Character Questionares, Ect.

[The Phantom of Paris]

*is one of the aforementioned procrastinators* I don't know which sketch to do next, that's my problem...I've got some dialogue sketched out for the 'how your character shows love' one, but it's cheesy and I have no idea how to get to that point, because said dialogue comes in at the very end of the sketch (incidentally, Firefox thinks dialogue is not a word), and a concept for the 'boring road trip' one, but I still can't decide...

AND I WANT A YUKITO PLUSHIE. Yes yes. So does Hana, although she says she'd rather have a Kagayaki one. XD

[Elda Forever]

LOL Seriously!? I love you. ^.^


Next sketch! I'm a little disappointed at the lameness in Yukito's dialogue here. Let's say he was Notebooked mysteriously in a half-drugged state and now has severe mush issues or something! : DDD

Sketch: What are your character's ambitions and goals? They're 'impossible dreams'? And what are they willing to give up to obtain that dream?

“Hey, man, we're gonna be late!” Yukito ignored the nagging voices for a moment longer, shutting off his ipod and yanking the earbuds from his ears, balling them up in his fist and shoving them unceremoniously into his jeans pocket. The familiar crowd shuffled inside the school, and he could feel the excitement buzzing around him. This was their last day in high school. The very last day. Most of them were eagerly counting up the gained hours in the morning, and Yukito was contemplating. His mother and him had always planned on a college in America after his high school years were over. He had complied, but mostly because he didn't see much difference in the two types of schools. Whatever, he had thought. It didn't matter to him.


But things were starting to evolve into something altogether different and strange. Now there was someone else to think about in his equation. Yukito liked to weigh ideas and plans in his mind, to metaphorically chew the thoughts unspoken until he came to be comfortable with their concept. He decided that he took school in a strange way. It wasn't a serious perspective – he wasn't motivated enough for that. But it wasn't neglect, either. He paid attention in class, he rarely acted out just for the attention, and he normally kept to himself and his good grades, to please his mother and to please himself for a job well done. In some ways he was a perfectionist about himself. Whatever issues he had in the past, he directed those neglected feelings for ambition to do above average in some way. He never wanted the social nonsense involved with certain groups and clubs, so he never rose to those milestones. But in literature, math, science, history...he strived to learn it completely.


And what do I want with that? The question of direction always lingered. After several hours of quiet contemplation, he decided he took school soberly. It was serious but not obsessive. He kind of wanted to finish it off with a few years at college, but there was no direction for him...


The weird rush out of the high school always made Yukito a little on edge. He kept to the side, as tons of teenagers shoved their way past, elbowing and sticking their shoulders in where they could escape. Yukito was in no hurry.


“Yuyukun!” he turned automatically, seeing Erin's head bobbing up and down among the moving bodies, her hand waving energetically in the air, “Over here!”


He wove his way through what he imagined in his mind to be the 'main current' of the high school river. It ran through each hallway and was always bad when the tide rolled in. Somehow he made it to her side, though, and her arms flew up around his neck to embrace him, and without thinking twice he kissed her, touching on her teeth with his tongue and relaxing the instant her hands went up to run through his hair. To wrap his arms around her meant more than just the usual metaphoric. For him, it was a silent promise. He couldn't explain it anymore than he could help it.


With a sudden rush of adrenaline he pulled back from her and stated simply, “You're my direction.”


Erin met his eyes with a giggle, not really understanding, “What?”


“You're my direction,” he repeated, “You're the way I want to go. Towards you.”


“Well, I'm not gonna fight with you on that one.” she teased. He smiled, but knew she didn't really get it yet. Whatever....that's not the point anyway. It wasn't as simple as a decision for or against college. He was willing to make compromises. He was willing to make changes. What in his life hadn't evolved or altered? When parts of his life got the most comfortable, the most routine, they were pulled out from under him and he had to try and keep his feet. It was easy to think, and actually really enjoyable to believe that everything he experienced so far was to push him in his direction, in the way he was meant to go. Hours spent chatting with Natalie in a dark room, sprawled across the floor and waiting for everything to fade away, had made him reconsider the reasons for things out of his control. The hours of work the two of them had pieced together, all the hours mentally beating himself up...what had been the point? I had to fix myself for Erin. I can't break her like me.


“Erin, let me ask you something...” he said slowly, “If I said I wanted to cut my hair, what would you say?” Their conversation took on the air of a tease as they walked out, arms entwined, ignoring everyone else on purpose.


Her lips protruded in a pout, “But I like your hair!”


“Then I won't cut it,” he said, quickly enough he had nearly cut her off. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he continued, “If I said I've been stalking you, following you around for the last week everywhere you go, what would you say?”


Erin's laugh carried in the emptying hallway, and she leaned on his shoulder, “I'd say you hadn't changed your routine much. We're already together almost everywhere. And we'd be together more if my parents hadn't grounded me again.” Her face slipped into another pout, her brows furrowing at the pure injustice she suffered. Yukito smiled, and with one arm snaking around her shoulders, pulled her closer.

“If you said you wanted me to back off, to give you more space, I'd do that, too.”


She didn't respond to that for awhile, and despite the butterfly feeling in his chest, he looked down at her with a serious look in his eyes, “You're my direction, Erin. And I love you.”


He watched her blink, hard, and her hand gripped his harder, “I love you, too.”


They didn't say anything for awhile, then Erin asked, “So...what exactly brought this up?”


Another smile from Yukito, “Nothing at all, actually. Just thinkin' about the future.”


“Oh,” she looked down at the floor, her mind flitting back to the abandoned feeling she experienced anytime she imagined Yukito off at college, with her still stuck in highschool. It wasn't fair, she had decided. Not fair at all.


“Erin...” he smiled at her, leaning close to her face. Then he brushed away the stray hair from her face, “I love you. And if you asked me not to go to college, I won't.”


Her mouth opened to protest. She didn't want him to be held back because of her. She didn't want him stuck with her, when she believed he could so much more. Yukito stopped her by placing a finger on her lips, “Shhh...Don't think about it yet. Think about it later, when I'm not around to change your decision. I'll just say that I don't care one way or the other. Seriously, I don't. I'd rather go into music than some crappy math stuff.” Turning away from her, they started off down the hall again. Nothing was resolved that day. The late afternoon was spent doing absolutely nothing. Yukito didn't tell Erin how it sent chills up his spine still when she touched against his cheek. Old scars never quite heal. But he could touch her, and communicate with her that things between them were only going to get better.


Because he knew a direction. It was a vague one, and prone to turn around completely as time went by. But it was his direction. And he loved her.

[The Phantom of Paris]

Awww, so fluffy! I really loved this one. *ruffles Yukito's hair*

Anyone wanna help me choose which sketch I do next? *puppy dog eyes*

[Elda Forever]

Thanks.

Do the boring road trip one.

*leaves no room for discussion here*

LOL.

[GGJ5]

Okay, if I post for everyone I owe today, then I'll work on the sketches to post over the week... Good deal? ^.^

Also, y'all, Mascii and I talked about it, and we're gonna use her little oneshot about the wreck as a plot device for a future interaction, so I guess henceforth it's "canon"? If it's not totally arrogant to call something re: your RPG as canon... >_>

[The Phantom of Paris]

Okay, here's Cassie's "bored on a road trip" sketch...I didn't have an easy time writing this as I had with the fear sketch, and I don't think it's as good, but oh well.

Sketch: What does your character think about during downtime? Past experiences? Philosophical questions? Hopes? Disappointments? Put your
character on a boring freeway drive and get inside his/her head for a
scene or two.

“Are we theeeeeeeeeeeeeere yeeeeeeet, Daddy?!” came the whining drawl of Harmony, Kristen’s boyfriend’s daughter, from the back row of seats. From up in the driver’s seat, Mike sighed heavily. “Not yet, Princess,” he crooned, as if his daughter was eight as opposed to eighteen. “We’re still in Louisiana…it won’t be too much longer.”

From next to Cassie in the middle row of seats, Shelby snorted with derision, not even looking up from the portable DVD player open on her lap. Harmony made a noise in return, causing Kristen to whip her head around. “Shelby, Cassandra, honestly!” she said in a warning tone, ignoring the real source of the problem completely. Because we all know Miss Harmony can do no wrong, can she, Mom?

Cassie sighed and looked out the window, watching the miles and road signs whip by her. Her sundress stuck to the seat as she leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Traveling had never been her favorite activity—she liked the actual act of being on vacation, but it was the getting there she couldn’t stand. Airplanes were crowded and noisy, and she always ended up falling asleep in them no matter how hard she tried to stay awake, and it was nearly impossible to draw remotely well while on a road trip—and the way this was going, she still had a two or more hours to kill before the motley crew reached their destination of Houston and Mike’s mother. She sighed as town by town flew by the car’s windows, people she’d never met living their lives far, far away from New Orleans.

Harmony angrily kicked Cassie’s seat, and Cassie turned around to look at her. “What?!”

“Move your head, you’re blocking my view!” she said prissily. Cassie grumbled and obeyed, glancing over at Shelby in hopes of sharing a sisterly look. She got nothing, Shelby still absorbed in her anime. Cassie pulled out her cell phone, sending the same desperate text to Kagayaki, Erin, and Yukito: evil stepsister is gonna kill me, save me plz?

She slumped in her seat, the seatbelt straining as she brought her knees up and rested her chin against them. While Harmony wasn’t her official stepsister yet, Cassie figured it was only a matter of time now that the divorce was finalized. She closed her eyes. Mom, I wish you could wake up and see what this is doing to us…don’t you remember what we used to be like? Don’t you realize what you’re throwing away? Cassie let herself go back to another family road trip, one that seemed so far away from the life she was now living that she might as well have read it in a book…

“Okay…Cassie, gimme a noun,” Shelby said, glancing down at the MadLibs book. Cassie sighed. “Bored,” she grumbled.

“Nooo, that’s an adjective.”

Jake, stretched out horizontally across the back row of seats, chuckled at this. “MadLibs is torture of a unique sort, Shelby,” he said, pulling out his headphones for a second. “I would reconsider your car trip itinerary if you have any plans for your tenth birthday.” At fifteen, he considered himself far superior to eleven-year-old Cassie and nine-year-old Shelby, and took every opportunity to remind them of that.

“Awww, Cassie, come on!”

“Shelby, your brother’s right,” came Dad’s voice. “You’ve been playing MadLibs for an hour and a half, why don’t we give it a rest?”

Cassie cheered silently as Shelby obeyed. “But…what are we gonna do now?” she asked, reluctantly stowing the book away in her backpack. Cassie gave a shrug. “I dunno, just…watch the country fly by us?” she said, gently tugging on the French braid holding Shelby’s hair back. Her sister stuck her tongue out at her and did the same to Cassie’s matching braid. “You’re boring.”

“Not boring,” Cassie protested mildly. “I just like to look out the window and see what I could be drawing, if we weren’t moving.” She reached into her bag and took out her sketchbook, looking through her drawings wistfully. “Come on, Shelby, just try it. You always want to be doing something on a trip…sometimes not doing anything is more fun! Think of all the scenery you’re missing while you’re reading and stuff! The other cars, the fields and trees, teh big cities and little towns, the clouds...Just…sit and watch the world go by you for once, Shel!”

Kristen turned around in the passenger seat, smiling at her. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. You’ll have plenty of time to draw once we get to Nanna’s.” Cassie nodded at her. “Okay, Mom,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. Her family really had no idea just how much drawing meant to her. It didn’t matter if she didn’t draw constantly like some people she knew—all that mattered to her was that she could draw if she felt like it, that she always knew she would be able to when inspiration struck. She didn’t have that feeling in a car, and she didn’t like it. It felt too strange, like going to bed knowing you haven’t brushed your teeth, or packing for school knowing you’ve forgotten your book report. Without knowing that she was able to draw, Cassie didn’t feel complete—she felt like she had left some of herself back home, or back in the hotel they’d spent the night in after yesterday’s day of driving. She didn’t feel like herself. But there was no way her family could ever really understand that, was there?

She half-heartedly joined her family in cheering when they crossed the state line from Alabama into Georgia, trying her best to mirror the big grins that came over Shelby and Jake’s faces when they realized that they were that much closer to their destination of Savannah. She gave a little sigh, and Jake leaned forward a little, giving her a gentle punch on the arm. “Chill out, Strawberry,” he said with a grin. “We’ll be there soon and you can go all Picasso on us or whatever. It’s just a few more hours.” Cassie didn’t answer, only looking away. She saw her parents exchange a look, and Mom reached back and squeezed Cassie’s hand. Even Shelby tried to make her feel better, taking Cassie’s advice and looking out the window for a bit in silence. Cassie couldn’t help the little smile that came over her face as she saw her little sister get completely absorbed in watching the world around her. See? she thought. I told you.

Shelby tugged on Cassie’s sleeve. “Look, Cassie! Look at that town we’re passing! See the sign? Look at the name! Enigma! Enigma, Georgia! Isn’t that funny?”

“Perhaps it would be, Shelby, if I knew what enigma meant,” said Jake from the back seat, reaching up to ruffle Shelby’s hair. She pushed him away cheerfully. “It means ‘mystery!’ Isn’t that funny?”

Cassie nodded, looking out her own window and seeing a field of wildflowers. “Oh!” she cried out, half in delight and half in agony because she knew she wouldn’t be able to draw it. “Oh, Daddy, look at those flowers, they’re so pretty...” She sighed, pressing her face up against the glass. “And look, Shel, there’s violets, and maybe irises too!”

Cassie watched as Dad looked over at Mom. “Kristen…” he began, a grin coming over his face. Mom gazed back at him for a second, her mouth twitching as she tried not to smile herself. “Well…I guess Mother wouldn’t mind if we were a little later than we told her we’d be…” she said finally, letting a warm smile cross her face. She turned to face her children. “What do you say, guys? Want to spend an hour or two in Mystery Town while your sister draws?”

“Yeah!”

Cassie smiled, opening her eyes and stretching. Life was so simple then…

Looking over, she saw that Shelby had fallen asleep, her head leaning against the window while her DVD still played. Up in the passenger seat, her mom slept too, her eyes closed but her mouth open in the very way she claimed was an “undignified” way to sleep. Cassie laughed and turned around, finding Harmony stretched out in the back like Jake had been those many years ago, also safe in dreamland.

One big, happy family?

Still smiling, she flipped open her cell phone and texted her friends again. "nvr mind, see u all when i get back." She snapped it shut and put it away into her bag, reaching in to pull out her sketchbook and a pencil. Mike caught her eye in the rearview mirror and winked at her, and Cassie put a finger to her lips before pointing to the other occupants of the car. You know what? I’m just gonna draw anyway, I don’t care anymore. I just want to draw.

And so she did, spending the rest of the miles between the car and Houston sketching the three sleeping beauties in the car.

[Elda Forever]

Character: Yukito Maki
The Sketch: Origin and Effect of your character's worst fear.

Okay, this one is probably PG for thematic and sexual events. <_< You have been warned, if you don't want to read it, just go ahead and skip it. It may not be as bad as some, but still...it's nice to have a little warning in these things, right?




Yukito Maki : Four Years Old


It was one of those nights.

Yukito and his mother had spent the day rather well. He had made dinner with her, seated on the counter and 'helping' her by stirring the dangerous pot of boiling water. She never let him really do anything. But that wasn't the point. He got to talk to her. Yukito rarely talked full paragraphs of speech without requiring his precious minutes of reflection in-between each statement, but dinner preparation was one of those times. He blabbered on about what he wanted to be, how he wanted to play, what he wished he could do. Korkoro listened quietly to his remarks, offering her little comments with a slightly exaggerated tone of interest. The four-year-old seemed to have an endless list of ambitions, a world of his own that he could control with a single word. But one that he was willing to work for, even if he didn't know what that desire would take from him yet.

With a little smile, Korkoro kissed his forehead, pushing back the shaggy black locks of hair away from his face. He had insisted on growing it out like his daddy. Shaggy and long. Once in awhile she could force him to pull it back away from his face, when he was doing chores when it would just get in his way. She worried about his eyesight. She worried about his heart. His little open heart that kept trying to make sense aloud of why the other kids didn't see things the way he did. Why they didn't find school easy and boring. Why none of them wanted to play rock star.

He didn't acknowledge the kiss on his face, his hands busy with a small toy he had gotten that morning. “I can't get it to work, mother...this little ball is supposed to fit inside his hand.” he held it up for her inspection, and she took it from him, leaning against the counter and forcing the contraption to perform its chosen deed. Yukito, determined to discover the toy's secret, laid a hand on his mothers shoulder as he leaned over to see.

“There, you see?” the little man seem to hold the silver and blue ball tightly in his plastic, gloved hand. Korkoro pushed the button. The little plastic hero sent the ball flying through the air, smacking into the wall with a funny sound and bouncing across the kitchen floor. Yukito giggled with delight, then snatched the toy from his mother. He slipped off the counter and raced for the ball, desiring it again, again, again.

Later that evening, when the kitchen was no longer filled with steam, the clanging of pots, and their laughter, he clung fearfully to his toy with one hand. The other hand tugged his blanket over his head, his little elbows helping to pin it down around him. Sometimes, if he held really, really still, no one would notice him. Sometimes, if he stayed really, really quiet, they walked right past him without saying anything.

“Yukito, get out from under there!” his father commanded, “And tell me where my cell phone is.”

“I didn't take it...” he stated, muffled by the blanket. His father pulled it off of him, and he was left out in the open, exposed. His fingers reached for his father's boots. They were the ones he wore when he was on-stage for his band. Was he leaving that night? He hadn't told Yukito.

“It didn't just walk off by itself, now did it?” He wasn't angry this time. Just...irritated. His teeth were clenched with impatience, but his hand gripping the blanket held no threat. Yukito relaxed and stood up.

“Maybe it did, daddy!” he let out a gasp, “It could grow three little legs and...”

“YUKITO. I need my cell phone, and now.”

Yukito ceased his story, deflated by the interruption. Shoulders slumped, he considered for a long moment what to say next. His mother knew it as his moment, his precious moment needed before a decision. It was as if it took him a prolonged amount of time to form in his head what he was supposed to say. “Follow me.” he commanded, dashing away from his father into the bedroom. With an exasperated sigh, the man followed, still clutching the blanket in one fist. Quickly, Yukito slipped beneath his parent's bed – made to perfection by his mother that morning – and clutched his little fingers around the dusty cell phone, wriggling out backwards to hold it up proudly to his dad.

“Thank you.” His father said, and the four-year-old could hear the frustration still in his voice. It confused him...if he found the cell phone, why didn't that please his father? What had he done wrong now? He watched his father getting ready to go out for the night from his place at the foot of the bed, clutching the fat, wooden knob decorating the bed frame.

“Are you leaving all night, daddy?” he asked as his father tussled his hair to make it appear more sporadic and untamed, meanwhile spreading about gel to keep it there.

“Probably,” he growled, “We're supposed to hit the road tonight, if our damn manager can handle something that damn difficult.”

Yukito continued to watch his father fix his hair, and soon began to mimic the gestures on his own head, massaging with his fingers looking like two pale spiders in the midst of the dark black locks. “Why do you do that to your head?”

“It makes it look good.”

“Is it good for the ladies?” he suggested, repeating the phrase his father used like an omen of a job well done.

“Yes, Yukito,” his father said with a little smile, “And you remember that.”

His son nodded fervently, “Is it good for mother?”

“Yep,” he slipped on his jacket, collecting up his overnight bag from the top of the bed, “Though it isn't good for all mothers. Trust me on that one.” The boy gave a happy little nod, accompanied by a smile that his father recognized from seeing in the mirror. He froze for a few moments, just watching him in the glass.“You've got my good looks. So you won't come up with nothin'.” He pointed a warning finger at the boy, clutching in the same hand a small bag of extra strings and picks. “You watch out for your mother first, though. Your own ladies come after. Got me?”

Another nod, and he was out the door. And Yukito was alone again.

~~~


Yukito Maki : Eleven Years Old

Yukito had never been one to be especially close with his father, in many senses of the word. By eleven he knew a lot about the man. His habits, the things that made him happy, the things that made him angry. Perhaps it was because he was very naive to the other, unspoken and indirect aspects of what made his father tick, that he didn't understand what happened. He didn't know that since his musical career had turned under, his father had turned to the darkest, most predictable path of the once-famous rock musician. He drank, he smoked, he disappeared for months at a time to avoid certain people who came to their apartment and bothered his mother. He knew something was up, but he figured his father would deal with it. It was just Yukito's job to make sure his mother felt better after the strange men left. She always looked upset. Once in awhile she cried. And she wouldn't tell him what they had said about his father. He never asked for an explanation.

Yukito barely recognized his father when he got home. Luckily, he didn't try and alter his appearance to mirror his paternal figure at every turn, or he would eventually resemble a chameleon. Every color of the rainbow had taken a turn in his hair, beard or clean-shaven, dressed fancy or like he had just come off a street-corner. Yukito didn't understand a lot of what was going on, but he understood why his mother needed her job in advertising. He got that, and didn't complain about the empty house when she wasn't there. An empty house was starting to have more appeal than the suffocating feeling he experienced when his dad filled the room.

The more mental abuse his father tossed down at them, the more Yukito reflected his mother's solution – shut up and take it. It was easier that way. Any arguments were met with hostility and violence, a logic that never made any sense to Yukito and grated him in all the wrong ways. He took out his frustration by dropping all the music classes he'd come to love. Music began to lose the sparkle it once held in his early years.

“Yukito, why don't you sing to me anymore?” Korkoro asked him.

“Dad hates it when I sing,” he muttered, flipping through his book with little interest in the conversation.

“He does not! He's just jealous of your talent,” she said, smiling softly with pride. Worry was in her eyes, though – there usually was, these days. Her gaze flitted to the front door, where he had been expected an hour before.

“Exactly,” Yukito looked up at her, and offered a sad smile, “He's not coming. Why don't we just go to bed?”

Korkoro glanced up at the clock, then nodded slowly, “We probably should.”

~~~

It was one of those nights.

But this time, it would be different.

Yukito curled into bed, set his book on the small bedside table, and turned off the light. He counted the seconds until he fell asleep, trying to imagine life as it wasn't now. In a way, he wanted to go against his father. To make himself different and try out a new path he hadn't even learned of yet. He knew a guy at school whose dad played sports. He was a total jock that loved to play with his son. Yukito couldn't hold a bat, much less beat anybody at any sport. Except tennis, and his dad had never played that with him. The only real connection they had was music, and that connection had been worn thin until it was a delicate little thread holding them together. He started to hate the 'old fashioned music' his parents insisted on listening to, but he was too prejudiced against all the other genres to try out his own interests. He didn't know anything different than an odd mix of AC/DC and Celine Dion.

He had fallen asleep before he realized it, woken up abruptly to the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. Groggy and confused, he blinked open his eyes to be met with darkness. “Mom?”

“Hey,” came the whisper, and Yukito blinked a few more times.

“Hey, dad. Thought you weren't coming tonight...”

“Yeah...well...” Yukito rubbed his eyes, and when he stopped there were bubbles of purple and blue across his mostly-empty vision. The room was dark still, with the door closed and the lights out. He figured his dad would slip out and go wake mom up, but after a few minutes he still heard his father's breathing in the room, as if he was distracted.

“Something wrong?” he asked, looking over at where he figured his dad was standing. When the man's voice came it was much closer to his bed than he expected – he hadn't heard him walking over.

“Just wanted to say I missed you while I was gone...” Yukito wondered why his voice was slurred this time. Was it a new drug, sleepiness, or drinking? Hard for him to say. He didn't know the difference. His father's hand found his cheek in the dark and patted it gently, the callouses in his hands scratching on his soft cheek. There was nothing odd in the gesture at first, but Yukito felt himself tensing up in the middle of his dull, sleepy state. A little chuckle, sounding too far away for how close his father's face was to his own. “D'you miss me?”

“Yeah...” he mumbled automatically. His mother had taught him to just say what was expected of him. It was easier that way than explaining why things were nothing like how they liked to pretend. “What are you doing?”

Wordlessly, his father leaned down to kiss Yukito's forehead, lingering above his face. By the time he realized what was happening, his father's lips were pressed to his own, and he felt that huge hand pushing down on his stomach. All air in the room seemed to disappear. Weakly, Yukito's hands flew up to push the sticky-wet shoulders away, but he had always been small and weak for his age. Just what his father had never been. And he was easily pinned down again. Neither of them said anything. Yukito felt sick to his stomach, as if someone had dropped a rock on his belly, at the same time taking away all his ability to speak. Should he scream? Would he be able to? Was this all there was? He heard his father chuckle when he felt Yukito stiffening up, fear written in every muscle. A chill ran through him when the blankets slipped off the bed and onto the floor, and Yukito found himself beginning to breathe again in ragged gasps that tore at his throat.

The man sat up again, one hand still pressing his son to the bed, the other running down his cheek repeatedly. “You're such a pretty boy, you know. So cute. You always have been.”

“Dad--” he sounded strangled. With his nerves exploding all over his body, he was starting to think being strangled would have been better. Less confusing...less painful.

“Shh...” came the whisper from the shadow above his head. His father. The man he was supposed to trust. He couldn't understand what was going on, or why. He couldn't think clearly through the tears starting to sting his eyes. This wasn't right, he knew. Everything in the room, the sounds, smells, the feel of his pillow beneath him and the firmness of his father's hand, was wrong. He wouldn't be able to express it any other way. It was wrong.

“You're cuter when you're crying. I always make you cry...” came the dark murmur. Yukito felt the hand on his stomach start to move down, and he shivered. “You're much cuter than I was when I was a boy.”

Yukito didn't answer, his own fingers clasping around the hand on his stomach, squeezing in a silent plea. Please don't touch me anymore. He felt utterly helpless under his father's command. This kind of rule had never crossed his mind, had never been an option. Where had this come from? Why was he doing this? What had he done to deserve this lack of control?

He felt the rock in his stomach begin to churn, and in an instant it had erupted. He vomited onto his pillow, and his father seemed surprised. He was calculating in his head, and Yukito tried not to move, fearing some rebuke, some insistance anyways, and he couldn't stop his entire body from shaking. He was shivering violently, more violently than he'd thought a person could shiver.

“Ah, well...we won't get into this tonight, then.” Yukito closed his eyes to blink away the tears, opening them to see the silhouette of his father escaping the room, calmly shutting it behind him. It took him several minutes to move. He waited until he could hear his parents' bedroom door open, then shut again. He waited until he heard the creak of their bed, and the quiet little greeting exchanged. His father sounded happy, but tired. His mother sounded half-asleep. Within seconds he had leapt from the bed, dumped his pillow in the trash, and raced back to his room, taking care to be silent, and clinging the harsh cold of the floor beneath his bare feet. He checked the room with fearful eyes, then locked it firmly behind him. He went to the window and tried it to see if it was locked. It opened easily on command, and the night wind blew into his face, calming him.

He cried.

His whole body ached from it, from everything. His throat was burning but he couldn't stop sobbing, imagining the tears to wash away the feeling of filth on his face. He locked the window, and turned to stare at the bed. Yukito couldn't imagine going back to sleep right after that. How could he sleep when his father was in the next room? But his legs were shaking hideously beneath his slight weight, and he wanted to escape the sensations racing through his system, screaming about how wrong it all felt. He curled up underneath the window with his pillow, now void of its cover and smelling a little too familiar. He cried into it, hoping that the smell would wash away, too. He's gonna come back. He waited for hours...he watched the red lights of his alarm clock, knowing it would start to beep just like every day before it. He wondered why it hadn't sounded the alarm while his father had been there. He wondered why he shouldn't tell his mother. But in the same instant he knew he couldn't talk to her about it. It was too nasty, she wouldn't believe him. She listened to him, he knew. But she didn't always believe him. And this was one of those times when she would make up an excuse for him.

It was one of those nights.

~~~



Yukito Maki : Twelve Years Old

His mother didn't understand why he started to lock his door every night. Or why he avoided his father so completely. If she didn't stubbornly intervene, the two never saw each other. It was rather easy for Yukito since his father was on tour half the year, and only came in once or twice a month when he wasn't playing crowds in other parts of Japan. When she asked her husband, he shrugged and said he didn't get it either, but he tried to talk to Yukito. Immediately, Yukito wordlessly slammed the door in his father's face, locking the door. He wouldn't come out for hours. He withdrew into himself, reading most of the day and refusing to go out to eat with them or spend an evening with the family. The previously talkative young boy had ceased to speak, almost completely. She worried about him when he was in the house alone, and had no idea that was one of the few times he ever felt safe anymore. Whatever it was that made him snap like this, she decided, it was probably temporary. Her son was a bright, happy boy. He'd had issues with his father being away so much, but they'd talked about that. He used to confide everything in her. Sure, as he'd grown older, he had wanted more privacy, more 'back off, mother' conversations, but he had still smiled at her when he reluctantly got up early for school in the mornings. He would still sit for hours watching television with her and singing for her. When had that changed? She didn't want to pressure him into music if he didn't want to, but up until a few months ago, that had been Yukito's dream. Now he didn't smile, now he seemed on edge and maybe afraid. What had happened that she didn't know about? He was changing, too fast for it to just be him growing up. He was just twelve, for God's sake. He shouldn't be growing up yet.

She stood in the hallway, staring at his door. He'd gone to 'bed' a few hours before. He hadn't told her goodnight, like he used to. She had to stay up late tonight working on a new project her company had just started taking over. Korkoro let out a little sigh, and started to continue walking. When her son screamed. She froze in her tracks, feeling fear wash over her at the almost unearthly sound. “Yukito?” she cried out, trying the door handle. No, it was still locked, of course. Yukito continued screaming, as if he had been holding it in and this was his only time for release. Had he been doing this before? She was sure he hadn't. If he had screamed like that, she would have been there. She was here now, jiggling the handle as hard as she could.

“Stay out! Stay out! STAY OUT!” Yukito kept screaming over and over. She heard something hit the door. It sounded hard and heavy. She kept pulling on the door.

“Yukito! It's me! It's me! Open the door, please? What happened?”

There was a long pause. It dragged on for minutes. The silence pressed in on her ears, and she waited for it to continue. Strangled and hoarse sobs met her ears. Korkoro pulled the door harder, then released it. Why wouldn't he answer her? What happened that she didn't know about?

The door opened, and she stood dumbfounded. Yukito looked defeated, tears streaming down his face and his hair falling into his face. His eyes were wide with fear and pain, and his fists were clenched.

“Yukito, what's wrong?”

“He hurt me, mother!” Yukito shouted, “He came and touched me and he hurt me! And he's gonna do it again!”

“Who? Who hurt you?” Why did she suddenly feel a chill run through her?

Yukito swallowed, and allowed himself a few more moments of gasping, trying to regain his strength. He wasn't able to retrieve it, and fell against her, his arms squeezing her as tightly as he could. She marveled at how frail he felt, and realized that he hadn't hugged her in months. He hadn't let her touch him for ages. It wasn't just the good nights and good mornings that she missed. It was his complete mental and physical distance that had left her at a complete loss. She wrapped her arms around him, defending him from the world, and her hands came up to his hair, running her hand through it. Korkoro was soon crying with her son, and they sank to the floor outside his bedroom door. Yukito could imagine the foul smell, the dirty feeling that he had been trying to cleanse himself of, emanating from the room, and he began to shake again, trying not to pull away again. His mother's hands calmed him, her soft, delicate fingertips in his hair helping him blur the sensation he still felt of the rough, calloused hands from last December. Her gentle but fearful hold around him contrasted so sharply the commandeering, rough restraint of his father.

“It was dad...” he managed, and his mother stiffened. He was so afraid she wouldn't believe him. He expected her to, but he couldn't hope for it.

“Oh my God...Yukito...” she held him even tighter, and he silently begged her to squeeze him to death. She decided right then that they were gone. That the dinner she'd planned with her husband the next day would never come. By the time he came to pick her up, the house would be empty.

~~~

It was one of those nights.

Yukito was becoming harder and harder to control. It was wearing down on his mother to keep avoiding an explanation to the hotel manager about why screams kept coming from their room. She couldn't tell him about the hours of hurt she felt, each night, each episode. Luckily, they never stayed more than one night anyplace, anyways.

At first, there were several in a row, within hours, he would be out of breath, covered in sweat, unwilling to let her come near him, his voice gone from so much screaming. Those nights, they'd had to stay in the car all night, out on an empty road. Neither of them got much sleep. When they weren't tackling the night terrors, they were quietly making their way to Tokyo. Hopefully he wouldn't find them there – the city was so big, she reasoned. He wouldn't expect them to go anywhere. They had never left Chiba, no matter how many times he went on the road.

Korkoro hugged her arms tight around herself. The hotel room was dark, and she was waiting up for him. She had once hoped that there was some sort of routine to the night terrors, but they seemed to be sporadically timed. Her eyes were on her watch anyways.

Sometime after midnight he started. It was quiet, at first. A few times of rolling over, some little, complaining sounds. Not odd for some people, perhaps, but normally Yukito didn't move or talk in his sleep. She used to tease that he slept like a rock. Where had the little boy gone that would return a tease like that with a heart-warming grin?

She stayed in her seat, watching him closely. He refused to sleep with a pillow case anymore. She didn't know why – details came few and far between, and it felt as if he had to open up wounds to pull them out. She wasn't even sure how long it had been when it had happened and she found out. There were some guesses, but no specifics.

He sat up suddenly, clutching his blankets around him as if they were a shield he carried. “Don't!” he shouted, and she didn't move. Was it just her, or did it get harder every time?

A scream. She looked up to see the blank, glazed look in his eyes. Another scream. If she didn't stop him quickly, he would go on for hours. She stood up, and in an instant he had fled the bed and was up against the bathroom door, trying to open it in his half-asleep. When he found it locked, he kept screaming, beating on it with his whole body.

“Yukito...it's mother. Just me.” she smiled at him sadly, and held her hands out to him. He paused, staring at her hands, and resumed beating on the door. She hated to think about it, but the closest thing she could compare it to was him turning into an animal. Fear drove him, his instinct to survive the night forcing him to find some way of escape, when his logic and his senses abandoned him. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was just easier to think it was better.

“Yukito...please...come here. Wake up and be with me.”

“NO!” The single word escalated from a low growl to a piercing shriek. He turned from her and raced to the window, struggling to open it. She hurried over to stop him – she couldn't replace the window if he broke it in his sleep – but he shoved her over onto the ground. She felt her tears begin to sting her eyes again. With patience, she stood up, slowly took his hand in hers, and with the other, opened the window. He was covered in sweat and shaking from limb to limb, but once the window was open, he was able to take a breath. He sank to the floor beneath it, curling up into a protective ball, and began to stare off, his screams stopped, his need granted. She knelt next to him, running a hand through his hair, tentatively at first. This animal had been abused, was all she could think. He will never fully forget what has been done to him. It took her over an hour to regain his trust again, to make him wake up to himself again, enough for him to lay down with his head in her lap, the cover-less pillow beneath his long black hair.

“Did I do it again?” he asked quietly, staring up at the open window. “Was I screaming?”

“You started to, but then you calmed down,” she lied.

“That's good. Maybe they're starting to get better.” he sighed, and turned over into the pillow. She ran her hands through his hair, brushing the black locks away from his eyes that were slowly shutting again. “I hope I didn't wake anybody up.”

“Yukito,” she said after a long moment of silence, hoping tonight was calm enough for him to tell her a little more, “Why do you need the window open?”

She could count the slow, comforted breaths he released before he answered, “I guess...I feel trapped if it's closed. I feel like there's a way out with it open.” A long pause, and he closed his eyes, the pained look on his face disappearing. He could focus on her fingers entangling in his hair, and it soothed him. “I opened it the night he came in. I slept next to it. I couldn't stand the thought of getting back into the bed..”

Korkoro pressed her lips together, trying to keep them from trembling. “I'm sorry, Yukito. I'm so sorry.”

He turned to look up at her, and didn't respond. Without any expression, he reached over and took her hand in his, staring up at every feature on it, studying the lines and softness of her palms. He didn't meet her eyes, because he could stare at their hands next to each other, expressing love with the same pieces he had loathed for such a long time. In a choked voice, he whispered. “You didn't do anything. I'm sorry you have to wake up with me every night.”

Tears cut through her words, “You should have told me sooner, Yukito.”

“I probably asked for it.” he muttered to himself darkly, ignoring her remark, “I just can't think of what I did to ask for it.”

“You did nothing of the sort.”

“How long have you known him?” he asked quickly, turning her hand over and staring at the long fingernails, manicured and always very clean. He liked her clean hands.

“Um...I met him three or four years before you were born, I believe.”

He added nothing, and when she asked him why, he muttered, “Fifteen years. Would you ever have guessed?”

She shook her head. Yukito continued to explain, “I don't believe he did do this to anybody else. Just me. Because he knew he could.”

“But he can't, Yukito!” she argued, her voice breaking, “We won't let him.”

Neither of them spoke for a long time, and when she took his hand and kissed it, apologizing again, trying to reassure him that there was nothing either of them could have done, he scarcely heard her. He did reply with a nod when she asked if he was ready to go back to bed, and they quietly replaced the blankets that had been thrown around the hotel room in Yukito's attempts at escaping his own memories. It wasn't until they were in their beds that his mother turned over to look at him in the face again.

“Yukito, when we get to Tokyo, I want you to see a psychiatrist.”

No motion from Yukito. She knew he wasn't asleep yet, and she could see his face, lit up by the moonlight falling across his bed from the window. He was staring out of it.

“Why?” he said at last.

“Because you need to move on from this. And...” she gave a hopeless gesture with her hands, feeling awful for admitting it, “I don't know how to help you through it. Please.”

He took his moment. She could almost hear him examining his answer from every angle, weighing his options before he made his choice. “If I go, you won't have to be up with me anymore, right?”

She smiled that he was still thinking of her. At twelve he was so worried about her. It made her want to cry when she realized it was because she was the only person in the world he cared about. The only person he let in anymore. She wanted him to grow up like a normal boy, she wanted him to laugh and smile again. She wanted him to love and be loved, to be the smart, talented child she had watched grow and play.

“Yes,” she said into the dark room. “Gradually, you won't have anymore nights like this.”

“Okay, then.” he said simply, rolling over to signify he was ready for sleep. But after a few minutes, she heard his voice again, and it pulled her fully alert until she realized what he was asking.

“Did you make sure to lock the door?”

The look of pain on her face as she forced back tears wasn't seen by her son. “Yes, it's locked, Yukito.”

A pause.

“Could you check, just to make sure?”

“Sure...” she slipped up out of bed, and as she headed back, watched him cling to the blankets as she walked past him in the darkness, not loosening his hold on the sheets until she was settled in her own bed.

It was just one of those nights.



~~~

Part Two.

~~~

A happy little squeal escaped Natalie, her blonde hair streaming out behind her as she raced across the stage they weren't supposed to be messing around on, but were anyways. “Noooo!”

The impish smirk on his face broadened, and he chased her, moving quickly around the piled boxes left there and the forgotten costumes around their feet. Her hand grabbed a railing and she swung around to begin a quick climb up the spiraling staircase. Yukito placed a firm hold on the railing as high as he could, and lifted himself over, causing her to squeal again. He took the steps three at a time and soon caught up to her, leaping forward and wrapping his arms around her waist. The two of them tumbled over at the landing, an entanglement of arms, legs, and long hair.

“Oooh...you're such a guy, Yukito!” she snarled, looking up at him with a grin, her nose wrinkled while she struggled to crawl away from his iron hold. He smirked, then leaned close enough to kiss her cheek.

“At least I don't scream like a girl.” he teased, and with an indigant gasp that feigned insult she pushed his face away from hers. He grunted as her fingers slammed into his face, but released her.

“Okay, so maybe you don't scream like a girl. But you sure look like one!” she took careful steps back, and started to bolt back, but he shot forward to snatch her wrist, snarling. In an instant, the laughter stopped. Natalie looked down at her wrist, her eyes filling with tears. He stared at her face, a worried look in his eyes.

“That hurts, Yukito.” Instantly he let her go, their hands dropping to their sides.

“I'm...I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. It's...not like you squeezed too hard or anything.” she held up her hands to look more closely at the crooked scars that were healing up, “It's more like a memory sort of pain, you know?”

He didn't answer her at first, shifting uncomfortably over to the rail of the landing they were sharing. “Yeah...I know.”

Natalie shot him a curious look, then a sad sort of smile came to her lips, “But hey, at least we're both messed up about the same, right?” He didn't respond, and she soberly mumbled, “Yukito, I hate this.”

He wasn't sure what she hated, exactly. Having the memories? Just that they were there? That he knew something about them? That the things that were always taboo between them always came up at the worst, the happiest, of moments? He didn't see her moving closer to him for a second, and he jolted a bit when he realized she was standing close enough to see the distance in his eyes. The fact that he was weak enough and effected enough to jump at something so stupid made him furious underneath.

“Show me your scars and I'll show you mine...” she whispered, taking his hand in hers, “Yukito, I hate always avoiding crap. My parents always do that. They pretend like everything is okay, and then they explode. In times like that, nothing is right.” She paused, “Where are your scars?”

“I don't have any. The bruises went away.” he muttered quickly, darkly, as he turned away from her.

“Then where were they before they faded away?” She had some ideas, soft, sensitive spots of him that were forbidden, and she chanced his anger again by reaching up to touch his cheek. That was one of her problems, really. She meddled when she shouldn't. But they needed this.

Yukito roughly pushed her hand away, telling her to stop. She heard the desperacy beneath his irritation, between the distances, and she could feel the fear between them. “Yukito, listen to me. I hate wallowing in the past. I want to move forward. We can do this...we can get over this. We never asked for this to happen, and we'll really shoot them down by proving that we're just like anybody else, and that we can move on.” Her face was determined, as she demanded an answer, “Will you touch me, and remind me that I can allow that or not, and that it doesn't have to be dirty?”

He could feel himself beginning to close up on her, the mental lockdown he experienced. He was gripping the railing for dear life. Yukito had never been afraid of heights. But he was paranoid about losing control. Without waiting any longer for him to respond, Natalie took his hand from the rail and placed his hands on her lips, kissing his palm. The tips of his fingers twitched, and he tried weakly to pull away, but she placed his hand on her shoulder, took the other hand off the rail, and placed both around her neck, her face dark and her eyes fearful. “Show me it's okay to be held, if it's by someone like you, Yukito. I need to know that.”

Whatever sort of answer she needed, he didn't know how to give. He felt like it was too sudden, that maybe they shouldn't have been messing around in the first place, as innocent as it had once been. That same animal-in-a-cage feeling was returning, the instinctive side preparing to take over and help him to escape. But he felt like this was what needed to be done. He couldn't avoid it forever. And neither could she. As much as the therapist talked, as much as they uncovered or discussed, there was a distance there, always. He taught them to keep their distance, and for the sake of trust, they stayed away. Yukito would remain in his seat, a protective space between him and the real thing he feared – the feeling of someone else around him, and feeling like he had to give in to that person again. Natalie won't hurt me. He repeated this thought in his head like a child's chant, taking control of his own fingers, cupping her cheeks in his hands. They moved slowly – always agonizingly slow – and touched everything they were afraid to get near. Fingertips gently reassured the tense muscles beneath them, promising to be protective, promising to be kind. Natalie's lips touched his cheek, her hand reaching up to trace a path from his ear to his mouth. He visibly trembled, and the sad smile she sent him was understanding. Yukito ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders, gripping them as gently as he could command them to. As soon as he reached her neck, she began to gasp for breath, and he shushed her with a slight sound, touching his forehead to hers, their eyes meeting. The shadows of the past would never disappear from their eyes, but he wanted to take away the fear from them. They had been working for years when Yukito shoved down the ache in his throat, brushing his lips on hers. Memories would have to be subdued. The echoes covered up by today's sounds. Old touches replaced by new ones. The ones from someone he trusted. Natalie moved closer to him, pressing harder to deepen the kiss. Both of them were struggling, smothered, drowning, trying to forget the cruel faces in their mind's eye and instead place themselves alone. All alone.

They were all alone together. Yukito started to smile, then to laugh quietly. Natalie pulled away, looking flushed and with a little gleam in her eyes, “What?”

“Girls kiss much better.” was all he said, “Don't stop.”

She giggled as she returned to obey, and the sacred feeling that surrounded them didn't fade away for a long time. Looking back on it, Yukito was surprised that neither of them had been afraid of someone walking in on them. They had been silent as the dead in their learning, in the reassessment of touch and caresses. They never moved from their spot on the landing, though their feet started to hurt and their arms to ache. Today's pain, they promised themselves, was nothing.

~~~


The drive home felt easier. He hadn't felt 'normal' for years, but Natalie and him were getting close. She sat next to him in the car as he drove them away from the school. Of course, she was rummaging through the music in her bag, shoving aside a dozen or so CDs.

“Buckle your seat belt,” he commanded simply, and she rolled her eyes. “I'm serious, the last thing I want is for you to go flying to your death along the side of the road.”

“Whatever,” she buckled herself in, then resumed searching, “You know what? I think we're really getting somewhere with this.”

“Me too,” he said, “Maybe one of these days you'll just buckle without the argument.”

She dropped her hands roughly, dropped her shoulders, and glared at him pointedly. He laughed, knowing that wasn't what she meant. “I was talking about when we were up there. Above the stage.”

Yukito was immediately sobered, using the road as a good thing to focus on before he responded, “Do you feel different? Any safer?”

“Not in a big way, but in a small way. I usually feel safer around you.” her tone was forward and she didn't seem to think much of it, even as she spoke it.

“And why is that?”

Natalie slipped in her CD to his player, but before she hit play she pointed out, “You wouldn't do anything I don't want you to. You're a good guy, Yukito. And you'd smother yourself with a pillow before you hurt anybody.”

“Don't be so sure...” he mumbled, smiling to disguise the fact that what she said had seriously effected him. She wasn't impressed by his attempt at a joke.

“I mean sexually.” Caught off-guard, Yukito winced considerably, making her laugh.

“Jeez, do you always have to be so blunt about stuff?” he growled.

Her laugh turned into a cackle, and she gave his arm a light punch, “You just proved my point. What kind of guy winces at the word 'sex'?”

“Someone who wished he didn't know what it meant.” The retort hit home, and threw them into a long minute's silence.

“Yukito...”

“I'm not saying I don't want to fix this...in you...in me...in both of us.” he hesitated at the turn that would lead to Natalie's house. Luckily the stoplight gave him enough time to decide – he turned away from that side of town completely, and Natalie didn't ask why, “Just know that it's all off-limits as far as I'm concerned. Or was...”

“And now?”

“Now I don't know anything. It was so different, today.” he sighed, sounding shaky, “Everything sent feelings in all the same places, but...it was as if that was okay. I feel like I'm treading on eggshells, trying to make it through some dark corridor without falling into the bottomless pits that just pop up everywhere around me.”

Natalie soaked in his statement for a long time, realizing that they were headed for the apartment he shared with his mother. “Tell me something...your night terrors. Do you remember them?”

“Not at all. I wouldn't know I had them if mom hadn't told me. Plus, I wake up in weird places.” he made a face at this. Natalie's forward nature let them talk more than his mother had ever let him. Plus, it was different if it was both of them talking about it, not just him hurting his mother with things she didn't really want to hear. Natalie never shuddered when he talked to her, and she was never afraid of what she was going to hear. Despite being beaten down by the world, even worse and more often than he had, she was more confident than he was. And that made an imprint on him.

“Like what kind of places.”

“Usually under the window. Once I found myself in the kitchen, standing over the trash can, throwing away my pillowcase again. A couple of times I've woken up standing in various places around my room. The first night mom found out, I came to in front of my bedroom door.”

“I want to stay with you tonight. Not your mother.”

They were stopped outside the apartment building, but Yukito still gripped the wheel with both hands. The car was turned off, and the lack of the thrashing music from the speakers left them in an eerie sort of quiet, their voices sounding too clear and too easy to understand.

“I don't know, Natalie.”

“I want to be with you. And I want you to be with me. We'll both move on from this. You will get over this.” she leaned closer as she spoke, “Because you are a good guy, Yukito. And neither of us deserve this. We have to make a way for ourselves, because no one else will help.”

Slowly, he nodded. He didn't know what he was going to tell his mother. But by now she was used to Natalie coming over. Sometimes she had to, to stay safe and away from her parents. Tonight, it was to make them both feel safe and away from their parents. They were fifteen now...why did they have to deal with this kind of situation? He felt so much older than he was supposed to be...he felt like he aged a million years every day. And he hated the sight of himself in the mirror. He hated stupid, everyday things that were constant reminders. He hated not getting away, despite not seeing his dad for over three years now. He wanted out of this.

It wasn't going to be one of those nights anymore.

[The Phantom of Paris]

Oh...I don't really know how to respond to this except to say...poor Yukito...

And this has given me a bit of an idea, so I'm gonna PM you now, Mascii.

[GGJ5]

Agreed. Poor Yukito. :C

I got a new one! It's.... kind of boring, but Cassie's in it, and she's just wonderful, so it's better, no? (: And part two will [hopefully] be coming in a couple of days, and will [again, hopefully] be way better. Poppy, lemme know if I messed up Cassie or anything. >_> I don't usually do much with other's charries....

_________

□ How competitive is your character? What is worth competing for? Job? Sports? Sibling Rivalry? Write a scene where your character loses. Write one where he/she wins.


Everyone else was milling about the commons during break, getting to walk around and chat and goof off a little between classes, while Erin glanced at them sullenly through the window of her homeroom teacher's class. It was so cold in here, too. But Cassie had volunteered herself to help make booklets during their break-- something about standardized test study aids or whatever, it's not like anyone was gonna actually read them-- and Erin needed the bonus points her teacher was offering the volunteers, so she conceded to wasting away her break before really thinking about it. She arranged herself cross-legged on the floor, ignoring all the open desks in the freshly emptied room, one foot unintentionally shaking, the laces making tapping noises on the white tiled floor. This better be a heck of a lot of bonus points, Erin thought, remembering how she'd normally at least be able to spend the break sending a few texts Yukito's way. She continued along this train of thought as her teacher explained to Cassie and Erin the order that the booklets should be created, placing what seemed to be two whole reams of paper on the front desk, in a hatched pile so that each group of papers laid perpendicular to one another. Erin rolled her eyes, suppressing a groan until the woman left the room. Then, "Ughhhh… let's get this over with."

"You know this was volunteer, right?" Cassie reminded, an amused smile on her expression as Erin arranged herself on top of the teacher's desk, crossing her legs again. "Yeah, I know, I think school's finally getting to me…" she mocked a shudder, then started to separate the papers into piles. "Wait… um, how're we putting this together again?"

Cassie shook her head, laughing a little at Erin's persistent daydreaming. "I'll separate them in their right order, okay? And then we have to staple each booklet twice, once on top and on bottom, and put them in stacks of fifteen each so that each homeroom will have enough." She started putting the piles of different worksheets and charts and other mindless stuff that was just going to end up tossed in the garbage (if they were lucky), and Erin watched her with a disinterested expression. "How fast you think we can get this done?" she said aloud, though it was more of a thought.

Giving her a shrug, Cassie answered, "Maybe we can finish half by the break's end. There, they're in order now." She stood back to admire her organizational work-- each little pile of pages laid out in order of how they were to go in the booklets, so all they'd have to do is grab one of each until they reached the end of the desk, and bam-- one complete booklet. Such tedious, boring work. "Ew." She made a face at Cassie's proposal. "That means we'd have to give another break to it. Not gonna happen." She set the staplers they were given at the very edge of the big desk and nudged the paper box with her foot so it slid closer to the desk. "You get half, I get half, let's go," she decided without asking Cassie or clarifying anything for her. She gave Cassie an impish smile as she started snagging the papers as fast as she could without blowing them all over the room, and Cassie immediately caught on, following suit. However, when Cassie reached the end of a booklet, she took the time to make sure her pages were neat, like, three times before stapling them. And she started putting them in a stack in the box when they were done.

Pffftt.. That will NOT work. Not if I'm gonna finish before she does. Erin kept up her speed, sometimes snatching the pages right from under Cassie's fingertips (which earned her a bit of playful protest), and in the meantime making a huge mess of inter-mingling papers on the desk. (There went Cassie's system… oops.) Soon enough, Cassie, too, gave up trying to keep the neat piles in the box going, and adopted Erin's method of staple-and-toss. "Have you been keeping count?" Erin asked at one point, ignoring the slicing papercut she'd just given herself across her thumb, and announcing, "Forty-seven!"

"Yes, in my head," Cassie commented as she dropped another batch of papers into their box before immediately starting another one. "I'm not gonna sing them out as I make the book things like you do, thought. And I think my number might be off, because I didn't realize I was supposed to be counting until you were on, like, the teens…"

"Well, duh," Erin scoffed, glancing at Cassie with amusement as she stapled. "Why else would I care to count? Yay, forty-eight tiiime!"

"Well, shoot, Erin, you're not giving me a break, are you? Forty-two… I think."

"Hurry up! It's no fun if it's not hard to beat you! Forty-eight and a half! Go, go, go, go!" she cheered with a laugh.

"I'm going, I'm going!" Cassie responded, words chopped through her own laughs. Okay, so the whole volunteering during break thing wasn't so bad now. Maybe Yukito would ask her where she'd been, which would show how much he missed her, which would actually be kind of awesome… Being so close to finishing, Erin added another burst of speed for the final two, which made them not the neatest looking booklets in the world, but she was able to shout "Fifty!!" before Cassie did, who just sat back and laughed when Erin hopped off the desk and danced her victory, punctuated with a few fist pumps into the air. "I win!"

"Hey, no fair, I didn't know this was a competition when we started!" Cassie protested, attempting to straighten the pile of booklets as she smiled an amused smile.

Erin paused her dance, glancing at her friend over her shoulder. "Duh, Cassie, everything's a competition. Except, like, golf. And frisbee. And frisbee-golf. And some other things I'll think of later."

"But booklet making is definitely a competition," giggled Cassie.

"Definitely," Erin agreed. "And I win. So you owe me a coke now."

"I don't remember agreeing to that…"

"You agreed when you lost!" Erin announced with a smirk.

"Fine, whatever," conceded Cassie, the two girls linking arms around one another's shoulders as they left the room. "You're ridiculous."

___________________________________________________

ETA: Here is the second half, where the character looses. And just to clarify, this still counts in my mind because she is competing to win someone's affection, and looses.... if you don't think it counts, I'm really sorry.... it made sense in my head. :/ ..... K, GO. (:



"Hey, I got 'em!" the freshly-fourteen-year-old Erin shouted down the cafeteria, words intended to reach the quiet platinum-blond boy who was just approaching her side of the room. Erin tucked the tickets out of her pockets and waved them high in the air. Tiny words printed on the slips displayed their purpose: Hoobastank's concert at the Lakefront Arena the upcoming Friday, a coveted prize worthy of the public announcement. Okay, so it was minor bragging, but still... "I got 'em, just before they sold out! We were, like, some of the last people to get 'em!" she finished, not reducing her volume much even though by this time Justin had sat himself across from her at their usual table. She liked it better when his hair was naturally dark brown instead of this almost-white look he had going now.

"You did?" asked Justin, twisting the watch on his wrist nervously. He wasn't much of one to fidget, not like Erin was, but she knew him well enough to have noticed the habit. It was always before a piano recital or a band competition or if he had to speak in front of the class. She looked over at her best-friend-boy-turned-boyfriend questioningly. "What's happening today?"

Justin looked up, catching himself in his actions, and withdrew his hands from the table. "Huh?"

"You're doing that thing again," Erin pointed out with a laugh. "That thing where you're freaking out about something you gotta do but you don't wanna say anything."

"Oh.. oh! Yeah, I didn't tell you yet, is all... See, Friday--" He shifted his hazel eyes away from Erin, though she didn't notice the gesture as she delicately replaced the tickets in her pocket. It'd taken all of her saved allowance and most of her day Sunday to stand in line to get them, and her parents had insisted on standing with her all day (because she might have been kidnapped or something dumb like that), but it would totally be worth it. Maybe he'd even be so grateful and enjoy the show so much that he'd finally work up the nerve to kiss her. Every time she tried to kiss him, Justin would kind of shy away. And when she demanded why once, in a moment of frustration at his reaction, he'd explained that he really didn't feel comfortable with that yet, that he wanted to wait a little longer. It drove her nuts, but there wasn't anything she could do about it, really. Nothing but try to really win his affection, hence her added exuberance over the Hoobastank show. He loved them, and had been the one to bring the show to Erin's attention. So if she got to go see them with Justin, maybe he'd like her more, too, and would feel comfortable with her, and maybe he'd get himself to do more than just hold hands.

"Friday what?" she asked lightly, unaware of the agitation in his tone.

"Fri-- Well-- Friday, I start a new job, and I can't miss the first day or I'll be fired," Justin finally voiced, words coming out a bit choppy through hesitation. She recognized the nervousness and gave him a reassuring smile.

"You never said anything about getting a job. Don't they make child labor laws?" she asked with a laugh, trying to relieve Justin of his tension.

Justin shrugged his narrow shoulders, which were hidden by a dark grey hoodie that no one needed in September weather but he insisted on wearing. "My dad's idea. And since Lance works at Riversdie Cinema, he talked to the manager and got the okay as long as I take enough breaks or whatever."

"Ew, you have to work with your brother?" Erin wrinkled her nose, knowing how much the two hated each other. "I am so sorry."

That earned her another shrug, and she pressed, "When did you get it? How come you didn't tell me? Can I come see you at the theater?"

Justin bit the inside of his cheek uncomfortably. "I dunno, Erin... I gotta keep focus at work; Lance said I shouldn't really hang with friends there. And I just forgot to tell you, is all. Sorry."

Erin scoffed at his excuse. "So, I'll come see you anyway. It'll be fun! And since when did you do what Lance said?" Justin started to respond when the realization of his words hit Erin, and her gasp interrupted him. "Oh my god! You gotta miss the show!"

"Yeah..." Justin stared down at the table. He's really upset about missing it with me! Oh, that's horrible! "I'm really sorry, Erin, but I can't get out of it...."

"It's not your fault!" Erin was quick to reassure him, grabbing his hand between both of hers as a gesture of comfort. Even though she was really disappointed they couldn't go together, and thus her plan wasn't even going to have the chance to fail or succeed, it wasn't Justin's fault, and he looked like he felt horrible about it. It's all he talked about for like, a month after he found out about it. So much so that Erin teased him about being a total fanboy. "Really, Justin, it's okay! I can scalp the tickets or whatever, it's no big." Even though it kind of was. It totally was. But it's not like he hadn't tried. He'd had to miss out on a lot of things lately. A lot of dates rescheduled that he'd yet to make up, a lot of times he wouldn't pick up his phone or answer his AIM messages. Silhouette said something wasn't right about that, that something was up with him, but she didn't really like them dating, anyway. And Justin had explained it to her-- his dad had started cracking down on him for his slipping grades and smarting off to him a couple of times, so he didn't get to get on the computer or his phone as often. And his dad was a freaking cop, it's not like he could sneak out as easily as Erin. And even if he could, Justin probably wouldn't...

"Yeah, it's fine, I'm just--" Justin paused, then held his tongue as the bell for homeroom rang out loud. "I'm sorry, Erin."

"Me, too," she agreed, tone sullen, as she linked her arm in his. But in the back of her mind she was already formulating a way to make it up to him.

*********************************

Friday night. She and Silhouette slid out of the back of Erin's dad's car and strolled up the walk to the front of Riverside Cinema. She was hoping Justin would be working floor or concessions so she could surprise him, and one last time Erin touched the ends of her hair, hoping the humidity wasn't making it too puffy.

"It's fine, Erin," Silhouette said with a little laugh as they handed their tickets for Fast And The Furious: Tokyo Drift to the ticket-taker that looked like he was ready to retire yesteryear. They stopped at the concessions counter and looked for Justin as the girls paid through the nose for peanut and regular M&Ms-- a standard for Erin when she was at the theater-- but saw him nowhere.

"Excuse me," Silhouette said as their cashier started to turn to the drink machine behind her. "Where is Justin Marino working here tonight?"

The girl behind the counter turned around and adjusted her cap. "Sorry, who?"

"Justin Marino," the girls repeated in unison as Erin opened up her brown M&M bag and fished for a couple of pieces of the candy.

"Sorry, I don't know him. Is he new?"

"Yeah, it's fine, thanks, though," Silhouette responded for Erin, who was busy finishing the chocolates she'd rescued from the bag. Silhouette sent Erin a dubious "I don't like this" look, but Erin shrugged it off. "He's new. We'll see him around. C'mon, let's go."

"If you say so," Silhouette muttered doubtfully as her friend lead her in a few quick strides to their right theater. Inside, the lights had already dimmed and the "please turn off your cell" snippet was already playing loudly from the screen, fading into the movie's opening scene. "Aww, we already missed the previews!" Silhouette whispered with disappointment as they found two seats towards the back. "Oh, thank God!" Erin sighed, relieved, and offered the open bag of M&Ms to her friend.

Some time into the movie, Silhouette leaned over to Erin and said in a low voice, "I'm sorry you had to miss the show with Justin." And it sounded like she meant it.

Disappointment prodded at Erin's side, and she responded, "Me, too... but it's not is fault. I'm gonna text him! And let him know we're here!" God, I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier! Hiding the glowing screen with one hand as best as she could, Erin sent a quick text to Justin, and was about to put her phone back up and wait a few minutes so he could respond. However, not the second after she clicked 'send', Erin heard the telltale ringtone of "Same Direction", Justin's current Hoobastank obsession song.

Erin's eyes widened in surprise. No way. Seriously? She leaned forward in the direction the sound was coming from, and it didn't take long to find its source. Just two rows ahead of them, she could see the bright platinum blond hair that should not have been there. And she could see the glow from his phone as it rang, resting on the armrest beside him. And from its glow she could see he wasn't alone. In fact, the head under that freshly-blond hair was very close to another head. In fact, they were touching. No he didn't.

She tugged at Silhouette, who followed her gaze, as the two of them slithered into the row of chairs behind where Justin and the nameless person sat, now clearly lip-locked. The bastard, the sneaky, two-faced bastard, I can't BELIEVE him!!

Silhouette nodded to the phone still in Erin's shaking hand, and she gave it to her without a thought. Silhouette sent another quick text from Erin's phone, reading simply, "look up", and sent the Hoobastank song ringing out into the theater again, earning the owner hisses and shushes from the surrounding patrons. The girls watched as, interrupted from the makeout session by his phone, Justin pulled away from his little mistress with a whispered, "one sec" to turn off his phone without so much as a glance up. Erin didn't look away though, still trying to compute why his little mistress looked a lot like another dude.

"Oh, uh-uh..." Silhouette breathed Erin's thoughts.

He hadn't just gotten bored with her and moved on. He hadn't just been too shy to move beyond holding hands. He hadn't even wanted to. He hadn't even liked her. At all. It hit Erin like a load of bricks dropping onto her feet, and she sank to kneeling behind his chair. Still unnoticed. Still unwanted. He lied to me.. She remembered the cringes when she'd tried to kiss him, the realization that he found her kissing him about as attractive as she found the idea of kissing Silhouette twisting the knife in her gut. He never even liked me... ever. It was a total and complete lie. I didn't even loose him, because I never even had him in the first place...

She felt Silhouette's arms around her, a desire to comfort her friend silencing her words. Erin moved out of her hold, though, and moved swiftly to land one heavy smack of the back of her hand on the artificially blond hair, which had just begun to resume its previous position: glued to the dude next to him.

"Ow! Hey, what was that--" His words froze at seeing Erin, and his new boyfriend looking so bewildered he might as well have been teleported to Mars or something. "Erin!?"

"Stuff it, backstabber," she hissed, leaning forward to snatch the nearest thing she could to throw at him-- someone else's extra-large Coke, which was met with fervent protest. The owner couldn't get his coke back soon enough, though, because the moment after it was in her hands, the icy liquid found itself poured over Justin's head and onto his clothes, meanwhile splattering the other boy, who remained looking at Erin as though the proverbial deer in the headlights. Immediately followed a shower of M&Ms and another thwack from her hand that this time Justin managed to dodge as he hopped swiftly to his feet. "Stop it!"

"Liar! I hate you!" Erin responded, shoving the wad of paper from the bag in his direction, ignoring the many loud orders for them to take their issues outside of the theater.

"Erin, I'm sorry, okay? You weren't supposed to find out like this..."

"Or at all." The first words his new boyfriend had spoken. He looked like he was as shocked as Erin felt. Later it occurred to Erin he probably didn't know Justin had a pretend girlfriend, not with that look on his face...

"When were you gonna tell me?" she shouted back. "When you two moved off to Massachusetts to get married?"

"No! Erin, this is exactly why I couldn't say anything!" He should have been shouting, but somehow he kept whispering the exclamations at her, which only served to grate Erin more. Like she wasn't worth getting upset over.

"Shut up! You never did anything but lie and make me think you liked me!"

"Erin, please," Silhouette started, gingerly touching her friend's shoulder. The attention she was drawing was awkward to say the least. "Can we please go outside for this? People are watching..."

Erin ignored the request, even as one of the theater ushers sauntered up the aisle toward them. "I hate you!" Yeah, it was a little too loud, which resulted in other movie-goers to start yelling and snapping at her. And which caused the usher to take a hold of her and Silhouette by their shoulders, once seeing one of their good, behaving patrons covered in concessions and the girls trying to start a shouting match inside the room. "I'm going to have to ask you girls to leave. You're disturbing the customers."

Silhouette's eyes widened at the idea of getting kicked out of a theater, and especially for something she didn't do, but her protests were only muted stutters anyway, and hidden by Erin's loud announcement as he forcefully guided her down and out of the theater, "I swear to god I better never hear from you ever again! I hate you, you lying bastard!"

"Erin, stop it, please," Silhouette practically begged, blinking a tear out of her eye. "You couldn't stay with him forever anyway, you told me so yourself..."

"Shut up," she snapped as the theater door was shut behind them.

Sequestered in her room, in the middle of her bed nestled under multiple blankets as the new 30 Seconds to Mars CD played on repeat and she absently played whatever game was in her ancient Gameboy, Erin mashed the little buttons on the box with a force enough to ruin at least one of the command buttons. He was the one who asked her out just a few weeks ago, not her. He was the one who said he liked her, not the other way around. And he was the one who had been nothing but a sniveling snake behind her back because he was too cowardly to admit the truth. And she was stupid enough to let him use her. To believe and trust in him so much even after Silhouette tried to persuade her otherwise. Even after trying so hard to truly win his affection. She still lost.

[The Phantom of Paris]

First sketch--Erin really is ridiculous. But, as Cassie says (I'm beginning to think it could be a catch phrase of hers or something!), that's why we love her. And you did a great job of writing Cassiechan.

Second sketch: Justin's a jerk. Kthnxbai. And I want to give Erin a hug and punch Justin in the face.

[Elda Forever]

Okay, forget the sketch with Yukito and the ' direction' in life. I don't like that one. This one, I like.

MtM, I still think they would have named their kids what I said they would.

I want to note that Cassie is not mine, who is mentioned briefly in passing.
Erin is not mine, though I used her excessively in this sketch.
And Timothy is actually not mine, either. He is MtM's, though I plan on stealing him. Mwahahahaha.

Yukito's "Unreachable Dream" Sketch - Part One Of Two
What “unreachable” dream does your character have? Climbing Mt. Everest? Becoming a heart surgeon? Why is this important? Write a scene when your character realizes he/she will never achieve this dream. What would your character have to give up to realize this dream? Write a scene where your character figures out that the dream is possible. Show him/her choosing to make the sacrifices necessary to achieve the dream. Or write a scene where your character decides that the dream isn’t worth sacrificing other things of value.


----


“Tadaima...” Yukito said wearily, his shoulders slumped as he found even the keys in his hand much too heavy.

“Okaeri!” came a light-hearted voice, and he saw Erin's head pop around the corner, rushing towards him. She managed to make it past the piles of rubble on the living room carpet – a collection of blankets, DVDs, popcorn, and discarded toys – and embraced him so energetically she almost bowled him over. But this wasn't such a hard task right now. “How was work?” she remained close to his chest, her face raised to his, her hands running along the collar of the faded brown work suit of a laborer.

“Meh...” he grunted, “If it was cement and heavier than a car, I had to move it today.”

“Aww...” her lips pouted in sympathy, but the expression quickly slipped into a whimsical one, “Are you too tired for a surprise?”

Yukito arched an eyebrow, a smirk lightening his previously gloomy expression. “Depends...what kind of a surprise?”

“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. You're supposed to be a gentleman.” She gave him a playful slap and started to move away, but he reached out and looped one finger around the belt loop of her jeans, tugging her to a stop.

“I am gentle, and I happen to have enough testosterone to be called 'man', if you please.” he teased as he pulled her closer until he could wrap his arms around her waist again. She sent him a smile and offered no real resistance. He wanted a 'welcome back!' kiss, and he wouldn't let her go until he had gotten it. His lips met hers, luckily no rougher than they used to be, although his hands around her waist had more callouses, and he wasn't as rail-thin as he once was, though he was still teased about being barely enough for a paperweight as long as he stayed wet. But he could still hold her gently, carefully, pretending she was made of a thin, transparent glass.

Erin let out a little sound when he deepened the kiss, and after a few moments they pulled away, eyes sparkling and understanding. “Come on, let me show you. The kids will want to be there when I show you.”

“Kids? We have kids?” he said, as though he was surprised, “I forgot all about them.”

She laughed, “Apparently, you always do when I start cuddling with you. Because they just keep coming.”

Yukito pointedly averted his eyes, “Oops,” More laughter. He placed his arm around her shoulder and they started for the backyard, “What number are we on, again?”

“Hmm...” Erin pretended to think, rubbing her belly thoughtfully. There were no visible signs, but there was a chance...a little chance. “I think we're working on number four now. But I can't be sure.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I think we accidentally added an extra child. A certain boy that your son adores and looks up to because he's one of the 'big kids'?” She arched an eyebrow.

“O-oh...” Yukito gave a slow nod, “I think I see now.”

“Yes, he stays over here almost as much as he spends time at home now. I think we've unofficially adopted him.”

“Or he's adopted us,” he mused, “Either way, the more the merrier. So does that make it four?”

“I think so, five if you count the one that isn't born yet.” Erin said between giggles. She pushed open the screen door in front of them, revealing a small brood of children racing each other around the yard. Some were off in their own little group beneath the large tree in the yard, taking quiet turns on the swing.

“Wow...I think we should start thinking about stalls. Those cages won't hold them much longer, if they keep multiplying like this.”

Erin laughed, then looked up to stare up happily at his face as he in turn watched the children in the yard. She leaned her head down to rest against his shoulder, and he moved his arms to hold her around her shoulders. “I miss you.” Her words were met with a sigh.

“Me, too. I'm sorry I can't be here more,” he murmured quietly

“I'm sorry you have to work so hard for us.” She held him tighter in her arms, “You're always so tired when you get home.”

He gave a slow nod, lowering his lips to brush them against the top of her head. “It's only temporary, right?”

He didn't get an answer, though, because as usual, it only took the busy children about a minute to see their parents in the doorway, so their shared moment was interrupted by cries of, “Daddy's ho-ome!”

Squeals of laughter, and Yukito chuckled when three little faces turned his way, rushing him like a munchkin mob. Seven year old Rae reached him first, since she had been setting up a new playhouse against the house using a large branch that had been discarded for burning, and was closest. “Daddy! Okaeri!” She threw her little arms around him, looking way up to meet his eyes with a grin, “I want you to see my new house. I have a rock garden now, and Timothy says he can get me some rope to tie up a roof...”

“Really?” he barely managed before letting out a breath of air, the wind knocked out of him by a four-year bundle of energy.

“Daddy-daddy-daddy-daaaaaaaad!” Erik beamed, and Yukito looked nervously down at the boy's face. He would have thought that if he had a boy, it would look like him, but Erik had surprised everyone by looking like a female version of his mother – wide brown eyes with long eyelashes included, and her smile shone through on the boy's round little face. Cassie teased that they should have known, purposefully choosing a name that shared most of the same letters as Erin's, an easy alternative to naming the kids after themselves. And he had definitely taken some from his mother's vibrant personality. Yukito, too, had been energetic when he was younger, but he wasn't going to tell Erin that. “I tackled Timothy today! I almost busted his ass!”

“Erik!”

“Sorry. I busted his bottom.” the boy grinned mischievously, then rushing off to resume his game of chasing down Timothy, although the older boy said he was finished for the time being. He stood, out of breath, tall, lanky, and fifteen. Now, Timothy looked eerily like Yukito, in everything from his face to his hair, his posture to his personality...and it never ceased to amaze him. Timothy was not his son, but this was often forgotten since Timothy practically lived with them anyways, helping to keep Erin sane until Yukito came home from work. Erik tugged on Timothy's arm, and after a few moments of demanding that he let go, the teenager turned and snarled, the two starting in on a brutal wrestling match. The rules were simple – whoever bled first lost.

Star took considerably longer to greet her father than the rest, since she was more shy and reserved. With long black hair that reached her waist, and a flowery dress stained with dirt her brother had forced on her, she took slow, distracted steps. In her hands was a carefully protected frog she had been watching when the others had started their race across the yard. Wordlessly, she held up the shocked creature up for her father's inspection, and just as quietly, he took it from her, staring into the creature's milky eyes and hoping she hadn't killed it.

He was still inspecting the creature when Erin let out a laugh, turning to the others, “Are you guys ready to show daddy his surprise?”

“YES!” Rae said excitedly, just as Erik let out a scream from where Timothy was shoving him to the ground too roughly. “Daddy, you gotta come see! It's -”

“Don't tell him!” Erin interrupted, her eyes wide as she gently reprimanded her daughter for almost blowing the secret. Rae met her mother's eyes evenly, planting her feet firmly into the grass.

“I wasn't going to just tell him! I kept it a secret from Erik all day, didn't I?” Yukito had to chuckle at the girl's arguments, her little hands placed on her hips, “Erik would have blown it already!”

“Would not!” Erik protested.

“Would, too, you little bug!”

Erik screeched at his sister, “I'm not a bug!”

“If you had a few more legs, you would be. You're just as annoying as a bug!” Rae said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms across her chest and striding firmly inside the house. Erik's brow furrowed, and he only ceased to glare at his older sibling when Timothy twisted his arm.

“Aaah! Let go!” Erik shouted right in Timothy's face, making the boy grin.

“Timothy...” Yukito warned, and the boy reluctantly released his prisoner. To Erin, he said, “You were saying...?”

“Oh! Yes! In here!” Erin started after Rae, who was already opening drawers, searching for the mail. Meanwhile, Yukito looked down at Star, who was staring up at him. He smiled at her and handed her the frog back.

“What is his name?” he asked quietly when he knelt down to crouch at her level, ignoring how much his knees screamed in protest.

Star's gaze was locked on her slimy, traumatized-looking pet, and she said, “Starlina.”

He raised an eyebrow, seriously fighting his instinct to correct her. Starlina was definitely not a name. But then again...he'd named his daughter Star, so who was he to talk? “So it's a girl?”

Star shook her head, lifting her hands until the frog was looking directly into her face. Yukito had to admit he was a little confused, but he decided to shrug it off and just held open his arms for her, “Well, I sure hope you don't take him inside. Your mother hates it when you bring animals in the house. Besides...Chica might eat him.”

Star's eyes widened, and he convinced her to leave the frog in the puddle of water that accumulated under the drainpipe, bringing her inside just as Erin raced towards them both, her face glowing and her hands held behind her back.

“Guess what I've got for you?”

“I don't know,” he said simply, still holding Star's hand. Erin rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, can't you at least try to guess?” Yukito bent down to pick Star up, and the three-year-old immediately curled up against his shoulder, laying her head down and grabbing the collar of his shirt with one hand, as if to reassure herself that he was still there. “Don't you know that when people say 'guess what?' you're supposed to actually guess? You ruin all my fun.”

“But you still keep me around, apparently.”

“That's because you're amazing,” she said, shifting whatever was in her hands over and over again. He leaned forward and kissed her again.

“I learn it all from you.”

“Well, anyways,” her mind was already switching back to her surprise, “I can't wait for you to avoid guessing forever, so I'm just gonna show you.” She beamed, “Yukito...you got a letter today.”

“That's no surprise,” he stated with a serious face, “Probably bills. Or my mother.”

Erik snorted amidst his laughter, and Rae poked him in the side to silence him. Erin rolled her eyes, “Noooo...it's from a very successful, talent-filled company that wants to make talent-filled people successful.”

Yukito's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Erin pulled out the unopened letter and brandished it for him to see, gleefully declaring, “It's from CJR!”

“Who the hell is CJR?” Erik said, and he received a harsh shove from his sister.

“It's a recording company that wants daddy to record music for them,” she explained, as Yukito leaned forward to retrieve the letter. Once he had taken it, Erin flitted over his side, her hand on his arm, her eyes on his as he scanned the address incredulously.

“So daddy is doing more music?” Erik asked, not quite following.

“We don't know yet,” Timothy said quietly. Wordlessly, Yukito handed Star to Erin, and began opening the letter. Erik sent Timothy a curious look, then looked up at his father, anxious to have this fully explained one way or the other.

There was that typical pause after he ripped it open, then several voices asked, “What does it say?”

Yukito's face didn't change as he read, and Erin struggled to lean over enough to ready anything. Her eyes flickered up to his face, worry written in her eyes. She felt her stomach hit the floor when the subtle hardening of his eyes appeared, looking resigned and stoic. There should have been a happy gleam, a hint of a smile.

“They said not right now,” Yukito said to Erik, and to everyone. He patted his son on the head, then turned to look at Erin, who had tears brimming in her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered for the millionth time. Every time a letter came, they hoped. Every time, she was sure the demo would astonish and amaze. She wanted it to be sensational, she wanted him to have another chance to do what he loved. This time, she had felt something different. This time, she had called all the children out, hoping they could share in the celebration. I'm sorry.

“Don't be,” he said, kissing her. The back of his mind registered that he would have to go back to the same old job tomorrow, and that nothing had really changed. He had stopped wishing things would change a long time ago. There wasn't much hope left for him in the letters. It was more for affirmation and habit. “I'm fine,” he stated, looking into her eyes and wishing to convey to her all the happiness he felt, even if each line on the paper in his hand was a small stab into him, a dull ache he was tired of feeling. Yukito turned to the kids, who were all staring uncertainly at each other, “Is dinner ready yet?”

Rae brightened, seeing the hint and purposefully trying to turn the feeling in the room around to a more cheerful tone, “I made dinner, daddy! Mommy let me do almost everything! Except I simply refuse to cut the onions. They're awful to my eyes. I couldn't even stay in the same room when they were being cut.”

Erin shared a meaningful look with Yukito, “I cut them for her. Kinda wished you were here to do it.” Yukito smiled, placing his hand at her back and gently prodding her towards the dining room, the rest of the party shuffling after them.

“Timothy,” Erik said to his hero in an utterly serious tone, “Tomorrow, I promise I'll kick your ass.”

“Erik! Do you want me to stick a bar of soap in your mouth and leave it there?!” Erin shouted over her shoulder.

“No...” the boy reluctantly responded, kicking at the counter. “I'm sorry.”

“Come eat your damn dinner,” Yukito said with a grin, earning himself a punch from Erin and a mini-lecture on good examples.

--------------------

“Yuyukun...” Erin said when she came to bed that night, “Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow he had shoved his face into, “I'm fine.”

She crawled over to him, laying across his back and touching her cheek to his, one hand on his arm, the other running through his hair, “Are you sure?”

He didn't answer for a long moment, and she wondered if he had fallen asleep mid-conversation again. She couldn't help but feel saddened every time it happened, even if she was positive it wasn't on purpose. But how could she not feel upset when he was so worn out he couldn't even say goodnight to her before drifting off most nights?

“I just...I'm tired of sending demos out, is all.” he said at last.

“But Yukito, your music is good!” She nudged him with her head delicately, “You should get a chance to make music, just like you always wanted.”

“Erin,” he rolled over to look up at her, and she hated even the brief moments that he was shifted away from her. She ended up automatically curled up next to him, their arms entangled among the sheets. “I can't put myself into the music anymore. It's just not the same now, whether I love it or not...” he slowly ran the back of his hand along her cheek, sending her a melancholic smile, “Besides, I'm happy here, with you, and the kids.”

He could see the regret and the guilt written on her face, until she buried her face against his chest, her voice quiet and sad, “I'm sorry you have to give up so much for us...”

“Erin,” he laughed, “I just told you, I'm happy. I don't regret having any one of those kids.” He kissed her head, “And I wouldn't regret it if we have another. It amazes me every day that we were ever able to get this far. I never would have imagined I would have kids. You know you're a wonderful mother to them. They know they can come to you, and they know they're safe and taken care of. And loved...” he felt himself smiling to himself, “They know they're loved, and that we love each other.”

She smiled a little, then, “It's never gonna get any easier, is it?”

“Nope,” he sighed, “And that's alright. Because when you love someone...you love them for everything. Even the bad times, even the mistakes. And you're there for them, to help them get better.” A pause, “Right?”

Erin gave a little nod. He knew she was crying now. But that was okay. They'd covered mountains together, and through it all, he had discovered that there was no replacement for just having someone hold you, and comfort you, silent or not. It took several minutes before either of them breathed a word, and when Erin did speak, her voice was shaky and weak, “If it's a boy I want to name him Yukito.”

“No,” he argued. They'd already gone over this, “I don't want to name my son after my father.”

“But I want to name our fourth after you. Erik has most of my name. And besides, I'm naming him after you, not your father.”

“Same difference, Erin...”

“Well, I already picked one that I like that would keep me satisfied, in case you didn't agree with me,” she'd known he would be against spreading his family name down the line, which she wasn't happy with, but she had to be prepared to compromise with him, “What about 'Yuki'? That's the first half of your name. And I'm not sure, but I think it can be for a girl or a boy.”

Yukito didn't respond at first, his face passive. There was a slight rustle as she turned her head up to look at him. Eventually, he gave a nod, “Yuki.” Neither of them could repress smiles at the ideas in their heads, and she cuddled up closer to him. He kissed her hair again, and before long the two of them had drifted off to sleep.

We've given up so much. But there's still so much we have that we didn't before.

[GGJ5]

Masciiii I love your sketches.... this one is so great!! <3 Let's be best friends, okay? : D

Oh, and I was curious... what's Yukito's job, exactly?

[More than Music]

CUTE! *DIES*

Yeah, I'm totally gonna read the rest of them today. Promise! I'll even put off the awesome Grisham-ness of Street Lawyer for you, alright? ^_^

EDIT: Skimmed the fear sketch... yes, just skimmed. Sorry, that's enough. >>

Copied down the 1st Yukito!unreachable dream, because I already read that one. Already read the Cassie!driving one (CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE but I might be biased), and copied down the one where Erin is being competitive. WILL. READ. THEM. TODAY.

PROMISE.

[The Phantom of Paris]

That sketch is too adorable for freaking words.

And Cassie says she'd want to help out the Makis' in any way she could, even if she had to start her own freaking record label so that Yukito could record. But something tells me Yukito and Erin wouldn't want her to do that. Silly things.

[More than Music]

"So does Hana, although she says she'd rather have a Kagayaki one. XD"

Didn't notice this until now. *hands out Kagayaki plushies* not really, but, someday! XD Trust me, someday!

I'm totally not caught up in the RPG but I read the questionares I said I would. >>

Yukito - unreachable dream. Didn't really cross my mind as an unreachable dream struggle, but it was still cute. XD

Erin - competition part 1. Silly but cute. XD

Erin - competition part 2. Very. very. very. very sad. Very sad. >< But good. <3!