^ lol.
Thanks for the wedges, guys! >______>
*Bee thinks longingly of sour cream*Okay. Here it is. But before that:
For everybody who has forgotten what the heck this story is about:Prologue:- Secret admirer letter.
- Risa wakes up feeling like she had a wet dream (hanachan learnt something here!
)
- Ai's internal anguish revealed over her ability to mind control, and what had happened that night. We can assume she did naughty things to Risa and then wiped the bean's memories. Tsk tsk.
- Cue Ai angst.
Chapter 1:- A History: Takahashi Ai. Fully talented. Fully shy. Crazy memory, cannot forget. Can seemingly affect people with her mood. Poor thing. Grandfather
- Reina cancels on Risa, Risa comes home to reading!Ai-chan, Ai-chan’s heart flutters, as it always does with her Gaki-san. Takagaki friendship, yay.
- Angsty!Ai-chan. Because Risa hearts Reina. And Ai can’t have her. Must resort to imagination, but even that is no good.
- Ai-chan angsts some more.
In case anybody gets confused, the ONE MONTH EARLIER part is meant to depict what happened a month prior to the events in the prologue (the mind control). After I finish writing up the events that lead up to that pivotal moment, the story will continue normally, without the need to reference time like that.
Hope you guys enjoy.
Chapter Two
Things left unsaid are as telling as those articulated – Niigaki Risa had always believed in these words. They were the same words her mother had once imparted her with, when she was a fair bit younger and could not understand why her friends didn’t explicitly return the
I love yous she gave them without pause. Though such wisdom had been passed on to her in a much simpler, child-friendly version, the meaning of the words had been clear, revelatory. Even now, as a full-grown adult, those words remained a crystallised message in the back of her mind, whispering to her when she doubted, soothing her inner turmoils whenever they burned. Being the people person that she was, Risa found it more than handy to keep such a motto close to heart.
It was peculiar, for two individuals so unalike to cross paths; and even more curious, that they would stop in their forward tracks to examine the other, to take a closer look.
“This is Ai-chan, my older sister. She’s two years ahead of us, she’s fifteen.”
Ai did not turn around to greet them, curiously preoccupied with something on the table in front of her. She only lowered her head a little so that her hair swept down in a curtain, covering most of whatever they could see of her face. Her lips were pursed – that was what Risa remembered most vividly about Ai in the beginning; the lowered head, the curtain of hair and the pursed lips. Always, that same painfully tentative combination.
Their new friend from Fukui, Takahashi Nanami, looked troubled at the lack of response (and manners, she later complained) from her older sister. A flicker of displeasure crossed her face, before she turned back to the three of them, jabbing a thumb in Ai’s direction. “Don’t worry about her. She’s always been… like that.”
Like that.
Risa wasn’t completely sure she knew what Nana-chan meant by
like that, but she was convinced it had something to do with the sore lack of social finesse on the older girl’s part, the almost black, don’t-look-at-me vibes radiating from her cowered being. Konkon and Mako-chan showed little interest in Ai, and rightly so, for she was nothing but
unfriendly and
boring.
But for the life of her, Risa just couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t stop looking.
For the many days and weeks that followed, the bean’s increasingly frequent visits to Nana-chan’s house only ever afforded her a view of the back of the girl’s head, lush dark locks spilling down her back. When Risa asked about Ai, Nana-chan would bristle, as if offended by the very subject of her sister.
After a particularly stubborn barrage of questions concerning the mysterious older sister, Risa finally saw Nana-chan give in. “She’s a genius freak. Genius freaks don’t talk to other people. I think we’re too dumb for them to be bothered,” she explained gruffly.
“Genius freak?” Risa’s curiosity was instantly piqued. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Like, she was all over the news when she was younger. She has this crazy memory where she can’t forget anything. And she’s a super maths brainiac.”
“Really?” Risa stole a glance at Ai, who was dawdling by the kitchen counter behind the much grander figure of her father. “Wow.”
Perhaps the bean had spent a little too long looking over at Ai in awestruck silence, as Nana-chan cleared her throat loudly and carried on undeterred – she then took the time just to describe in painstaking detail how Ai had no friends, how her older sister had never
ever had one. That at their old schools, she’d always seen Ai wandering around by herself during breaks, and that their mother was appropriately worried. Risa noted, however, that she was hardly any more horrified by the knowledge of Ai’s friendlessness than she was by the way Nana-chan’s voice bloated with satisfaction in revealing all this about her sister.
Risa watched Ai. Over the following months, she watched her – not too carefully, afraid the others might pick up on it, but just enough to satisfy the inquisitiveness that swelled whenever she found herself within twenty feet of the older Takahashi daughter. The girl was always a breathless bundle of nerves, stiff, awkward. It may have been an indication to the other girls to stay away from her, Risa didn’t know. Not surprisingly, Nanami and their friends never paid Ai any attention. They kept their distance, in fact, as if she reeked of something unpleasant. And whatever little Risa managed to catch from her was the usual humdrum:
no, yes, when’s dinner?, I’m going to do homework. It didn’t take long for the bean to become glaringly conscious of the essays and books that spilled from her own lips, while Ai, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to use the bare minimum of words needed to communicate.
Risa wondered. And wondered. She spent too much time wondering, those few months. Behind that soundlessly beautiful mask, just how many thoughts flitted to and fro, how many emotions blossomed and rioted?
It was a simple thing to a simple girl.
Find out.
* * *
Since the move to Yokohama, Ai hadn’t seen her grandfather in three months. Three whole
months. Prior to her family’s decision to relocate, the idea alone would’ve been ludicrous. But it had happened and the weeks inevitably crawled by. It was the first time in her life she had been apart from her Jiji, and the lack of his presence was heartbreakingly tangible – Ai spent many nights of her first grandfatherless month just lying in her sheets and listening to her heart, every once and a while pulling out a photograph to stare at it. Not that she needed to – every line and wrinkle of his gentle face had already been engraved true-to-life in her mind, just like every other damned face she’d ever come across. She looked at this photo though, just because the feel of it in her hands made it that little bit easier.
Nobody else in her family seemed to be as conflicted with the move, especially not Nanami, who looked remarkably cheerful for somebody who not too long ago had been dragged kicking and crying away from their old school. She, of course, had adjusted and made friends quickly enough. And their parents now had minus two bodies (grandfather and grandmother) to serve, so they were whisking about with a touch more verve, if their raised chins and freely swinging arms were any indication. But Ai. This move did
nothing for Ai. Well, to be precise, it did do something. It took her away from the only person in her life who understood… at least, her grandfather was the only person who
tried to understand her. Though the separation wasn’t as intolerable as she had imagined it to be during the few distressing nights before the move, it was hardly easy.
Oh my talented little Ai. With her grandmother, it was always the same few words. She was loud and proud when it came to Ai, and there was never a ‘bonding’ moment between the two that didn’t involve a lot of needless cooing and painful squeezing of the cheeks. Beyond that, Grandmother never seemed to see much of anything else when she looked at Ai.
The 15-year-old found something else entirely that bound her together with her grandfather – some deeper language held in common, perhaps. He was quiet. He was quiet, yes, which he’d done well to pass onto her in horrifying abundance. But he was also unwaveringly firm, and that was just one of the many traits of his she wished she had inherited instead. Jiji never asked her any unnecessary questions, nor did he prod her about things like so many others in her life were prone to doing. He never lectured her about the need to expand her social networks, and was never bent on bringing her out in front of rows of adult friends to brag about at every given opportunity. The two of them shared many of their moments just in silent companionship, and, for that, Ai couldn’t be more grateful. He was all the calm and reassurances of her life, the one person who, even if she was without talent or ability, would love her all the same.
After about a dozen or so unheeded requests to return to Fukui to visit her grandparents on her own, Ai arrived home from school one day to find that her parents had secretly sent for them. The more than welcome sight of her grandfather’s smiling face and outstretched arms by the front door had immediately sent her into a well of emotion, one that lasted for the rest of the week. They had come to Yokohama for a two-week stay. Ai was
happy happy.
Now that the second week was drawing to a close, Ai clung to her grandfather every possible moment. The two of them were sitting outside in the garden, simply enjoying the afternoon warmth. It wasn’t long before a certain ‘bean’ had come bounding out, the same ‘bean’ Ai had heard Nanami mention several times before, that ‘bean’ that Ai herself had caught on more than one occasion sparing a glance her way. This bean spotted them from across the yard, her face lighting up, plump with a rosiness that could be seen a street or two away.
There was nothing awkward or rehearsed about her vivacity; she was spontaneous, every little bit of her, Ai felt it right away. As she had suspected – Niigaki Risa was devastatingly charming and sociable, like a ray of sunshine, much too bright for her to look at directly.
Listening to the girl talk with Grandfather was fascinating, albeit painful. How could this person, still so young and inexperienced with life, and who had never met her grandfather before… be able to converse so easily? She felt herself shrinking away from the sparkle of those eyes, that voice, the expressive lows and highs of it, like a melody. Something solid sank inside her as she watched the two chatter away, a bond forming right before her eyes, and no matter how much Ai wanted to open her mouth to join in, her lips were sewn shut – this girl before her confirmed every one of her own weaknesses, everything she hated about herself. There was just no comparison to be made. Ai was simply inadequate.
Midway through the exchange and about the same time that Ai was on the verge of zoning out, she came back to her senses only to realise with a start that she was alone. With Risa. In a moment of blind panic, Ai whipped her head to a side, catching sight of her grandfather’s back as the screen door closed behind him.
A jarring throng of alarm bells and flashing lights went off in her head, screeching for her to get up and get away. This was unfamiliar terrain, and everything instinctive in her screamed for her to avoid this, avoid this
at all costs. She pushed off the chair, ready to make a mad dash after the old man who had left her to battle on her own, when a voice rang out.
“Takahashi Ai-san!”
Ai froze.
“It’s okay,” she said, a hint of caution in her voice. “Your grandfather just went inside to get us some drinks. He’ll be back soon.”
Ai knew right away what she meant, recognised the unvoiced suggestion for her to stay put. To
talk. If there weren’t so many ice cubes slipping down her stomach, she may have been able to mumble some excuse to leave. But she couldn’t, and she didn’t, and as her veins ran with ice water, she slowly lowered herself back down.
Risa was looking at her, on the other end of the bench. Curiously quiet, and Ai, who had never felt more cornered than she did in that moment, was seized by another impulse to tear herself from scene. She wasn’t ready for this.
This can’t be good. Can’t be good. Can’t be good.After an appeasing lungful of air, Ai decided she needed to turn to radical means to save herself – she needed to up her defences. Ignoring her heart rattling in her ribcage, she centered all her mental energies on thoughts of the bad and the ugly. She dredged up everything negative in her before quickly blanketing her mind and her aura with its stench. Emitting these discouraging vibes should do the trick to drive the bean away; if it drove everybody else away, she had every right to feel confident it would do the same to this one little girl.
Ai then boldly met Risa’s eyes, holding the gaze as steadily as she could. Soon enough, for a fleeting moment, the younger girl looked like she’d just been hit by something. She frowned and crinkled her nose, as though she were having a whiff of something particularly nasty.
But she didn’t leave. Ai had expected her to, but she didn’t – she stood her ground resolutely. Steadied herself. Upon seeing the smile that lit up her face the next instant, the older girl, stupefied, dropped her guard.
Risa shuffled a little closer.
* * *
The months flew by. They had become acquaintances after that precious afternoon, then tentative friends. Not full-fledged friends in the way Ai knew friends should be – the laughing, and the gossiping, and the sharing of all things dear and secret. While Risa continued to charge head-first into the delicately growing friendship, Ai tip-toed around it. The practice of making friends was entirely foreign to her, and she still spent too much of their time together stuttering and shying away from Risa.
Nonetheless, the younger girl was a boundless spring of patience. In the beginning, she’d talk and talk, even when Ai solidly refused to look at her or respond. The constant social output was good though; the nearly blinding friendliness she extended toward Ai, it drew her out, little by little.
They never did exchange personal contact details, happy just to see each other in snatches during the sleepovers Nanami so often conducted. Sometimes, when Konkon, Mako-chan and Nanami were busy spewing oceans of girl talk amongst themselves, Risa would take the chance to sneak out her friend’s room and visit Ai down in the lounge, or the garden, where they liked to hang around. Sometimes, during their ‘meetings’ and usually when Risa had run out of steam (or run out of words, period), she would look at Ai for a long time, silent, and Ai looked back. It was an inspection of sorts, with Risa raptly taking in Ai’s countenance, registering in her mind something unique, something about the older girl that must have intrigued her so.
Ai would never know if Risa had sensed the same – that, even though they got along quite cosily, there was often a startling tension between them, thick and disquieting. And just when she felt that there was
something going on that the bean would sooner or later feel obliged to act upon, Risa would shatter the illusion with noisy questions about boy crushes and trendy haircuts. Ai’s smile shrank a little.
When things got busy and Nanami began to mingle with other friends in other classes, Ai didn’t get to see much of the bean anymore. Disheartened and singed by the uncertainty of what she’d really meant to Risa, the older girl fell into a deep restlessness. She was unable to think, read, write or concentrate on anything for very long; Risa was a constant raid on her every thought and action. All self-restraint had gone awry and for the first time in her life, Ai didn’t have to make a conscious effort to lose marks at school. That thought alone was scary.
The only occasions for contact were when they bumped shoulders in the school corridors. Upon spotting Ai passing by, Risa would make a desperate pounce at her, jostling past tides of arms and elbows just to pull her aside for some intense catching up. It happened about twice a month, more if Ai was lucky. Each stumble upon happened so fast, so surreal, and the older girl was always left shaking her burning head afterwards, having been rendered dumb by Risa’s nearness, Risa’s touch, Risa’s beautiful, brown eyes on her.
This is for you.It was honestly the last thing Ai had expected that one average afternoon – the bean springing a surprise on her as she was busily cramming a locker-full of texts into her bag, ready for home.
It was a gift; wrapped up neatly in pretty, yellow paper, crowned by a white bow. Ai could only stare back wide-eyed as she took the gift into her hands.
Eh? Nani, nani nani?
It’s your birthday today, isn’t it? I managed to catch up with Nana-chan several days ago, and she told me. Ai cried. It was the first time she’d received something from somebody beyond her immediate family, and the realisation of that, coupled with Risa’s kindness, were all too much.
Happy birthday, Ai-chan!That year, Ai made a lot of progress with her sister too.
The time apart was bruising. Ai had no doubt that for the bean, time had wearied the intensity of those afternoons spent together – the average person could only carry dulling memories with them, memories that eroded with the passage of time and the onset of new, more exciting phases in life; but for Ai, who was no average person, Risa’s voice still whispered unceasingly, in her ear. She kept hearing her, hearing her, and then came the last year of highschool.
They hadn’t talked in two years.
They still bumped shoulders in school corridors, but Risa’s attention was always fixed elsewhere. At first, it was her rowdy friends who had her engaged, and then Ai began to notice how an increasingly thick stack of books and papers weighed down those arms. And the bean’s stride now, urgent.
Time had rushed on in the endless noon of her adolescence, and it seemed that before Ai’d turn around twice, graduation day was staring her in the face. She’d already run from some few hundred opportunities to approach Risa, and the gloomy prospect of losing that chance forever, of never
seeing her again, loomed before Ai, a dreadful, beastly thing.
Ai knew she had to act fast, but the mere thought of confessing sent her into a dithering mess. She just hadn’t a clue what to do, swamped by indecision and her torturous lack of confidence – it was all so… terrifying.
What if Risa had completely forgotten about her? What if she didn’t even
like girls that way? What if all Ai was doing was setting herself up for a humiliation so deep, it would leave scars? She’d never be able to recover from a rejection, not when it came from somebody as important as Risa. She scoured her mind for a good while, thinking what to do. How she’d confess.
And that’s when it came to her. That’s when she began to write.
---
O N E M O N T H E A R L I E R“Do you want the good news or bad news first?”
A hundred and one stray thoughts fly through her mind all at once, so quick and chaotically that she feels the beginnings of a headache come on; worst case scenarios (
I’m sorry, I’ve reported you to law enforcement. We’ve had to upgrade you from super-empath to uncontrollable mutant) and whatever could possibly be deemed good news (
The good news is: Gaki-san likes mutants!). Shaking out of her momentary lapse, Ai draws in a deep, calming breath, tightens the hands in her lap into fists. She’s determined to get through the next hour without having to play out all sorts of weird in her head. Iida sensei, after all, doesn’t know much. About Gaki-san, that is.
Her sensei’s lips are set in a grim line, those intense eyes fixed on Ai, on her face, probably wanting very much to assess her on an emotional level as with anything else. There has always been a quiet war waging between the two of them. Ai, on the one hand, stubbornly setting up all the security measures, Iida, on the other, mulishly plowing through every one of her patient’s meticulously constructed defences. The both of them know it – Ai has been intent on keeping as silent about herself as she possibly can during these one-on-one sessions with the renowned clinical psychologist.
But since her first meeting with her sensei almost three years ago, Ai feels as though Iida has gradually and resolutely managed to crush every fence and fortification raised before her. The only thing protecting her now is a flimsy shield held up in front of her, and it hardly helps that she’s holding it with a trembling hand. It has taken three long years, but now, finally, sensei’s face is only a few inches from hers, and this shield, this last piece of resistance, can be laughingly knocked away with a measly swipe of the hand.
Ai stares back at Iida sensei in petrified silence.
“Ai-chan?”
Ai snaps out of her stupor, dips her head sharply in apology. “Please tell me the news however you want.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the psychologist nods.
Marooned amid a splatter of overturned books, Iida sensei has no doubt been busy consulting texts in order to compile and refine the notes that have been made about her patient. She has a clipboard in hand but today, she is not only going to be taking notes, she will be reading off them too. Today, Ai’s three-year long case study is finally coming to an end, finally being recorded down on paper in permanent marker.
“I know that you’ve been withholding quite a lot from me in the past years, but I understand that. It’s not like we haven’t made any progress, right?”
“Yes.”
“What should’ve been a one-year case study – two years tops – has stretched on for this long because of our consideration for your individual needs.”
Ai’s head dips again. “And I am really grateful for your patience with me, Iida sensei. You, and Yasuda sensei and Nakazawa sensei, all of you, for teaming up to help me.”
“Ahhh, it’s my pleasure. It’s not every day that I get to take on a case like this,” Iida says amiably. “You’re not quite like anybody else we’ve worked with, Ai-chan. And let’s not forget Yuuchan. I’m sure she has appreciated you coming to us most – as you probably know by now, she thinks worlds of your cuteness.”
“I noticed,” Ai says, a smile finding its way onto her lips. It’s hard not to smile at the memory of a flipping out Nakazawa. Ai doesn’t even really have to do much to earn such rambling praise from the older woman, whose unbridled fawning over her is amusing even to her normally level-headed colleagues.
“But I do hope we’ve done enough,” Iida continues. “Because it always feels like… if only you had opened up just a little more, we would have been able to do more for you.” She thins her lips and sighs over the hushed din of distant traffic.
Subconsciously, Ai clenches her fists again. “The truth is,” she begins, noticing how this breathes life into Iida sensei’s face, as it does every time Ai initiates talk about herself. “I’ve never truly been… comfortable. With anybody.” A pause. “Well, actually… my grandfather. He’s the only one.” Ai’s gaze shifts elsewhere and her lips part. She looks ready to say something further but promptly bites down on her lower lip.
Iida’s face softens, and she smiles. A long, dawdling kind of smile, slightly veiled, secretive. “There’s another name on your lips, isn’t there?”
Ai visibly falters, the gears turning in her head but her throat’s dry and she can’t cough anything up. With nowhere to turn, Ai does what she’s always done best – she withdraws. As soon as Iida senses this, the older woman reaches across the little space between them on the couch and places a hand on Ai’s arm. The gesture is firm yet infinitely gentle in intention, and stills her almost immediately.
Ai smooths back her hair, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. She draws in a breath. “And... and also, Gaki-san.”
“Gaki-san?” Iida sensei looks up from her notes, a brow raised in question. “Ahhh, the roommate you’ve mentioned a few times before? Your… friend?
That friend?”
Suddenly, Ai feels like an insect pinned under a magnifying glass, but she pushes down the bubbling anxiety, pushes and pushes, and she gives a curt nod – it’s hardly the time for wavering. She needs to talk, she needs to talk
now. She owes herself this much, she figures; she had forced herself to sit on Iida sensei’s sofa, quivering, for the first time years ago. An emotional mess, nothing short of it. But she’d taken that much feared (and needed) step in the right direction, finally reached out to somebody, and though she hadn’t exactly been the most open and cooperative in the following time, Ai wants to end off on a positive note. She needs it.
Ai has talked about Risa a few times before, and the bean is probably the only mentioned ‘friend’ she has ever talked about. But what she has so skilfully managed to avoid saying: that Gaki-san has wended her way into every corner of Ai’s life – she’s the words on the pages of a novel, the ticking second hand of a clock, the pills that cling doggedly to her sweater no matter how long she spends picking at them. Though she has never dared to allude to such things, whenever Ai mentions Risa there’s a sudden spark in Iida sensei’s eyes, a knowing kind of look that stings the younger girl with embarrassment.
A dainty laugh falls from the psychologist’s lips, her head dropping a little.
Ai licks her lips.
“I remember you’ve told me before. Isolation is something that you revel in, isn’t it, Ai-chan?”
“I don’t think ‘revel’ is the right word,” Ai says, tilting her head to a side in emphatic thoughtfulness. “But when I’m away from others… when I’m alone, I can breathe more easily. Inside… everything isn’t so hectic? And I’m not as tense. It’s, you know, it’s just I don’t have anything to worry about when I’m by myself.”
“Aha. Well, you’ve known for a while now that you’ve been classed a high level empath, although you do show quite a lot that deviates from the standard criteria,” Iida says, handing Ai some papers containing charts and diagrams followed by what looks like blocks of analysis. It’s everything that’s been chronicled about her. Ai frowns upon seeing this, internally berating herself for being such a complicated being. Iida flips through a few pages. “And yes, it’s true, your brilliant memory only strengthens all your abilities as an empath.”
Ai looks down to the page in front of her, looks at all the evidence, her brain scans, her graphed performances under controlled conditions, her petty answers to soul-searching questions.
E m p a t h.
So many waking hours and restless nights she’s stared at this word on paper, rolled the term around in her head and off her tongue to get a good taste, see if she could squeeze all of herself into it. It could be too tight a classification, or a little too loose… she needed to check that it was just the right fit. But it’s all they have to rationalise her situation, her
condition – as if an overload of empathy were some kind of disease – and since the term isn’t formally recognised by any branch of science, it’s fortunate for Ai that Iida sensei has no qualms about dealing with the metaphysical – in fact, the professor appears utterly fascinated by it and remains on a constant agenda to track down cases like Ai’s to take on.
“Empath,” Ai says, sampling the word aloud for the first time in a long time.
“Yes. We’ve been through this several times before,” Iida sensei says patiently. “Empaths are people who have the astonishing ability to sense others on many different levels. They are extremely sensitive souls and are able to–”
“But I’m not so sure that I am one,” Ai interjects. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. An empath should be able to feel others, right? But I don’t. I mean, maybe when I was younger… but now… well, now I’m nothing like that. I can’t feel others anymore, I don’t know what they’re thinking and I can’t sense what they’re feeling either. Maybe you have it all wrong.”
“That’s why we’ve had to elevate you to ‘high level’ empath status. You are different from a normal empath.”
“How many have you come across in your studies?”
“None. You’re the first,” Iida sensei says. She hears Ai blow out a breath. “But I’ve done my research; I’ve read up on a few cases in other parts of the world. I know what I’m doing here.”
Ai fiddles a little, there’s a crease of worry between her brows. “Why am I still an
empath though? I don’t fit the criteria anymore if I can’t feel anybody. And if I really am one… what makes me so different?”
“That’s a lot more questions than usual,” Iida says, eyes crinkling with laughter. “I’m glad you’re finally taking more initiative.”
Ai’s self-conscious all over again and there it is, the sudden urge to withdraw her questions, to just glue her lips together, take the handout, listen and nod.
“At first, we thought it was simply a case of you being a natural introvert and developing social anxiety as a result. But there seems to be a lot more to your situation than just that. Even after establishing that you were an empath, I still had a lot to discuss with Yuko and Kei. Now, this is something that’s not quite founded on hard evidence, but rather thanks to many of the things you
have cared to divulge. We came up with an explanation for you, a while ago.”
Ai doesn’t recall ever hearing about this.
“Let’s see.”
---
Initially, I was going to have Kaori explain. But the chapter got too long. =____= And don’t keep your hopes up too high, the explanation isn’t even that interesting (just some BS I made up on the spot xD). But you know what’s interesting?
Empaths. Go look them up! o.o
Next chapter will start off with more history (picking up from what happened to TakaGaki after highschool), then continue with the ONE MONTH EARLIER deal to allow for empath explanation and keep things moving until
the mind control night.
And I was just thinking. The character that I’ve given Ai-chan in this story is the kind of character I would love to punch in the face in any other kind of story (I have a pretty low tolerance for emo kids in fiction, sorry x___x). But how could I ever manhandle such a face. And I figured if I was going to write angst, I ought to go all out. This kind of Ai has angst rolling off her in carpets. I love. <3 So please bear with her, for now. <3
And, this
will get better. Promise.
Topic: STORIES OF US --- [All I Want For Christmas] Xmas One-shot -- 27/DECEMBER (Read 37972 times)