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ineffablecolors · 5 years

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The Wife [4/?]

The Wife || Ch 4 ~ 4.2 k || Ch 1 Ch2 Ch3 || FF.NET&AO3 Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are? A/N: Do check the notes on chapter 1 and fair warning - they touch again.

Dear Emma,

If Emma had any doubts about Killian’s claims, the letter she receives from Mary Margaret the very next day would’ve put them to rest. As it is, she is grateful to be forewarned so the information Mary relays is not as much of a shock to her as it apparently was to her friend.

Still, her heart can’t help but constrict painfully at Mary’s badly hidden distress. The indignation on the sheet of paper is palpable – how the last cup of tea Emma shared with her friend wasn’t even washed yet when Mary’s apartment became the preferred destination for good Samarians who wanted to warn her that she’d better wait a fortnight before paying her friend a visit as some people expected Killian Jones to put her out of his house in no time at all.

Emma is not terribly surprised. Whatever rumours might circulate about Captain Jones, he is still a man and one with a decent income at that. Society may wag its tongues but it will never spit him out. It obviously has no such qualms about Emma.

Mary, however – with her less than favourable opinion of Emma’s husband, is obviously incented by the mere suggestion that Killian might be the one to find fault with Emma rather than the other way around. Yet, Emma can’t help but notice that it has taken more than a week for her friend to write to her. She believes this as well probably stems from Mary’s distrust of her husband, rather than a desire to set herself apart from Emma and, while the latter would have been truly devastating, she finds that the former causes her a fair bit of annoyance as well.

She can’t help the spike of irritation when her friend’s manner of writing adopts the style of one addressing a prisoner – as if she were a princess locked in a towel guarded by a dragon. Though that image is only wrong in spirit for, compared to her life with Regina, Emma does feel rather like a princess and, reading about the social fires raging in town, she rather appreciates the protection of her public-shunning dragon.

Thus, Emma sits at her desk, staring out of the window and wondering what on earth is the proper thing to do – invite her closest friend to visit her in her new home like any newly married woman would or absolve her of having to associate herself with Emma at least for the near future. Eventually, as with most things, Emma decides to trust the feeling deep in her gut. She writes back to Mary Margaret, inviting her to visit if and only if she is confident it won’t prove too much of a stain on her snow white reputation and, as kindly as she can, asks her not to abuse Killian’s name without reason.

*****

But it is not that letter which takes Emma by surprise, expected even earlier as it had been. It’s the one she finds the morning after, when she and Alice are sorting through their correspondence and Emma is trying – as she does every morning – not to notice the steady flow of letters Alice receives – all carrying the same pretty cursive.

She gets up and heads for Killian’s study, turning the letter over and over in her hand.

“I think you forgot this one,” she says when she is within reach of his desk and he can get a good look at the name.

He looks up and Emma purses her lips so she doesn’t grin at the way he squints and pushes his glasses up his nose.

“I did not. It’s addressed to you.”

“Yes, but it’s from your sister-in-law.”

“Aye, but it’s addressed to you. I’m not going to go around opening your correspondence, Emma, no matter who it might be from.”

Emma draws her hand back to her side and mulls that over. Privacy is most certainly not something she has been deprived off in this house but she appreciates the freedoms that she keeps discovering, freedoms that she thought – still thinks really – not many women enjoy.

“May I?”

She waves a hand toward one of the armchairs in Killian’s study and he blinks at her a couple of time in surprise before he nods his affirmation. Emma drops into the chair’s soft depths slightly less gracefully than she intended and a sly look at Killian shows that he might have noticed, if the way he focuses hard on the papers before him and purses his own lips to keep them from stretching is any indication. She does her best to control her blush and turns her attention back to Elsa’s letter. Elsa’s invitation, as it turns out.

“There’s to be a dance.”

“I expected as much.”

“You did?”

“Hmm. You and Alice should pick some new gowns this week.”

She laughs.

“I just finished filling a whole wardrobe, I believe I’ll manage to find something to wear. Does that mean we will be attending?”

Killian finally looks up again and Emma thinks that surprise is definitely the reaction she seems to inspire the most in her husband.

“Even I don’t refuse invitations extended by my own brother and his lovely wife. Especially when the whole affair is organized to welcome my new wife.”

He gives her a pointed look and Emma feels her eyes widen, the letter almost slipping from her cold fingers.

“Oh. But… this can’t— You must tell them there is no need—“

Killian waves his hand in a gesture that seems to say nothing can be done about it now.

“Do not concern yourself, Elsa would seize any and every opportunity for a ball. I would’ve been concerned for my sister’s health had she failed to send such an invitation before the close of the month. It will also…” Killian looks her in the eyes, a certain amount of caution and gentleness swimming in the blue. “Well, it will be a good thing for us to do.”

There is no blush on her cheeks now, she is certain, for while the feeling for one is there, her face must be quite pale as she realizes that the Jones’s are throwing a ball to demonstrate that Killian has not married her just to hide her away like a shameful secret.

“Oh, this is really—“

Emma flounders for a bit before she drops her face in her hands and tries to master her emotions, her shoulders hunched and her fingers digging into the roots of her hair as she breathes through her nose. Focused as she is on that crucial task, the warmth of Killian’s hand on her knee is like a jolt to her entire system. She looks up to find him kneeling in front of her, a cautious and concerned expression on his face.

“Emma, there truly is nothing to worry about. It’s not at all unusual to celebrate an addition to the family with a—“

“Yes, except,” her voice is choked but she soldiers on. “This is not a celebration but a demonstration—“

“That depends entirely on how you choose to see it.”

She opens her mouth to protest but the calmness on his face stops the words in her throat.

“Papa, I have decided what— Oh. Is something the matter?”

The concern on Alice’s face is the last push Emma needs to pull herself together and she smiles up at the girl the best she can as her hand reaches to quickly squeeze Killian’s in silent gratitude – the warmth of it almost seeping into her own fingers.

“It would seem we are going to a ball.”

“Ah, is that what aunt Elsa wrote you about? But… do you not wish to go, Emma?”

“No, no, I do. I was just… surprised, her requesting that I be her guest of honour is a bit... I’m sure to muck it up.”

Alice laughs at her choice of words and shakes her head as Killian gets back to his feet.

“It’s really not that difficult. You just have to look nice but also not overshadow aunt.”

Emma takes her own turn to laugh.

“I’m quite certain there is no danger of that.”

“What did you come to tell me, darling?”

“Ah, yes,” and just like that the sparkle is back in Alice’s eyes. “I’ve decided what we are to do today.”

“And you have been so kind as to come pass your sentence personally.”

Alice rolls her eyes in a manner that Emma is sure many a proper lady would have quite a few choice words for but no one in the room seems to mind.

“We’re going to the lake. Ruby is already preparing a basket.”

Killian casts a mournful look at his desk before he sighs and turns back to his daughter.

“Aye, aye, cap’n.”

*****

Ruby tries to stifle her laugh as she watches the mistress of the house rub mournfully at the heel of her foot.

“I have never seen a woman this fond of walking and riding, and running, and really any physically taxing activity on the face of the earth.”

Now she can’t help but chuckle in agreement.

“She was much worse when she was little, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, what did she do then? Fly?”

“She tried it once. Thankfully, she was already smart enough to choose a window on the ground floor. Granny says half of Captain Jones’s gray hairs are from that very day.”

Emma shakes her head and fits her foot back in her soft slipper with the slightest whimper before she takes the other one in her hands. Ruby adds one last log to the fire in the library and turns to leave when Emma speaks up again.

“Ruby, did— Was there a ball given when… when the late Mrs Jones became… Mrs Jones?”

Ruby frowns a bit, digging into her own memories and trying to order what her grandmother has told her.

“Well, I think I wasn’t old enough to be helping Granny around the kitchen yet. She’d only been here for a year or so. Ever since the captain had come back from the war and taken the house, you know? And she—” Ruby smiles at her first memories of sneaking rolls behind Granny’s back. “She’d bring me round from time to time, she couldn’t always leave me with neighbours and all and she says Killian never minded. Now, she minded plenty but she had bigger messes to make to bother with me.”

Granny being the irreproachable fortress than she is, Ruby always gladly takes on the role of a more welcoming and engaging presence, but even she made an exception for Eloise. The woman scared her as a child and then—

She shakes her head and focuses her eyes on Emma’s curious green ones. Her mouth is set in a line that tells Ruby whatever she has heard has been enough to incite less than tender sympathies toward the previous Mrs Jones.

“But, no. No, I was told the whole thing was very quick and quiet. No announcements, no fanfare. I don’t think anyone was at the ceremony except for Admiral Jones. And then… well, she went into society a lot, I think. But never with the captain. There was this group of women – they’d come here often and then she would visit with them for long periods of time. I think everybody rather preferred it that way.”

She closes her mouth and sucks her lips in, sensing that she might have gotten carried away. Emma only asked about a ball and Ruby doesn’t want her thinking that she’ll grasp at any opportunity to gossip.

“Thank you. I umm…,” Emma’s own discomfort puts her more at ease. “I didn’t mean to pry into— I just wanted to get an idea. No matter. Thank you.”

Her smile is a little forced and nervous and Ruby returns it with a warm and genuine one. She has been watching Emma tiptoe around the house and the family even since she got here and she finds it both endearing and a little saddening. She almost wants to tell her that there is little she can do that will stand in a bad light compared to what came to pass before her, she wants to tell her that a little calmness and a little softness is all they all need and she seems to have enough of both within her.

But she doesn’t say any of that. It’s not her place and her grandmother will have her head, if she does. Ruby doesn’t get how she can still be suspicious of the new mistress’s intentions but she knows there is no use arguing with her – no one but Granny can convince Granny that she is wrong. So with another smile, she turns to leave, stopping with the door handle in her hand.

“Another thing, Miss Alice’s secret might be retiring to bed before the witching hour. Which cannot often be said about her father and yourself.”

*****

Emma stretches her aching legs in front of her one more time before she gets up and makes her way to the study at the end of the corridor for the second time that day.

The late summer day on the lake proved a nice distraction. Alice is something of an expert on lake and woodland creatures alike, Ruby is most certainly an expert on putting together a picnic in an hour and Killian apparently likes to pretend that he is an expert at stone skipping even though she defeated him twice as often as he did her. But, most importantly, none of them seem to be experts on ball etiquette and, rather than make her more anxious, this seemed to calm Emma’s nerves concerning the whole affair.

Back when she first came out into society, Regina was willing to let her go to as many dances as three gowns per season would permit her. But after a certain point in her young life her public appearances steadily decreased. At first, it was deemed the wise thing to do – to just disappear for a bit, to not fan the rumours’ flames by showing her face all around town, and then afterwards, Emma herself had lost all interest in the frivolities of meeting young ladies and gentlemen who cared more about what was being said about her and what she was wearing in her hair than what was in her head, let alone her heart – the latter was almost unmanageably heavy and after some time she tried to keep the former as blank as possible.

Obviously, whatever good her restrained and demure presence had achieved was undone by Regina’s candidness and desperate rush to find her a husband and now, in a few weeks’ time, Emma will have her first chance to hopefully start anew as Mrs Emma Jones. She tries to chase the thought away before it can seep all the way inside her and twist her all up, instead she takes the open door as a good sign and leans her hip lightly on the doorframe as she waits for Killian to look up from whatever he is scribbling furiously.

It takes long enough that her feet start tingling in protest again. Finally, his eyes rise and then so do his eyebrows – the question obvious and underlined with a touch of annoyance. She concentrates on not shifting nervously on her feet.

“Did you need something, Emma?”

“No, just trying to determine the chances of me having married a vampire.”

He snorts, obviously unwillingly amused.

“I assure you, I age,” he sets his pen down and reaches for his glass, lifting it to his mouth only to find it empty.

Emma shakes her head and turns on her heel without another word. In the kitchen Mrs Lucas informs her that Ruby has gone to bed.

“Oh, I don’t need anyone. Just to know where the chamomile and valerian root are.”

The cook huffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest but she points out where everything Emma asks for is and leans back against the table with a look that tells Emma she is watching every move she makes in her kitchen.

“That’s not gonna work.”

Emma shrugs her shoulders as if it’s all the same to her.

“And I could’ve done it for ya.”

“And what should I do?”

“How should I know? Whatever it is that you ladies do when you are all provided for. Prop your feet on a pillow, admire lace, get one of them small dogs.”

Emma laughs at that last part.

“I prefer cats.”

“Cats are kitchen animals.”

“Well, maybe that’s why I like the kitchen quite so much,” she replies with a little challenge in the tilt of her chin as she arranges her tea tray under the older woman’s hawk-like gaze.

Mrs Lucas grunts in displeasure.

“Between your liking and him taking his breakfast in here all the time, I might as well leave the kitchen to the masters and go have all the rest of the house to myself.”

It is certainly an amusing image and, ever since first finding Killian here, Emma can’t say that she terribly minds the idea of them being locked in the small space and letting Mrs Lucas reigned over all else.

When first faced with the reality and imminence of it, Emma looked toward her marriage with a cool sort of resignation, then, much as she tried to maintain that detachment in front of Mary Margaret and Regina, and even herself, Emma inevitably started planning how to make her life as a married woman the most painless and bearable. She started envisioning a day in her future and trying to determine which moments she will be able to steal for herself, what spaces she will be able to carve out for herself. Most of all, of course, she thought her evenings and nights would not be her own and she most definitely did not envision fancying the idea of being shut in a small room with her husband.

Now, she is relieved to see that Killian has not shut the door to his study after her abrupt departure and she only has to nudge it slightly with her foot so she can carry her tea tray inside. It is as she looks for a place to put it that she realizes for the first time how rigidly ordered everything on Jones’ desk is – she deposits the tray a safe distance away from all the perfectly aligned piles of papers.

“Umm, thank you,” Killian doesn’t go as far as to eye the tea with distrust but it’s a near thing. “You needn’t have… I lean towards something a tad sharper in the evenings.”

Emma looks at the small arrangement of bottles on the high wooden table a few feet from his desk and approaches it slowly. She takes the silence as permission and leans down to inspect the bottles. Save for a couple of scotches, they are all different bottles of rum and even Emma’s meager knowledge is enough to determine that some of them are rather exotic and have probably crossed the ocean to find themselves here. She takes an opened and unremarkable one that she is almost certain she has seen before and turns around.

By now Killian is leaning back in his chair and watching her with undisguised amusement. At her questioning look, he swipes his arm in a gesture of generous invitation and watches her as she returns to her tea with the bottle clutched in her hand so tightly that her fingers look even more pale than usual.

Some small part of Emma wants to back out now and even that part knows that it’s too late for that. So she tries to loosen her shoulders as inconspicuously as possible and unscrews the cap on the bottle. She pours a small amount of the dark liquid into each of the two teacups – just enough not to be laughable, closes the bottle and sets it to the side.

Killian has put his writing instruments aside since she left to prepare the tea she is now pouring.

“You are finished?” she asks in her surprise.

“I still have to read through these,” he inclines his head toward a small pile of papers set front and center.

“Do you have to do that here?”

His right eyebrow climbs up, creasing his forehead and disappearing somewhere under the hair that has fallen over it.

“I suppose not.”

Emma picks up the tray again and thanks whatever star she was born under that it doesn’t shake in her white-knuckled grasp. She takes to steps backwards, careful not to step on her own dress and make a fool of herself, and lifts an eyebrow of her own.

She turns around at the door and heads for the library, her heart performing an admirable attempt at escaping her chest as she tries to focus on not spilling anything and not on listening if there is another set of footsteps coming up behind her.

As soon as she makes it inside, she sets the tray down with a clatter and takes a seat, her hands balled into fists in her lap. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and now she cannot help but strain her ears toward the corridor. Nothing. She bites her lower lip and tries to quickly wall in the feeling of humiliation that threatens to wash over her whole body.

Then she hears a door close. It takes less than half a minute to cross the distance between Killian’s study and the library and it’s a lucky thing indeed, seeing as Emma doesn’t breathe until he quietly slips into the room.

The look Killian gives her as he sits on the other end of the settee is downright evil but it doesn’t detract from her feeling of victory in the least. Nor does the pointed way he deposits his small mountain of papers beside the tea tray before he picks up one of the cups.

Satisfied, Emma takes the book she set aside and tucks her tired feet under her – the very picture of innocence that’s only ruined by the way she chokes a little on the first sip of the concoction in her teacup.

“Aye. Next time don’t use the rum I used to disinfect Alice’s scrapped knees with.”

She chokes a second time. That seems to satisfy Killian’s need for revenge and he settles more comfortably, adjusting his glasses and focusing on the document in his hand.

Mrs Lucas comes in a short time later to stoke the fire and ask if they need anything or she can retire for the night, looking at the teapot as if she still can’t quite accept that Emma has taken charge of it.

Emma has made some admirable progress with her book when her yawns start getting longer and harder to swallow around, her eyes watering a little more with each one.

“You really needn’t wait for me, love.”

Her hand freezes midway to her mouth and her eyes snap to Killian who somehow still manages to appear deeply engrossed in his own reading, though she is sure it is much drier and more complicated than her own. The endearment bounces in her mind for a moment longer and she tries to keep her face impassive – neither surprised, not pleased. But she can’t deny – and is only mildly startled to find – that inside she is both.

When Killian doesn’t look up, she eyes the sheets that he still hasn’t gotten to and sighs. She tries to concentrate on her book again long enough to finish her chapter before she gets up to return it to its shelf.

“You know you can leave it out, don’t you? Or take it up with you.”

She hesitates for a moment before she comes back and leaves the book on the side table. When she reaches for the tea tray Killian’s voice derails her again.

“I’ll put it away later.”

“You don’t have—”

“Emma, it’s fine, just leave it.”

She sighs again and thinks it probably sounds more like a huff, the way his mouth twitches at her exasperation.

“Alright. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She hesitates at the door long enough to glare at the way Killian rolls his knuckles over his forehead and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Really, it’s a fine thing that they don’t sleep in the same bed or there is no way she will let this happen night after night.

*****

For such a heavy door, it closes with the softest of clicks – which doesn’t stop the sound from echoing around in Killian’s mind long after.

As light and quiet as her presence is, the moment it is gone is much like a pitch black night at sea following on the heels of a full moon. There is a reason the moon recedes bit by bit, waning sailors off its light before it leaves them completely in the dark – the shock would be much too jarring otherwise.

And Killian Jones thought he of all men was prepared for anything when it came to taking on a new wife. Killian Jones was wrong. He is not at all prepared to enjoy having one.

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runningonmarvel · 5 years

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be my valentine ch. 2

@you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus second chapter of the Valentine’s Day exchange fic!!

A/N: takes place the two weeks before Valentine’s Day in their junior year. wonah. bandi. tyrus. a few curses. unedited but enjoy!!

Chapter 2: Hey, My Love

You've walked out a hundred times

How was I supposed to know this time

Jonah has been to seven concerts in high school, and the only one he really cared about was Harry Styles with Andi freshman year. Last year, during a period of time when he and Andi were actually getting along well, Andi had come to him begging him to accompany her to the King Princess concert. By the time the concert arrived, though, they were “taking a break” again, and Andi took Amber instead.

Jonah had gotten attached, though, to one song from her: Talia. That was the song stuck in his head while he strummed the guitar on Tuesday afternoon in the Red Rooster. It reminded him of the disaster of his relationship with Andi, but it made him think, more than that, of the new feelings he had.

“Earth to Jonah?” He snapped his neck up, bent over the guitar, and adjusted his fingers in the frets. Bowie was staring across at him, suspicious of his lack of focus.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll try again,” Jonah says, trying to shake the prior thoughts out of his head. He aligns his fingers for the first chord and goes to play, but Bowie shakes his head.

“No, let’s finish for today. You’ve worked hard, and I figure you need a break.”

Jonah nods and puts the guitar up on the stand. A text from his mom tells him that she won’t be there for another half an hour, so Jonah goes to browse through the records. A early memory of a time with Andi flickers in his mind, but he shuts it out. Every place in Shadyside, every school hall and bike path and storefront, has some memory of Andi and him. It’s impossible.

As he drums his fingers over the stacks of records, Jonah allows the new feeling to wash over his mind. A crush, a crush, a crush, is the heartbeat in his head. He feels guilty, even though he and Andi have been permanently apart for four months. Is he allowed to like someone else? After a relationship that lasted nearly four years, on and off?

And what makes it worse is who the person is. Because in a cruel twist of fate, the universe blessed him with feelings for the one person in the world Andi might be truly hurt to see him with.

Freaking Walker Brodsky.

Walker.

Walker!

The one Andi went on a couple dates with. The one Andi left so she could be completely with Jonah. The one Jonah hung out sporadically over the years until Andi and Buffy basically wrote him out of their friend group. The one Jonah in the past couple months has been hanging out with and texting. The one he now has an unfortunate, overwhelming, obvious crush on.

Jonah picks up a record and squints at it: a love song. Great.

“Hey Jonah, do you need a ride home?” Bowie steps into his line of vision and smiles at him.

“No, thank you my mom’s coming, I’m just going to look at the records for a bit. Maybe shop.”

Bowie nods and returns to the register where he empties the tip jar slowly. It occurs to Jonah suddenly that Bowie has never once acted strange since Andi and Jonah’s final breakup. He’s been the same eclectic, guitar-teaching Bowie the whole time, which is odd. Jonah knows the Macks to be a family where emotions run high.

He walks to the pick shelf, where several higher-end designs stick out to him. His mom would probably say it’s stupid to spend money on a better-looking plastic triangle; but then again, his mom would say a lot of things are stupid. Like Jonah being upset over Andi. Like Jonah having a crush on a boy.

He glances down at his phone: no new messages from his mom. So he picks out the best-looking pick from the shelf—nine dollars for the unique design—and takes it to the register. Bowie looks up as he places a crumpled twenty on the counter and pushes both items towards him.

“Splurging for a new pick?” Bowie asks, ringing it up.

“Seems worth it.” Bowie wraps the pick and hands him his change, then considers him for a moment.

“Jonah, would you… would you ever be interested in working here?”

Silence engulfs the store for a moment as Jonah processes that.

“Working here? As in… ringing up customers, organizing records, polishing guitars?” Already, Jonah has an answer in his head: yes. He needs a job if he’s ever going to be able to get out from under his mom’s harsh influence. And he loves the guitar shop because it makes him feel safer than most other places. Andi’s apartment and room used to be his safe space, when they were on good terms. But not anymore.

“Yes, exactly. I mean, you’re almost 17, right. A job would be nice, and we have lots of room for a spot.” Bowie leans back against the wall. “Plus you’d get to clean and fix guitars all day while listening to music. Good music.”

“Thank you! I—I’ll ask my mom about it tonight, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.” Jonah doesn’t know how he’ll broach the subject with his mother, not without her yelling at him about irresponsibility and disappointment. He takes the packaged pick and slips it in his pocket with the change. A job would be so nice, and it would mean he could escape the house more often. Stay out late after work and hang out with Walker. Avoid his mom.

Jonah hates that that’s the thought in his head, but it is.

He sits back down on the lesson couch and is about to pick up a music magazine when Bowie sits down across from him. “Jonah, I’ve been meaning to ask. How are things going with you and Andi?”

Jonah stares. He stares, and then he swallows down an outburst. “Bowie, we—we broke up four months ago.” Jonah doesn’t know if Andi didn’t tell Bowie or if Bowie simply forgot, but the shock on his face suggests the former.

“You broke up?” “Yes, sir. We were off and on for a long time and finally she—we both decided it was time to put a final end to it. We’ve always been better off as friends but afraid to acknowledge it,” Jonah says carefully. He fiddles with the pick in his pocket, twisting it over and back four times.

“Jonah, I had no idea,” Bowie says. “Andi, she—“ he cuts off, stands up, and walks to the register. Jonah can see his mind processing as he blinks several times with his whole face and messes with the cash register drawer.

“Didn’t tell you?” Jonah asks softly, then regrets it. No response from Bowie, who looks like a lost puppy. Jonah starts to feel bad that he’s been left out from this crucial piece of Andi’s life, because Bex surely knows about it. That’s why Jonah has been avoiding Cloud 10 for months: fear of Bex and Cece.

It occurs to Jonah now that Bowie may be angry with him. May not want to give lessons to his daughter’s very permanent ex. May not want to give him a job. That last one is the killer; if Andi loses him this job then her curse on his life in Shadyside will be complete.

“Why did you break up, exactly?” Bowie asks, once he’s regained a bit of composure. Jonah nods, and then tries to explain.

“Andi and I have always been close friends, and while we were dating bad things usually happened because of our feelings for each other. We created drama or hurt ourselves somehow. It wasn’t meant to be, or at least it wasn’t meant to be romantic. We just didn’t work out.” Jonah finishes, feeling like he’s explained it well. He doesn’t add in the part about Andi being distant the last six months of their relationship, and he definitely leaves out the part about Jonah realizing his own bisexuality and dual attraction to boys as he was dating Andi.

Instead of responding, Bowie just nods. And he keeps nodding, obviously upset, until Jonah’s mom arrives in her truck and honks the horn several time. He waves goodbye, but gets nothing in return from the Bowie lost in his thoughts. Before Jonah leaves, though, he walks through the record section one more time and returns back to the section where he found the love song earlier. He searches through the old love songs until he finds Be My Baby by the Ronettes. Dragging his fingers over the rough record slip, Jonah thinks about the various songs he’s written about Andi over the years. The first one was here, on the stage over to the right, back in simpler days.

Jonah slides the record back into the stacks and walks towards the door. It’s time to let past things end; he can’t keep being haunted by the memory of Andi. His feelings have already moved on, leaving only guilt and the finality of breakup behind. How is he supposed to fall for someone else when this entire town used to belong to him and Andi? Still, as he exits the Red Rooster, an idea starts to form in his head.

An idea that would show his crush and himself that he was over Andi. An idea that would say, with no regrets: I like you, Walker Brodsky. No one else.

That you wouldn't call

That you wouldn't come home

————

On Wednesday morning, Cyrus is tired and already over the week. He was up late last night talking to TJ, then realized he’d forgotten to do his Bio homework. So after scrawling down some answers about mitosis and phases, Cyrus had fallen into a fitful sleep which hadn’t lasted over six hours.

Andi and Buffy are nowhere to be found before homeroom, so Cyrus goes to his locker alone. TJ has math tutoring on Wednesday mornings, so he won’t miss basketball practice in the afternoons, and he usually arrives just in time for homeroom. Meaning Cyrus is alone. He could look for Jonah, but Jonah has been disappearing in the mornings as of late.

When he arrives at his locker, though, Cyrus stops and blinks twice. Tied between the holes in the blue metal and dangling against the locker is a pair of bright green roller skates.

Roller skates?

Cyrus looks around, thinking maybe someone conveniently dropped their roller derby or Wednesday night skate shoes on his locker. But it’s early, and the hallways are mostly empty. So Cyrus approaches the shoes carefully, lifting one up to inspect it.

Not only are they bright green, his favorite color, but there are tiny dinosaur stickers stuck all across the plastic shoe. He gives the wheels a loose spin, determining that they’re aesthetically pleasing but not necessarily the most supportive nor safe pair of skates. Still, Cyrus stares down at them. They’re clearly for him, but who would leave him roller skates? Andi and Buffy?

“Hello?” Cyrus calls down the hall, just in case anyone left them and tried to run away. Iris looks up and waves at him from where she was gazing at her phone intensely. He nods at her, distracted; it couldn’t have been Iris. They barely speak except in history class, and somehow Iris has become better friends with Andi than Cyrus.

When no one else responds, Cyrus looks back down at the roller skates. Several memories flash in his mind, of skating with the Good Hair Crew when they were younger, of learning to actually skate with TJ, of Andi’s roller-skating birthday a few years ago. Cyrus knows how to skate—right? And if the skates are here, then he should probably wear them—right? Feeling slightly like an idiot, Cyrus unties the skates from his locker and slides his feet into the left, and then the right. He holds onto the locker as he tries not to slip. The hallway is completely empty now; Iris has run off somewhere. So Cyrus gets his balance while gripping the locker, inhales slowly, and remembers when TJ taught him to skate.

Distribute your weight evenly over the sole so you won’t fall over immediately. Use the brake if you need it, but you need it way less than you think you do. Skate in strides, like walking. Focus, and keep breathing. Your instincts will kick in.

Cyrus focuses, and he steps away from the locker. Stride left, stride right. And then the instincts take over, just like TJ told him they would. Cyrus is flying over the linoleum tiles, and he catches his breath. He can do this. He can do this. He can—

As the wheel catches on a stray book left in the hallway, another memory comes back to Cyrus: Jonah Beck trying to teach him to skateboard.

Cyrus feels his legs flailing beneath him as the wheels slide backwards. His knees hit the floor in a second. The ground has nearly reached his face when he feels an arm around his stomach stop the fall, pull him backwards, and leave him standing straight up.

“Cyrus?” He relaxes, realizing who it is.

“TJ!” Cyrus tries to spin in a circle, but he nearly slips again. TJ puts one steady arm around his waist and the other on his arm so he won’t fall. “Thanks for catching me,” Cyrus says sheepishly.

“I’m always there to catch you, Cy—but what’s with the roller skates? Joining roller derby?” TJ looks genuinely confused, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and his lips slightly pursed.

“Um. I don’t know who left them, but they were there. So yeah, I decided to try them out,” Cyrus says, which sounds like a bad explanation but is the truth.

“Okay, well, are you going to skate to homeroom now?” TJ asks, adjusting his math books under his arm.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cyrus says. Over TJ’s shoulder he sees Buffy walking down the hallway, without Andi or Jonah. He waves, and she waves back, eyebrows raised at the skates. He leans forward, and feels his knees protest. “Nope, that’s not gonna work. I think I’ve broken my knees.”

Concerned, TJ glances at Cyrus’s legs. “Aw, Cy, you’ve got bruises all over. You’ve got to go the nurse.”

“I’ll take him!” Buffy chirps, reaching out to take Cyrus’s hand.

TJ stops her for a moment, pulls Cyrus back into a kiss, and then pushes him into Buffy’s arms. “Take good care of him, Driscoll.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I always do.” She takes Cyrus by the arm, positions him in front of her, and holds tight to his arms. “Let’s go, Goodman.”

Cyrus giggles, then shuts his mouth. “Did you leave these? Did Andi?”

Buffy shakes her head, and Cyrus considers that. She could be pretending, but both she and TJ had seemed genuinely shocked by the appearance of electric green roller skates on his feet. Strange.

Buffy manages to push him all the way to the nurse, then runs off to homeroom once he’s situated soundly in a waiting chair. After unlacing the skates and tying together the laces, Cyrus places them in his lap and settles back into the chair. His knees are bruised and aching as he waits, but he’s still warm inside from TJ’s kiss.

Suddenly, Cyrus hears someone slide into the seat next to him. He looks up to see Walker, who he hasn’t seen in months.

“Cyrus, hey,” Walker says. He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes look tired. Cyrus waits, but Walker remains on the edge of his seat, meaning he’s here with a purpose. “Listen, I have a strange question.”

“Okay…” Cyrus says, running one hand over the plastic surface of the skates. “First—how are you? We haven’t talked in a while.” Walker nods. “Busy. I’ve got a big studio project due next Friday, and I want it to be part of my portfolio. How’s everyone?”

Swallowing Cyrus tugs on the laces of the skates. He knows that when Buffy ended things with Walker, he basically lost his main friend group. Walker and Amber seem to hang out a lot, but Amber almost never mentions him. There’s Natalie and Archie in Walker’s studio class, who Cyrus thinks he’s friends with. But he doesn’t know how Walker’s doing, not really.

“They’re fine. The usual.” “Yeah. Um, the question is—it’s—“ Walker stops himself, and Cyrus can hear the nervous beat of his foot against the tile. “Do you know if Jonah likes boys?”

Cyrus closes a hand around the knot on the laces. He’s suddenly aware of the heartbeat in his chest—did Walker just come out to him? No. But still—

“I’m not sure. He’s never said he has, you know—“ “Yeah, okay,” Walker says, and Cyrus hears the hitch in his breath as he gets to his feet.

“Walker, wait. He hasn’t said it, but neither had TJ the whole time I knew him. I thought he was the most heterosexual boy on the planet until he randomly came out to me. The point is—we don’t know,” Cyrus says, almost all in one breath.

Walker is silent.

“And,” Cyrus says, “Jonah is one of the most accepting people I know. He’ll be completely chill about it, I promise.”

“Okay.” Walker looks worried, and Cyrus remembers a similar feeling a year and a half ago when he was worrying if TJ would stop being friends with him if Cyrus admitted his crush. The anxiety had been real and consuming; every time Cyrus was with TJ, there was a voice in his head screaming: YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH. Cyrus understands.

“I didn’t know you and Jonah were friends,” Cyrus says carefully. Walker nods slowly.

“We have been for a couple months. We’ve known each other since… you know.”

Since Andi introduced us and then chose Jonah over me. That would be the implied instance.

It occurs to Cyrus that Walker liking Jonah of all people is quite ironic. But he doesn’t say that; he would be a hypocrite, anyway. He was the one dating for TJ Kippen, the boy his best friend used to hate.

“Listen, Walker. I think you should ask him to the dance. See how it goes. Jonah’s kind, and he’d be lucky to have you.”

Walker inhales sharply, and then he nods. Good luck, Cyrus thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Walker Brodsky has always been an enigma, and feelings for Jonah Beck are just another thing to add to the pile. Cyrus has had his suspicions about Jonah possibly liking not only girls, and now, it seems, they’ll all find out.

As Walker stands and walks away, Cyrus thanks his lucky stars that his crush on Jonah Beck went away—it’s kind of boring liking the boy everyone else does, isn’t it?

He gives the green roller skates one last once-over before rising to his battered knees and stumbling into the nurse’s office.

————

A cold wind knocks at Buffy’s window, and she glances out into the darkness. Math homework waits unfinished on her desk, but Buffy is sitting on her bed, legs swinging and mind racing. She plays back a series of moments in her head: the encounter with the Valentine’s Day banner, Cyrus’s text asking for help with TJ, Andi’s purposeful avoidance of her in the mornings and after school.

The wind blows harder, and Buffy grits her teeth. A note from her mom flutters where it is pinned to the bulletin board: a scrawl she left on top of a soup can for Buffy to find a few days after she left. The note reads: You are strong because you are kind, and you are kind because you are strong. I love you. Mom.

She left a week ago for Japan, and Buffy is alone again. Her father is at work, as usual. Buffy doesn’t know if Andi will answer her calls, and if she does, Buffy doesn’t know how she would act—the feigned normalcy from the past year or the new uncomfortableness? She can count on Cyrus, sure, except that he’s always busy with TJ.

So instead of reaching out to anyone, Buffy groans and sort of rolls onto the floor. After stretching out her legs sore from track, she flattens herself on her stomach to look under the bed. A minute of digging her hand around yields the scrap of fabric she’s looking for: a slightly battered pride flag, colored with the blue, purple, and pink of bisexuality.

Buffy glares at it.

This is what’s messing up her life right now. Her stupid feelings. And she can’t even show it in public, or rant to her mom about them, or talk to other LGBT people about confusing signals from possibly straight people. Buffy has told both Andi and Cyrus—Cyrus ordered her the flag. But no one else, so the symbol of her identity just sits untouched beneath her bed.

She runs a hand over the different stripes. When Buffy was ten years old, she wasn’t interested in anyone, girl or boy. Ten year-old Buffy would have thought the flag was made up of lots of pretty colors. When she turned thirteen, she was conscious that who she liked made a difference in who she was, at least for the outside world.

And then she had a tiny crush on Walker, until he tried to ask her to formal with a cult. So Buffy was convinced she was straight even at the beginning of her relationship with Marty, because it was crystal clear in her mind: she liked a boy. Cyrus liked a boy, so he was gay. She liked a boy, so she was straight.

Until the lines weren’t so clear cut anymore.

Like the colors of the flag, blurring into each other so her contact-less self wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them. Buffy knew what it was like to like a boy. What she didn’t know—yet—was what it was like to like a girl. Until.

When Buffy talks about Marty now, she thinks of him in flashes. First: tentative friends, running partners again, cross country teammates as freshman year dawned. Next was that one time they held hands in the movies and never mentioned it again. Then came the pining and the realization she liked him. She liked him. Next was stress and worry and texting all night until one day they were sitting on the ground in Buffy’s room, right where she’s sitting now, and Marty leaned all the way in to kiss her. Then was dating bliss, then more worry, then breakdown. Buffy tried not to think about those phases, about which parts were her fault and which were out of her control.

Buffy also tries not to think about what happened two months after she hung up on Marty and ran to his house, crying, because they had to break up. Marty had disappeared from her life once again; only the ghost memory of him remained, haunting her runs. Marty from the party: her first kiss, her first love, her first true breakup: almost every first.

Almost.

What he could never be, though, was the first girl.

The realization developed starting midway through freshman year, and it just kept coming back to her. Girls. Girls. Girls. It was like running into a wall over and over again, and that wall was the poster of Fifth Harmony pinned across from her bed. That wall was Hayley Kiyoko’s music being constantly stuck in her head. That wall was the stick in her throat when playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ and Cyrus declared ‘Never have I ever been straight.’

Once she realized it fully, and she could say the word with reasonable calm, it was easy to make the same choice Cyrus had. Actually, it was the opposite of easy. But it felt natural, when she said the two words together. She even told Marty, who told her confidentially he was too, and they bonded over it. The flag came along soon after as a gift from Cyrus. Her spirit was all there: she had the right realization, coming out journey, and self-acceptance.

But sophomore year—that was something Buffy could consider later. She flips the flag over between her hands until she feels centered, and then she slides it beneath her bed again. From across the room, her phone dings with a new message, which she steps to her feet to answer.

GHC fools

kingofthebabytaters: yo gays

kingofthebabytaters: guys*

Buffy makes a note to throw something at him at some point.

kingofthebabytaters: do you think the plan for tj is good??

kingofthebabytaters: I feel like it’s too extra but also not extra enough you know

andicrack: okay back up I thought we were set on signs

kingofthebabytaters: we aRe! but like is that special? andicrack: you made homemade signs that a bunch of ppl are gonna hold up. uh, yeah it is cy

notavampireslayer: yo goodman don’t doubt your excellent plan

kingofthebabytaters: excellent plans don’t always work out

andicrack: name one time—oH are we talking about 8th grade

notavampireslayer: this better not be about that freaking CULT

kingofthebabytaters: the point is I really want TJ to love it

andicrack: maybe perhaps I was buffy

andicrack: HE WILL

andicrack: stop stressing cy guy

kingofthebabytaters: you sound like jonah

andicrack: ew

notavampireslayer: your Valentine’s Day will be great Cyrus I assure you

Buffy puts her phone down for a second to consider this. How is Cyrus, of all people, stressed out about Valentine’s Day? He has a boyfriend, and not a recent one either. He basically has a guaranteed good day. The last time Buffy celebrated Valentine’s Day for real was with Marty, and that was on the back half of their relationship. Tension was building. What she wouldn’t give for one good Valentine’s Day, when the person she likes likes her back completely.

She’s not supposed to be jealous of Cyrus having a relationship, but she might be, which sounds needy but might be the truth. Does Andi have a valentine? She thinks of Amber, feeling a pang of—something—and turns her phone over in her hand. She’s doing the Andi thing where she hides her feelings from herself if she doesn’t like that she’s feeling them. She learned it from the best, like maybe if she doesn’t acknowledge them, they’ll go away. Buffy taps the back of her phone with her hand; she knows her feelings won’t go away.

Rolling over on her bed, Buffy opens her phone to Netflix. Since it’s the week before Valentine’s Day, sad hours, and even more specifically sad gay hours, Buffy starts to turn on Love, Simon. Before she can, though, the ringtone of her phone interrupts the logos. It’s not a text but a call from a FaceTime number. Buffy swallows as she stares at the screen, trying to decide if she wants to pick up.

Who is she trying to trick? The phone is in her hand and the accept button pressed within two seconds.

“Hey, Buffy,” Andi says from the screen. She pushes a piece of bangs back from her eyes and smiles up at Buffy.

“What’s up?” “Just wanted to talk. See how you are,” Andi says, which sounds like a weak reasons anyways but even weaker coming from Andi, who never seems sure of herself anymore.

“I’m good…” Buffy says, then gets mad at herself for being boring. “I’ve just been thinking about freshman and sophomore years, you know. Reminiscing.” Andi nods along, and the two discuss school, friends, food, preferences, and the origins of Valentine’s Day (which happens to be the execution of two men during the Roman Empire). Buffy ends up modeling her two different options for a dragon costume (don’t ask), and Andi brings the phone downstairs so Buffy can say hello to Bex and Bowie.

An hour and a half later, Buffy can feel her eyelids drifting closed but doesn’t want to stop talking. It’s been a good several months since they have really talked like this—and it’s been a year since they’ve talked for so long with a comfortable ease. Everything dates back to one year ago, to what Buffy regrets every day and doesn’t regret at all. Her mother would tell her to ignore the regrets and just live, which is exactly what she’s trying to do. But Andi and her complicated feelings always make things hard, just like they did with Jonah. Buffy knows, somewhere, that the complicated feelings aren’t just from Andi; they’re from her too. But it’s easier to blame the problem that’s on the surface rather than the problem deep inside of her.

Because the problem deep inside is related to a word Buffy has only heard therapists say with meaning: commitment. And the second issue has to do with the flag underneath her bed.

But Buffy has her mom and Cyrus and yes, Andi, to worry about, so she doesn’t think about these things.

“So Buffy,” Andi says, slicing through her thoughts. “Is Marty dating someone right now?” “He’s dating Eleanor,” Buffy says as quickly as possible, then stops. Andi’s jealousy of Marty is an idea she can get behind, if it gives her any leverage.

“Yeah? What happened to Ross?”

Buffy laughs, only because Marty’s first boyfriend was a crackhead who he loved too much. Of course Ross broke Marty’s heart. “Ross is long gone.”

Andi nods, slowly. Then she says what Buffy thinks she’s wanted to say all this time: “I think Jonah likes someone else.” I think you like someone else, Buffy thinks, but she shuts herself up. “Who? Amber?”

Andi laughs. “Hopefully not, since she’s definitely a lesbian.”

“Jonah has a history of bad crushes.” Ouch.

“Jonah can like whoever he wants, I don’t care. I hope he has a good Valentine’s Day. WIthout me.” Andi looks very pleased with herself, which she honestly should be. On-again-off again Jonah and Andi had lasted multiple years and in a year alone had undergone seven separate disasters (Buffy counted). And yet, here she is, four months later, still a little caught up on him.

Jealousy stings.

“Good to know you’re being civil about it, Andi,” Buffy replies, not really paying attention.

“Oh, I am. Libby and I still have plans to form a club: the ex-Jonahs.” “Form that club and I may have to block your number and burn my phone for good measure.” Andi giggles.

“Wow, we’re really bad with boys, huh?” Andi asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Girls too,” Buffy agrees, and Andi smiles a tiny smile. Buffy thinks of the flag and counts to three the different shades until she’s calm again. But when Andi smiles, with that gorgeous smile and brilliant eyes—

Time to shut this down before it got away from her.

“Look at us,” Andi says, her chinks blushing pink. “Single on Valentine’s Day. Maybe we should go to the dance together. After all, Cyrus abandoned us by getting a boyfriend. We’re the same as we’ve always been.”

As Buffy nods along to agree that yes, they should go to the dance together, yes, it would be extremely fun, and yes, Cyrus is now an official traitor to the Good Hair Crew and they need to hold auditions for a replacement immediately, she turns over that statement in her head like she had the note from her mom and the flag.

Somewhere around 12:42 am, Andi whispers a goodbye from the relative darkness of her room. Buffy mumbles one back, blinking sleepy tears from her eyes and waving with a slightly glowing hand. Andi waves back, and neither of them hang up until Buffy feels her eyes actually drift shut and finally does. She falls asleep in the next minute with Andi stuck in her mind, playing on repeat next to the words Valentine’s Day and dance.

On the other end, Andi stays awake until an even more ungodly hour, mostly staring at her window and wondering. Wondering how she can have messed up something so badly yet be lucky enough not to have ruined everything. Wondering if Jonah will ever return her third favorite sweatshirt. Wondering if Buffy is asleep now or laying awake thinking. Wondering whether every decision she makes is a massive mistake or a useless choice. Wondering how she’s going to get through this.

We’re the same as we’ve always been.

But they’re not. The unspoken between them is a living, breathing thing: one year old. Andi remembers the day; how could she not? Buffy may think Andi has forgotten it; she hasn’t. The reason sticks in her head every day: the reason for the tension, the reason for the discomfort, the reason for a year of needless separation.

It’s just a reason Andi can never even begin to acknowledge.

And so she doesn’t.

#andi mack #am gift exchange #valentines exchange #friendom gift exchange #wonah #bandi #tyrus #writing #fanfic

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shintorikhazumi · 7 years

Text

A Ginger Romeo x Tsundere Juliet: Chapter 2

A/N: I’m so sorry! I nearly forgot about this... ahahahaha... really. Here it is then. Chapter 2. @hermaeu5mora is waiting for it after all.

Chapter Two:

Honoka continued to stare at his sleepwear-clad captive. Well, 'Captive', not exactly being the right word to describe the fuming bundle of scarlet seated across from him. This exquisite flower, never having been touched by men's filthy hands, was a-no THE pearl of the deep blue. Honoka's deep blue, to be more specific.

"Stop staring, it's gross." The red-head accused, putting her heart and soul into really meaning what she said.

"For a princess, you sure speak far more plainly than one would expect." The ginger replied coyly. "It would be rather dull if I were unable to rouse 'any' reaction from you." He revealed his intentions with the maiden.

"So you simply plan to annoy the heck out of me and tease me to no end." She spoke it as an inevitable statement and not at all a question.

"Yes, it is exactly as you have said." He held in his laughter as his companion's face contorted into a hilariously indescribable mix of anger, frustration and strangely enough, poorly concealed amusement? Did she feel a challenge stirring up just as Honoka did? He began to wonder. He'd never know unless she'd voice out her thoughts, something quite unlikely from this seemingly stoic girl.

Silence ensued between the two as they sat stock-till in the quiet forest, carrying on with their previous activities of staring and being stared at.

"You know, you could at least untie me." Maki gestured to her currently bound appendages.

"My humblest apologies, but… no can do, your majesty. I don't trust those hands that have tried to strangle me awake- or asleep." Honoka's mumbling of his newfound confusion and utter idiocy as of the moment, left her of Royal blood to simply roll her eyes, not at all regretting her actions earlier that day.

In Maki's defense, it was more of a defensive mechanism that she had almost sent the boy to the other side. It was an automatic response, she'd say. I mean, who would have expected to wake up wrapped in the protective arms of a complete stranger? Maki certainly hadn't. She was caught off guard, shaken by the sudden close proximity that she hadn't taken the time to process who exactly it was who held her.

Thus, upon realizing that the momentary pleasantness of the hold was brought to her by the unknown, her reaction was to "protect herself".

When you grow up in an environment like Canzone's, rebels are not too difficult to come by. The Kingdom had a fair amount of them and palace attacks were not uncommon. Kidnaps and ransoms were as political affairs. Learning to defend one's being was just as important as studying maths. Citizen and Noble disputes were never out of place in the chaotic government.

Therefore, it was only natural that the Princess of that particular Kingdom would respond to those actions in such a manner, was it not?

Nevertheless, she had to admit, maybe kicking her supposed 'savior' awake and proceeding to strangle him to his end, was a bit overboard.

Maybe it was not only out of protective response, but also embarrassment that she had done it, because then she would've, logically, ceased her actions after identifying the 'attacker'.

Umi and Eli, who had awakened due to the ruckus, were, to no one's surprise, thrown into utter panic and hurriedly pried the equally surprised red-head before Honoka could meet up with Saint Peter.

"Mother- hah, Father… I'm coming to *gasp* join you." The dramatic end of one Kousaka Honoka had earned an Emmy award as Eli knelt beside her fallen master.

"Eli," Honoka spoke to her softly, voice fading and hands gently caressing the (faux) tear-stained cheeks of the Royal Guard. "Make sure Umi eats his vegetables and don't forget to open up the-ugh!" Honoka winced in "pain".

"Don't push yourself, Honoka!" Cradled in the blonde's tender grasp, lay the devastatingly romantic baker, awaiting for the light.

"The key to the bakery… it's hidden under the… rug."

"Isn't that awfully obvious of a location to hide something of great importance?" Umi sighed at his friends' antics, having come down from that quick emotional high brought about by the afternoon's shock.

"Not as obvious as Kotori's picture under your pill-" The energetic reply, along with the Baker himself, was swiftly finished with a chop to the head, delivered by the furiously blushing bluenette Knight.

"NO! Honoka!" Eli cried as the aforementioned lay incapacitated on her lap.

The princess found the interactions somewhat amusing, though it was not exactly the right time and place for gags. Remembering a crucial point, she turned to face Umi. "That's how it is?" Maki mused out loud, having been released when Umi tried to shut his master up.

At first, tilting his head in confusion, then realizing what she meant, He blatantly denied the thought as the heat on his face turned up again. "No that's- well, yes, but, NO-!"

"Uh-huh." Honoka's voice rose up again as Eli giggled.

"How-?" Maki looked at the ginger, baffled. T'was but a second ago and clearly evident that he had been knocked out, so how-

"Honoka is Honoka. He's got odd combat capabilities." Umi stated, answering the incomplete question as Eli simply shrugged when the princess looked to her for any form of confirmation. "And an equally odd physicality." He added as an afterthought after giving Honoka a once-over.

"They aren't odd, they're awesome." The male defended himself, giving a pout.

"They are?" Eli teased.

"Eli!"

"I'd say they're unbelievable." Umi said, admitting to some point that his Childhood companion did have an edge in combat over others.

As the banter continued, and with Honoka's occasional jabs, some physical, of course playful, and Maki's corresponding retaliation in the form of finding anything to keep the man away, even resorting to almost batting him with a piece of wood, the Knight duo decided to tie her up for good measure, and keep the baker and the noble as far apart as they could.

"Wait, why am I bound while he runs loose?" Maki questioned the biased verdict, referring to her counterpart as if he were some wild animal.

"Well, in terms of safety and legality,-"

"What's that supposed to-"

"…you're more of a threat." Umi's hinting that Maki would probably be of more danger to Honoka than the latter was to her. "-plus, he is, regrettably, our master, after all.

"I hardly find this judgment fair." The Princess seemed to have submitted to the inevitable and sat on a rock across from the baker, about two meters apart.

Sooner or later, they found the need to search for water as their stock was running out. And maybe some additional firewood, they needed those as well.

With a "Watch her and make sure you stay safe." Warning from Umi, He and a grumbling Eli left the Royalty-Peasant pair to their own devices.

Resulting in the situation of Honoka simply opting to observe the flowing beauty of the Maiden squirming under the heavy gaze.

The clock of time never stopped ticking as minutes passed by at their own leisurely pace. The two who were left, still in their silent form of interaction, permitted time to flow as the peace was better than their previous engagements.

"O-ouch." Maki finally saw the reddening marks on her wrists, Honoka stood up, a gesture signifying that he had noticed as well.

"You're hurt." He told her, not that she hadn't noticed. "I'm sorry." Seeing his apologetic and concerned gaze sent a flurry of butterflies fluttering about in the heiress stomach. He stepped closer, halting in his tracks each time he felt Maki's discomfort. "I'm not going to bite." He laughed, trying to lighten the weird mood.

"I-I know that." She tried to conceal her flushed cheeks as the gentle hands that held hers felt all too sweet to the touch.

The young lad worked fast, ensuring that he did not add to the pain already present as he removed the cloths that kept the princess immobile. As if for good measure, he placed a lingering kiss on the bruised skin, his eyes showing pain, as if he were the one feeling the hurt she had.

"Such beautiful skin, such things should not be tainted by scars nor bruises. They should be beheld with utmost tenderness and care, People like you who are meant to be set up on pedestals should never feel the pain of this cruel world."

Maki couldn't understand how someone could say such flirtatious lines and yet mean them with sincerity unrivaled.

"Umm…" It was beginning to get quite awkward, all the more as the ginger had yet to notice the effect of his embarrassing gestures. Maki tugged at her hand, as if telling him that she wanted it back, and noticing this, the male- almost hesitantly, let the silky skin slip out of his grasp.

"Ehem." Honoka coughed awkwardly, clearing his suddenly dry throat. "My apologies." He stepped away, rubbing the back of his head, most-likely reflecting as to why he felt compelled to do such.

"It's alright." Maki caressed the places he had touched, they burnt like a fire she was unfamiliar with, that which she could not label.

"I… ummm…" The atmosphere was most unbearable and Honoka had never found himself praying so hard in the entirety of his life for Eli to somewhat magically pop out of the bushes and break the heavy air.

As if the gods- or Eli, had heard the desperate plea, the Knights emerged from the underbrush, wood and jugs of water in hand, as well as a small bad which the ginger assumed was full of fruit and nuts.

"Eli. Thank you." Relief coated the boy's tone. "You too, Umi." The baker's gratitude puzzled his caretakers, as they stared at one another after he had patted them on the shoulders. He'd never thanked them for things like this before. Shrugging it off, they built a new fire as night fell over them like a blanket.

Slumber would not be so easily gained, the quartet having slept all day, the previous night's happenings taking their toll on them and messed up their body clocks, not that it was much trouble for the three trained personnel, but as for the princess, they weren't so sure.

I just noticed this, but…" Eli's voice echoed in the tranquility that was night, calling for the attention of the other three; the fire crackling between them as they partook of forest soup. "We haven't formally introduced ourselves to one another."

Maki raised both brows, not particularly caring whether or not she knew the identities of her rescuers. She had assumed it wasn't necessary and this little band would probably part ways as soon as she met up with, and custody was turned over to Kotori. Bust she supposed formalities would remain formalities and it was a matter of manners.

"Really? We haven't, huh?" Honoka hummed, as if pondering on something. "Forgive us then for our rude behavior, your highness." He bowed in a courteous fashion.

"It's fine really, I don't quite mind. After all, I hadn't considered it either." Maki contemplated, precisely how many times had the ginger apologized to her since their first encounter? 6? Had it been 7?

"Well, shall we make up for lost effort? Umi, would you like to go first?" Honoka motioned for his childhood friend to go first, nudging him to go forth.

"It would be an honor." Umi beamed at the opportunity and faced the foreigner. "Princess, pleased to make your acquaintance." He did a deep bow. "Sir Sonoda Umi, one of Suono's finest-"

"*cough,cough* Ehem… continue."

"-Knights." He sighed, Maki thought he'd retaliate to the rather impolite interruption, but against her expectations, he simply chuckled. "It is true, anyway. Even if Honoka remains in denial." He stepped backed to let the next person introduce themselves, punching Honoka's arm in the process, the man simply laughing in triumph.

"Hello, Princess Maki. As you may already know, I am Ayase Eli. I am the only female Royal Guard of the Kingdom." Eli stepped up to bat, extending her palms out for a handshake. "I know we'll get along just fine."

"I too hope for that, Ayase-san." Maki gave her own minute smile in return. "So? The last one?" She watched Honoka impatiently, throwing the brunette a glare for taking his sweet ime before introducing himself, something that seemed to just bounce off the top of his head. "Ehem!"

"Ah- yeah, right… ahahaha" Umi raised a brow at their leaders peculiar conduct. It wasn't like him to space out, but something was off. As Eli was presenting herself, he kept his gaze to some far-off direction. It was almost as if he were waiting. But for what?

"Honoka? Is something the matter?" Eli, finding Umi's immediate perturbation contagious, approached the pair of males.

"Eli, don't stay far from Maki! Grab her NOW!" Honoka instructed in a rushed, yet hushed tone, feeling his heart hammering against his chest. "Umi, gather our things and stick with Eli." He said, stomping out the fire until it was but a clump of hot dust. The dark sky, lit up by the full moon, which normally, would be quite the alluring, mesmerizing sight, only fueled the baker's restlessness.

Eli held Maki's hand tightly, unsure if only keeping an eye on the red-head would suffice in this situation. "Now what, Honoka?" She asked, her anxiety growing steadily by the second.

"Stay quiet and follow my lead. Stay as close to one another as possible and keep the princess in the middle."

Maki couldn't keep up with their thought processes. All their actions put her in an utter state of confusion and turmoil. Honoka just kept glancing in a certain direction. It looked like Sir Sonoda had picked up on the circumstance and knew what was goin on, and Eli, Eli was in the process of brooding over the subject and figuring things out. 'Ah.' Maki thought. It seemed Eli got it.

"Honoka, I'll be in the rear then. The girls will walk in the middle." His masculine accomplice giving him the affirmative.

"Be careful." He gave Umi a worried look that warmed the latter's heart. He may have been a mere attendant, but that never deterred his Lord from caring. He considered even servants his friends.

"I will. I'll be close by, don't fret." The other lad did not look convinced. As if to persuade his friend out of distress, the bluenette attempted to joke, "We're barely five feet apart. Can you not stand being apart from me? Are you actually in love with me? Ahahaha. What could possibly go wro-" As if fate wasn't cruel enough, topaz orbs widened in shock and the gruesome demeanor he wore expressed all the pain as the blade of a custom-made dagger slid out of his chest.

Honoka felt unshed tears threatening to break out of his steel-cold eyes as they bore through the perpetrator, watching his close companion fall limply to the side.

"Found you~" Apple-green, no, olive spheres, smirked at them from atop a mound. "I'll be taking her back, nya. The renegade." She was obviously referring to the Nishikino heir, violet quivering in fear.

It pained him to do so, but Honoka knew he'd have to set aside his emotions toward what just transpired in front of him and keep in mind the task assigned to him. Still, it did not keep him from freezing in place, mind numb and not knowing what to do.

"No can do, little kitten." Eli felt a tug at her conscience to cover for her still shocked friend. She knew that there was no way the ginger could function normally under this abrupt change of pace. Taking the lead, she took hold of the quivering hand of her much loved master. "This one here…" She gestured to the shaking red, "Is ours for keeps so… Bertomoligio!" A high pitched whistle, followed shortly by an ear-shattering screech, had everyone down on their knees, all but the summoner.

"Honoka, carry Umi! She instructed, hoisting the other female onto the giant beast, not heeding the screams that the small frame emitted. "Fast, Berto can only keep that cat for so long!"

Snapping out of his shock-induced stupor, Honoka picked up his beloved confidant, gently lifting him up into his arms, feeling the intense reassurance that his pal would be alright, the heaving of his bleeding chest was a sign of that, as the to-be Knight boarded the dragon with Eli, the creature doing its best to keep the danger away as they made their escape.

"Tch." The attacker's silhouette faded into the eve as the four rose higher and higher up, knowing that this was the extent of his capability to battle a dragon… as of the moment.

The breeze was cool, fresh. Small puffs of condensed water flittered through the sky, pushed by the caress of the wind, flowing down an airy stream. Bertmoligio's wings flapped, their sound quite calming on this intense night.

Honoka kept Umi close to him, not letting him go for a moment. It was as if he'd disappear at the lift of the finger. Honoka felt that the touch of a mortal was the only way to tie down a wavering soul.

"H-honoka…?" A dry murmur, filled with pain, void of life. Umi tried lifting his head to meet his best friend's eyes.

"Umi, I'm right here. I'll be right by you. Please conserve what little energy you have." Honoka hushed the hurt man. Also, he couldn't find enough words to say. Something was lodged deep in his throat, it was the only thing keeping the sobs at bay.

"You silly child, I'll be just fine. I feel dandy, in fact!" The bluenette's strained laughter, followed by a series of coughs, belied his sugar-coated words. "Didn't I tell you? You need not fr…et…" He felt his eyelids grow heavier by the second.

"Umi, whatever it is, the one thing I entreat thee not to commit is that you permit your eyes to close." Honoka felt a drop slip past his smooth exterior. He squeezed the limp form of one of his loved ones. "I won't forgive you." The smile that graced Umi's lips as his eyes continued to shut, made Honoka panic all the more. "Umi!" He shook the aforementioned. "I command you not to fall asleep just yet."

"Honoka… I think I feel my strength… slowly… but surely-" The Knight had managed to open his eyelids just enough to see his master's face. "-fading. Please… Don't… cr…y."

"How can I not?"

"Umi!" Eli's voice entered the fray, "hold on just a bit longer. I beg of you. We're almost the-" Sonoda Umi didn't get to hear the end of that phrase. He wished he did, yet it did not change the fact that he did not. Why? For His world had already turned black.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Umi-chan, you better wake up soon. I'll leave you behind!" Ash gray fluttered before his sight.

Kotori?

"Bye-bye! If you don't come back soon, we'll never be together!"

I don't want that, my greatest wish, second only to Honoka's well being is for you to…

The form ran away, disappearing into mist.

Kotori? Kotori?

Umi was waving at air, striking blindly, flailing to find something, anything.

"Umi."

"Honoka?" A background of pure white, a silhouette slowly being painted, like an abstract turning clear, showing a figure he was most acquainted with.

"…WHY…?"

What?

"You always… always leave me behind."

No, I've never- I swore to be by your side!

"You became a Knight before me, you even entered school first, in fact."

NO, NO!

"After officially being Knighted, you always went on jobs, never helping, never playing with me. Do you hate me that much?"

No, I don't, never-!

"I'll never forgive you for leaving me." Blood flowed in the stead of tears; fresh blood dripping down snow white cheeks. "NEVER!"

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"HONOKA!" Breaking out in cold sweat was the Knight Sonoda, gasping for air, grasping at his shirt and strands of hair, his skin flushed and burning hotter than the flames of hell itself.

"Shhh… it was only a dream, it's alright. Everything will be fine." A squeaky voice resounded through the candle lit room. Mossy brick, quite old, yet neat and tidy, the room had but a window at the end if only to be used to see the outside world. The sun was up- whether it was traveling up or south-bound though, Umi had absolutely no clue- though it did not help to brighten the room in the slightest. There was a distinct lack of clouds, yet a cool gust of wind managed to find its way into the shack. "Have you calmed down?"

Umi turned to his side. A young sandy-blonde maiden carried a basin of clean fresh water with a rag and began to approach the confused individual.

Alerting himself, Umi struggled to get up, dropping back abruptly as he cradled his hands near his chest, the bandages wrapping it showing a significant stain.

"Oh! You shouldn't do that!" The maiden rushed to the man's side. "Your wounds will reopen again! And after I took all that time to close them, Nozomi-san, where are you when I need you?" Even though she said that, the girl made quick work of the bandages, cleaning the wound and replacing the bloody wraps with fresh ones, doing all this in an amazingly, if impossibly, gentle manner.

"Ummm…" The blue-haired soldier found it uncomfortable, being dealt with by a stranger, yet he found himself at the mercy of his beaten body, unable to make the slightest twitch. Also, the lack of familiar personnel made him quite wary of his surroundings. What if this were a kidnapping?

"You should know better than to get up right away after what just transpired." A cool, yet slightly angered voice rang in Umi's ears, causing him to turn to see Eli leaning against the doorframe. Relief filled him in an instant. "We were worried, you know."

"Eli!" Immediately he cringed, the knight feeling the burn in his chest after the abrupt movement. "Where- where are we?" He groaned, almost feeling a tear in his upper body.

"Can you worry about that later?" Eli sighed, pushing herself off the wall and walking towards the pair. "Weren't you just told to rest?" She helped Umi back into a lying position, being extra careful as to not trigger any mishap.

"Actually no." Umi replied matter-a-factly, settling into the soft covers. "To both questions."

"Don't get smart with me, mister. I'll smack you upside the head." Umi raised a well-sculpted brow in challenge as if to say, 'try me, you know you can't.' "I don't care, at least it won't affect your chest." Eli smirked in contrast to the scowl sent her way.

"Ummm… should I leave?" The squeaky voice called out, drawing the attention of the two bodyguards. "I could always come back, though I would have liked to give the instructions for him first." The sandy-blonde began to pick up her materials, preparing to leave if need be.

"Oh, no. It's not like that. More like I'd prefer it if you'd stay." The Royal Guard motioned for her to come nearer as she turned to Umi. "Umi, this is Koizumi Hanayo. She owns this place, she is actually an apothecary. Thankfully we found her despite this town being near invisible to the rest of the world." Eli smiled as the mentioned girl stepped forward and took a bow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Sonoda. Although I was hoping we could've met under more… pleasant circumstances." She tried to give a little laugh, feeling unexpectedly nervous.

"Ah, I am sorry to have troubled you." Umi sat up, slowly this time, having learnt his lesson from previous experiences- namely those that had happened mere moments before. "Thank you for everything. Sonoda Umi, Knight of the Kingdom of Suono." He bowed as best as he could, or tried to at least.

"No, it was no trouble at all." Hanayo smiled cheerily, hand outstretched for a shake. Umi took hold of it, his own lips twitching upwards. "Although…" Hanayo seemed to be a bit worried. She turned her gaze to the still ajar door, the eyes of the two Knights trailing after hers.

"Am I disturbing something?"

"Honoka!" Eli ran to give the brunette a hug. "Where have you been?" She looked down as the aforementioned held up a paper bag containing bread and other groceries. "Oh."

"Yeah, I figured a little shopping couldn't hurt." He laughed scratching his head as he looked to his best friend currently sitting on the mattress. "Hey soldier."

"Hi."

"You doing any better?" Worry was obviously underlying that composed façade as he hurriedly strode to the bluenette's side, offering him a one-armed hug. "I was so worried."

"I'm sorry." Umi buried his face in the crook of his master's neck, trying not to mind the warmth and the drops falling on his arm. He just let the other male pull him in tighter.

"-So, so scared. I thought I was gonna lose you for a second there."

"And I thought you'd jump him or strangle him once you saw him up." The retort fell on deaf ears as the princess walked in, dressed in some gaudy attire, probably one of her royal dresses.

"I mean I thought about it." So the deaf ears apparently were not so deaf. "But then I thought about how Umi was already hurt and I don't want to add on to that so… yeah. This is good enough." Honoka released Umi from the tight hold he had on him, erasing any traces of sorrow. "I'm just glad that nothing too serious happened." He grinned at his friend, squeezing a toned bicep.

"Nothing to serious, hmm?" This earned Maki a glare from one and a quiet chuckle from the other.

"Trust me princess, we've been through worse." The baker stared at her blankly. "And where have you been anyway?" He asked, remembering the lack of royalty in the area since the moment he awoke.

"Nowhere special."

"Hmm…" Honoka put his hands behind his head and started walking towards the door. He stopped right in front of Maki, confusing her with his actions, staring the said princess down, giving her a once-over. "I'll be right back, okay bud?" He spoke to Umi, who gave him the affirmative as he talked with Eli about other important things as Hanayo joined them, giving instructions on how Umi should go through his treatment as of the moment.

"And where are you going?" The red-head asked the free spirit.

"I'm being considerate towards you by doing what my gut tells me. And what are you wearing?" He laughed- an annoyingly fake laugh, rotating on the ball of his foot to face the Nishikino heir. It agitated the girl as it seemed he was baiting her, reeling her in to follow him to god-knows-where he was planning to venture out to.

"Clothes, duh? And what are you talking about, being considerate-?" The luring was working if that indeed was his plan because the girl had just taken a step towards him.

"Yeah and those clothes will surely bring no attention to you at all, your highness; with us trying to be discreet and all, they're the perfect attire!" He taunted her with his very heavily applied sarcasm. "I mean, no one will ever spot us given your attire."

"What are you implying?" She crossed her arms over her well-endowed bosom. "That I'm some kind of target mark for the enemies who are after us?"

"Oh? Did you just read my mind? Didn't take you for a wizard there, lady." Honoka's back was turned to the girl, rendering her disabled to see what kind of expression he wore. His shockingly uncharacteristic disrespect- the princess found it uncharacteristic because for the short time she knew him; while he would tease, it stayed within the bounds of playfulness, and his tone and language showed reverence almost at all times.

"So you're saying that what happened was because of my clothes?" She was beginning to fume, all the more from the lack of response. "It's not like I have any other clothes to wear! These are all I've got!" Clearly the red-head had taken it as an insult. These clothes were from her beloved father. Everyone praised her for how she looked in them. How dare he slander these beautiful cloths- the only memento she had. "What do you-"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"What?! Well I don't exactly have a choice with attire, your honor! Don't be so judgmental." She felt rage continue past its boiling point. "You know, a little bit more and it'd look like you were pinning the blame on me for the attacks." They were already out of the house, they had passed the backdoor, entering a field of daisies, out of the hearing of town's folk. They were walking to a small pitched tent, a fire burning in front.

"Well maybe, Umi would've been fine if we hadn't saved you at all!" Honoka did a quick whip-around, pointing a finger at the heiress' face. "-And Hey, You haven't been exactly grateful for that! Or have you forgotten, if it hadn't been for us you'd-" Maki felt pain at the accusation, her temper dropping significantly.

"-What…"

"I'm just handing out the facts and giving you tips on safety." Honoka did not dare to look the girl in the eye. "And one of those is laying low, specifically, with your choice of clothing." He felt his eyes sting and burn. Tearing his gaze away, he knew he was more afraid of hurting the girl with his words now. He knew how he got at times, and it wasn't pretty. Yet he couldn't find it in him to stop his verbal assault.

"And you couldn't have said it any better?!" The temperature inside her rose again. What did she even do to deserve this quarrel? She had just been her usual self today and suddenly she found herself in the middle of… this, not exactly their usual interactive banter.

"Well sorry if I lack tact. I didn't grow up as some prissy little doll, playing dress up all the time, having fun with daddy and mommy, always happy. I live alone. Independently. Unlike certain people…"

"That's not how I-"

"Oh yeah? Getting everything served on a silver platter not enough? How 'bout being fed with a golden spoon?" Honoka reached the tent first, forcefully opening the zipper, accidentally tearing it as he groaned in frustration. "See what you made me do?!"

"Me? What the heck?! You even blame me for this? Do you even know anything about me? What is your problem?"

"YOU are my problem. I regret accepting Kotori's job, because if I hadn't, Umi would be perfectly fine! My family would have been safe if it weren't for little. Bratty. Princesses from CANZONE!" A resounding slap echoed as the world was being painted in warm-color hues, and for the second time since this little escapade, Honoka found the sting to be more unbearable, that reddening cheek to be more painful than any wound. And he died for the first time, seeing flowing tears.

"You know NOTHING. You think I grew up happy? Everything offered to me? NO they were all forced on me, you jerk. I don't have any daddy to have fun with. He died, if you haven't heard. My mother is probably being raped by that bastard because I'm out here playing the villain to some wannabe hero's story!" Maki felt a surge of hiccups follow, but continued on her rant. "If you didn't want me here, you could've told me! I, for one, don't want to be with you either!" Her sobs and whimpering seemed to grow louder. "And here I thought you were a nice person who could help. I just wasn't to save my family and people too. Though if I can't even help protect one person-" She turned on her heel to run back into the house. She didn't want to see the man's face right now, preferably never.

"Wait!" A strong grip held her back, preventing her from moving an inch. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Honoka was breathless, panting as the girl struggled against him.

"You didn't? Seems to me like you felt every word." She tugged at her arms. "Let me… go!"

"No! Not until you forgive me!" He pulled her to his chest where she began hitting him hard against it.

"Let go! You hate me!"

"I said no!" Honoka just held tight, his face being hit, slapped, scratched. He didn't care anymore, realizing his grave mistake and misconduct. "Listen, I let my feelings get the better of me and took it out on you."

"That's great, now let go of me!" Maki screamed, tears still pouring. "Please… please! Just… please…" Her sobbing and screams fell weak as she gradually lost all that energy. "I don't want this…"

Honoka drew her closer, encasing her in all his warmth. "I'm sorry." His voice was suddenly softer than any feather pillow you could find in the kingdom, threaded with a hint of frustration- though it seemed, it was anger at his own being. "I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean it. Listen to me."

"Mmm…" The hands that had been bruising and hurting him, grasped at his white shirt, staining it with hot tears. Maki stopped her fight and rested, feeling a great deal of exhaustion. She conceded.

"Everything that happened… it just occurred to quickly for my liking- I mean, Umi got taken down, and I wasn't even able to fight back. What I'm trying to say is…I just don't want to attract anymore danger, okay?!" He sighed, taking in the sweet scent of soft locks in his embrace, blushing a bit as he felt odd sensations course through his veins. "Not for Umi, Eli… for my other friends and loved ones… not for you, okay?"

"Okay."

His eyes widened in realization. "Oh, and it's not like I'm blaming you, don't get the wrong ideas now."

Maki giggled, looking up into the taller person's eyes as she smiled, tear-stained cheeks glowing in the sinking sun. "Not blaming me, like you already hadn't done it."

Honoka felt his heart stop. He already knew, but being reminded of her beauty did not help him from getting his breath stolen each and every time. Her eyes were practically in slits, as she grinned cutely at him. The beating of his chest was no longer from anger, he presumed. The butterflies in his stomach from a different kind of nervousness. The heavy weight on his chest was no longer from the worry about Umi's accident. And this slight pain, twinge, tug at his heart's strings… that almost unnatural, magical pain, hurting, but not all the same. What- this feeling was-

"So friends?" A voice he had come to need, dragged him out of his reverie.

He smiled. Maybe, if he found out what this feeling was, "friends", would become a stepping stone in life and he knew that he wanted some kind of future that contained the lovely tsundere. Maybe, just maybe, they could be- "Friends." He laughed, letting the princess go for a second to rummage around in the tent, what he was planning to do all along.

Maki whined at the loss of warmth. She decided to kill time while waiting for her guardian as he searched for something inside the dark cloth-shelter. She found all the dirt on the hems of her dress amazingly intriguing. How long had they been horsing around outside?

"I'm back." Maki looked up to see Honoka carrying neatly folded clothes in one hand, and in the other, a pair of boots. "They are actuall some of my extras… this is why I wanted you to follow me out. Didn't expect it to turn out like that though… ahahaha." He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly, handing the wear over to the stunned princess.

"You were gonna lend me clothes? You didn't have to do that. We could just go buy my own-"

"Well, yeah, but… aren't those a tad too uncomfortable? With all our traveling, you might your current choice of wardrobe constraining." He laughed, Maki did too. "Also, it's hard to get clothes in this town. Your choices might be limited and I'm unsure of the strength and quality out here. We could get some in the next town over. For now, just get out of those slightly… uneasy clothing."

"That is the understatement of the century." Maki said, referring to the dresses she frequently wore. Their eyes locked once more. They smiled warmly at one another. "Well I should probably get changed. Will these fit?"

"Oh, yeah you should change… and Umm… well, they're mine. They might be a little lose, but they'll fit you just fine, I suppose." Honoka nodded toward the tent, as Maki got the gesture and got in to change. Walking to the house seemed to be a pain, so the fastest method would be this. Something crucial came up.

"Honoka. You broke the zipper." Maki looked up at him.

"Shit." Honoka scratched his hear. "Well, I'll… Umm…"

"Maybe I should just do it in the house after all." Just when she said that, the lights flickered off, enveloping the place in darkness. "So much for that."

"Well, umm… no one is around… I swear I won't peek so… Maybe I should just hold the flap up and close?" Honoka offered, feeling a familiar heat creeping up his cheeks.

It was quiet as the girl considered the proposal. "Promise to turn around…" Maki also blushed. She had no other choice though.

"Ummm…"

"Promise!"

"Yes! Cross my heart and hope to… not die!" Honoka grabbed the flap, turned around, his hands behind him keeping the tent guarded and closed. The rustling of silk and the grunts coming from inside, a few groans of frustration as well seemed to serve as fuel for the brunette's imagination. "Did I ever tell you I'd always wanted clothes like this?" No response, Maki raised a brow, suspicious of her watcher.

"No looking!"

"I'm not!"

The princess finally emerged from the tent, her boots a bit loose, but easy to move around in. The polo was a bit loose, but in a nicely comforting manner. What surprised her though, was the nice snug fitting of the pants. The boy had a nice waist, she guessed, and equally shapely buns. She shook her head at her inappropriate thoughts.

"Thanks."

"Are they okay?" Honoka twiddled his thumbs, a bit worried.

"They're great." Maki smiled playing with the shirt. "I think I can get by with this." Honoka's sigh of relief reached the red-head's ears.

"Thank goodness." He then remembered something else. "How about dinner and some rest?" He turned to the fire, and a pot to its side, sitting nicely. "I actually prepared soup beforehand, thinking I'd be camping out here."

"Don't mind if I do." The heiress did a playful curtsy as both laughed, like the whole fight never happened. Forgive and forget was a wonderful phrase. Maki liked it.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

All throughout dinner they talked and talked, Honoka lay out sleeping mats beside the campfire so they could recuperate from all this tension happening, under the twinkle of the night sky, sprinkled with stars. The conversations just went on and on, and on, and on… 'til the two fell asleep beside each other.

Needless to say, the next morning, Honoka felt a great wave of déjà vu wash over him as another slap echoed in the early morning. Maki had, somehow found herself…again… in the arms of Kousaka Honoka, Eli had run out to help, giving the two a few teasing remarks as they strongly denied the claims.

Once Umi had been instructed to stay for recovery- of course albeit her protests, the leftover trio, thanking Hanayo for her services, paying her and starting on another journey to the next little village, Romeo and Juliet walked side by side, growing more and more familiar with one another. Their conversation fell on the topic of if it was alright to leave Umi. Sure they trusted the apothecary, and they knew she would undoubtedly care for him while he was recovering. The only thing they questioned was her promise to 'deliver Sir Sonoda to you as soon as he has healed completely. Nozomi will be back soon anyway.'.

They did not know who this Nozomi person was, or how her presence would speed up recovery, or how they would find the travellers and deliver their friend, but… they took the sandy-blonde's word for it.

"So what are your hobbies?" The crimson princess inquired of her Knight in not-so-shining armor, changing topics as they walked the trail.

"I like taking walks." Honoka replied honestly.

"Pffftt… what?"

"It's true though?" He smiled as the girl laughed at the absurd and unorthodox reply.

"That's not a hobby." She pointed out.

"That's what you say. I say it all depends on the person. And for me, walking is a hobby." He grinned as he was able to bring forth another string of giggles from Maki.

"Okay, okay… fine… then what else do you like?" She wiped a tear from her eye.

Without missing a beat, Honoka's grin grew larger, replying with, "I like your face all the time, but I especially love it every time you smile for me." He spoke flirtatiously, winking at the now cherry-red girl.

"Well… I-" She stuttered a string of incoherent phrases before whispering. "I love your attitude." She looked away, walking faster to catch up with Eli who walked a few paces before them, leading the trek.

Despite his hot face, and disoriented thinking, he heard Eli question the girl is she was okay, and why her face was so red. A few light teasings followed as he heard the girl whine.

Their journey was just beginning, but still he wished it would just go on. On and on if it meant he'd be together with this quirky, frustratingly interesting goddess, a person he was sure would place a great impact on his life.

"Hey slowpoke! Faster! Even turtles could walk faster than you!" He looked to see two tongues sticking out at him, as he laughed, determination settling on his face.

"Well, pray that turtles can't catch and tickle you cause here… I… COME!" He sprinted toward the ladies who screamed running faster as the three splashed across a small brook, falling over each other, frolicking, getting wet. "Got you!" Honoka worked his fingers over the two giggling figures, the shallow water sprinkling all around.

"Kyaa! Stop! Ahahaha-"

"Maki?" A voice froze their movements. The three turned to the source.

"Nico?!"

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

To be Continued…

Ok Sorry It just slipped my mind till I was looking at all my documents for writing. Anywho... Reblog, like?

#love live #honoka kousaka #maki nishikino #umi sonoda #ayase eli #grxtj #fanfic

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