life.

A timestamp appeared as the sent button was pressed, safely delivering the message to his beloved. Golden hues stayed glued to the screen a few seconds more, as if he was waiting for another confirmation that the message was received. The same eyes shot upward to the top right corner of the screen A small smile appeared on his face - he promised himself he would go to sleep when his phone died. There were still a few more agonizing hours of back and forth chatter before that happened.

Thirty-three percent left.

12. Dead Wrong - Crona

Death was her destiny.

Pale fingers wrapped around her slender neck, resting on the collarbone residing at the bottom. Between her thumb and index was an expensive, and most definitely delicate necklace. Ice blue eyes stared in horror as the twin in the mirror gaped back in the same way. Soft, pink lips, glossed with chap stick, opened and closed, unsure of what she could say.

The feelings were all bundled in her chest, wrapping around each other like scarves you ignored for years in your closet. Confusion and misunderstanding stabbed its way through the nicer feelings of love, acceptance, and pure joy. She was brought out of her stupor by the squeezing of her bare shoulders, pulling her back into her body. Her eyes met golden hues in the glass, not daring to turn around in fear of what he would actually be expressing.

The mirror version of the man behind her only donned a smile, soft enough to be a cloud. There was no way. No way in hell that this was meant for her; that this life was meant for her. She didn't believe it before, a year ago when he approached her. This year was a constant state of push and pull of him showing pure love and her denying him at every turn.

"Crona?" His whisper brushed her ear as he pulled her soft, cotton candy hair behind it. She instinctively rubbed her lips together, still at this moment resisting the feelings he was pushing at her. Showering her in the warmth and comfort she never had before. She cast her eyes downwards, not able to handle the heat radiating out of his honey eyes. His gentle touch rotated her around, now facing him bare; raw emotions against each other with no glass barrier to cast an illusion - she loathed it.

"You're beautiful." Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, dragging her eyes up to him. He met her with compassion as he poured and poured, and poured so much love inside her empty, broken cask of a person that she felt herself overflowing with no way to store it. The tears overflowed, sliding down the curves of her cheeks, dripping down her pointed chin and onto the floor below.

His hands enveloped her face, smearing the liquid against her skin, forcing it to dry on her. She breathed in and out ragged, unable to control her emotions. "It's okay, love." He whispered, pulling her close, their bodies merging their heat.

Her life was supposed to be different. There wasn't supposed to be a life. Death was her destiny. All along she thought she knew what that meant for her future. To die for her twisted mother's beliefs, corrupted and confused on a bloody battlefield - no. She was dead wrong. Her life was to devote herself to death; to love, support, and enjoy her time with.

She felt herself slowly start to accept that destiny always proved you dead wrong.

13. Running Away - Kid

Sweaty palms clasped each other desperately, the fear of them slipping out of each other ever present on their minds. Lungs burned, legs ached, and panic threaded itself in their minds. The sun bared down on their already soaked backs, dodging through the alleyways of the city. Colors blurred past them, unable to appreciate the beauty of the city they called home.

Rounding the corner, he abruptly stopped, causing the thin girl to bump into him. Their breaths escaped in quick puffs, mixing in with the humidity that surrounded them. He could feel her exhale onto his neck. Fingers tightened around each other, tangling tightly in hopes of never letting go. Pressing his back against the nearby wall, he peered around the corner. There were plenty of people casually waiting around the station as everyone waited for the next train to arrive.

Squeezing their sweaty palms together, he brought his golden hues to meet with her blue ones. Pale cheeks were flush with red and sweat dripped down her skin as her breath evened out. Her backpack was sloppily hung over her shoulder, and it almost made him want to reach out to fix it, but he restrained himself; now was not the time. The insecurities from their sudden decision bubbled inside his chest; he was having second thoughts? He was sure he never regretted a decision in his life. Panic welled up, swirling around in his brain before plummeting into his stomach causing a swift feeling of nausea there. Maybe it was the heat. He was sure he was going to barf. What was he thinking - running away like this?

Two, thin hands pressed into his shoulders, pushing him back against the cool wall. Panicky eyes snapped up to meet the cool presence of Crona. He hadn't noticed her removing her hand from his. Determination - an expression rarely shown in the female - stared back at him. The firm grip kept him in place, thankful for the anchor instead of spiraling into his own despair.

"We can make it." Her voice was low as she spoke, causing him to lean toward her. She was right, he had it planned out, everything would be taken care of. He raised himself to stand at his full height, adjusting his own pack. He gave a swift nod, reaffirming his resolve. He offered his hand to her, which she took instantly; holding tightly, afraid to let go.

Together, they emerged from the shadows to face a new day; running away from the troubles of yesterday.

14. Judgment - Crona

Her locker squeaked open as she pulled it, shoving one of her books inside. The day was coming to a close and all she wanted was to go home, hide away. Even though she thought that, she knew Maka would come dragging her away and she would have to politely decline - rinse and repeat. She stared into the dark locker, taking in how little she personalized it.

It was depressing.

After a moment, she closed her locker, only to come face to face with a dark haired male. Her body moved jerked back, a small sound escaping her pink, chapped lips. Wide blue eyes stared downward at him as he remained unbothered by the sudden scare he gave her.

"K-kid?" How long had he been standing there? Embarrassment rose onto her cheeks at the thought of him patiently waiting for her to close her locker.

"I was sent to retrieve you." He smiled, obviously not knowing the effect he had on her - or maybe he did. She briefly remembered their last encounter alone. Dark night, soft light, a brush of a hand and she ran. It overwhelmed her.

"Oh." Was her response as she wrapped her arms around herself. He held up his hand to her. Eyes bored into the palm, confusion clear as day on her face with what she was supposed to do with it. A chuckle brought her attention back to his face.

"You are supposed to hold it." She searched for a semblance that he was joking, but all she found was kindness behind his honey colored eyes. She felt her walls crumbling at the sight, unable to completely reject the idea of holding his hand. In that moment, he could lead her anywhere he wanted as long as they were together. Trembling, her hand reaching out for his, her heartbeat in her throat.

"Is that the witch?" Crona froze midair, their fingertips almost touching. Someone further down the hall whispered, but it was a deafening scream in her head. She ripped her hand back to her side and stumbled back. Panic rose in her throat, suffocating her as she stared at him. Concern was the only thing on his face as he stepped toward her.

"Crona?"

"I'm sorry! I - I can't." Shaking her pink locks aggressively around her head, she turned and ran. Once again. Fear trembled through her body as she pushed past the two people that had been talking. Her arms came around her in the hopes to protect herself. She couldn't take their judgmental opinions. She couldn't put Kid through that.

So she left, shouldering the judgement by herself.

15. Seeking Solace - Kid

Thunderous laughter and music that shook you to the core sounded around the grand hall. Colorful confetti, balloons, and candy littered the floor as sleek, black shoes maneuvered around - it disgusted him how disorganized the place became. The more steps he took, the farther he was from the onslaught of music and cheers. Most of the crowd was inside the main room of the party, only a few stragglers in the hallways. And most of them were sucking face with each other.

He rolled his eyes at the way alcohol buzzed through people so easily, leaving them vulnerable to their basic instincts. The poor souls were clinging onto the fact that a new year started tonight. New year; new me. A motto that never lasted more than a few months before they slunk back to how their spirit was actually. He felt himself spinning from the disaster he passed, ignoring the mess as much as he could. He needed out.

Large canvas curtains pulled him in as he spotted the nearby double doors. Without a moment more, he slipped out of them, closing them silently behind him. It wasn't much, but the music and chatter were muffled far behind him now. Sighing, he turned toward the balcony, only to pause as he noticed a figure hunched over the railing.

Eyes gazed over the perfectly shaped ass that stuck out of the finely tailored suit; he recognized it immediately for he was the one that commissioned it. Dragging his eye upward over the arch of the back to the pulled up cotton candy hair that was piled on top of her head. He would admit it, it was a little surprising to see her here, of all the balconies.

"Crona?" He approached her, being soft in his steps. Just as expected, she stood rigid and glanced back. He was met with crystal clear, blue eyes; which surprised him even more. He could have sworn he saw her drinking and yet she appeared completely sober.

"Kid, hey." She brought her hands together onto the railing, smiling at him and bowing her head. He didn't miss the blush to appear on her cheeks.

"What brought you out here?" He inquired, finding a spot next to her on the railing. He mimicked her posture, leaning his weight in front of him.

"Just… needed to get away." She replied, honesty flowing through her words.

"Me too." They both stood in silence in the dark, the only light being the moon that hung high in the sky and the soft glow of light coming from the doors behind them. Shoulders slumped as he felt his body relax against the quiet of the night, and of his company. At that thought, he brought his gaze back to her face. Her stare was focused on the glass that was between her pale fingers.

"You know," Her small voice broke the silence. "Maka said this would loosen me up, but I don't feel any different." She confessed, bringing her blue eyes to meet his, and innocence framing them.

"Alcohol?" He questioned, eyeing the drink with little interest. She nodded, swirling the liquid in the glass.

"It just tastes bad." The pink tongue that resided in her mouth, slipping out between her equally pink lips in distaste.

"It doesn't affect me either." He offered, hoping she didn't feel left out. Her curious eyes met his and he couldn't help the smile that graced his face. Her smile wasn't far behind as she stared back. He didn't know how long they lingered there, gazing back at each other, and he didn't care.

BANG!

Both of their bodies jumped in fright at the sound that burst above them. In the distance, there was cheering. Both pairs of eyes gapped at the fireworks being brought to life in the dark sky. Once he realized what was happening, he relaxed once more. A small 'wow' caught his attention. When he glanced back at Crona, her mouth was partially open as she stared in child-like wonder at the colors painting the sky. His heartbeat skipped as he lovingly gazed at her amazement.

He didn't realize it, but this was the solace he was seeking away from the party. Her cold fingers landed on his hand as she pointed a particular burst that contained exactly eight colors. He barely gave it a glance as he pulled his eyes back at his pink haired friend. Slowly, he brought himself closer to her, and she didn't seem to mind as they enjoyed the start of a new year together.