Author's Note: yes, being the horrible, pathetic loser I am, this is just about all filler. Of course, a rushed story is no fun, either, right? Right. folds arms across chest i think I've made my point.

The almost inaudible clicking of the keys of my phone resounded in my ears as I typed. I had been at this for hours, on and off. Izumi had come home to write more and Jon had been called to his office to help fix a problem with the game they were currently working on. Ichiro was still dying somewhere in that alley, and I was holed up in my dark room with my laptop screensaver blaring pieces of my better artwork at me.

Masashi, u seriusly h8 orangs?

Ew, yup

Lol ur a freak

8O How dare u- naw, ur rite. Im a freak 

xD omg wow. Tolja

…tolja? Omg ur so illiterate maria

Told ya. There. I’m literate, just not on my phone.

Wow i envy u. Tht whle txt was propr, u nitpicker. x)

Sht up.

Sht up? Such fowl language! 8O

Shut up. An its foul. Not fowl, stupd.

Ur stupd, stupd.

Nu-uh!

Yah-huh!!1!

Omg ur n idiot.

Ya, but Im not stupd. 8C rite?

Aw, not all th way –huggles-

-ish huggled- Purr Purr

Wat r u doin? /

Purring

Y?

Cuz I lyk huggles –cheezy grin-

Wow ur seriously a retrd

Im a guy. Thts how we roll. –rolls-

Lol.

Lol

Well Im goin 2 bed. Nite.

Nuuuu!! D8 Dun leaf meeee!

Alas, yung idiot, I havs 2 go.

Wah! Ima txt u all nite and then wen u wake up, ull have a zillion txts 8D

Wah! Ur so mean! Ill just delete em all 

Aww 

Nite.

Nite.

I sighed and turned off my phone, my face flushed for some reason. For the first time since probably high school, I was getting along with a guy. Most of the men that I met in college were pigs or just didn’t seem to notice me. I am rather easy to miss unless you’re looking hard. And yet, Masashi had single-handedly pulled me off the ground and became my best guy friend in less than ten hours. He was simply amazing. Forget the fact that he was sweet, funny, and really cute, but since I hadn’t encountered him with his guy pals, I hadn’t had the misfortune of seeing whatever egotistical jerk he turned into to keep up his image.

Deciding to save any bouts of freaking over this thought for tomorrow, I flung my legs onto the bed, already in my pajamas. They consisted of an overlarge tee and my awesome blue sweatpants.

Finally, I laid my head on my pillow and checked the time.

8:47

Who in the freaking heck goes to bed at 8:47? That’s the bedtime I had when I was 12!

I sighed, but closed my eyes nonetheless, relaxing into my pillow. If I just slept, everything would be perfect now.

Odd as it was, I felt like having a friend was the first step in getting over Ichiro. I couldn’t have him, and he didn’t want me. The weirdest thing was that it hurt less now than it would have last night. It still stung, though, knowing that Hotaru had him wrapped around her finger. That I could kick and scream all I wanted, but he would stare into her dark, freaking soulless eyes and not mine.

And somehow, I found comfort in this fact. Maybe if I could get over my fear of cute guys using Masashi, I could become friends with both of them and not be awkward around either one. It occurred to me that if I could manage all of that, I might have a chance to patch things up with Hotaru.

Revolting though the idea was, being friends was a much better alternative than being hated.

I must have nodded off about that time, because that was the last memory I had of the night before I was out.

Soft yellow sunshine fell across my carpet in that same pattern; with the shapeless leaves printed in shadows on the plush floor.

I was absently tracing the fuzzy outline of a branch when there was the familiar knock on my door. I had lived here for all of a week, and almost every day, there was one knock and then Ichiro would push the door open if I didn’t answer. He usually found me tracing shadows in the carpet by the window; just soaking up the sun, so the initial surprise was gone

Predictably, he pushed the door open, and I gave a weak grin, trying to hold back a monstrous yawn.

“I’m going out with Hotaru again today. You good?” Ichiro announced, poking his head through the door. I leaned back against the wall and nodded. I still hadn’t told anyone about Masashi. He seemed to realize that I was doing this for a reason, though I was grateful that he never asked why.

As soon as Ichiro had the door clicked into place, I was halfway across the room, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

I shrugged into a pair of weathered jeans and slipped on a new shirt that I had gotten yesterday. It was red with some sort of darker swirly pattern and a blazing white character that read ‘fire’. It was awesome, and I couldn’t wait to show Masashi.

I grabbed my phone, which vibrated to life as I turned the switch, and trotted out of my room, headed for the bathroom.

The door was closed with the sink running, and I knocked, frowning slightly.

“Yeah. Hold on.” I heard, and a moment later, the faucet was turned off, and Ichiro pulled the door open, wiping his hand on his jeans. I crinkled my nose.

He paused, looking me over.

“I like your shirt. Is that new?” He said, slipping past me and down the hall, scrubbing a hand through his tousled hair. I blushed slightly and squeaked a yes as he turned a corner and was out of my sight.

I hurried into the bathroom, sorely disappointed in myself. I still wasn’t able to do anything about the whole blushing thing.

I moved to stand in front of the mirror, brushing my dark hair. I decided to skip flat ironing it today. Masashi had noted how he liked how it fell naturally in soft ringlets. I personally preferred it straight with curved ends, but I decided to humor him today.

I brushed my teeth, fixed my shirt, and grabbed a thick blue folder before trotting out of the house and flicking my feet into my tennis shoes.

We had arranged to meet at the Amber Dragon, which was fast becoming our favorite meeting place.

Apparently, neither of us had anything better to do than hang around a café, goof off, and swap info about our native languages. He was teaching me to read, and I was helping him with his grammar.

The bell above the door tinkled delicately as I entered, looking around eagerly. Being the lonely loser I am, I was there about ten minutes early. But it was fine, because, being the ever-sleepy loser that Masashi was, he had already claimed a table in the corner and was dozing with his chin on his arms. I grinned and made my way towards him.

I don’t know whether he was really deep in thought or actually asleep, but Masashi only jolted to an upright position when I had seated myself opposite of him.

“Oh, hey. Cool shirt!” He pointed out, offering a grin and a yawn. I snickered.

“You’re in the same hoodie as yesterday.” I pointed out, wrinkling my nose with a smile.

He took a moment to register my words, and then looked down.

“Oh, yeah. Mom did laundry last night. It’s clean.” He said, sitting up and revealing a red notebook that had several loose sheets of paper stuffed between the first page and the front cover.

“Alright, what do you want?” I offered, pulling a bill out of my pocket. He stared for a second, mouth open, until he saw the money.

“O-oh, yeah. Get me a… a…” he yawned, and, folding his face back into his arms, managed a barely audible “green tea.”

I nodded dutifully, concerned about him, though. I hadn’t gotten around to asking why he was always so tired.

“So, wait, what?” I scowled at the sheet of paper with characters scribbled across it. Masashi sighed and jabbed a finger at one of them, the one I was staring at.

“That one means grass.”

“Wait, then why… okay, I’m lost.” I threw my hands up in the air and clapped my pencil back down on the table a bit too hard. The remaining Coke in my plastic cup sloshed angrily, and I winced.

“Meh.” He said. His catch phrase was so… erm… something. “We’ll do this later. I’m not up for this now.” Masashi shrugged, biting back a yawn. I nodded and began gathering my papers. He watched me dully, and I was suddenly really self-conscious.

I stood and muttered a goodbye. Leaving the café, I watched him get back into his sleeping position, and I sighed.

Something was up, but neither one of us was willing to explore this topic. I resolved to ask about this later. It wasn’t a pressing issue, and until he started nodding off in the middle of a sentence, I was determined not to bug him.

Not yet, anyway.