"Christ, what an awful week," Ami said tiredly as Ryuuji dropped the groceries in front of the door and started fishing for his keys. "I was on the plane for so long, I thought my lower back would give out. And my neck is killing me. My pillow was supposed to come in before the trip, right? But I checked my mailbox every morning right up to leaving for the airport and - nothing! So I had to settle for the shitty ones they sell at the airport." She massaged her neck for emphasis. "I swear, It's like wearing a shock collar."

Ryuji pushed open the door. "Don't you get first-class tickets from your agency?"

"Only for important shoots. Which is rare." Ami pointed at the bag of groceries. "And then you take me grocery shopping? No one wants to get picked up from the airport to go grocery shopping."

"Look, Kitamura's going to study overseas - who knows when we'll see him again? This could be the last birthday -"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Ami rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you should just let me bitch though, you know? I want to vent in peace. Grocery shopping and yelling at me, dear lord."

She walked past Ryuuji, who (she noted with some amusement) had flushed a bright red, through the door and plunked down in the living room. Using her phone screen, Ami checked herself from several angles as Ryuuji prepared dinner, the ones her photographers at work seemed to think looked good. On-screen, her pretty, slim reflection smiled winningly back at her. Not bad for a red-eye flight, Ami thought to herself.

She leaned back and glanced around the room. On the living room table was a stack of math packets and a six-pack of Pocari. Probably yesterday's homework party. Without needing to agree verbally, Ami, Minori, and Takasu had started to rotate at Ryuuji's house in the months after Taiga's departure, trying to keep him company. Minori would bring snacks from work and talk about her customers, Ami would drop by after her trips to leave makeup for Ryuji's mom. Fridays (yesterday) were homework sessions with Kitamura, sometimes one or two more classmates.

Ami ran her fingers over the floor. On this tatami, she'd complained to Ryuuji about bad directors, bitchy agents. They'd clinked glasses with everyone here last month when she landed her first movie role. It was rare to see Ryuuji drink, but he'd done so that night, for her.

She looked back at the kitchen. Through the door curtains, Ryuuji was retrieving a tray of sliced chicken from the oven and had just dropped them into the boiling soup when Ami asked casually, "You talk with Taiga recently?"

Ami was watching the back of the apron and smirked when Ryuuji's shoulders visibly jumped, the stirring spoon in his hand slowing in its motion. "No," he said after a moment, and resumed spooning in the chicken slices. Still not over it, Ami thought for a second, but shook it off quickly.

She studied Ryuuji as he wiped the counter down with a well-used rag, the apron tied securely over his dark t-shirt, and went back to staring blankly at her phone. Behind her, she could hear the clacking of the knife against the cutting board as Ryuuji started slicing up the vegetables. Maybe I should stop asking, Ami thought. Clearly he doesn't want to talk about it, and we're seniors, happy for the most part. We should keep things that way.

But the thought was hardly satisfying. Ami sighed and stared out the dark window. Taiga's apartment building stood across the air, quiet and dark.

Taiga's room must be directly across, Ami realized. That's how she gets into Ryuuji's apartment that easily. Then, of course things turned out the way they did, the two of them together. The literal distance is unfair. Ami grimaced and glanced back around the room. A stack of newly bought test prep guides in the corner, two copies of every book. One for him, one for her, thought Ami. A small white bracelet on a bookshelf. A red scarf that was a little too feminine for Ryuuji and a little too out-of-fashion for his mom. Ami rested her head on the table and sighed again. It's hopeless, she thought. Taiga doesn't even have to be here to remind me that all of this is still her's.

Occupied with her thoughts, Ami didn't realize she was staring at Ryuuji's back until he turned around suddenly and their eyes met.

"Uh, want a drink?" Ryuuji held up two melon sodas, and Ami, feeling her ears growing warm, nodded. She caught the bottle neatly as Ryuuji threw one to her and walked over to the living room table. He plunked down heavily on the green tatami with a short huff, popped the cap on the yellow soda, and took a deep thirsty pull, his throat moving sharply as he gulped.

Ami smirked at the sight of his bobbing Adam's apple, and Ryuuji's eyes opened to look at her as if he heard the smile. Cute, Ami thought.

"How was Hawaii anyway?" asked Ryuuji as he set down the drink. "Your last text was before the shoot."

Ami shrugged. "I just worked the whole day. First time I went, I asked my agent to carve out an extra day so I could visit the beaches...but I don't know, I'm pretty jaded now about the whole "seeing the world" business."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm almost always by myself when I'm not on set. There's only so much fun you can have alone," Ami added sheepishly.

"That sounds lonely."

Ami circled the bottle lip with her thumb. "To be honest, I'm too busy to notice most of the time. It's a really hectic operation, and it's not just me, you know, they contract a whole bunch of models for the day. And the director will point to this, this, and this outfit, the ones I'm supposed to model, and I go into a side room for makeup. There's moisturizer and then foundation, but not too much foundation, or people will think my skin must be old underneath..."

Ami cocked her head at Ryuuji, wondering if he was losing interest. "Anyway, the lights go on, and some directors will yell 'More teeth when you smile!' or 'Sexier!'' but most of the time, I just do poses that I think look good, and they just snap-snap away."

"You have fun, though, right? Otherwise you wouldn't -"

"I mean, it's a lot of standing and smiling for hours, which isn't easy. When companies hire you, they're paying for the picture your agent advertised to them. So if you start showing up on set not looking like your photos - maybe your legs got too flabby, or you start getting abs - they're not happy. So I have to watch my diet very closely."

"So...is that a 'no' you're not enjoying it?"

"Well, I'm not going to be young and beautiful forever."

"You sure about the second half?" Ryuuji blurted.

Ami tilted her bottle at him. "Well look at you, so Taiga did teach you something about compliments." She looked at Ryuuji, who seemed to be surprised at himself that sentence had come out of his mouth. "Why, do you think I should stop?"

Ryuuji exhaled as Ami sipped her drink. "I don't think it's that simple," he started after a pause. "You're also not a very simple person...which I don't mean in a bad way," he added, catching her glare. "But if the biggest reason why you model is because you're scared you're going to lose it someday…" He looked at her. "You're away and alone a lot. Just want you to be doing it for the right reasons." Ami held her bottle, not sure what to say.

From the kitchen, a timer beeped. "Soup's ready," Ryuuji said as he stood up, and Ami exhaled, partly in relief. She followed him into the kitchen and watched as he grabbed the pot lid. "This has been cooking since I left to pick you up."

"What is it?" Ami asked in anticipation.

Ryuuji grinned, and lifted the lid. Inside, thick, savory chicken broth bubbled, strips of tender meat and orange carrots rising and falling within the soup. Ami inhaled. The aroma was incredible. "Taiga is a lucky girl," she joked, her mouth watering.

"And you're even luckier." Ami's heart jumped and she looked up at him, but Ryuuji was pointing at a drawer. "Bowls are over there, start serving." He smiled under Ami's glare, but they were interrupted by a sudden buzzing. Ryuuji's phone.

"Yo." Ryuuji picked it up. "Kitamura?" Ami listened closely as she grabbed a bowl and started spooning. "Oh, I'm sorry...No, it's fine, I was only just starting to cook anyways, I can stick most of it in the refrigerator...for sure, have fun with the parents...just Ami, Minori isn't here yet..."

From her pocket, Ami's phone buzzed too, and she raised an eyebrow at the screen. New Message (1) from Minori. She pulled it open:

Sorry Ami! Can't make it to Kitamura's party tonight - Boss is making me stay because I dropped a pile of dishes while washing them. Sorry again - I'll make it up to you guys someday! Give my congratulations to Kitamura, please - thank you!

Christ. Ami let out a half-sigh, half-chuckle. You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Next to her, Ryuuji hung up the phone, and plucked thoughtfully at a strand of hair. "Seems like Kitamura's folks sprung a surprise dinner on him - he can't make it tonight. Guess I'll just keep it down to three servings then." He glanced at Ami, who bit her lip. "What's wrong?"

Ami cocked her head, and gave him a bemused smile. "Two servings. Minori can't make it either - her boss is making her stay at the restaurant. Which means it's just us two tonight." Ami shrugged casually.

"Oh." Ryuuji seemed stunned, then started shoving the excess food into the refrigerator. Ami watched him for a few moments, then took out two plates, spooned food in, and brought them into the living room. Crossing her legs on the floor, she wondered half-heartedly about replying to Minori and begging her to come. Why do I feel like this anyway? Ami shook her head. Isn't this what I want? Alone time with him?

But you'd like him to want it too, the other voice said in her head. Ami sighed and set down the phone.

Some minutes later, Ryuuji came and paused in the doorway, as if he were unsure whether he wanted to sit down or not. A moment passed, and Ami raised an eyebrow at him. He sat down.

"Well -" they both started at the same time, and Ami laughed. "You go first."

"You're not just going to head home?" Ryuuji asked.

Ami shrugged. "It seems kinda rude to have you work so hard for a party and then have no one show up, you know? Unless you want me to leave?"

Ryuuji held up his hands. "Wait, that's not what I mea -"

"Yeah, I thought so." Ami pointed at his food. "Thanks for cooking. Now shut up and eat your food." Ryuuji nodded, but Ami caught the smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

"A comedy?" Ryuuji flipped through the DVD wallet, the dishwasher humming quietly a few rooms away. Sitting cross-legged next to him on the bedroom floor, Ami shook her head. "Romance?"

"You're an idiot."

"A hard no to romance, okay," Ryuuji decided, and continued turning the plastic sleeves. "Horror?"

"Aren't I scary enough?" Ami asked drolly. She suddenly grabbed the hand he was flipping with. "Wait, how about that one?" His skin was warm under her palm.

"You didn't watch Totoro when you were a kid?" Ryuuji fished out the DVD, a fluffy, gray creature grinning on the front.

"I haven't watched it since elementary. Let's do it." Ami smiled at him, and Ryuuji folded. While he fiddled with the television, Ami got up and turned off the ceiling light, leaving just Ryuuji's desk lamp pooling a warm yellow against the tabletop.

On-screen, the menu fizzled to life.

Ami turned to Ryuuji, then steeled herself and asked, "Can I be next to you while we watch?" After a beat, Ryuuji shrugged and nodded. He ran his fingers through his hair as Ami settled close beside him. Their knees were almost touching.

Ryuuji reached over her for his drink. Ami breathed in slowly, and was suddenly conscious of the light vanilla fragrance that hung over the boy. She smirked. It's probably his mom's shampoo. She breathed in again, and this time, a slow burn started to grow in her stomach.

"You have the remote," Ryuuji said, snapping Ami back to life. She fumbled for the play button, and the Studio Ghibli logo appeared slowly on the screen.

"Holy shit, I haven't heard this for ten years," Ryuuji commented as the opening song started. Ami murmured her agreement. Memories...huh? She glanced at him, but his eyes were fixed on the television. Does he remember the last time I was here? When he ran with me to chase off that creep with the camera, and brought me home after?

Ami watched as the song ran its course, the array of spiders and green-blue frogs marching across the screen, and when the moving truck that finally opened the movie rumbled into view, she leaned her head on Ryuuji's shoulder.

She could feel his head shift and knew he was looking at her. Ami tried madly to keep her breathing calm, hoping he couldn't feel the thumping in her chest, which she could swear was normally silent but could suddenly feel in her ears.

His head shifted again, back towards the television. Ami exhaled slowly.

They stayed like that for a while, watching the moving truck race over puddles and through the forest.

"Ryuuji?" Ami said.

"Hm?"

"Can I tell you something?" Ami felt him nod. "I want to answer your question, about whether I like modelling." She paused. "The truth is, yes, I do, I love it. I like the attention. I like walking into a 7-Eleven and seeing my face on the magazines. I like that when I walk through a train station, I'm not invisible, people notice. The attention is familiar to me. I guess you could say it's a part of me now." She was quiet for a while. "But you can be everywhere and have people know you through interviews, exclusive magazine profiles...your skin tips, your childhood history, your ten rules for young girls and whatnot. But that doesn't mean - that's only skin-deep, I guess, it doesn't mean much. And before long, sometimes you feel that girl you become when you're on camera isn't..." Ami stared into the blinding glow of the television screen. "Anyway, I guess you're right. I am really lonely. But that's okay. I grew up alone, and I'm familiar with it. I can live with it. As long I could really be understood, as long as I know I am understood by the people I care about, so I could know that I'm a real person once in a while...I could live with it. I hope that makes sense." Ami hugged her knees to her chest.

Ryuuji put his arm around her, and she adjusted her head so she was in the crook of his shoulder. He held her for a long time.