Intermission: AY One-Shot

Paper largely consists of cellulose fibers.

He goes to see her at the middle of the night, because he cannot believe what is written there, and while she's surprised she opens the door anyway.

"You're leaving me," he states, in a flat voice, and she nods because she doesn't know what else to say.

There is a moment of silence, and they both think that it should be a tense moment, and they should be feeling awkward but really, it's just full of despair that neither can forget.

"Why?" he finally asks, and she shrugs, (because she cannot tell him that it's because somewhere the lines have been crossed and she has started caring for him and that's something she won't let herself do) and keeps her mouth tightly shut.

He stares at her and doesn't know what else to say, because maybe he should've seen it coming, and maybe he should've known that good things never last, but this was something he had actually never wanted.

She's got tears in her eyes at that point but he pretends not to notice that and pushes forward, "So you just…don't want to be happy?"

She shrugs, and it scares him for she looks so vulnerable right then, but he needs her to understand and he needs her to know that he needs her, and he continues, "You can be happy. You don't need to punish yourself by not being happy, you know."

A blaze of something akin to fire lights in her eyes and just for a tiny second she's back in full force as the red-headed brat but then the moment is gone and she looks at him and says, "There's a difference….between being content and being happy. You shouldn't flatter yourself."

Her words sting and he wonders how she got to be so cold, but he isn't quite sure how to reply to that. Instead he leaves her to her…whatever it is, and takes that damn piece of paper with him. And even though, technically, the piece of paper ruined both of them, they're now smudged with her tears and words on papers are always worthless, anyway. (It's really the crack in their hearts that is harder to fix).

Polyamides and polyesters are just two examples of condensation polymers.

In an ideal world, he would go the whole nine yards. Propose, buy a house with the white picket fence, have kids and play catch and be in love together. But it's not an ideal word in any sense of the word, and so he pretends not to notice her red-rimmed eyes or the lack of spring in her step. (Some sadistic part of him thinks she deserves it).

He finds her later on the balcony, staring at god knows what and he doesn't seem to resist it anymore. So he goes and pushes her against the wall and kisses her until he needs to end it because the lack of oxygen is suffocating him. But she doesn't give him much time and kisses him back and much later when they're still tangled onto each other, he whispers helplessly, "I don't know what to do without you," and she replies with "We shouldn't be doing this."

But they do it anyway, and pretend to hate each other in front of everyone and then get wrapped up into each other so strongly that it takes them so much time to break part. Every part of her body screams that it is a bad idea but she clings onto it. Sometimes she thinks it's because he had very, very black eyes and sometimes she thinks it's because they are so good together and they just fit, but mainly it's because it feels like she's coming home.

In an ideal world, Ashi would go up to him and report calmly that she cannot continue doing this, and Yuvi would propose and they would live happily, happily ever after.

(But it's not an ideal world and it's just one more of the cruel tricks life has to present, but really they're thankful that their kisses at least taste remotely like love and not betrayal and so they continue to make the same mistakes.)

They cling on to each other because that's all they have left and that's all that makes sense, and without each other they really have nothing worth losing, and while it feels so excruciating to lose yet again, the numb feeling they get otherwise is ohmygodsoterrifying.

Enthalpy changes of reactions are the result of bonds breaking and new bonds being formed.

When she comes to him a few months later before midnight, it feels terrifying, and exciting all at the same time.

"I can't be a bright and shiny new girlfriend," she states.

He looks at her, and vainly tries to curb whatever it is that he's feeling. "I'm not asking you to be," he replies

And suddenly it's all so very, very simple like it's etched in front of them and all they have to do is join the dots. He closes the distance and kisses her and she kisses him back and before long they're so caught up that the rest of the world disappears.

It doesn't really matter because they're both desperate but this time, this time it's so different (yet the same). They kiss in the broad daylight and maybe it feels a little like salvation, and the sun rays make their eyes crinkly and her red hair flashes brightly.

"I cannot save you," he whispers as he kisses her again, "I'm not God, I cannot save you, but I can try."

And maybe that's all they need, because it's been so long since someone has told her that, and he holds her tightly as she breaks down. "I need you---I need you to fix me," she states brokenly, and it's so unlike her that he almost flinches. He doesn't, however, because this is familiar and she needs support and he intends to spend the rest of his life giving it to her. Instead he holds her really, really tight and doesn't let her go, and she feels a little more fixed than before just because he smells of musk and he's here.

They don't know what to call it, because it's not a relationship but it's not a non-relationship either. It doesn't feel like heaven because heaven is supposed to be without worries and with roses and petals but it doesn't feel like a burning hell, either. Instead, it feels normal and familiar and just oh, so, so, right.

If there is insufficient oxygen for complete combustion, alkanes will still burn.

They don't get a happy ending. She is really never completely fixed, and he never gets his white-picket fence, but it doesn't matter as long as they're with each other.

They kiss in the hallways, he brings her coffee and she waits for him when they go home, and it feels normal and couple-y and a part of a routine that they never, ever want to break.

She is still too scared of commitments and he is still too scared that one day she might break so much that he can't fix her, but that's all okay and nothing matters as long as they're remotely happy. So he concentrates on that part of their relationship, and it's rather refreshing to have at least something instead of nothing.

He's her only shot at being happy and she's his only shot at being happy and they both know it (even if they pretend they don't), and that's what makes it alright most of the times. So he didn't get his family and she didn't get his trust but on the very good days when he's laughing and joking and tickling her, she's very, very close to trusting him and pouring her heart out, and each day, she is fixed just a little bit more. And on those cloudy and sad days when she tries not to flinch at the thunderstorms, he holds her tight against him and it's soothing and calm and he can clearly visualize that white fence and that house. But on most days, when it's neither sunny nor cloudy and it's just normal, they're both just grateful to have a reason to get out of bed and use those muscles to smile.

(And life goes on and flips everyone over, but sometimes, once in a blue moon, the flip is amazing.)