I know I shouldn’t be doing this. But what the hell, I am anyway. Sure school is basically running my life, but I still have enough time to continue with another story. I know I should be updating Aibiria Aimee, but I’ve gotten a bad case of writers block with it.

Ah well, even if I don’t get many reviews, I’m still going to write this. There is a SLIGHT OOC warning, concerning Enishi, why you’ll find out. Don’t get me wrong, I love Enishi, but he’s the only one I can think of to fill this particular role.

Don't worry, this will get happier as we progress. And for the record, I dislike Enishi/Misao.

oOoOoO

“No one came to my baby shower.”

The small room—empty, save for two people and party decorations, fit for a soon to be mother, went still and silent. Set in a corner; a baby blue tablecloth covered a small, round table, cups and plates left undisturbed upon its surface. Near it was a tan colored armchair, facing a television stand set against a wall, said wall painted white. To the chairs’ left, sat a dark blue sofa, in it, was a young girl. Perhaps sixteen to early seventeen, anyone in the entire world could tell you, that she was sorrowful. Dark of hair, and light of skin, her vacant beryline eyes were cast downward. Her night colored hair fanned about her head, the rest twisted into a long, rope-like braid that was swung over one shoulder. Her pretty face was unsuitably pulled into an expression utterly beyond tears.

“Oh Misao..” Another female breathed behind her, dropping her gift-bags and kneeling down behind the other, placing a willowy hand upon her right shoulder. “Anyone that wouldn’t come to their friends’ first baby shower isn’t a friend at all.” She whispered, her voice quaking and cyanean eyes glittering with emotion. Like the other girl, she also had a pale demeanor and dark, almost charcoal colored hair. Her’s however, fell in elegant bangs above trim eyebrows, the length behind it tied up into an extensive ponytail. But unlike the other girl, she was not wearing maternity clothes. Instead, a plain pink t-shirt adorned her upper half, and blue jeans covered her long, shapely legs.

To Kamiya Kaoru’s statement, Makimachi Misao only let a small sob escape her throat. Pursing her lips and giving the green-eyed girl’s shoulder a tender squeeze, Kaoru retrieved the gift bags she had dropped. “Well…I got these for you. I got my check last week, and bought them,” Kaoru explained, gently presenting the bags to her best friend. “Thanks..” Misao sniffed, reaching out for them, as if too weak to lift her hands. Hesitantly, Kaoru took a seat beside her on the sofa, careful as not to bump into the girls’ relatively swollen belly. Again, there was a heavy; gloomy silence, stretching out the seconds until the child, having a child, spoke.

“And he didn’t come either.”

Kaoru looked over to a wall, so her friend would not see the words of hatred written on her features. “I know.” Kaoru said, careful as not to spit out the words. Lifting her head to gaze at a sort of nothingness, Misao continued, her voice ringing with emptiness. “Why didn’t he come?” The words fell like stones from her lips, ones with all the heaviness that her heart bore. “I…” Kaoru began, her mind searching for a moment, “I don’t know.” And that was that. Misao said not another word, standing to her feet and walking noiselessly to the table. She seemed like a graying wisp of cloud, ever since that day she was found with child. Everyone around her didn’t want to admit it, either. That the once exuberant girl that was filled with so much emotion, was now nothing but this phantasm lurking before them.

But it wasn’t as if she had many people to do that regretting.

The sixteen year old listlessly set her slim hands upon the table, feeling the rough cloth underneath her fingertips. You would expect her to slam her curled fists into that table, to shout and cry and scream, doing whatever she could to release the building rush within. That was nothing compared to the mute, disturbing quiet she did instead. Kaoru glumly looked down at her feet, not bothering to cheer her best friend up more.

It was useless, to put if quite clearly. God she tried, tried and tried, and got nothing for her efforts. Not even the slightest semblance of a smile. Not for three long, miserable months. Misao was gone. She had simply vanished overnight, leaving behind this empty, pathetic excuse for Makimachi Misao for her to pray for. Misao’s family, with all their love and support, still did nothing to change what was standing at the table now. Okina would constantly, if not doggedly, try to lift her spirits and replace that shine in her eyes. The others, Omasu, Okon, Shiro, and Kiro would make no less an effort. Aoshi, though, had moved away long, long before all of these things happened.

“Kaoru.” The pregnant girl spoke a few minuets later, “how many invites did you send out?” Said Kaoru was brought back to the present, turning her eyes from the carpet to her sun-bathed companion. “I think it was….twenty, or so…I don’t remember.” She was lying. In all actuality, Kaoru had sent out a good forty invitations two weeks prior. There was no excuse for all those forty people not to be there, giving Misao the support she so very badly needed. The blue-eyed girl knew, though, if she told her that her already crushed and tattered heart would simply give up.

“I see.”

Kaoru said nothing. She was ashamed of herself. Doing such a thing to someone like her best friend. Her best friend who had gone through much more in her own lifetime in less than three months. Who was about to have a baby, giving up the life she had. Perhaps she never had such a happy life. What was a happy life when you couldn’t keep living it? Not much of one. All good things must come to an end, as people say. Kaoru hated this hush that settled over them constantly; always unbearably heavy and wretched, mocking, even. Or maybe Kaoru was just going mad.

It certainly wouldn’t surprise her, everyone seemed to be going mad or changing these days. Okina had kept to his room, Okan and Omasu quit talking and smiling as much, Shiro and Kiro would just sit at the television. Only one person seemed to stay the same, though. This would be Yukishiro Enishi, the baby’s father. He didn’t even give the slightest effort to support the girl carrying his child. He was still cockish and rebellious, sarcastic even around Misao. Still after the girl had told him and was now suffering a pain akin to dying. Kaoru was no less than absolutely furious.

Kaoru looked up, turning in her seat suddenly when the door front door creaked open, sprawling fresh afternoon sunlight into the dismal room; Overcast slightly by a shadow standing in the doorway.

It was him.

oOoOoO

Yes, it is short. Do I care? No, not really. You try writing when you have a headache, an 870-page book to finish, write a report on/take a test, still with homework and other stressful things to do. Now I’m going into my rarely seen griping mode to some of my wonderful reviewers:

Please, please, please, don’t tell me this was cheesy, because I know that already. Please, please don’t tell me to continue or die, because that doesn’t do anything. And please send nice reviews (cough no more BIG GRIN too…you know who you are) apologies for the crappiness, but I’m tired and I don’t want to make it better. Please make this author happy and update more by sending in nice reviews. Thank you.