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It was silent. The night's pitch blanket spread all over the city with small white dots strewn all over it. Maybe it was the atmosphere that caused everything to become so calm. Despite of the tranquil stillness that was supposed to have struck her peaceful, Akane was worried sick.
Not for the night, but for the person out in the night.
Things had begun to be like this ever since they'd gone and watched that horrifying movie, which she deeply regretted to have tagged along to watch. She'd spent countless nights — actually, just about enough nights to make a week — waking up from potentially realistic nightmares. Usually, she would just drink coffee to cheer herself up and cuddle with her husband. . . But now, he was later at work than usual. And she was dead-concerned. What was this, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?
She laughed quietly at her own joke, which was a pathetic way of keeping herself company.
Thankfully, her daughter hadn't been with them to watch the movie; that would've been dreadful. Exposing an innocent girl to such gore?
Though her Uncle Aoi would have had the same thing in mind, if you asked her. . . They'd already talked through this and that, but there were some things that just couldn't be solved with him.
Whenever her husband was involved, Aoi would always be, "We can't do that, it's unacceptable!" accompanied by several swears and curses.
To Akane, whatever her brother was doing, he meant good.
She can't say the same for her husband, though, sadly enough. He's been away almost every day, and he just missed Family Night. . . Then again, what with Aoi and her husband's rivalry, she can't blame him. Much.
Akane took another sip of chocolate milk, contemplating. She always sat next to the window to get a nice breeze of fresh air to clear her boggled mind, and she would always be drinking the same thing. Chocolate milk.
Her addiction to it dated far back to when she was in elementary school with her husband, who was her most best-est friend at the time. They were always found under the tree of the kindergarteners' playground, sipping chocolate milk. . . Those were the days when everybody was against them. Bullied them. . . Looking back, Akane now hypothesises that all the other children were just jealous of their inseparable relationship. Then, her only consoling agent was his smile . . . and chocolate milk.
Whenever she drinks it, it takes her back when they were children, sweet and innocent.
Take a look at them now. Married and busy with a seven-year-old kid.
Still, it troubled her endlessly how much and how long her husband has been working lately. Millions of questions surfaced, and doubt was starting to taint her trust; was he really working?
. . . Who was she kidding, of course he was . . . right?
She wasn't sure what to think. Maybe thinking too much would kill her. . .
Creak. . .
Akane jumped at the noise, nearly dropping her chocolate milk china, dead-scared. She looked hastily at the door, her heart pounding at the anticipated sight . . . which was, in fact, nothing.
It was odd how she was more afraid that nothing was there than something being there at all, but she never dismissed the thought; she was certain she did hear something. Nothing else in the flat could make any noise, couldn't there?
Her blood was suddenly replaced by cold, rushing water that iced her very veins. Akane scanned the room, putting down the teacup that held half-empty chocolate milk. She was already standing on her two feet, scrutinising every detail the room had. Everything seemed normal. The keyword being seemed. The world was more than what they see, eh? She doubted they were ghosts, though.
Because it was past midnight. Ghosts don't usually prowl about. They go back to their normal business, Akane supposed.
Her breath was hitched, and she felt cold sweat run down her forehead. She walked over to the door, where the source of the sound had probably been. . .
Akane was a little relieved that she found nothing standing at the door, but her anxiety didn't rest there. In fact, she was more worried than scared now. Was she becoming delusional? Well, she darn hoped so, because she'd rather she was a lunatic than letting some creeper in the flat.
Her baby. . . Was she okay?
Fear rushed down her system again, and Akane was taken over by adrenaline; she turned her back on the door and was about to check up on her girl, but something stopped her.
A cold, large arm wrapped itself around Akane's waist and pulled her backwards — before Akane could scream, a gloved hand covered her mouth. The room's light only reached so much of the room, and she was delved into the darkness that was her unlit bedroom as the man dragged her there, her feet whipping up in the air carelessly. She was squirming in the man's arms — it couldn't possibly be a woman, what with this strength — wiggling herself free. His body was pressing so dangerously close to her small and petite own, and he was too big for her to find escape.
Blindly thrashing in the darkness, she wanted to let out a scream, selfishly not caring at the moment if she'd wake anyone up at the moment, but she can't; the man's grip on her was too strong.
She knew it! She knew it! She could've stopped this man from getting in! Oh dear goodness. . .
No no no no no! Not until he's back! Please! Don't hurt me!
Her voice was muffled behind the man's gloved hand, and all that was heard was "mmmmnggh!"
Akane's hands were just as useless; they were weakly behind her back, squeezed between herself and the stranger. They stopped at the foot of the bed, and — Akane let out a helpless squeak — she was thrown on the mattress, where she sat, shocked.
The man's silhouette was seen looking the bedroom door, and nothing but fear and betrayal washed over Akane. Oh God. . . What was he about to do to her?
She felt — yes, felt — the man stride to her, despite him being feet away and she, desperate, scooted backward until her back hit the bed's post. Thousands of scenarios flashed in Akane's mind, and none of them were pretty.
When she heard the footsteps subside, she reckoned he was already crouching on the bed, hovering over her shaking figure. She reflexively flailed her arms, hitting the man in hopes to at least subdue him, but she failed; the man's gloved hands pinned her wrists to the bed post, and suddenly, all hope was lost.
In the darkness, Akane couldn't see anything, but she heard the man's incoherent breathing: It was like he was wearing a gas mask. . . She also heard the undoubtedly noisy shuffling sounds of something foil as the man leaned closer to — probably — take a better look at her. Was he wearing. . .
Hmm. . . Gas mask. . . gloves. . .
. . . Oh my God.
"N-no," she said, but more out of disbelief than terror, her eyes widening in the darkness: Almost suddenly, her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and she saw that he was wearing a gas mask. What. . . ?
Why would someone wear a gas mask if he was about to torture a woman?
Akane held her breath as the man pulled off his mask, almost flinching — she heard him let out a loud exhale, and his breath tickled her like it always did; his mess of a hair cascaded down, reaching his neckline because it'd been since he'd taken a haircut; his eyes relaxed at the pathetic sight of his wife, weak and submissive as ever. That's the way he liked his meal at night. He seductively licked his lips, his eyes travelling down. . .
Without warning, Akane slapped Junpei with all her might.
Junpei recoiled, grunting, and his mask clattered to the floor.
"What the —"
"You're such a pig, Jumpy!" Akane yelled. Yet, despite of herself, she was totally relieved it was just him. Oh thank God. She leaned back against the bed and breathed easy, ignoring her husband, who helped himself and climbed back up the bed, complaining. "You could've woken Zui up!"
"Kanny, I was just —"
"Don't 'Kanny' me," she snapped half-playfully. She threw him a pillow. "I nearly had a heart attack! I thought — I thought —"
Junpei smirked at her, waggling his eyebrows, waiting for her answer. She just pouted purposely and huffed. Her husband, Junpei, liked it when she was being cute.
He stripped his gloves and his suit, throwing them to the corner and sighed. "Work was really downhill. . . You won't believe it, actually."
"I'd have believed it more than if you told me where you really got that suit and the gas mask," said Akane curiously. Junpei smiled sheepishly.
"Your brother was having a garage sale," he breathed out, lying down on the bed next to her. "I just thought . . . you know. . . Comeback."
Akane heaved a sigh and combed her hair with her fingers, looking up at Junpei. "Did you really have to scare me by pretending to be Zero?"
That was when Junpei growled and rolled Akane over, much to her mild surprise; he had pinned her down on the bed. He smirked boyishly down at her and snarled, "Well, the look on your face was pretty priceless."
Akane helplessly — although she can't help but feel slightly playful about it — squirmed under Junpei, trying to look as cutely vulnerable as possible. She might have done it deliberately, but she can't help but feel masochistic around her Jumpy. Only hers. "Zui might hear us. . ."
"Just don't be too loud."
Junpei leaned down and kissed her right on the lips, letting in his tongue as the poor girl could only giggle slightly and moan. His leg was just slightly caressing her thigh — she was wearing an all-too short nightgown that barely covered skin halfway to her knee — and his hands explored her slender body. Akane, happy to know that her hands were free themselves, reached for his hair and tangled her fingers in it, while her other hand was pressed against his cheek so they'll deepen the kiss. She had earned a moan from Junpei as he broke their embrace and left a trail of hot, fiery kisses down her torso until he reached her midriff, to which he stopped for hopefully and lustfully —
The door creaked open, and light filled the room: Akane pushed Junpei off of her as their daughter came into view, looking at them in the threshold. She was holding her stuffed doll, June, the one Akane handed over to her as her first birthday gift.
"Mummy. . . ? Is Daddy home yet. . . ?" Zui yawned, rubbing her eyes. Akane glanced down at Junpei, who was rubbing his sore face on the floor, disgruntled and looked far from just disappointed. She nodded a yes and replied to her daughter, "Having bad dreams?"
The young lass pouted, which only meant, 'what else?'
Akane patted the spot next to her and Junpei on the bed to let Zui know it was alright to sleep in their room for the night. The brunette cuddled up to her mother's back as Akane, quite disappointed herself to have been disturbed, pulled over the covers. She was just between her parents. . .
Junpei grumbled some things — most of them distinct swearwords — and sighed, seeing anger was pointless. He looked at their daughter and began stroking her hair to calm himself down. Akane somehow found this scene precious as she placed her hand on his, too. Junpei and her locked eyes and understood; Zui would only be for tonight. . . She'd be their responsibility for just tonight. And then they'll resume what they were doing. . .
"She's such an angel, Jumpy," Akane whispered.
Okay, maybe they didn't exactly understand each other's thoughts. Junpei raised his eyebrows, entwining his fingers with his wife's as he stared at their beautiful child. "I'm glad we had her. . ."
Zui was undeniably delightful; looked strikingly like her mother, but was as fierce and rambunctious as her father. . . What an absolute gem of a girl.
"Hey, Honey. . ."
Akane looked at Junpei, who planted a kiss on her forehead chastely.
"Happy April Fool's."
ME: HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S! XD First 999 story : O I used to ship June and Santa at the beginning of the game, too, until I realised. . . OwO Oh, what the heck, I already shipped Kagaminecest! X3 I'm sorry if this was such a fail, but at least I tried. I own nothing! Except maybe for the child. Yes, I OWN THEIR BABY. Akane's 6 and Junpei's 5 so . . . they make 11, right? Juuitiji[zjuuicizi] is "eleven hours," according to a site, so that's why she's "Zui." :3 Thanks for reading! This is AU, so don't worry about spoilers : )