Ramblings That May Pertain To The Story From the Author (So Please Pay Attention!)
Part two of the one-shot (well, the supposed to be one-shot) for LovelyGirlofGreenMeadows and AnzChibi1's contest~
_______
And so, at eight forty-five at night the next day, Fuji found himself sitting across from (Last Name) (Your Name) at the small, quaint coffee shop not far from the theater. It was pleasant, he had to admit to himself—the cheery waiters and waitresses, the bright atmosphere, and even the wallpaper (sporting little cups of coffee with cartoon-esque faces on them) made everything light-hearted. Outside, snow fell in light flakes onto the untouched sidewalk, much like it had the past few days.
The first person to speak was, surprisingly, the actor of the two. "So, Fuji-san," murmured (Your Name), "it's been quite a while, ne?"
"Indeed, it has," agreed Fuji, smiling lightly (not that he normally didn't smile) at the small girl across from him. He swirled his drink—coffee, as normal, with a bit of cream and sugar in it—before taking a drink, placing it on the wooden table afterward. "How have you been?"
"I have been good, thank you." (Your Name) nodded, a placid expression crossing over her face. Her lips twitched upward just the slightest, as if trying to smile. "Performing in musicals and whatnot has made me come out of my shell. Well, somewhat." Now a full-blown grin skittered to her face, and she looked at Fuji as she nonchalantly stirred at her iced tea. "Now, you see, I'm surprised myself that I managed to become an actor—with my personality, that is. But you, Fuji-san… It's not that surprising that you became a photographer." A tinkling laugh chimed from her throat.
Fuji laughed along with her, his low tone completely contrasting with her own. "Yes, no one really can say that it was surprising that I became a photographer. However, I can't say the same for you."
(Your Name) chuckled, and Fuji was surprised to hear that the sound wasn't nearly as mirthful as it had been only moments before. The only thing se said in response to the brown-haired male's statement was "Is that so" and then they lapsed into silence.
It wasn't awkward, nor was it tense. But there was some sort of feeling that the temporary ceasing of talking evoked that caused Fuji to furrow his eyebrows just in the slightest. He stared—although not intensely or angrily—at (Your Name), but she never looked up at him. She kept her head down, eyes glued onto the ice of her tea. She wasn't upset, judging by the way her eyes shone in the limited amount of light reflecting off her orbs; but the way they flickered every few moments told Fuji that something was bothering her in her mind. He opened his mouth to apologize (assuming that his comment caused her to be reminded of something), but the girl snapped her head back up before a single word could be uttered from his mouth. It was surprising to see her eyes ablaze.
"Hey, Fuji-san," started (Your Name), and the volume at which she said such caused Fuji to blink in surprise. Seeing his surprise, the girl backed off, her eyes going back to their normal gentleness. "Ah, I'm sorry," she apologized, touching her fingertips together. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Fuji's smile twisted into an amused one. "No need to worry, (Last Name)-san. I wasn't frightened—just merely surprised that your voice could be so loud." He was teasing, of course, and (Your Name) knew it. A small pout appeared on her puffed-up cheeks, and the male snickered. "Anyway, please continue with what you were going to say."
The air blew out of her cheeks, and (Your Name) uncrossed her arms. She placed her palms on the table gently, looking at her nails for a second. Then she, once again, moved her eyes up towards Fuji's own; upon seeing the brilliant, sapphire color they were, she flushed and flicked her gaze away. "I was just curious," she muttered, almost unsurely, "if you have… problems with your job. If you think it's hard, I mean."
"Hard?" Again, Fuji's eyebrows furrowed. His hands clasped meshed together in front of him, elbows resting lightly on the table. He gazed at his friend from above the makeshift shelf his fingers made. "No," he mused, pursing his lips just the slightest. "I can't really say I have… 'problems.' Sure, there are… obstacles, for lack of a better word, that I have to and do overcome, but everyone has those. Why?" he asked, seeing (Your Name) bit her lower lip. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no!" said (Your Name) quickly, waving her hands about in front of her. "No, nothing's wrong! No, Nobura-san's great. Everyone's great! They're all so kind and… great." As the girl continued on with her sentence, her voice gradually got softer and more solemn, much like her singing the day beforehand. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and her shoulders slumped. Gathering her courage, she looked back up to Fuji, staring bravely into his eyes. And, the moment she allowed that to happen, (Your Name)'s mouth poured out her worries.
"Acting is… hard, you know? They tell you to pretend as though you're the character, but that's like asking someone to act natural when they know what's in store for them in the future," (Your Name) admitted softly. She looked outside, past the frosty glass of the coffee shop, to stare at the snow-laden ground. Fuji merely remained silent, sipping his own coffee silently as the girl confessed her troubles. "You just… can't, you know? And I'm always scared to death that I'll mess up, even during rehearsals. It's going to be horrible when I actually perform in front of a crowd."
As she finished, Fuji set down his cup. It was glass, unlike the normal Styrofoam ones most drinks were handed out in. He said nothing for a while, contemplating her words. The photographer could tell that his silence unnerved the small girl—the way she kept biting her lips and fidgeting with her hands clearly showed it.
With a slender hand, Fuji caught (Your Name)'s attention by tapping the steaming glass of brown liquid. Barely a sound was made from his actions, but it was enough for her fiddling to stop. "It's a good thing that this cup is glass," he said gently, not bothering to explain when the actor tilted her head to the side curiously. "This is surely a nice place that we chose, isn't it? I believe I've never had my coffee be served like this.
"Anyway, (Last Name)-san," continued Fuji, not bothering to let (Your Name) add her two cents in, "I want you to look at this glass. Many people like using the idea that evaluating whether a cup such as this is half-full or half-empty can tell if a person has a pessimistic or optimistic personality. I, personally, do not like it, but for this time, I will use it." The heartthrob smiled wider, apparently amused, before continuing. "I believe that there are certain people—like Izumi-san, perhaps—that look at this glass as half-empty. And then there are people, like your uncle, who see it half-full.
"And then, of course there are people who see it as poisoned." Fuji chuckled, as well as (Your Name). As the man began to stop his chortles, he slid his fingers against the warm glass. "Although I am no expert at this," he murmured, "I believe that if you look at the cup as half-full, you will be successful."
A giggle erupted from (Your Name), and it was much more empathetic than normal. "Wow, Fuji-san," she hummed, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that was very insightful. Although I've never really talked to beforehand, I'm not shocked that you hold such wisdom. You seem like that sort of person."
"Many people have said that, too," commented Fuji, cocking his head to the side. He kept his cheerful smile on his face, but the soft words didn't convey it. "I don't really believe that I am."
(Your Name) was silent for a while, and it wasn't hard to realize that she was staring at him. There was another small silence, and again the girl broke it—though, this time it was by a noise that was a cross between a sigh and chuckle. "Ah, Fuji-san," she said, shaking her head slightly. "You know, I always thought you were great at acting. Even in your younger days, you managed to keep that pleasant smile on your face no matter what."
Fuji's grin slipped, and when he pulled it back up again, it was more of a wry smile. He looked off to the side, eyes glinting in the light. (Your Name) was right, now that he thought about it. As far as he could remember, there really hadn't been any major emotion on his face other than indifference, happiness and… whatever the grin expressed. "I guess you're right, huh…"
(Your Name) smiled.
"Fuji-san, you are never changing."
_______
The last note lingered in the air long after it had stopped coming out of (Your Name)'s throat.
She was sweating, he noted; little beads of the salty liquid dripped down the sides of her face and along her neck. Her eyes were wide, having flown open after she cut her voice off. Her small arms were frozen above her, spread wide as if serenading the sky. Her whole entire body shook—but whether it was exhaustion or from fear, Fuji did not know.
He stood still backstage, mouth hanging open in amazement. In his hands stood his camera, now taking a rest after working continuously with every new picture he took. Around him stood other actors, his or her mouths also wide open; no sound emitted from anyone except for the soft breathing.
The audience was also quiet; and although the veil of darkness they hid under prevented Fuji from seeing why, he suspected it was because of astonishment. No one would have suspected that the timid, lone girl on the stage, (Last Name) (Your Name), could perform like that—not Fuji, not her fellow actors, not Nobura-san, not even Tanaka-san.
Everyone varied in degrees of emotion—some were amazed; some were shocked; some were envious, sad, stunned, flabbergasted, dumbfounded. Whatever the feeling was, each had the same result—silence.
(Your Name) began to tremble even more, but she dared not move until the applauding started. The rivulets of sweat began to increase due to the prolonged amount of time she had to spend in the blazing spotlight; her muscles, under the velvety green fabric of her dress, began to have small spasms from the stress. Unconsciously, she began to bite her lip—a sign that she was getting very, very nervous.
Fuji raised his hands, letting his camera hang once again around his neck. Slowly, as if any sudden movement would cause disruption, he brought them together. The sound emitted a soft, but at the same time firm, clap. All of the actors hesitated, looking at him, but Fuji merely ignored them, continuing his slow clapping. Finally, after a few moments, some of the actors joined in. Then some more added their movements to the noise, and then more. Eventually Fuji—and the whole acting company—was clapping, loud and clear.
The photographer saw (Your Name) glance at her friends out of the corner of her eye in surprise; but she swiftly flicked them back upon the clapping sound coming from in front of her. With wide eyes, she let her hands down as the audience's claps got louder and louder, some members even whistling and shouting words of praise. The squeaking of chairs was heard, signifying that most of the audience began to stand up to clap. (Your Name) smiled vibrantly at the audience—brighter than normal, Fuji noted—as the rest of the cast walked confidently out on the stage, laughing and waving. The only one left standing backstage was the twenty-one-year-old.
The cast linked hands, importance of roles declining from the center. Fuji couldn't see (Your Name) at all, what with her small figure surrounded by large people and the angle he was out. A frown caressed his face just the slightest, but he continued to clap. The advice that he had given the woman a few days ago flashed across his mind, and Fuji vaguely wondered if that had to do with anything.
In synchronization, the whole cast bowed low at their stomachs. As a whole, they seemed to glow in radiance from the applause; everyone had individual smiles on their faces, but no one seemed happier than another. Fuji felt himself clap harder, and some wave of emotion—probably akin to happiness—rushed over him. Yes, he was very satisfied.
The first of the actors to straighten themselves out was (Your Name). Her eyes were shining with brilliant wonder, and Fuji blinked, confused, upon seeing tears in her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks in small trickles, and despite the red, blotchiness of her face she still looked lovely. Although Fuji wasn't sure she was supposed to, he caught her glance in his direction.
Releasing his stinging hands from the interminable clapping, Fuji raised his hand, curling it until it became a thumbs-up sign. His smile was wider than normal; and upon seeing it, (Your Name)'s smile turned into a full-blown beam.
_______
It was six months after the debut, and, as many thought would happen, Tokyo Theaters exploded into the newest, most popular place to spend the weekend nights at. Everyone, ranging from old to young, now knew the name of Tanaka Yukio and Nobura Takeshi. The major topic of conversation, from every area of Tokyo, was the latest and most upcoming plays being performed there. The actors—especially the ones from The Wild Orchid—were now famous for both their talent and voice; more than a few had gotten remarkable opportunities to perform in the most prestigious of plays. And most of them had taken the offers.
All except (Last Name) (Your Name).
It was strange, Fuji had to admit, that the actor of the main protagonist of The Wild Orchid had declined every single request up until now. After all, these proposals—if she had decided to take them—would have made her wealthy, made her picture stay up in the Wall of Fame for longer than a century, and made her happy. But every time he would ask the girl why she didn't, she'd merely shake her head and respond with a "Syusuke-kun, I'm well off where I am right now, I don't need to be in the Wall of Fame, and I have you to make me happy."
Yes, indeed.
Fuji wasn't quite sure how it had happened, how he had managed to court (Your Name); and he wasn't entirely sure what had caused it. There were many times where he'd sit in his apartment alone, staring at the pasty ceiling, and replay the past six months in his head. All the events—the assignment, the job, the first sighting—were now probably ingrained in his brain from so much mental playing. Fuji always would joke with (Your Name) that if he ever got amnesia, those were the few things he'd actually probably remember.
While reminiscing about the past, another question would frequently pop into Fuji's head—what, exactly, made (Your Name) fall in love with him? Of course, the photographer never said anything to his girlfriend; after all, she would probably frown and scold him for thinking such things. But Fuji was human, and like most people, he also thought about things such as this. The now twenty-two-year-old sighed softly, moving his hand smoothly on the wheel to turn a right on Tokyo Square. He shouldn't still be thinking about these things, not after six months together. It was strange, though—he hadn't thought of his past worries for a while, until this day.
The car moved forward along the straight street, moving his brilliant sapphire orbs left and right for the restaurant Herzessen. (Your Name) had called him yesterday, asking if he could meet her there. Albeit the strange name (he had read somewhere in a magazine that the name roughly translated to something like "Heart food"), Herzessen was known for its exotic, German food and high quality—and also, not to mention, its high price.
Fuji unrolled the car window, allowing the cool, night breeze to move throughout his car. He let his smile grow a tad bit wider; he always thought that outside air—even city air—was better than air conditioning. It was calmer, more soothing to the soul. The photographer moved his hair gently away from his face (though it was all for naught; the wind moved it right back to where it had been), and he pondered for a second about the conversation he had had the last time with (Your Name). Her voice had been very taught, constricting—as if she had to tell him something important. For a moment, a wave of mild fear crashed and conflicted inside him with his normal calmness, but he quickly shook his head, annoyance with himself surfacing. He shouldn't be thinking about such things, he thought to himself—(Your Name) wasn't like that, where she'd keep a secret from him.
He pulled into the restaurant lot, the lights stringing from the roof pleasant to his eyes. He quickly found a spot (lack of people here helped) and stepped out, locking the door along with him. He always liked Herzessen, although he'd only been here a few times. Those occasions were for meetings for Advanced Weekly, too; Fuji was glad that this time was not for business, instead just being him and (Your Name).
She was standing outside the doors awkwardly in her light jacket, eyes flitting worriedly every few minutes. Fuji moved up the stairs, making the space between him and her smaller and smaller until he was right in front of her. (Your Name) blinked, smiled, and—after sharing their normal, greeting kiss—the two linked hands and walked inside.
They were seated in a small corner, where potted plants abounded and the glass windowpanes showed a view of the Tokyo Square Park. After ordering, Fuji gazed out at it serenely (watching with amusement as two kids pushed each other on the swings), (Your Name) trying to do the same thing. However, her constant twitching made her calm façade slip, and eventually the girl sighed, shoulders slumping. The genius gazed at her from the corners of his eye, turning to face her full on when she flinched at his gaze. Again, the panic spread through his body; but with mental toughness, he pushed it away and tried to be pleasant.
"Is something the matter, (Your Name)?" asked Fuji calmly, keeping a light tone in his voice. He didn't want his girlfriend thinking that he suspected anything to be wrong, although he did. "You're acting strange."
After immediately being questioned, (Your Name) shook her head, strands of hair falling from her loose bun. "No," she answered in the negative, trying to give off a small smile, "nothing's wrong, Syusuke. I'm just a tad… nervous." She breathed the last word, closing her eyes while letting her back slump to the comfy seat.
"Nervous?" inquired Fuji, brows knitting together. He knew that (Your Name) disliked being pressed on a subject, but his curiosity got the better of him. The brown-haired male watched as she flinched again. Sympathy passed through him—being interrogated always made the small girl stressed—so he asked in a smaller, slower tone, "Why are you nervous…?"
"Well, uh…" (Your Name) swallowed thickly, the words refusing to come to her. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish's, and there were many times where incoherent noises squawked out of her throat, but it was all a jumbled mess. Eventually, the actor sighed—always a sign that she had given up—and let her shoulders slump again.
"What's the matter?" asked Fuji, original gentle but forceful tone being used again. (Your Name) flinched, but Fuji didn't bother sugarcoating his words again. "Did something bad happen?"
"No, no!" The timid actor began to wave her hands in front of her, much like she had those many months ago at the coffee shop. When Fuji raised a slim eyebrow (not in an accusative manner, of course), (Your Name) ducked her head down and began to trace small circles on the wooden table with the tip of her finger. "Well, nothing bad happened, if that's what you mean to ask," she murmured, and once again she moved back into the contented—albeit slightly uncomfortable for Fuji—silence. A few seconds ticked by before the male across from her spoke.
"Really?" he asked in a teasing voice, chuckling when his girlfriend nodded shyly. He was glad, of course, that nothing terrible had happened. It was beyond noticeable that (Your Name) had been lying when she said nothing was wrong—after all, she wouldn't be fidgeting and whatnot if everything was well. "Well, that's good" was the only thing Fuji said as he now settled himself into the muteness, expecting it to be a long while until the girl spoke.
The silence apparently pulled (Your Name) away from her comfortable blanket of silence, for it was only a few moments until she spoke up again. "I, uh…" she started, voice uncertain. "I… took an offer to be in a musical." Her voice diminished away greatly as she spoke, as if the girl were afraid that this would be bad news. She seemed to shrink in her seat when Fuji spoke up.
"Really?" The tone of surprise was evident in Fuji's voice, and he made no attempt to hide it. He smiled widely; reaching over to take (Your Name)'s hands in his own, he said, "That's wonderful news, (Your Name)."
"Yeah…" Again, the shaky way the actor spoke appeared in her voice again as Fuji squeezed her fingers gently. Slowly, the smile began to fade from the photographer's face; (Your Name) didn't sound nearly as excited as she probably should have been. "Well, you see, Fuji… there's something I need to tell you about this job…"
(Your Name) withdrew her fingers away from Fuji's grasp (although she did it with some reluctance) and placed them in her lap. She looked down again, and Fuji suddenly felt that same rush of fear wash over his body. He didn't attempt to hide it now; his eyebrows drew up in an upturned fashion, and, although the girl across from him hadn't a clue, his heart began to beat faster. It thumped loudly against his chest in an almost painful manner, and Fuji took many slow, silent deep breaths to calm it. The pounding continued harshly, even with his attempts.
(Your Name) mirrored his movement, taking deep breaths as well. Through the cloud of fear and dread, Fuji could see that she was struggling with her emotions as well; her cheeks were red with frustration and her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. It hurt the genius to see her like this, and there nothing he wanted to do more right now than to pull her into a hug and calm her down. However, he restrained himself from doing such and let her continue with the words he had a feeling he didn't want to hear.
"This job is, uh… going to be held in Europe." The stuttering start now, and (Your Name) furrowed her eyebrows in what Fuji assumed was pent-up frustration at herself. Her cheeks, usually such a nice, luminescent color, reddened more. "I…I'll be…be… gone"—she blurted the word out quite loudly due to her increased amount of struggling with her words—"for… for almost nine months… if not more." During her explanation, the apparent aggravation caused the small tears to drip down her cheeks. Her eyes reddened considerably, but the redness looked like a pale pink compared to the rest of her face.
Fuji could feel it coming—the words that would break his heart. They were on the tip of her tongue, the poison from the words probably singeing it with every minute passing by. Why, if they were hurting her, did she not just hurry up and say it? Why didn't she just get it over with? Maybe she couldn't will herself to do such…?
He decided to do it for her, although he didn't want to; but if it would ease (Your Name)'s mental pain, he suffer through it. "If you believe that I will cheat on you while you are gone, that is certainly not the case." The words were very soft, breaking the ice with a hammer that crushed them both. Fuji, from under his eyelashes, saw his girlfriend widen her eyes and snap her head up quickly. He regarded her with a cool demeanor, but it was so poorly put up that he was sure she could see right through it.
"I know you wouldn't do that, Fuji!" shouted (Your Name), her voice shrill. It was not biting or angry, much like a normal person's would be after being accused of thinking such a thing. "I know you wouldn't," she repeated again, shaking her head wildly. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table so hard that her knuckles turned white. "But we'll be apart for almost a year…"
"Do you want to break up, (Your Name)?" Fuji asked, voice cracking.
He didn't want to have to say those words, never in a million years. With each syllable in that sentence, a bit of his heart cracked off and fell into an unknown pit. It hurt, the pain being almost unfathomable in all the twenty-two years that he lived; from what he could recall—which, in his current state, was not much—there hadn't ever been an event that caused him to be like this.
(Your Name) grimaced very visually, but her voice came out much steadier and clearer than it had been. "No, I don't," she said, and it was very evident to the photographer that she was being completely honest. "You know I don't, Syusuke." Her eyes welled up again, and this time Fuji felt liquid also pool in the corners of his eyes. "I love you." She shook her head, closing her brilliantly colored eyes. "But… I think it would be wise if we post…postpone… our relationship…"
'If you love me, why are you saying this?'
"When are you leaving, (Your Name)?"
"…In…two weeks..."
Neither Fuji nor (Your Name) spoke for the rest of the night.
_______
The door clicked shut—a long, empty sound that resonated through the small apartment. Fuji sighed, also an empty sound, and ran a thin hand through his long locks. His sapphire eyes twinkled in the moonlight, but unlike the norm, his eyes shone with stress, tiredness, and sadness.
He placed his keys on the table beside the door, taking no effort to shrug his jacket off of his light frame. With heavy steps, he walked slowly towards the living room, destination in sight: the couch. The soft, white leathery piece of furniture looked very inviting with its plush cushions, and the photographer sighed upon flopping himself onto it. His form molded into the soft sofa, and he allowed himself a small, almost unnoticeable smile to appear on his face. His mouth muscles felt weird after lack of use—for, for the past two weeks, he had rarely smiled. He had no energy for it after what these days had thrown at him: tears, depression, grief…
Fuji knew that today—the day of (Your Name)'s departure to Paris, France—was just the beginning of the roller coaster his emotions would go on. There would be many ups and downs, he knew, and many, many times of reminiscing. There would also be many times where the photographer wouldn't want to deal with it anymore, and an equal number of times where he'd reach for the phone as if to call (Your Name), only to realize what he was doing when his finger lingered over the button that had the last number of her phone number.
He sighed, the only sound he could hear minus the howling of dogs outside of his room and the occasionally honking of a car horn. It was strange, this emptiness; usually there would be the sizzling of a pan when (Your Name) would come over to cook, the sound of water being poured from a watering can as he tended to his cacti, or the laughter when (Your Name) found something funny on TV. But now, on this cool night, there were no sounds from Fuji's memory. All there was were the depressing sounds of the nighttime.
Fuji's head lolled to the side, his eyes opening slowly to stare out at the large window that made up one wall of his living room. The moon was out, he noted, and stars companioned its wonderful shine with their own small but pleasant twinkles. The city lights dampened the luminosity, much to Fuji's chagrin, and there were many times when he wished that he could just push the switch down to shut off everything.
His eyes slid down to the side table by the couch and his eyes immediately tightened upon seeing the framed picture on it. Although the frame's shadow made the picture invisible, it was all too familiar to Fuji. After all, it was the picture he looked at most, even before these two weeks.
Without the normal grace he usually showed, Fuji rolled his body to the side to reach an arm out to grab it. The wood felt smooth against his palm, the glass chilling and lacked in lumps. When it was secured in the crook of his palm, fingers wrapped protectively around it, the photographer rolled back onto his back again and laid the photograph on his stomach. The smiling faces greeting him in bittersweet nostalgia, the past taking him in as his eyes misted.
It was their first date, a few weeks after the debut of The Wild Orchid. Another smile slipped up onto Fuji's dazed face as he thought about the kind couple who had insisted that they take a picture, for "commemorative purposes". While (Your Name) had her arms awkwardly around Fuji's waist and his on her shoulders, the stars of the planetarium twinkled brightly around them. It had been the timid actor's idea for the planetarium as a first date location.
Fuji gazed longer at the snapshot, reluctant to let his eyes off of it. It was as if he were afraid that, if he wasn't constantly looking at it, the picture would slowly fade away, that his memory of (Your Name) would slowly disappear…
With another sigh, the twenty-two year old stood up, not bothering to stretch out the cricks in his body, and placed the frame back in its respective spot. He let his fingers graze on the smooth glass for a second, his hair dangling in his face. The last thing he looked at was (Your Name)'s smiling face, shining in brilliance.
'(Your Name), (Your Name), (Your Name)…' Fuji thought, moving towards the door. He repeated her name continuously in his head, much like the mantra people said to him when he took the job as a photographer. Her cheery face flickered in his brain again as he picked up his keys. 'No matter how far apart we are… my feelings for you are never changing.'
And with that consideration in mind, Fuji Syusuke stepped out the door and walked out into the cool night.
_______
FINALLY, IT'S FINISHED. @_@; Goodness, that was long. XD In my whole entire time in Texas, this—and my song-fic (that's more like a small drabble to me)—were the only things I worked on. Ah~ I'm so glad I finished. Let's continue to celebrate my long story! *cheers and throws confetti again*
Thanks for reading! Hopefully it wasn't bad and/or I got Fuji OOC. I… really don't like the ending, but hey, it's Christmas Day (or night…) and I'm tired. Oh well~! After re-reading this, I am actually very proud of it. ^_^; Hope you liked it as much as I did!
Thanks again, and have a great rest of the day/morning/evening!
