(A/N: Here's chapter fifty four! Hopefully, the second to last chapter of Morgan's backstory. Enjoy!

Guest review (Tina): Thank you for the review! I am really so glad you are enjoying the story! It truly makes me proud of all the work and effort I put into it!

Wagyujak: Thanks for reviewing! Yeah, it might take a while to get to that. Orihime has severe…mental/emotional issues that can not, realistically, be cured overnight. No matter how much pep talk someone does. Orihime's troubles and distress are what people usually go to a professional therapist for, but since her problems are…supernatural in nature… Yeah… It's a long road ahead towards recovery.

SimplyChristian: Thanks for the review! Yes, you do make a point about Orihime's ability to revive the dead. Still though, I think she would want to avoid her friends' deaths as much as possible in the first place. Anyone would be scared and terrified out of their minds of losing people they cared about, even if they could revive them. I mean, [and this somewhat unrelated] when I think of Orihime being anything like Satoko from 'Higurashi Gou/Sotsu', I shiver. Not turning into a psychopathic yandere, mind you, but her becoming so desensitized to her friends' and loved ones' deaths that she would simply shrug her shoulders at it with a simple 'oh, well', makes me feel…unpleasant [for lack of a better word]. It could make her lead down the path of an uncaring, unfeeling monster, and I don't want that. Besides, I think the scene is really good for Orihime to improve her healing abilities and powers overall, and to note take lives for granted. Yep! Ritsuko's character was based on that very same idea. If she wasn't put on death row for simply being a mod soul, then she would've gotten along scarily well with the Eleventh Squad. Huh, I never thought of King Bradley and Morgan being foils in any way. Gives me a new perspective. Thanks for that. Oh, and yes. King Bradley is Wrath. All homunculi are based on their Brotherhood forms with a little mix of their 2003 versions here and there as you can see with Lust.

Guest review (tv girl) Thanks for reviewing! Believe me, I can't tell you the number of times I reread my own story to make sure everything stays consistent right down to very minor details like how many days or weeks passed between this chapter and that chapter or what clothes did this character wear during this chapter/scene. It takes a lot of work, especially for someone who's doing this all by themselves. And if I forget something, well, I have to reread the scene/chapter/story all over again.

TheEmeraldMage: Thanks for the review! Hehehe. Yeah, sorry about that. But I would give a slight spoiler. There are two Roy fights, and the last one is supposed to be the final climax of the first installment of 'The Flower Princess and the Alchemist' series. Yep, Esme's name does have a double meaning. And I would give a hint. Think about Morgan's character before meeting Esme, falling in love with Esme, and after Esme's death.)

Parents Knows Best

"I'm back."

"Welcome home."

Morgan sniffed the air as a savory aroma penetrated his nose. He immediately recognized the scent of rice and stew, the first meal she'd ever made for him. That was so long ago, wasn't it? The wonderful scent brought pleasant memories of nostalgia forth.

Without him expecting it, his stomach erupted a loud grumble. His face flushed red in mortified embarrassment, and Esme giggled at his blushing expression. It is always refreshingly nice to bear witness to Morgan's subtle periods of vulnerability or being caught off guard.

"Hungry, I see," the blonde haired woman smiled, happy to be reunited with her blond haired male friend after a year of yearning for his return. "Don't worry, I just finished cooking plenty of rice and stew. Let me set some aside for my parents, and pack the rest. I'll put some in small containers for us to take on a picnic, and the leftovers in the fridge."

Morgan watched in slight amusement, completely ignoring his earlier embarrassment, as she skipped over to her kitchen with an exuberant bounce in her steps. "She has not changed a single bit," he inwardly mused, fondly. Her medium length, blonde hair waved behind her. The moment her ultramarine blue orbs landed on him, he was left temporarily breathless.

He had prepared for this, yet he was rendered stunned by how hypnotically beautiful her eyes were. He was simply lucky that his unforeseen appearance caused her to become frozen in flabbergasted stupor. He does not have to suffer the discomfort of her realizing how much of an effect she had on him. How a simple look from her could leave him annoyingly dazed by her ironically mesmerizing beauty. Over the past year, he had begrudgingly accepted the enchanted influence she has on him. That was something he had resigned himself to.

But he'd be damned, if he admitted it!

Still though, the blond haired mod soul can't get over the fact that a year has passed already since he had last laid eyes on Esme. In the beginning, Morgan had believed that her presence was a bothersome hindrance. An aggravating curse. Even now, he could hear the semi erratic pounding of his heart in ears. Luckily, it'd calmed down enough for him to relax and regain some semblance of control. His heartbeats returned to normal, much to his relief.

In honesty, the mod soul had this stupid worry that maybe...just maybe...she had forgotten all about him. He'd never done anything significant for her to regard him as anything more than a passing visitor. She calls him a friend, sure, however, wouldn't the term 'acquaintance' fit better to describe their relationship? He was utterly surprised at the happy tears that pricked the corner of her ultramarine blue orbs the second her eyes took in his form.

His second fear was that perhaps she had found herself a lover.

The blond haired man didn't know why, but the mere notion of her riding off to the sunset with some guy caused his blood to boil in incandescent rage. Some random bastard being furiously close to her, and them being annoyingly lovey dovey generated a burning, malodorous taste in his mouth. The mental picture of the guy touching what wasn't theirs, made him want to break his imaginary face's jaw. The raw possessiveness he felt at the image of him making the dreadful discovery of Esme getting herself a boyfriend during the year he was gone sent him into a torturously dark spiral of malicious envy and spiteful resentment.

Thank god, his worrisome fears have been put to rest!

At least, he hopes so.

Either way, right now, Morgan was euphorically happy to see Esme again. To be in view of her stunning, breathtaking smile!

And, most importantly, he can taste her delicious cooking again!

Esme, for her part, could not stop the excited jittery of nerves that tingled all throughout her body.

Morgan's here!

He really did come back!

It was ridiculous how happy she felt. This should not be anything special. He has left and came back numerous times. It really shouldn't be such a big deal. She felt incredibly silly for making it seem like it was. She could not stop her hands from trembling as she filled various plates and containers with the rice and stew she cooked, hoping she wouldn't embarrass herself further by accidentally spilling it.

Even so… Even so… She was so happy she could almost burst into tears any moment!

To be honest, she has never been this close to a guy before. Her father was the only male she has ever been close to. It's not that she has never spoken to a man before, nor has never interacted with the opposite gender. It is merely the matter of not having any close relationships with any male friends. She had acquaintances, sure, but not friends. The most her interactions with men consisted of were nothing more than courteous greetings.

Then she met a man named Morgan Crez. An injured man she found in the forest on the outskirts of Rismoro. A tactlessly discourteous, crassly ill mannered, blond haired, dark green eyed man who had a stupidly arrogant pride as annoyingly large as a mountain. He was...infuriating! Urgh! Everything out of his mouth was either something incredibly rude, highly insensitive, or mockingly sarcastic. It had her wondering if most, if not all, city men were as crudely impolite as he is.

However, Esme simply couldn't leave him alone. It'd be irresponsible of her to simply leave him in the hospital and be done with it. How can she dump him at the clinic, and be done with it? Brush him off as not being her problem anymore? It just would not feel right. She'd be constantly worrying about what happened to him, or if he was doing okay. She would not forgive herself, if she did not make more of an effort to help.

Her first meeting wasn't one she had expected. She had not anticipated for the man to be so frustrating and rude! She saved his life, and he treated her with such uncalled for hostility and loathing disrespect. Obviously, her temper boiled in anger at the undeserving mistreatment, however, she didn't let his harsh coldness deter her.

Yet, the blonde haired woman can't help but to be drawn to him. There was just something about him that she was unable to ignore. The look of anger in his eyes was unnervingly more than mere frustration and annoyance. They held so much bitterness…so much mistrust...that it brought pang of forlorn dolefulness to her. For the most part, the blond haired man kept his emotions guarded by a carefully crafted veil of impertinent nonchalance. When he gets overly excited though, there's an immense malicious contempt which intensely burned in his dark green orbs.

The same thing constantly sprang out of his mouth. Why? Why is she helping him? Why does she keep bothering to take care of him in his time of need? Each inquiry of the same question became more aggressively indignant that she didn't know how to properly comprehend it.

Wasn't it naturally to help someone in their time of need? She was more than aware that not everyone shares the same sentiments as her. But Morgan's fervent, cynical insistence that she was being stupid for helping him, which started to border on the line of distrustful enmity, was incomprehensibly unsettling.

Then Esme saw the look in his eyes that day… That day when she took him out on that hill for the first time. She has never seen such a...dark look of desperation in a person's eyes before. A bleak look that was drowning in a raging torrent of harrowing desolation and bitter spite. A pessimistic, cynical viewpoint that has been tragically cultivated by jaundiced skepticism.

Esme covered the rice and stew she set aside in a disposable food wrapping paper. Her father would soon wake up from his short nap, and enter the kitchen to take his meal along with her sickly mother's back to their room.

Her mind had been jumbled with confusing, uncertain feelings of what to do with Morgan at that moment. No matter how much she disagreed with his perspective, it was not right for her to downplay the man's very real, very anguished driven emotions. There was...so much more...complexity to the blond haired man that she initially thought.

How broken was this man? How many parts of him were severely damaged? What kind of environment would produce such an unhappy, miserable man? What kind of lifestyle did he live before to harbor a perplexingly opaque amount of venomous animosity?

That was something she wouldn't even begin to figure out.

She wasn't a foolish woman who falls for bad boys and delinquents because they have the naive, delusional belief they can change their beloved through the power of love. She was keenly aware that what she saw was most likely what she was going to get. She had no expectations or hope that Morgan was going to change because she ended up being that 'special' someone who magically manages to bring out his softer side, and make him become a kinder person because of it. She wanted to be friends with him, not because of any wishful expectations she had of him.

The blonde haired woman opened one of the cabinets over head, and reached inside it to grab the picnic basket she usually used. She closed the brown cabinet, and set the basket on the counter. She pried open a small, narrow cabinet under the counter. She retrieved the disposable cups they'll be using for their reunion picnic outing. Morgan was still waiting for her outside the house.

For her blond haired male companion, she had decided that if she could help a piece, a very tiny sliver of his heart to heal, then that would be more than enough for her.

After packing everything she needed into the basket, she silently and gently closed it. She could feel her heartbeat racing with nervous excitement and anxious anticipation. Morgan was waiting for her right outside her still open door. A year… A year has passed, and she has finally been reunited with her dear friend. She had been able to ignore the dull ache in her heart until now. When she had laid eyes upon him again after so…so long, the almost nonexistent pang in her chest was suddenly all she could feel. It decided to make itself known in the most unprecedented way imaginable!

Esme brushed herself off by wiping away any invisible dust off her bright green, sleeveless dress. It helped to serve as a distraction, and buy a little bit more time to keep the explosive whirlwind of her emotions mostly under control. Keeping her hands from sheer nervousness, she steadily latched on to the handle of the picnic basket.

She never imagined how...lonely...she would feel without him by her side.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Esme said, jovially, her heart swooning in utter elation as she strolled to Morgan's side outside the door, picnic basket in hand.

Morgan only offered a grunt and nod of cool approval. That didn't deter her from how truly happy he was judging by his relaxed posture.

She silently closed the front door of her house. "Shall we go?" she gestured, already walking in the direction of their special place with the blond haired mod soul following slightly behind.

But...he's back now! And that's all that matters!

Esme turned the page of a book she was currently reading. It was a book about the very basics of science. Please. Nobody should get the wrong idea. It's not that she was stupid or illiterate or never went to school before. There was something she wanted to learn. It was a decision she had been contemplating for years now, and finally resolved herself to do it.

She wished to pursue alchemy.

Two months after Morgan Crez's and Esme Lyre's joyful reunion. Their reunion was an extremely pleasant one. It was littered with merry laughter, playful bickering, and content smiles. Well, cheeky smirks on the mod soul's end. It was very relieving, refreshing to know that Morgan hadn't changed much since she last saw him.

They talked. They talked a lot. They spent hours and hours talking and talking. They kept talking until the sun went down, darkness had arrived, and Morgan escorted her back home. She was happy. So unexpectedly happy that she ended up shedding a few tears of enraptured joy. Of course, her male companion had to tease her about it, showing off his usual cocky, pretentious, macho pride.

The blonde haired woman spent days and days listening with intense interest at all the stories the male mod soul told her. The places he went, the sights he saw, and the adventures and misadventures he had. She paid active attention to every word spewing from his mouth, and the emotions he conveyed when reminiscing about his tale. He expressed annoyance at things that bothered or irritated him, exasperation at the silly, ridiculous things that had the misfortune of catching his eye, and blissful fondness for things that he found enjoyment in.

Morgan, however, left out the more dangerous, gruesome, and/or more personal aspects of his travels. There was no reason to scare or worry her with the more…frightful parts of his exploits. She was an innocent, wholesome, free spirited woman who has yet to see how callously brutal and unforgivingly cruel the world could be. Yes, her mother was sick with a terrible, almost terminal illness. And, yes, she may have to face the terrible reality of losing a loved one due to financial difficulties.

Yet, that doesn't compare to agonizing sounds of screaming, the sickening sensation of flesh and bone being torn, carved, or blown away, or the horrifically nauseating stench of blood, death, and decay that one must bear witness to when confronted with the ugliness of the world.

Morgan had deeply hoped that Esme never has to see that ugliness. She was the one and only human he cares about. He never wanted to see her hurt or unhappy. He realized that during his journey. It was one of the revelations he came to discover. Simply being in her presence… There's no other way to properly describe it. Seeing her happy and smiling fills him with serene content.

Her innocent smile… That was something he can't bear to take away! It was something that kept him going during the year he's been away.

This was something he missed. This peaceful tranquility… Being able to be in the presence of her pleasingly welcoming laughter and heavenly stunning smiles… Basking under the warmth of her alluringly attractive ultramarine blue gaze… Yeah, this is it. This was what he came back for.

When the blond haired mod soul informed her about alchemy, her hypnotic ultramarine blue eyes brightened with rapt attention. She excitedly coerced him to enlighten her more with his experiences with alchemy. The people he saw using it, how they used it, etc… Turns out she was considering studying alchemy for a while, and this gave a vigorous amount of new motivation to pursue the field.

He had absolutely zero interest in the subject. He had no care for the craft whatsoever. But Esme did, and it felt nice to indulge her a bit. If only to be in close proximity to her cheerful disposition.

And that's how Esme found herself in the library months later.

She turned another page in her book. The blonde haired woman was keenly aware of how difficult of a field alchemy was. It required an insane amount of knowledge, something that would more than likely take her years to get even the basics of alchemy down. That was part of the reason why she was hesitant to study it.

Although, she'd admit that alchemy was a very useful skill to acquire. If she could actually perform alchemy, then her chances of finding a very well paying job would skyrocket tremendously. At least, she hoped it would. With her mother's illness worsening, she needed money now more than ever. Her father was already working himself ragged to get the money needed to provide her mother with better medical care.

That's why Esme needed to learn alchemy. If she could somewhat master some aspect of the science, it would open up a large array of doors of opportunities for her. She could get a high paying job, and help her father transfer her mother to a better hospital. That's why she needed to do her best and try her hardest! If only for that singular purpose of helping her parents out.

The blonde haired woman flipped over another page of the science book she was reading. As she continued on with her study, thoughts of Morgan filled her head again. She knows she should be focusing on reading the book, researching all she could about alchemy…that's why she came to the library in the first place…but she just can't help it.

Something about the blond haired mod soul feels different. Something she can't put her finger on. He was still his usual crude, arrogant self, but…something was different with him. His whole demeanor seemed less…tense. It was his eyes. His dark green eyes were…less clouded with bitter hatred and contemptuous mistrust. The dark emotions were still there of course, but weren't as prominent and intense as it was before. His orbs were so much more…lighter and softer now.

She couldn't exactly explain it. He just…so much more relaxed. Calm. As if he reached an epiphany.

The blonde haired woman hid her smile behind her book, so people nearby wouldn't view her as weird for smiling so happily to what they would perceive as nothing. She felt incredibly joyful for some inexplicable reason.

Morgan must've found something or someone who gave him some renewed hope in life. Whatever happened during his journey must have been something absolutely amazing. She wondered what or who could have done it? In the stories he told her, nothing and no one special seemed to come to mind. This was not to say that the blond haired man's tales of his adventures weren't wonderful to listen to, and she would definitely love to hear more, but there wasn't anything or anyone particular that stood out in his stories. Then again, not like he would tell her anything. He seemed like the type of person who kept his private life to himself.

Whatever the case may be, she was merely happy that she could finally see him not being totally burdened by the torrent of scornful enmity that suffocated him. When they first met a year ago, he was always so guarded all the time. He was never willing to trust in others. Seeing his eyes softened bit by bit was a welcoming change. She was joyfully delighted that Morgan had found something that thankfully gave him a new lease on life. One day, the blonde haired woman hoped he could trust her enough to divulge what caused such a carefully subtle yet significantly dramatic change in him to her.

For now, she should focus on her studies. She wanted to, desired to learn alchemy, and for that reason…she needed to study up on science and math again and relearn it, intensively, most notably physics and chemistry. She hungered for the knowledge of alchemy.

Alchemy was the thing that could probably save her mother's life! She had to study, study, and study. Study until her eyes bled and her head was swollen with brand new knowledge. Her whole family was counting on her. She can't let them down!

It had become a normal routine for Morgan Crez and Esme Lyre. Morgan would travel around the world, He would stop by Rismoro on occasions just to visit Esme, and recount tales of his journey to her. He would stay for about a week or so before departing on another adventure, and the young, blonde haired woman would patiently wait for his return each time.

Esme's heart would ache each time Morgan left. And each time, she would suppress the dejected pang feeling in her chest, reminding herself that the blond haired mod soul would come back. She constantly berated herself for always feeling this hollow twinge in her heart whenever he bids farewell to her before going off on another journey. She doesn't know nor understand why she continues to feel saddened and uneasy by his departure each and every time.

However, it was a feeling she had steadily gotten used to. The lonely ache that throbbed inside her chest whenever she missed the crude, churlish man. It was an agonizingly confusing, indescribably complex emotion that spiked up whenever he left Rismoro, and dissipated whenever he returned for another short visit. It was an utterly unfathomable emotion that was layered in a convoluted maze of perplexity that she couldn't even begin to comprehend it. All she knew was that she greatly liked it when he's here, and felt somewhat down in the dumps when he wasn't.

Then the day came. The blonde haired woman's mother's illness was getting worse.

"Esme? Are you seeing someone?" her mother asked her out of the blue.

The unexpected question almost caused her daughter to spat out her water in stunned surprise. Her ultramarine blue eyes practically almost bulged out of her in startling dumbfoundment and flabbergasted embarrassment. Her cheeks were flushed a slightly pink hue out flustered bewilderment, her mind momentarily unable to perform a coherent cognitive thought. The question was so out of left field, it caught her completely off guard.

"Huh?!" was the only decent response she could come up with. Her brain was too busy rewiring itself.

The blonde haired woman had simply come inside her mom's room to enjoy a nice dinner of rice and stew with her. Her dad was out, so it was just the two of them. Her mother was still as sickly pale as ever. Her skin was paler than normal. It was almost a sheet white color now, meaning her illness was worsening. It was to be expected. The doctor had warned them that her mother didn't have much time left. Perhaps, a month or two at most. Because of how dire her mother's condition was, her father was getting worrisomely desperate. He tried to find ways to earn extra money and fast. It had gotten to the point where he worked more hours at work, and coming back home extremely exhausted.

That led the blonde haired woman to take care of her mother at night while her father was away at work. Her mother, however, had made no complaints. Almost as if she had long ago come to accept her inevitable fate. She always did her best to smile, no matter how weak she was, and despite knowing she was going to die soon. That her death was drawing closer and closer. It had gotten to the point where Esme wondered how her mom could be so strong? Shouldn't she be bawling her eyes out at the unfairness of the world? Shouldn't she be lashing out with frustrated, despairing tears running down her face on why fate could be so cruel to her?

Instead she simply puts up a brave, albeit weak smile to ease her and her dad's eventual pain of losing her. The young daughter always admired how courageous her mom was.

Still though…

"Have you found interest in a man?"

Where was this coming from?! The sly, almost knowing smile on her mother's pale face only caused her embarrassment to rise. She has never introduced Morgan Crez to her parents yet. She hasn't even talked about him to them either. Sure, she had talked to Morgan about her family life sometimes, but the opposite was never true. She couldn't find the appropriate time to disclose such information to them. That's been seeing a male friend, who she had confusing, conflicting feelings for, for quite some time now.

Her mother must've noticed her incredibly flustered and staggeringly nonplussed facial expression, causing her impish smile to widen. "You have this certain glow about you, dear," her mom said, sweetly. "I haven't seen you this happy in a long time. You are wearing the same expression I had when I fell in love with your father!" she cooed, weakly.

Esme's eyes broadened in stunned stupefaction, and her face flushed a crimson red. Her? In love? She was…in love? She was in love…with…Morgan?!

Her brain practically fried at the revelation. She wanted to deny it. She vehemently wanted to deny that she harbored deep feelings for the blond haired man. The very idea of her falling for the rude, arrogant man was wholly incomprehensible to her. It was so utterly ridiculous she refused to believe it. The logical side of her was rejecting the very notion of her being infatuated with the wayward man. She had only known him for over a year. And even then he has sporadically appeared and disappeared from her life numerous times. He was a…decent friend. But as boyfriend material…? Nah, it was not possible. He was too cocky, insolent, tactless, and uncouth to be her type. Her dream boyfriend has always been someone considerate and charming, and Morgan's definitely not that, she reasoned with herself. Not to mention that he's a womanizing jerk. So not her type!

Well, all of that was not…entirely true. Morgan has been more…openly caring towards her lately. Mainly when they were in private. He has been…uncharacteristically nice and kind to her recently. Yet that does not mean anything. That's just Morgan being weird. He was still his usual impudent, grumpy self of course. Small acts of kindness doesn't mean anything.

But the steadily accelerating beating of her heart suggested otherwise, and ultimately portrayed her real feelings. Everything she seemed to instantly…click into a place for her. The restlessness she feels when he leaves, patiently yet agonizingly waiting for his eventual return. The sheer happiness she felt whenever he came back for a visit. The puzzlingly way her heart skips a beat whenever their eyes meet in the most briefest of glances.

"Mom! That's not…! I…," Esme protested, weakly, stammering over her words. The dark flush of her countenance was not helping her case. Nor was the sound of her erratic heart pounding away against her eardrums. And her mother's sly smirk was only making her embarrassment worse.

"That's good," her mom said, feebly. "I was worried about what was going to happen once I was gone. I'm really happy to know that my daughter would find some semblance of happiness even after I'm gone. I would like to meet the man you've become smitten with, Esme."

"Mom… It's…not like that…," the blonde haired woman denied, uncertainly. Her feelings for Morgan were agonizingly confusing as it is. There was no reason for her to complicate it more, and mistake it for something else.

Besides… Even if that were true and she did have a crush on him, there's no way an adventurous, city man would return the affections of a country bumpkin like her. He would probably be more interested in more pretty and sophisticated women. He'd probably found women who dressed in fancy clothes, who are refined, elegant, and cultured, and who are generally more well off and attractive looking to be more appealing. All in all, she doubted the blond haired man would pay attention to her in that way.

He had told her once that she was not stunningly enough to be his type. She does not know whether he was being serious or not though. It was when they were taking a small, leisure stroll around the outskirts of the small town. She had playfully accused him of hitting on her because he was being unusually sweet and considerate. His attitude was very subtle, but the change in it was there. She could tell. He scoffed in return, stating that she must be dreaming for him to flirt with her. She was not gorgeous enough for that luxury.

A part of her was mad and annoyed at the comment, and another part of her laughed it off as their usual harmless, light hearted bickering. So, she didn't think much of it at the time, besides mildly expressing her anger at him for implying that he didn't consider her pretty.

"He's only a friend, mom," Esme reiterated, ignoring the subdued ache in her heart as if admitting that was almost…painful for her. She took a bite of her rice and stew.

Her mother smiled, gently at her. Her beam was soft and tender, full of reassurance and comfort. Her eyes twinkled with a heartening encouragement. They gleamed with an understanding only a mother could express. It left the blonde haired woman speechless and blushing even more. It was like the very essence of her true feelings for Morgan Crez was being bared before her mother, which was even more oddly embarrassing because she didn't know how she sincerely felt for the blond haired man herself. It must be one of those intuitions mothers possess when it comes to their kids.

"Esme! You're blushing!" her mother squealed, only to erupt into a violent wave of coughs.

"Mom!" The young woman rushed to her mother's side. She handed her a cup of water, and gently patted her back as she helped her drink it. "You shouldn't get too excited, mom! You know your health is in a very fragile state right now," she scolded her mother once she had finished drinking and the coughing had ceased, distressingly worried about her mother's frail health.

The older woman smiled, weakly and sheepishly. "I'm…I'm just so…happy!"

"Happy about what?"

Both women nearly jumped outta their skin, and turned their startled gaze on the patriarch of the house standing by the now open door. Esme's countenance changed into a crimson red color at the prospect of her father's horrible timing. She was desperately attempting to calm down her frantically beating, anxiety filled heart. Her mom, on the other hand, regained her composure and smiled, gleefully, despite how sick and weak she was.

"Nothing!"

"Honey, welcome home!"

Esme and her mother both exclaimed at the same time, albeit one softer than the other. The former out of sheer panic, and the latter happily greeting her husband. The only man of the house gazed between his wife's excited expression and his daughter's wide eyed, panicked one.

"What's going on here?" he asked, puzzledly. He eyed his daughter as she fed his wife, and a small smile graced his lips.

Weakly, his wife eagerly gestured for him to come closer. He stepped forward into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He set his things down on the desk by the corner, and twisted his body around to set his curious gaze on the two women before him. "Now, what's going on?" He repeated his question once more.

The youngest member of the Lyre family opened her mouth, but, unfortunately, and much to her horrified mortification, her mother beat her to the punch.

"Esme has taken an interest in a man!" Mrs. Lyre excitedly exclaimed, much to her daughter's chagrin as if this was the gleefully ecstatic and overwhelmingly thrilling news she had told her husband in a long time. It probably was. She rarely had the chance to go outside anymore because of her sickness. Her husband takes her outside every few months or so because being cooped up inside the house for too long wasn't good for her mental health.

"Mom!" the blonde woman cried out, appallingly flabbergasted and alarmingly embarrassed that her mother could blurt something so harrowingly discomfiting out in a tone that could be classified in nothing less than childish exuberance.

Esme's whole face, neck, and ears burned a vibrant cherry red color when her father's instinctively gaze shifted on her. The deep, solemn frown he had smeared across his countenance caused her to skyrocket. She wished now more than ever that a hole would burst open underneath her feet and swallow her up. She involuntarily shrunk underneath his hardened, scrutinizing stare. Her dad always had the uncanny way of somehow making her feel like a little girl again. She was twenty one years old for crying out loud! Yet, under her father's gaze, she might as well be five again. He just had that kind of overall strikingly overpowering effect on her. It's a similar vibe of that instinctive feeling kids have at the one person they dare not to upset or disappoint.

"Who is he?" Mr. Lyre finally questioned his daughter in a flat and stern tone. His attitude towards Esme secretly seeing a man was the completely opposite of his ill wife's joyful elation and giddy excitement. The thought of some guy attempting to worm his way inside his daughter's heart did not sit well with him. Even worse was the notion that his only daughter was hanging out with this…mysterious fellow behind their backs for who knows how long now.

His frown only deepened when he observed a slightly red hue run across the bridge of his daughter's nose. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. The very idea of his precious daughter being taken by another man didn't sit well with him. Especially if the guy was an unworthy scumbag, who had the potential of hurting her in the future in someway.

"It's not what you think, dad! He's just a friend!" Esme protested, vehemently as if she could hear her father's negative, displeased, and overprotective thoughts.

Mr. Lyre crossed his arms over his chest, looking completely unconvinced. If he didn't give off the impression of a gravely stern parent, he definitely did now.

"Mom was just exaggerating," she desperately tried to elucidate, shooting her mother a fierce stare. However, that did not alleviate her father's solemn and grim gaze. Not even in the slightest.

"Who is he?" he repeated once more in a much unrelentingly steely tone than last time. It was an inflection that left no room for sidetracks, fiercely indicating that he wanted answers now. In that vein, Esme felt compelled to comply honestly. When dad gets that look on his, it was better to simply give in and confess the truth to him.

"His name is Morgan Crez," the youngest member of the Lyre family disclosed in a very quiet and meek voice. "But we're just friends! Nothing more than that!" she professed, swiftly and profusely, frantically waving her arms about.

His unconvinced frown only deepened. "For how long?"

Esme shyly twiddled her fingers together. "Over a year now," she answered, meekly.

That caused her father's eyes to narrow into sharp daggers. In return, the blonde haired woman couldn't keep her gaze on her dad any longer, and broke eye contact, finding the floor to be more fascinating. This was why she had been so…hesitant to tell her parents about Morgan. Her father had always been a bit…intense and disapproving when it comes to her and other men.

A largely inflated string of suffocating embarrassment and abashed awkwardness was coiling itself around her heart. She had stated that she and Morgan were merely friends and nothing more. That was true. But why does that fill her strangely aching heart with so much inexplicable sadness and bewildering pain?

She didn't have any deep feelings for the blond haired jerk. Did she? She internally shook her head, vigorously. No. The notion of her liking Morgan, Morgan off all people, that obnoxious blowhard, was completely silly. She was merely letting her mother's ridiculous assumptions of her having a crush on him get to her.

Yeah… Yeah. That's all it was.

"Dear, stop interrogating our daughter," her mother scolded her father, a harsh frown etched across her pale face. "You should be happy for her."

"Aren't you concerned, Janice? Our daughter has been seeing some bastard we know nothing about!" he fumed, terrifyingly vexed by the revelation that Esme had been secretly meeting some strange guy. Now her father's anger was bursting through in scorching hot waves. "Nobody in this town is named Morgan Crez. I haven't heard of anyone named Morgan! Have you?" He nor his wife doesn't know a goddamn thing about this guy. He could understand how his wife could be okay with this?!

"You are overacting, dear," Janice calmly replied, completely unfazed by her husband's angry outburst, which were driven by overprotective fatherly instincts. "Besides, Esme's at a marrying age. She's a young woman. It's not unusual for her to take an interest in men. You should be happy for her."

Mr. Lyre scoffed. "How can I be happy when some fucker is trying to put the moves on my baby girl?"

Esme, the aforementioned baby girl, was now reduced to background character. She silently watched her parents argue back and forth at the prospect of her dating Morgan. Her mother strongly liked the idea of her dating, yet her father absolutely despised it. Now, it culminated into a massive dispute. Truthfully, it kind of annoyed her. She was even going out with Morgan, yet her parents were fussing and making a big deal out of it. Sheesh! She was twenty one years old for crying out loud! She was perfectly capable of controlling her own love life! And what was worse, they were talking about her as if she wasn't literally standing right next to them!

Hers and her mother's bowl of rice and stew had long since been forgotten as the argument between her parents became more heated. She was beginning to get a headache from their pointless squabbling.

"How can you be so accepting of this, Janice?" Mr. Lyre growled, voice barely above a whisper, being mindful to control his growing anger. His wife was incredibly ill, and the stress of a prolonged dispute would only make it worse.

"Because this is our daughter's future we are discussing, Laurel," Janice responded, calmly. Her voice carried an air of pleasant tranquility. Enough to completely capture the attention of both her husband and her daughter, and feeling obligatory compelled to listen to what the ill, bedridden woman had to say. "I understand your worries and misgivings about this, honey. But haven't you noticed how happy Esme has been lately? It's been over a year since I've seen Esme that cheerful and carefree and smiling so brightly. It was right around the time she started visiting the clinic frequently. Now, I understand why." She smiled, knowingly at Esme before returning her attention back to her husband. "And if this man is the cause of her happiness, then, as her mother, nothing makes me more grateful than seeing my daughter."

She fisted her hands around her blanket, eyes now downcast. "All I wish is to see my daughter happy. We are all well aware that I don't have much longer to live." Tears of heartwrenching anguish and elated comfort started pricking at the corner of her eyes. They were both rendered stunned into silent stupor. The whole family was shaken to the core at the horrid realization of the gut punching, grim reality that awaits them. The fact that it was the matriarch of the house stating the despairing truth of what was to tragically come in the near future only caused them to dreadfully register that their family would soon be torn apart whether they liked it or not. It didn't matter if they were ready for it or consented to it, it was coming like a shadowy, cold, and unfeeling hand prepared to stone heartedly snatch away the family's last bit of happiness together at a moment's notice. "So, if I could be reassured by the fact that Esme would continue to be happy in the future with someone to take care of and look after… A man would treasure my precious girl with all his heart… Then…" She turned towards the both of them with an empathetically heartfelt, tearful smile plastered on her face. "...I would leave this world with no regrets."

Esme's and her father's hearts ached for her mother. At first, the former was quite shocked when her mom unveiled that she knew what she was doing. Why she was spending so much of her free time at the hospital. Sometimes sneaking off in secret to do so. She approached the older woman, closing the very short distance between her and the bed her mom preoccupied nearly almost everyday. The bed creaked a tiny bit as she carefully placed her knee on the mattress. The furniture shifted slightly underneath her weight. She leaned forward and tenderly wrapped her mother in a hug. She buried her head in her mother's neck and hair, wordlessly taking in her soothing, pleasant scent. The same aroma that had always been able to calm her down since she was a little girl.

When Mrs. Lyre felt tiny droplets of salty water hit the skin of her pale neck, she knew that her daughter was sobbing noiseless teardrops of distressing grief and woeful sorrow. She returned her daugher's hug, becoming upset with herself for making her cry and for tearing a hole in her heart.

Laurel witnessed the scene with disheartened eyes. He was severely aware how much his wife suffered and agonized over the fact that she couldn't be there for Esme in the most significant parts of her life. She couldn't be there for her only daughter like a proper mother should. She couldn't have the luxury of a normal mother daughter relationship that many other mothers had with their daughters. Every time she saw a mom smiling happily at her daughter and receiving a breathtaking smile in return as they returned from grocery shopping, a piece of her heart would break.

He always hated it. He despised his inability to help her. To quell her pain. He loathed the forlorn solemnity she would fall into whenever she was inadvertently reminded of her failures as a mother. Both he and their daughter had reassured her countless times that it was not her fault that she was labeled with a serious illness that was gradually getting worse by the year. Esme had to grow up fast, becoming strong, independent, and hard working at an early age. She considered herself worthless because she could not properly perform her duties as a mother and a wife.

At times, Janice offered them smiles of gratitude. Despite slowly dying from sickness, she never dwelled on it too much. She made a conscious effort to present herself as a cheerful and jovial woman, even if she had spent most of her days stuck in bed. She was willing to listen to their stories with eager anticipation and rapt attention. But she thought no one was looking or watching her, she would quietly drown herself in her melancholic gloom.

The way his wife expressed her desire, pleading for them to understand how much Esme possibly finding a man to make her happy means to her was almost like she was making a last request. And that was what he detested the most. The stomach churningly cruel and hopelessly cold reminder that he could lose his Janice any day now. He abhorred it to the very depths of his being. His uselessness and helplessness burned the inside of his stomach, twisting it into various tiny yet tight knots.

Laurel could not ignore the wishes of his dear wife. His orbs softened and his face relaxed a bit, although, there was still a bit of sternness that hasn't been totally erased from his facial features. He wasn't okay with the idea of his sweet daughter dating some…strange prick. He cared very deeply for Esme. That's why he was seriously worried and upset that this guy might be some creepy bastard who's only interest in his daughter was getting into her pants. He was a young man once. He was irritatingly aware of how young male adults think. Only three things constantly swirl in their minds… Parties, girls, and getting laid.

Laurel pinched the bridge of his nose. He was against this. He was severely against this so much. However, he could begrudgingly acknowledge when he was out voted. Two against one… Unfair odds… He reluctantly relented, if only to make Janice happy. She wanted his wife's last days on this earth to be filled with nothing but overwhelmingly blissful and ecstatically happy moments.

"This 'friend' of yours, Esme…," he started, his tone undeniably authoritative, firm, and controlled, catching the attention of his daughter. His expression was as serious and stern as it ever was, leaving no room for argument. "...We would like to meet him. Bring him over for dinner tomorrow night," he said. It wasn't a request. It was a demand. And Esme knew better than to vehemently refute or disagree, no matter how much she wanted to.

So, with a heavy heart, she complied. "Yes, dad."

She could only wishfully hope that… One, Morgan can behave himself in front of her parents. And two, he could stay here long enough to get acquainted with them in the first place.

"So? You want me to meet your parents?"

At Morgan's sheer disinterested inquiry, any lingering propitious optimism Esme may have had was completely dashed. Granted, she was not expecting her blond friend's reaction to be anything less than cool indifference. For as long as she's known him, he was never one to show enthusiasm towards things that don't interest him in the slightest, no matter what others thought. However, was it wrong for her to have miniscule shimmer of hope? Anything to ease her anxiety about Morgan meeting her parents? And he wasn't doing anything to alleviate her nervous apprehension, which was very aggravating. Can't he tell how fearfully agitated and restlessly high strung she was feeling right now at the prospect of him seeing her parents, and the eventual, inevitable disaster that would occur from the event?

She found herself mentally shaking her head at another why her mother's intuition was wrong about her liking this guy. How can she have a crush on someone as infuriating as this man? A dejected sigh escaped past her lips.

They were sitting at their usual spot. It was the hill overlooking the small town of Rismoro. The weather was actually pretty sunny and nice. It wasn't too hot, simply pleasantly warm with a cool breeze swaying in the wind. It gently rustled the leaves of the tree, generating a satisfyingly soothing sound. The scenery overlooking the town was beautifully fantastic. From this vantage point, a person had a clear view of most of Rismoro. It was even more magnificently picturesque whenever the sun rises in the morning or sets in the evening. That striking moment of observing the sun reappearing or disappearing over the horizon was truly a sight to behold. It was a reminder of how wonderfully aesthetic nature could be.

This was the same place Esme took Morgan a year ago when he was recuperating in the clinic. This area of the town had become a very significant location for them. It was a secretive and private place for them to meet up, and simply talk without the fear and annoyance of prying eyes and noisy ears. Whenever they wanted to discuss something important or to merely get away from the somewhat vibrant, snooping minds of the town to somewhere more secluded, they would always come to this spot. Rismoro was a small, countryside town, so it was no surprise that the townsfolk were eager for some gossip. But sometimes it could get pretty aggravating. That's why they always come to this place whenever they want to be alone together. Just the two of them.

This was Esme Lyre's and Morgan Crez's special place.

"Yes, unfortunately. My parents are really adamant about meeting you, and refuse to take 'no' as an answer," Esme finally answered, exasperated, hoping not to sound as desperate and distraught as she was feeling. "So, please, can you just do this one favor for me, Morgan?" she asked, her tone coming off as patient and polite as she could make it while simultaneously trying to convey to him how important this was to her. "I'll even make that creamy chicken and mushroom pasta you like so much for dinner," she added for good measure.

That seemed to have caught his attention. He kept his expression as neutral as possible to conceal how pleased he was on the inside. He doesn't want to give her the impression that he'd given in so easily. Truthfully, he would do anything for her, if she simply asked him with that captivating smile of hers. That stunningly beautiful smile he adored so much. Besides, he greatly enjoyed teasing her, and watching her squirm with fluster.

Although, Morgan didn't find the thought of meeting Esme's parents very appealing. He had nothing against them, per say. His general distaste for humanity hasn't completely vanished. Hell, the only human he tolerated and admittedly had some sort of fondness for was the blonde haired woman sitting next him on the grassy terrain. And, no, it wasn't anything deeper than that. Moreover, that sentiment didn't extend to other humans.

Normally, his response to the prospect of meeting new people, especially if they were humans, would be a spitefully quick and flinty cold 'no, not interested', his dark green eyes glaring with malice and hostility. Unfortunately, since it was Esme that was requesting this of him, he felt incredibly conflicted. He didn't want to get acquainted with people he had no interest nor desire to meet, yet he didn't want to upset and disappoint the blonde haired woman. That was worse! It'd make him feel like a heartless asshole! Which was both surprising and frustrating in of itself, but he had learned quite a while ago not to fight the baffling, indecipherable feelings he had for this…kind hearted and mystifying woman that caused his heart to oddly feel feathery light yet as heavy as a rock at the same time. It'll only result in losing battle with many headaches along the way.

That doesn't mean the blond haired mod soul couldn't playfully tease her enough by feigning disinterest to see what he can get out of this…favor of hers. Hey, just because he might've…kind of…grown a soft spot for her doesn't mean he wasn't above squeezing out something he could get out of the deal. For Esme, he was trying to be nice and considerate, however, that still didn't mean he does not have his jerkish moments. He… He can't have the blonde haired woman discovering the mysterious yet overwhelming power she held over him because he had grown attached to her. It kind of stabbed his pride to admit it, but it was the only way to prevent him from hopelessly falling under her hypnotic spell. Or else he might go crazy from simply being in the same vicinity as her for too long!

Of course, there were still…some secrets he kept from her. He flickered his dark green orbs towards her who was staring straight out in the horizon, leisurely viewing the blissfully peaceful scenery of the town before her while fidgeting with the bag of her mother's medication in her right hand. Her blonde brows were knitted together with anxious worry. It was not hard to see why. She was afraid he was going to reject her offer of meeting her parents, but kept silent because she didn't want to push him into it.

"Give me a minute to think about it," Morgan finally replied to her. Esme visibly remained silent, not finding an ounce of reassurance in his statement.

He took to lying down and watching the cloudy, blue sky, still pretending to contemplate on his answer. Which, partially, he was. Esme Lyre was the first human he ever trusted, and so far…she was still the only human he trusted. And…cared for…to…some extent. He had never felt this way for any other person like he had felt for Esme.

Nevertheless, despite how close he became with the blonde haired woman over the past year, there were some things he kept hidden from her. Some…very personal matters. It was not that he found her to be unreliable or anything. There were simply some…facts of life that were best left alone to remain concealed inside Pandora's box. He doesn't want to drag her into the darker layers of the world, and ruin whatever pure innocence she had.

Indeed. That was why he never revealed to her that he was a mod soul. An artificial soul created by the Soul Society. An otherworldly organization that governs the balance of souls between the living and the dead.

It was not that he was scared of what she would think of him, if the truth of his nature ever came out. Well, kind of…sort of… There was just…no significant purpose in telling her. He was not actively trying to keep this a secret from her. She was one of the few, rare people he doesn't want to hurt. Normally, he would treat another person, especially if they were human, with callous indifference or cold disdain. But not her. Never her.

It constantly amazes him how much he takes Esme feelings and wellbeing into consideration, carefully calculating and making sure his ruminations and actions avoided intentionally hurting her in some way. Even his mannerisms have taken a lighter, gentler tone to accommodate for the blonde haired woman's happiness. It's almost like the male mod soul was nearly incapable of conjuring anything that would make his only friend even remotely sad.

Morgan breathed via his nose, quietly. He lazily gazed at the flooding clouds, watching gently float by. He closed his eyes, enjoying the nice breeze of the cool, sunny weather.

Yeah… Esme doesn't know anything about the more frightful, dangerous, and supernatural aspects of the world. Besides being kept in the dark about not knowing the blond haired guy she's been hanging out with was an artificial soul created and destined for destruction by a spiritual organization, she doesn't know a single lick about ghosts, Hollows, and Soul Reapers. He had known her for a while now, and he can say with absolute certainty that the blonde haired woman possessed no spiritual energy whatsoever. She was simply an ordinary, normal, young human woman. In that case, there was no reason for her to get her involved with the paranormal world of ghosts and spirits. That would only lead to danger, or, worse, killed.

It was funny. In the past, he never gave a damn about anybody else. He lived following his own desires and wishes. He was an extremely self serving individual who didn't care how his words and actions affected others. All he cared about back then was the freedom to do whatever the hell he wanted, and banging beautiful women for his own sexual gratification. That was it. He even dreamed of living in luxury with his own harem of gorgeous ladies ready and waiting to fulfill his carnal needs at a moment's notice. Whatever happened to everybody else was not his problem to deal with.

Now, here he was being considerate of another person's safety and wellbeing. He was putting someone else's needs before his own. It pleasantly surprised him what enchanting ultramarine blue eyes and a bewitching smile could do to him, could captivate his heart so easily.

What was this country woman doing to him? What was Esme doing to him really?

The sound of feet shuffling across the grass reached his ears, but he didn't bother to shift or crack an eye open. There was no reason. He could sense Esme slowly approaching him before stopping near him. Her apprehension was radiating off her in waves as she, at last, settled down next to him. She fidgeted, nervously on . After a few moments, he no longer felt her gaze on him, and that's when he decided that he'd been teasing her for too long now.

"Fine. I'll go," Morgan conceded.

Esme instantly froze, staring at him in utter disbelief as her eyes blinked in bewilderment and her mouth was agape with stunned surprise. "What?" was all she could utter in a barely audible tone of voice.

He smirked at her nonplussed facial expression in sheer amusement. Upon noticing the blond mod soul's smugly impish look, Esme's face soured into a sullen, pouty mien.

"Were you poking fun at me?" She questioned, ultramarine blue eyes narrowing into annoyed slits. His silence along with a few mirthful chuckles that managed to escape past his lips was enough of a confirmation. "You jerk!"

He cracked a dark green orb open, and viewed her as she turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest, and stuck her nose in the air. It was an obvious sign that she was sulking. She did not take kindly to Morgan's teasing.

The blond haired man couldn't help but to snicker at her displeasure. It was not out of any malicious or spiteful intent. It was playful and lighthearted. She really was cute when she was mad. It truly was fun teasing her!

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, half heartedly with that mirthful, smug look plastered at his face. He stretched his body out and sat up, shifting a bit until he was facing her. Well, facing her body, at least, as she refused to grace him with her attention. Her head was stubbornly turned away from him.

"You know, if it were anyone else, I would immediately say 'no'," he stated, mouth forming into a serious frown. "But since you are offering to make chicken pasta, I guess I'll go and meet your parents for dinner tonight," he yielded, humorously. "It'd be good compensation in exchange for this favor of yours."

She whipped her head around so fast, Morgan nearly grimaced and wondered how her neck didn't snap at that rapid movement. "Really?!" Her ultramarine blue eyes glowed with apprehensive excitement and staggering hopefulness. "You're really coming to dinner tonight, Morgan?!"

The male mod soul inwardly chuckled at her. Although, she kept it suppressed, she was acting similarly to a child being told they were getting that particular toy they were waiting forever for as their birthday present.

"Only if you keep your promise to make that chicken, mushroom pasta for dinner tonight," he replied. "And don't expect me to stay for long. I'm allowed to leave whenever I want. Those are my conditions in return for meeting your parents."

Esme beamed, brightly. She never expected anything less. The fact that he was willing to meet her parents was more than enough. "Yes! Yes! Of course!" she hurriedly agreed out of sheer happiness. Her joyful delight and cheerful felicity was contagious, and he concealed the smile that was threatening to grace his lips away from her.

Ah! This was why… This was why he always came back. Esme's smile. He was constantly reminded of how pure and radiant her smiles were whenever she flashed it specifically in his direction. They shined brighter than the sun. She shined brighter than the sun. She was the brilliant light that continuously illuminated the neverending hateful, distrustful darkness inside his heart. Oftentimes, he felt like his antipathy toward humanity and the Soul Reapers who forced him into this accursed existence would never go away. But…being around Esme… He felt as if he could momentarily forget his anger and enmity, and simply bask in the calming presence she had over him.

She truly was…one of a kind.

Esme stirred the pot containing the sauce, restlessly. She was so incredibly nervous and anxious about dinner tonight. The nerves in her body wouldn't stop jittering from trembling trepidation.

Morgan was coming over to meet her parents, Laurel and Janice Lyre, tonight. How could she not be filled with uneasy disquietude?

Her dad was attending to her mom in her room down the hall, making sure she was healthy enough to eat with them tonight when they had a visitor coming over. She dearly hoped her parents wouldn't do or say anything to embarrass her in front of Morgan. She truly did love her parents, but… Her mom was a bit…quirky when she wasn't being consumed by her illness, and her dad could be quite…stubborn and hardheaded at times.

That's not to say her male blond haired friend was not without his faults either. There was no denying that the guy was a total jerk and a womanizer, if their first interactions at the small hospital were any indication. She could only pray that he'd be less…jerkish during dinner, and has enough self control to behave himself when in the presence of her parents.

Oh! She harbored agitatedly dreadful musings at the prospect of this dinner ending in a huge disaster. She was beyond grateful Morgan accepted her dinner invitation. She merely felt overwhelmed by her anxiety, and it wasn't even time for dinner yet. She sincerely hoped that her parents' and Morgan's personalities are compatible enough for them to get along. However, there was no doubt that once her father discovered that the blond haired was a shameless skirt chaser, he'd throw him out faster than a lightning striking a tree and setting it ablaze, and would forbid her from ever associating herself with him again.

Sigh, such a possibility was giving her a headache and leaving her heart in distress. She needed to seriously calm down, but she couldn't help it. There were many ways this dinner could go wrong. Every potential outcome that could probably happen, which her frantic mind conjured up was worse than the next. The only thing she could do now was make tonight's night time meal the most mouth wateringly delicious repast she has ever made.

When the alfredo sauce was started to boil, Esme lowered the heat. She had some chopped chicken breasts cooking in a smaller pot next to the sauce. Seeing that the chicken was nearly cooked, she placed the ladle down. She turned off the fire under the pot containing the chicken, and picked up the tiny spatula. Grabbing the smaller pot and holding it up, she used the spatula to lightly scoop up the chopped chicken breasts, and gently slid it into the alfredo sauce. Once that was done, the blonde haired woman placed the pot and spatula in the sink. She twisted the knob for the faucet, and let the cool, running tap water fill up the pot. The moment the pot filled up enough, she turned the tap off. She washed them later along with the pots and utensils.

Anxiously contemplating tonight's dinner was not doing her any favors. At least, cooking was helping her take her mind off it. If only…for a little while. She can't have her hands shaking out of nervousness while preparing supper. She didn't want to pile on more problems than what she was dealing with right now. She didn't want to add any unnecessary worry onto her already unnerving plate of nerve wracking disquietude.

After slowly stirring the chopped chicken in the sauce until it was mixed in nicely with the appetizingly sweet, creamy white alfredo sauce, Esme steadily added some chopped mushrooms and into the sauce. The food was coming along satisfactorily. It was soon almost time she added the cooked pasta into the mixture.

The nearer dinnertime it came, the more her uneasy apprehension returned, and it was even worse than before. The inevitable meeting between Morgan and her parents was closing in. She wished she could delay it or avoid it altogether. But, at last, she was fearfully aware that, at this point, it was hopelessly too late. She doesn't know how exactly this evening meal meeting would turn out, and that was the scariest thing of all!

The blonde haired woman had finished preparing the food. The dinner was rather simple. Creamy mushroom and chicken pasta as Morgan requested with some salad and loaves of bread on the side. She was quite proud of herself, however, that pride was not enough to stamp out the miserable discomfort she was feeling right now. Not nearly enough. Her entire being felt like it was being crushed under a crashing wave of anxiety inducing trepidation. Now that she was done with fixing the meal they were going to partake in tonight, her nerves were going haywire.

She doesn't know nor understand why she was being like this. It was not like she never had any friends come over to her house before. Granted, that was a time before her mother became sick with a terminal illness, and before most of her friends moved away from this country town to explore the big, fancy cities to reach 'bigger and better heights' as they excitedly claimed. So, why was she feeling this apprehensively nervous about Morgan coming to visit? It was simply another coming to stay at her house for supper, and meet her parents for the first time. So…? Why was it different with him?

Esme began setting up the table. Instead of the usual two person setup, she set up four for her mom and her male, blond haired friend. The unnervingly agitated butterflies were frantically swarming around in her stomach. Every second that passed by was mockingly and paralyzingly torturous to her. It was disarming how this upcoming dinner meeting was making her emotions all disoriented. Her nerves have become uncomfortably jittery with an unsettling fear. Her stomach was clenched, tightly, churning with petrifying distress.

"Please, let tonight's dinner turn out okay," Esme prayed, softly, to no one in particular.

After the blonde haired woman finished setting the table, the only thing to do was check up on her mother and father to see if they were ready yet, and wait for Morgan to arrive. She told him to be here for supper by seven thirty. It was already past seven, so he should be arriving soon. The moment of truth was soon approaching.

The blonde haired woman figured now that dinner, she might as well check up on her parents since she can't stand around doing nothing. She walked down the hall, and turned to face the closed second door on the left. She carefully knocked on it a few times, quietly and patiently waiting for a response.

After a few moments, she finally got a response.

"Is that you, Esme?" her mother's gentle voice rang through the door, which was over toned by the raspy lilt caused by her illness. "Oh? Is your guest here now?"

Esme frowned in worry, blonde eyebrows furrowed in concern. She could easily detect how much her mother was forcing herself. By the worrisome sound of it, it was taking all her mom's energy and willpower just to be up and ready for dinner with her, dad, and Morgan. She was already incredibly weak from the sickness to the point that she spends a third of the day sleeping. The blonde haired woman sometimes feared that her mother would close her eyes and never open them again one day, having died in her slumber because her heart decided to give up and cease all function.

She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. Her mother shouldn't be pushing herself so much for her sake. If she wanted to meet Morgan Crez, the guy she had become friends with for the past year and had been hanging out with on and off, that was fine. But she didn't need to get out of bed to do it. She should be resting and taking it easy. Any activity that was too strenuous for her could cause her condition to worsen. She could simply bring Morgan to meet her while she's in bed after dinner. There was no reason for her to force herself this much to have supper with them.

"No, there is still some time before he arrives," she eventually answered her mom's question.

"Oh," Janice responded. She seemed to have been abruptly cut off from saying anything else when fits of harsh coughing erupted from her mouth.

When she heard her mother hacking up a storm, she wasted no time in forcefully prying the door open and dashing to her collapsed side, tightly holding onto the bed frame to keep herself from falling onto the blue carpeted floor. This scene only raised the younger woman's concerns.

"Mom, please don't force yourself," she implored, helping Janice to her feet and steadying her. "You know that you can just stay in bed and rest, mom. I'll bring Morgan to meet you after dinner," she suggested, hoping that her mother would take the hint and just stay in bed.

"No, I'm…okay, Esme," Janice reassured her, sending her daughter a small smile while finally steadying herself without any help. "I can't greet your friend while in bed. It'll be quite rude."

Another eruption coughs… this time more softer and less unpleasantly rough than last time… interrupted her again. Her daughter's face once again twisted in concern. She reached out to help her, but was stopped when the older woman held her hand out and shook her head.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Really. In fact, it may not look like it, but I'm actually feeling quite a bit better than yesterday."

That did a poor job in alleviating her nerve wracking troubles. Her words were meant to soothe her apprehensions about having her sickly mother joining them for tonight's dinner, however, it only managed to have the opposite effect. Her doubts about supper with Morgan were increasing, and her and her anxiety was growing.

Janice took notice of the worrisome expression on her daughter's countenance, and her facial features softened. "Esme…," she started. Her gentle, calming voice was meant to placate the young haired woman's worries and concerns.

The older woman silently took a seat on the bed. She patted the spot on the bed, kindly gesturing for her daughter to sit down next to her. Tentatively, Esme complied with her mother's wordless request. She greatly understood how uncomfortable her daughter was about overexerting herself. Her husband voiced his own concerns hours ago. They had every right to be worried.

Janice was not delusional. She was hopeful for the future, but not delusional. Her body was getting weaker and weaker by the day. One of the reasons she felt slightly better than yesterday after their…discussion about Esme's mysterious male friend was because she spent the rest of the day sleeping to regain some of her energy. Key word… Slightly.

However, somehow, she was morbidly aware she was going to die very, very soon. Something… a subconscious… buried deep, deep inside her chest was telling her, warning her that these next few weeks or so would be her last. These were going to be her final precious moments, and she should make them count. If not for her sake, then for her loving husband and her sweet daughter. It was a frightening instinct that screamed within every fiber of her sickly being. She wondered if all creatures had this subconscious intuition of instinctively knowing when their time on this earth would be up?

Janice gently wrapped her hand around Esme's, holding it, tenderly. "Listen, sweetie, I know what you want to say. And, to tell you the truth, I'd be lying if I said I'm feeling rather well today. But I honestly do feel better than I did yesterday. It's not much, but I do feel better."

The blonde haired woman opened her mouth to try to convince her mom once again to stay in bed during dinner, but she was cut off by the solemn shake of her mother's head.

The older woman smiled, however, it was filled with bittersweet resignation. She gently wrapped a weak arm around her daughter, and pulled her into a soft hug. "I know I'm being selfish with this request, and thus causing you and your father undue worry and stress, Esme. But I really want this, sweetie. When was the last time we've been able to eat dinner together as a family? I can't even remember it. It feels like it's been ages ago," Janice reminisced, her voice drifting off with melancholic sadness.

Esme's mouth snapped shut as her ultramarine blue eyes became downcast. Her mother was right. When was the last time they all ate together as a family? Ever since her mom's sickness had gotten progressively worse, they never seemed to eat with each other. Her mom would be stuck in bed, and sometimes it'd just be her and her father at the dining table. Other times, and this was what happened most frequently, her dad would eat dinner with her mom in her room, and the younger woman would end up eating alone. This is why, most of the time, when she cooks, she doesn't bother setting up the dining table for three. She would simply her father's and mother's portions wrapped up on the kitchen counter for them to take and eat whenever.

"Forgive me for putting you on the spot about your new boyfriend, Esme."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Esme protested, her cheeks tinted a slightly pink color out of embarrassment and frustration at the exasperation of her mother still believing that her and Morgan were secretly an item.

"When I discovered you were taking care of a man at the clinic, you can say I got a little…impatient with wanting to meet him," the older woman avowed, a pleasant smile plastered on her face.

The younger woman wanted to correct her mother for the twentieth time that she and Morgan were not dating! However, she paused, nearly stunned speechless when she witnessed the joyfully exuberant expression on her mom's sickly countenance. When was the last time she has seen her mom this happy? She was practically glowing with elated felicity. The blonde haired woman didn't have the stomach to rip the older woman's heart away by being a downer.

Esme closed her eyes, taking a deep, quiet breath to calm herself. All this time, she was thinking only of herself. She's been uneasy and apprehensive about the different possible disasters that could befell tonight's dinner. She had nearly forgotten how much this evening's supper truly meant to her mother. It wasn't mere whim, or a simple wish to meet Morgan and have him over to eat dinner with the family. It was a longing prayer of having to finally see one last dream being fulfilled. Her mother's desire was not just a joke or playful teasing. She truly and sincerely wanted to get to know the man she believes she might have to entrust her daughter to.

The blonde haired woman didn't know what to say. What could she say? Her heart was beating with a mixture of radiant happiness and disheartening sadness inside her chest. The dark, cold realization that her mom does not have much longer to live, and that she was very self aware of this cruel fact caused Esme's chest to painfully tighten in distressing agony. She squashed that grief stricken anguish feeling that was threatening to swallow her whole.

She tried not to dwell too long on the dark cloud of depression brutally trying to overwhelm her. Her mother's eventual death was approaching. No matter how much she desperately wanted to stay in denial about it and ignore it, hoping the harsh problem would go away, it was an inevitable actuality she couldn't escape from. She opened her ultramarine blue orbs, and glanced down at her lap.

Suddenly, she was very conscious of her mom's arm draped over her shoulder. She had shunned out the unbearably cold and deadly sensation of helplessly drowning underneath crashing torrents of heartrendingly hopelessness last night. She was fully intent on focusing solely on making this 'meet the parents' dinner meeting with the blond haired mod soul she befriended over a year ago a success.

Her hands clenched over the hem of her pink skirt, tightly. Now, it felt like she was once again submerged in that neverending sea of soul crushing grief and despair. The simple thought of one day never being able to hug her mom like this absolutely terrified Esme! The warmth of her mother's presence would be replaced with the cold feeling of death. The horrifying image of her mother's arm that was wrapped around her shoulder suddenly becoming limp and unmoving her.

She tried not to think too much about it. Now wasn't the time. She had to ignore the painful cracks in her heart, and concentrate solely on tonight's dinner. Morgan would be here any minute now.

The keyword was…tried. Hint, hint. She was not very successful.

No matter how hard she willed herself to focus on Morgan finally being introduced to her parents tonight, she could not stop her lips from quivering ever so slightly. A small fissure had already formed in the dam, letting trinkles of dolorous dejection burst through her fragile heart. Her fists tightened her around her skirt so much, her knuckles began turning white. Even now, the tendrils of brokenhearted affliction were threatening to crush her heart into smithereens.

She doesn't want her mother to die! But what can she possibly do to save her? They don't have the money to support long term medical care. All they could do was buy over the counter medicines to suppress the symptoms. She was learning alchemy, but…at the pace she was going to carefully and meticulously study it…there's no way she'll be able to do anything meaningful with it in time to save her mother. She wasn't a natural born genius.

Esme genuinely wondered what was worse? Having someone a person loves die unexpectedly? Or being forced to agonizingly watch as they slowly grew weaker and weaker, gradually and torturously withering away day by day until they drew their last breath? Some people would probably tell her that death was just a natural cycle of life, and to be grateful for the time she spent with her mother while she raised her. That she should cherish all the happy memories she had with her. She could angrily and upsettingly imagine them sympathetically imparting to her something stupidly philosophical about how everyone's time on earth eventually and inevitably comes to end, and her mom's time, unfortunately, happens to be in the very, very near future.

"Esme? Esme?! What's wrong, sweetheart? Why are you crying?"

Janice's concerning question caught the younger, blonde haired woman by surprise. She lightly touched her right cheek with her fingers to find that it was wet. Her mother was right. Unbeknownst to her, she had been crying, despite willing herself not to. With the confirmation that she had unexpectedly shedded a few tears, something inside Esme broke, and any remaining self restraint she had on her heart wrenching tormented emotions completely vanished.

She clung onto her mother, tightly, but not too tight to cause the older woman's frail body any discomfort. It was almost as if she was a little girl again, desperately seeking solace from her mom because of a horrific, terrible nightmare. But… But this wasn't a nightmare. It was real. So undoubtedly and frighteningly real. It's so unfair! It's so incredibly unfair! After all, hasn't her family suffered enough? Why must they endure more heartrendingly pain and harrowing torment? Why couldn't her mother's disease befall someone else who was more financially well off than they were? She knew she was being irrationally selfish and unreasonably petty right now. It was no one's fault that her mom was afflicted with a terminal illness. It was merely an…an…unfortunate turn of events. A cruel, unforgivable twist of fate.

Yet… Yet… Yet… Why? Why them?

There were plenty of people out there who would've had a better chance at saving their loved one more than they did anyway. Or evil and wicked people out there who were more deserving of this tragedy as a sort of karma.

So…? Why them?!

They never did anything wrong!

Why them?!

It was so unfair!

Janice let out a surprised noise when her daughter wrapped her arms around her, her head buried into her right shoulder. At her trembling form, she became even more wrought with worry. When a quiet and sob filled 'Mom!' escaped past Esme's lips, the older expression softened. At that instant, she'd become acutely aware of what her daughter's tears of doleful heartache was for.

She opted to merely rub the younger woman's back in soothing circles, ignoring the distressingly dispirited ache in her own heart. She knew that any words of comfort would be useless right now, and would be filled with nothing but beautiful lies and hopeful dreams. She was slowly dying, and was predestined to leave her husband and only daughter behind. That was the cold, hard, inescapable truth.

That was why…!

That was why she was determined to meet this 'Morgan Crez' guy, at least, once, no matter how weak, sickly, and frail her body was! She had to make sure that she would be safe and taken care of while she was permanently gone from this world. She had to know if her daughter would be able to find happiness in the future, despite this tragedy plaguing her, plaguing them now. There's nothing more a mother's wishes for than their child's happiness.

This dinner was very important. For the sake of Esme and her future, she had to make sure she could entrust her daughter in this man's hands! She may not know it, but her daughter was deeply infatuated with this mysterious 'Morgan' guy. She may have not noticed, but the older woman has never seen her daughter glow so brightly in a long time. Her husband had once voiced his curiosity about how their daughter was spending more time than usual outside. It wasn't that Esme going outside most of her time was not normal, nor was Laurel against it. It was no secret to them that their daughter was studying alchemy, and why she suddenly took an interest in science. Her eyes burned with desire for the art, an underlying hint of desperation behind grim determination for the knowledge of what the subject could offer her in their bleak situation.

Now, Esme always seemed…eager to go outside, giddy with excitement. It was subtle, but it was there. It was over a year ago that something about her daughter began to mutedly change. She might not have noticed it herself, but her eyes had a…certain sparkle in them. There was an elated gleam that twinkled in them whenever she came back home late in the evening. The very few, rare days her body was well enough to move herself around in a wheelchair without any help or overexerting herself, Janice would curiously find her daughter cooking extra portions of food while softly humming a blissful tone to herself.

The older woman had a striking suspicion of what was going on with her daughter. She remembered how it took her a while to realize she was in love with Laurel. There was never an explosion of passion or exuberant fire of intense infatuation, nor any swarm of sparkling bubbles or floating hearts like most romanticized romance novels make people believe. At first, she simply enjoyed being in his company, and the comfort it provided her. She did not know when she fell in love with Laurel, or for how long she'd been in love with him before she was made painfully aware of her feelings.

It wasn't until someone pointed out how differently she acted around her then friend, now husband, much to her confusion and chagrin, that she began to seriously evaluate the elusively low key yet significantly undeniable change in her feelings. She wondered if Esme was the same? Oblivious to her own attraction towards her male friend? Like mother, like daughter, she supposed.

Falling in love was nothing like how romance books or idealized fairytale stories described it. Sometimes people don't realize they are in love until it quite literally, figuratively, or metaphorically smacks them in the face.

Janice would let out a light giggle of amusement, if the scene right now wasn't so…excruciatingly heartrending.

A mother's final wish of seeing if her child would have a happy future was coming to fruition.

A daughter who came to agonizingly heartbreaking cognizance that her mother does not have much time left in the world of the living.

Mother and daughter deeply prayed that this upcoming dinner would be the most memorable they ever had!

It was about a quarter of an hour later when a series of loud knocks resounded.

"Looks like your friend is finally here," Janice announced, smiling at her young daughter.

They were both ready to greet Morgan, and invite him inside for dinner. Esme had taken the time early to thoroughly wash her face, so that it would never look like she'd been crying in the first place. She wanted her countenance to be cleared of every tear stain, or any distinct indication that she had been sobbing for that matter. She did not want her father or Morgan to discern the dried tears or slightly red, puffy eyes. Otherwise, they'd most definitely question why she had been weeping, which would dampen the mood of the dinner to a somber note.

"We better go greet our guest before your father starts interrogating him," Mrs. Lyre motioned towards the door, shaking her head in exasperated amusement at the image of her abrasively stern, yet genuinely well meaning husband cross examining their daughter's secret male friend. She urged Esme, who was mildly giggling behind her hand, to follow her out of the room.

The scene that greeted them wasn't really surprising to either of the Lyre women. Both men were already seated at the dining table. Laurel was gazing at Morgan, who was sitting across from him, with a flinty austere expression. Morgan had a very serious look on his own face.

"How long have you known my daughter?" Mr. Lyre asked the blond haired man.

"For over a year," the younger looking man answered without missing a beat.

"How did you meet Esme?"

And the intense inquisition had begun…

Esme's face immediately flushed in abject embarrassment. "Dad!" She instantly dashed across to the hall as if she was racing to stop a timed bomb from exploding, leaving her amused mother behind.

The blonde haired woman slammed her left hand on the table. Not hard enough to cause the table to shake, but loud enough to draw both men's attention towards her. She offered her father an indignant glare. "Stop it, dad! You're making him uncomfortable!"

Her father huffed, leaning back in his chair, and crossing his arms. "We were just having a little talk, Esme. Man to man," the patriarch of the house replied, easily, although there was an undertone of displeasure that was directed at the young man across from him.

The youngest woman in the house resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah, right." She took the seat next to Morgan, causing her father's mouth to set into a hard line.

"Esme's right, dear. You promised you'll behave tonight," Esme's mom lightly scolded her husband, taking a seat next to him.

She took a moment to eye their guest. He was a young, pretty handsome, blond haired man with striking, dark green eyes, and had somewhat of a lean build. He wasn't too scrawny, but he wasn't overly muscular either. If she was basing him on looks alone, she would say that her daughter had scored quite the catch. However, she was not interested in appearances. That's a backburner. Like her sweet husband, she wanted to gauge this guy's personality. See if he's the right fit for Esme, and would sincerely treat her kindly.

Although, by the way he was dressed, casual green t shirt and black jeans, he doesn't appear to be someone from the countryside. He was a city boy then? Perhaps from Central or East City? She had to wonder though, what possessed him to come way out here in Rismoro in the first place?

"Sorry about that," Esme whispered to Morgan, her voice low enough, so her parents won't hear. "I hope my dad didn't do anything to make you uncomfortable."

The blond haired mod soul gave a half shrug. "Not really," Morgan replied back just as quietly. "Frankly, he kind of reminds me of you." He couldn't help it when he saw the conflicted and skeptical look on her face, and shot her a thinly concealed, teasing smirk. She wasn't sure whether to take his comment as good or bad, but was leaning more towards the latter. "Stubborn, intrusive, and completely clueless."

Esme's face twisted, obviously nettled by his chaffing remark, and she glowered at him, angrily. She wordlessly, and without drawing attention to her parents, kicked his ankle under the table. That only caused his irritatingly smug smirk to grow a couple of millimeters wider, and her to become more piqued in return.

Now that everyone settled, comfortably around the table, it was officially time to get dinner started. Morgan wasted no time in scooping up some of the pasta he requested for himself, and placing it on his plate along with some of the salad and a piece of bread. Gingerly, he took a few strands of the creamy chicken and mushroom pasta, and popped it in his mouth, silently humming in pure delight.

"Your name is Morgan, correct?"

Dark green orbs glanced over at the woman who had addressed him. Her voice was gentle and smooth, reminiscent of a white feather dancing in the wind. She was admittedly a very pretty woman, however, he instantly noted that her skin was slightly paler than a normal human skin should be. It was also quite sickly looking as well. It was at that brief moment that he remembered that Esme had dejectedly informed him that her mother was sick.

He snapped out of musings when he realized that Esme's mother had asked him a question. Feigning a polite smile, so unlike his usual haughty, flirty self, he answered her. "Yes. My name is Morgan Crez."

The woman smiled. It was obvious that his display of a well behaved gentleman pleased her. Well, he has learned to be quite a charming, polite, smooth talker. How else was he able to woo women into bed with him? Plus, he's getting free food, and was greatly enjoying Esme's appetizing cooking. Being extra civil and respectful to her family is the very least he could do.

"Where do you come from, young man?" Esme's father asked him, his narrowed into a stern, scrutinizing gaze. Out of everyone in the Lyre family, the blond haired mod soul could already pick up that the patriarch of the household was the least fond of him. Not that he expected anything else. The men close to some of the women he has flirted with in the past have also regarded him with slight hostility and wariness. "You don't look like someone who grew up in the countryside."

"I travel a lot, but I grew up in New Glacier," he answered, smoothly. He took a small bite of his slice of bread. It was one of the few questions he always gets asked the most frequently. Therefore, he had an automatic response to it.

New Glacier was a city south of North City. It was the city he settled in the most when he came to this world. It snowed nearly all year long. It wasn't that surprising. The northern side of Amestris had always been endlessly and restlessly cold. The complete opposite of the oppressive heat of the southern side of the country.

It was a city blanketed by a heavy, white sheet of frigid coldness as with the rest of the north region of the country. Residents had to adorn thick layers and layers of clothes just to keep themselves warm. He had spent most of his earlier days adjusting to the unknown land he ended up in.

He was lost, confused, and angry. His heart was filled with an immense bitterness and hatred at the people who had issued his execution, even though they created him in the first place. However, as wrathfully embittered he may be, he knew better than to go on homicidal rampage in a foreign land he mysteriously found himself up in.

He was spitefully enraged, his heart filled with hatred and resentment. But he wasn't stupid.

Over the course of a couple of years, he came to learn of the land he ended up in, and its language. It was not quite an easy road to acquire the skill to speak and write the language. He could not count nor does he care to recall the amount of people who had looked at him with either mocking amusement or extreme caution because he was a foreigner. A few police officers even attempted to arrest him for being an illegal immigrant. Evidently, they were nuisances he had no problem getting rid of.

A female receptionist he had been acquainted with at the inn he regularly stayed in at the time had helped him out. The woman had developed feelings for him, and obviously he had taken advantage of her affections for him. She was also the first woman he bedded in this world.

"New Glacier?" Janice inquired, intrigued after finishing some salad, snapping Morgan out of his musings of the past. "Isn't that where the beautiful and famous Graupel Tower is located?" Her eyes sparkled with controlled, giddy excitement. "It's one of the must see sightseeing spots in all of Amestris!"

"Oh," the blond haired mod soul grinned, politely. The matriarch of the Lyre house seemed more pleasantly welcoming of him. She seemed much easier to talk to than her husband, and, because of that, patently susceptible to his natural charms. "I have seen it once…with a friend." He was mindful not to blurt out the word 'ex girlfriend' or 'ex lover'. Who knows how Esme's father would react to his promiscuous history with women.

His first girlfriend had taken him on a date on top of the Graupel Tower a long time ago. He honestly held no interest in the Tower's 'significance'. Nonetheless, he won't deny that nightly overhead view of the city from on top of the Tower was a truly breathtakingly gorgeous site. It was also where he had his first kiss. Esme's father does not seem to be the type to take the fact that he's an experienced lover well. He might blow a gasket, thinking he's a flirtatious player. Gotta play it safe. For Esme's sake, if nothing else.

Honestly, he couldn't care less what the middle aged man thought of him. But this was for the youngest member of the Lyre, so he'd play nice and play it safe. The last thing the blond haired male wanted was to upset her. Plus, and this was more out of her benefit than his, he would quite like to keep this friendship going between them. She's the only person in the world so far that he could…tolerate.

"So, Morgan, I hope my daughter has been treating you well," the oldest woman said with a playful smile.

"Mom…!" Esme exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with sheer embarrassment.

Mrs. Lyre beamed, teasingly at her daughter. Esme shot her mother a nettledly displeased glare. The woman only laughed off her daughter's fierce stare.

Morgan grinned at the woman in an endearing fashion that's supposed to cause her to take a shine to him. "Esme has been a great help to me. Believe me. I know how relentlessly stubborn and annoyingly unwavering she can be sometimes, especially when she has her mind set on something," he replied, honestly. He held back an amused smirk when the young, blonde haired woman shot him a vexed glower. "However, it's that same stubbornness and persistent kindness that saved my life once actually. It confused me at first. Baffled me even. Why would someone be so nice to a person they never met before? Showing thoughtful care and benignant concern to a complete stranger… It's unheard of!" He smiled, fondly at the memory. "Her kindness has become something I greatly admired. I never meant a woman as magnificently wonderful as her. To someone like me, meeting her was a true miracle. A radiant blessing in disguise. Esme has become someone…very dear to me."

He gave her parents a boyish, charming smile. He did not notice the embarrassed and self consciously flustered reddened cheeks of the person sitting next to him. The woman's ultramarine blue orbs stared at him with awestruck wonder and bashful elation. What he had just said… His compliments and praises…caused her heart to skip a beat or two.

"I always wondered where Esme's kindness came from, and now I see why. If she'd grown up in a warm, loving family like this, then I could fully understand how she became such a kind, caring, lovely, and beautiful woman she is today," the blond haired man proclaimed, smoothly.

The older woman smiled, pleasantly happy that someone, a man, held her daughter in such high regard. She could now officially say that she approved of this blond haired man. The way Morgan threw a side eyed glance at her daughter full of intense admiration, and spoke about her with such loving sincerity. The shy, affectionate looks Esme sent him when she assumed no one was watching did not go unnoticed from her sharp eyes.

Janice giggled, softly behind her hand. It was easy to tell. Her daughter likes him, and he likes her, too. However, they haven't gotten around to admitting their feelings to themselves or each other.

She took a quick glimpse at her husband to observe his expression. He was as stern as ever, but his facial features seemed to have softened a bit. Even he seemed quite pleased with Morgan's heartwarming commendations about their daughter. Needless to say, Laurel warmed up to him a tiny bit.

"Esme has always been a kind and honest hard worker," Janice declared, blissfully happy. "Ever since she was little, Esme has never been the type to sit idly by while someone's in trouble. She's selfless to a fault like that. Although, her obstinate and stubborn nature tends to get her into more trouble than we can count. There was a time she tried to protect a classmate from some older male bullies. Of course, the teachers were thankfully able to put a stop to it before it escalated into a fight. I tell you, the whole incident caused me a great deal of exasperated worry. You can imagine that thoughts like 'Oh, dear. What am I going to do with this child? She's too headstrong.' were running through my head," the older Lyre woman laughed, lightheartedly.

"Mom! He doesn't need to hear that!" the blonde haired woman protested, feeling incredibly discomfited, gazing at her mother with flustered dismay.

"With the many going lately in Amestris, truthfully, we were worried about her daughter's future," Janice continued. However, this time, her voice took a more low spirited tone. "As you are aware, Esme wants to learn alchemy. We have no problems with her learning the trade. It's just…"

"...We don't want her to become a State Alchemist," Laurel finished for his downcast wife, a deep scowl on his facial features. "The damn military would snatch away anyone who knows alchemy. At first, with promises of money, glory, and prestige. But, if you refuse, we heard rumors that they resort to more…unsavory methods like blackmail and stuff to force someone they think is talented to join." His fists clenched around his fork in anger. "We don't want our daughter to be forced to do something that would make her unhappy."

"We have no problem if Esme chooses to join the military. We simply worry that people would take advantage of Esme's good nature, and force her to do things she doesn't want to do. As her parents, we just want her to be happy. She's our pride and joy!" Mrs. Lyre expressed with a lone, melancholically bittersweet tear sliding down her face.

"I won't let that happen," the blond mod soul declared, fiercely, dark green eyes ablaze with determination and conviction. He was not promising her parents, but was rather promising himself. He rarely cared for others, and he still doesn't. But Esme was the exception. For a moment, a brief image of him losing the young, blonde haired woman flashed before his eyes, and…he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. It caused his blood with incensed anger with the mere thought of anyone threatening Esme. If they want her, then they would have to get through him first!

"Morgan…," Esme muttered, elatedly, exuberant fireworks rippled through each and every nerve in her chest, hands and fingertips.

Janice gazed at him in sheer, tearful delight at his strong assurance to protect their one and only daughter. Her heart was nearly bursting with happiness. Now, she knows that once she leaves there would be someone to take care of Esme.

She smiled, gaily content. "Ever since my daughter met you, she's been radiant with happiness. There was this joyfully ecstatic sparkle gleaming off of her that was never there before. Now, I see why." She politely bowed. "Thank you for taking care of our daughter, and please…continue looking after her," she spoke in a relieved tone that indicated said person was finally entrusting something they held precious in another person's hands. It almost sounded like a last request from a dying person.

"Mom…," Esme whispered, harrowingly despondent.

Morgan, for his part, could only stare at the older woman, sheepishly. He could only awkwardly scratch the side of his face with his forefinger. Hiding the slightly pink blush on his face behind his bangs, he casually took another bite of his pasta. He was not used to being relied upon like this. Not used to people being artlessly open with him, and welcoming him with tender warmth. He only received the latter from women he wooed. An unknown feeling of gratified pride shimmered up inside him. He promptly stayed quiet because he could not trust his voice right now.

Janice merely giggled, silently at his lack of response. Oh, despite how he looks, there were things he was diffidently abashed about. Her daughter did really pick a cute fellow.

With no more words being exchanged, dinner continued on in a pleasantly comfortable silence.

Morgan and Esme stood outside in front of the house. Dinner was over several minutes ago, and her father had taken her sickly mother to bed over half an hour ago once her condition began to worsen. The air was nice and cool, and the sky was darkened with only stars and crescent moon illuminating the shadows.

"Thank you for having dinner with us." Esme's gentle and tender voice broke the silence. "You made my mom really happy."

He shrugged, nonchalantly, acting as coolly insouciant usual. "You promised there would be creamy chicken and mushroom pasta. That's why I came," he airly answered her, leaning against the porch railing.

She simply giggled, not finding any offense in his flippant response. "Yeah, I know. But, regardless of the reason, thanks for coming over."

She spun around, lightly on her heels to face him. "Are you going to be coming back, Morgan?" she asked him, looking at him through her bangs, and inwardly chewing on her inner bottom lip. Her fidgety hands wrung together, restlessly. She was clearly apprehensively nervous about something.

He briefly glazed at her before staring back ahead at the starry, night sky. "Of course I am. Don't ask such a stupid question."

The young woman let out a tiny breath of relief, immensely satisfied with his answer.

"Besides, if I left you alone now, I would be troubled."

Confused by his statement, Esme could only let out a dumbfounded, "Huh?"

He faced her fully this time. His expression was completely serious. All pretenses of sly playfulness and pompous, jerkish attitude were gone. "After all, I wasn't just here for your parents. I was here for you, Esme. You're…hurting right now…aren't you?" he avowed more than questioned, solemnly.

The blonde haired woman stared at him, dumbfounded. "There's nothing wrong with me," she said, puzzled. "I'm fine."

"Don't give me that! You think I wouldn't notice," he scolded her in a firm yet unusually gentle tone. She was taken aback by the sharp fierceness yet tender sympathy of his modulation. "You hardly spoke during dinner. You only talked when someone addressed you. And you kept stealing worried, disheartened glances at your mother."

"Morgan…," Esme muttered, beyond shocked, unable to come up with a coherent sentence.

"Truthfully, seeing you sad or upset has become really…bothersome to me." He ran a sheepishly frustrated hand through his blond hair, his cheeks becoming tinted a very light shade of pink. "Therefore, I'll stay here as long as you need me too," he quietly grumbled, sounding surprisingly shy, but his voice was loud enough for Esme to catch it in the wind.

She stared at him with wide eyed astonishment. That…surprised her. That truly surprised her. She has never heard Morgan speak so…clumsily before. That spoke volumes of how honest his feelings, how strong his care and concern for her were.

Something…inside her chest burst open. The floodgates to her feelings broke apart. The tears of sorrow that were unknowingly running down gave way to sobs of heartbreaking grief. Everything she tried to hold in, the tormented mournful emotions and woefully anguished feelings she struggled so hard to keep in were no longer able to remain contained, and violently smashed through her walls.

She felt so unbelievably and undeniably sad. As if her heart was ready to rip in two. Yet, at the same time, happy. So ridiculously, incredibly, unfathomably happy.

Why?

She did not understand.

It's just his words…

Morgan's words… His comfort…made her feel so warm and happy.

Why though?

Why did those words…make her feel…so…happy?

Unable to suppress the grief stricken anguished and distressing agony in her heart any longer, Esme threw herself into Morgan's arms. This caught the blond haired mod soul by surprise. He steadied himself, keeping them both from crashing onto the ground, and held the weeping, young woman securely in his arms.

He ignored the way she felt in his arms. He did not think about how warm and soft her body was. How could he when this was the first time a woman's tears affected him this much? The first time he ever sincerely felt pain from a woman's sorrow.

It was a strangely novel feeling. Novel but not unpleasant.

Morgan did the only reasonable thing he could, and silently allowed Esme to cry all her heartaching suffering away.

It wasn't long after that that Esme's mother passed away.

(A/N: Finally! Chapter fifty four is finished! I could only say, sorry it's been over a year since I last updated 'The Flower Princess and the Alchemist'. I've been on and off with this chapter.

I've got nothing to say except a few things. One, sorry, but this fanfic is going to be on another hiatus. As you guys are aware, this Bleach/Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction crossover was supposed to be a three book series. This story is only the first book. However, it is unfortunate that I lost the notes for the future installments of the series. I still remember bits and pieces, thankfully, but the rest…no dice. I am still determined to finish this series, but… things may end up differently than what I originally planned. And because things may end up differently, I am taking a break to reorganize myself and rewrite and revise the last several chapters of this first book. I had the chapters done, but to make sure they are consistent with what happens in later installments, I am going to rewrite and reedit them.

For example, things like Ed's and Al's mother's backstory that I was planning to write in the sequel [book two of the series] would be revised and changed. It was a very complicated story. A whole arc to itself. Also explains why Ed and Al become more and more in tone with the supernatural world. That's all I can say. Any more would be spoiling.

Sorry once again. I really love writing this story. It's a total bummer that I lost my original work. All I could do is pray that the new work is just as good, if not better than my original plan. Although, not everything goes as planned, right? Besides, I've always been the 'go by the flow' type of person when I write.

Oh, two… Morgan's flashback mini arc is really longer than I expected. Nevertheless, the next chapter or the one afterwards should be the end of it. Unfortunately, I do think the last quarter of the chapter is not as strong as the rest. You can definitely tell when my hiatus started and ended and started again. Anyway, after this mini arc, a couple of more arcs [two or three more probably] to go, and this first installment ['The Flower Princess and the Alchemist'] should be over.

I would sincerely like to thank everyone who has faved, followed, reviewed, and supported this story overall! Thank you so much!

Leave a comment, suggestion, or question in a review, and thanks for reading!)