1. Chapter 1 (1/2)

disclaimer: i do not own s.a, only the plot for this fanfic. i do, however own yahiro… in my head. ;)

just say the word

if any one of her neighbors heard the ruckus she was creating, they'd think that her flat was being robbed. well, getting rid of all the trash (hmn. funny how she considers them trash now) yahiro gave her with as much noise as she could cause the stuff to create was kind of therapeutic. she picked up the empty fishbowl sitting on her bedside table, "well that goldfish did not last a week," she muttered to herself. she remembered begging yahiro to buy her a goldfish when he accompanied her to a summer festival a few years back. when yahiro finally caved in she of course chose the fattest in the bunch, even when he warned her that it won't last a week. "stupid know-it-all!" she hissed, remembering his smug grin when they found the fish belly up a couple of days after. she stared at the fishbowl intently, and in her eyes it was slowly forming a very strong resemblance to yahiro's head. she threw it at the bottom of her trash bin, rubbing her hands together like a criminal mastermind when she heard the glass reach the bottom with a satisfying crash. now let me look for something else to smash.

yahiro heard another smash and despite himself, he cowered. "what has gotten into her?" he whispered to himself. everything was fine between them last night when he

ought her to saiga group's new year's party. he glowered at her when she tried to speak to him instead of using her sketchpad and she responded by blowing raspberries at him. she'd look longingly at him and he'd avert his gaze, afraid that she'll somehow see the emptiness he kept inside. so yes, everything was fine with them. until he drove her home.

she was sleepy and he let her lean on to him while he was driving. then she looked up to him and whispered that she loves him, almost like a prayer. he looked at her, and he felt a sudden wave of guilt—of self-loathing even. how could a woman as perfect as megumi love someone as damaged as him? he didn't know how to respond to her, so he went to his go-to answer. he gave her a lopsided grin, "as always, babe."

the effect was instantaneous. she recoiled from him and fumbled to open the passenger door even as the car was just pulling to a stop.

he hurriedly got out of the car and tried to chase after her. "hey! megumi, wait!" he caught her wrist before she could go inside the lobby of her apartment complex. he forced her to face him. he was bewildered. "what's going on? hey," he gently lifted her chin, urging her to look at him but she just dropped her gaze. "did i do something wrong? please look at me."

megumi looked at him, and then shook her head. "did i do something wrong?" he repeated.

"n-no." megumi answered voice barely audible.

his temper flared when he heard her voice. "i told you to use your sketchpad!" he shouted at her.

megumi's face went beet red, "you're not the boss of me!" she shouted at him.

"i thought you loved your voice? why are you wasting it by shouting at me?!" he shouted back.

she scoffed, "what do you know about love yahiro?"

before he could answer her, she spun around and sped to the elevator.

and now he's at her front door, fighting the urge to just walk away and go home. the old yahiro would have done just that without batting an eyelash, but through the years he valued his friendship with megumi more than he dared to admit to himself.

he finally decided to ring her doorbell after he heard that the crashing already stopped. i'm such a wuss, he silently chided himself.

"i have faced more intimidating people. heads of state. business tycoons. i can handle this. i can handle this," he murmured to himself. he rang the bell again, now with renewed confidence.

the door burst open and yahiro felt as if the blood drained from his face.

megumi would have doubled over with laughter if she was not so furious with him. he was as white as a sheet.

she leaned on the door frame, put her hand on her hip and glared at yahiro, "what do you want?" she asked him menacingly. when he opened his mouth to answer, she hissed, "and don't tell me to stop using my voice or i swear to god, i'll scream."

yahiro raised his hands in surrender, "i got it. i just came here to, uhm. i really didn't understand what happened last night. i want to talk. please," he sighed, "i'll be leaving for hong kong this weekend; i don't want to go without knowing that we're okay."

she looked at him intently, gave him an imperceptible nod and swung the door open.

she looked at him with unveiled disdain and yahiro could not stop himself from fidgeting.

"so…" he started. she just raised an eye

ow.

"you came here to apologize?" she asked him.