AN1: I do not own Itazura na kiss.

The hour and a half passed agonizingly slow for the girl waiting outside the prestigious home. The more the minutes accrued, the more lurid were the pictures her imagination drew of what the attractive couple inside were doing. Kotoko's swallow turned into an audible gulp, because Naoki and Matsumoto did give off the distinct vibe of "couple". Now she had her proof. Naoki had not left the Irie household simply to get away from his parents—and her, or possibly, his mother's plans for her—but in order to be with someone else.

She ran the sleeve of her coat across her face—and not for the first time—to remove the treacherous moisture seeping from her eyes. She shivered as the damp sleeves of the inadequately thick jacket intensified the cold. With a sad heart, she concluded that there was nothing for her here, and she turned to shuffle in what she hoped was the direction to her home, now permanently minus one family member.

Watanabe Junichi wrapped the scarf tighter around his neck. The temperature had plummeted while he was ensconced in the library. One fascinating case had led to another, and he did not know how he was going to be able to trim down the essay into the word count required by his Intro to Japanese Law professor. What he wouldn't give to borrow the quick analytical brain of his old friend Irie for only about an hour a day!

As if his thoughts had conjured up the past, he suddenly recognized the young woman clinging to a lamp post. He approached the person that he had first assumed to be an inebriated party goer. "Kotoko-chan?" Even though it had been almost a year since he had last seen her, he hoped that she would excuse the familiarity.

She squinted her eyes at him and between shivers, asked, "Watanabe-kun?" She sneezed and bowed an apology. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on my way home," he said while unwinding the muffler. "You're freezing!" he exclaimed as he placed it around her neck. He lifted her hands. "No gloves, either!"

"I got lost," she sniffed woefully. "I have this night blindness." She looked down as he fitted one of his gloves on her smaller hand. "Watanabe-kun?"

He picked up his pack, which he had laid on the sidewalk, and took her bare hand in his and tugged it into his pocket, still clasping it. "My house isn't that far away. Let's get you thawed out a bit before trying to get you back where you belong."

As they walked side by side, he slowing his pace for her shorter legs, he heard her mutter mournfully, "Where I belong? I wish I knew."

As he expected, his mother had almost screamed when she placed her palms on Kotoko's face. Quickly explaining that she was his friend and that he was not responsible for her condition, she hustled Kotoko into the kitchen and set fluffy blankets around her shoulders. When Watanabe returned from hanging up his coat and setting her damp one above a heater, he almost couldn't see her face, so swaddled was she. His mother had left the oven door open and set several pans of hot water to boil on the stove to raise the temperature of the room. Soon she reached under the sheltering fabric and pulled out Kotoko's still chilly but slightly warmer hands to fold them around a mug of tea. "We'll get you set back to rights soon enough!" she promised.

Watanabe took the cup his mother held out for him and sat next to her. "I'll call Irie-kun and have someone fetch you when you feel less like a popsicle," he offered.

"No!" Kotoko ducked her head to him and his mother. "Sorry for shouting. Irie-kun doesn't live at home any more. He," she took a ragged breath, "has moved in with his girlfriend." Tears started falling slowly down her face, her body too exhausted for the wrenching sobs that her heart wanted.

Watanabe met his mother's eyes and rose to exit the room when she gave a sharp jerk of her head. He intercepted his father who was returning an empty coffee cup. "I don't believe men are welcome in there right now."

Left with a woman as kind and sympathetic as Mrs. Irie but without the drama, Kotoko soon found herself confessing all. Of course, this entailed more tears, but they didn't sting quite as badly with a comforting arm around her shoulders and a friendly bosom to lay her head on.

Forty five minutes later, during which time he had showered and changed into a sweatsuit, Watanabe's mother knocked on his door. She came in, hugging her arms. "That poor child just cried herself to sleep right there at the table. Do you know how to get in touch with her family? I don't want to wake her and send her out again."

"Sure, Mother." He found the Irie home number in his phone's contact list. "Do you want to put her in the guest room?"

At her nod, he left to get the bed ready while she phoned Mrs. Irie and overrode her immediate impulse to set out to fetch her lost lamb. "No, I assure you, she is quite safe, just overcome with exhaustion. The children were acquainted in high school, so it was like a small reunion that went on too late." She had decided to let Kotoko tell her guardian as much (if any) of the story as she wished.

Her son helped her maneuver the somnolent girl up the stairs and into the room until he was banished to enable her to undress and tuck her in. She shook out the crumpled clothes and took them with her. Hanging them over her arm, she once more entered her son's room.

He looked up from the bed, where he was reviewing an assigned chapter. "Is she down for the night?" he asked.

"I hope so." His mother looked down and smoothed the garments. "She's the one you told me about, isn't she?"

Damn her memory, he thought. "Yes," he nodded, "but I haven't seen her since graduation night."

"It looks like that boy has finally given her a firm rejection."

"Appears so," he agreed tersely.

"Are you going to—"

"Mom, don't all the talk shows you watch advise against pinning hopes on a rebound relationship?"

She sniffed and raised her chin. "That child could use some kindness in her life. And if it happens to come from an attractive young man, who can tell what might develop?"

He shook his head. "I'm not as good looking as Irie."

"And all he's done is disappoint her," she countered swiftly. "At the very least, you can walk her to the train station tomorrow morning."

"Sure, Mom. But I'm not promising anything else."

She smiled and displayed the dimples that had so enchanted his father, and that, to his dismay, he had inherited, "Of course you aren't."

Naoki raised the collar of his overcoat as he exited the Matsumoto house. Although he had been encouraged to stay and not venture back out into the bitter cold, he had politely refused. He was sure that accepting that invitation would have been seen as assenting to certain familiarities that he was not prepared to partake in. He shook his head. Which one of the two would have tried to sneak in the guest room in the middle of the night? He wasn't that easily caught; even that idiot Kotoko knew that. They had been in that position a year and a half ago and nothing had happened, after all.

Of course, she hadn't been trying to seduce him, just steal his homework. He blew out a breath. Lately he had been wondering if it would be that easy to push her out if it happened now. Not that he suspected her of having plans to do it, especially since she had been hovering outside the restaurant earlier in the evening when Matsumoto had taken his arm possessively. If it hadn't been so cold, he would have shoved her away. It was just as well, though; he wasn't sure what the niggle of weakness that he felt whenever he thought of Kotoko meant, so keeping her far away was best for his peace of mind.

AN2: This story is for those of you complaining that I don't make Naoki suffer enough to deserve Kotoko's love. Annjudith and I brainstormed a bit, then I put on my "mean face" and started writing. Just a warning: Mrs. Irie is going to be super-annoying.