How had it all come crashing down to this single moment in time was beyond her understanding. One moment, she's clearing the dishes from the table in Tsuruga-san's apartment after the dinner she had forced on him – camping outside his apartment door and ridiculing herself for showing up at all was how he found her – and rounding into the kitchen she knew like the back of her hand and then in the next moment, she found herself dropping the dishes to the floor at the words he had uttered from behind her. The bowls, the glasses, it all clattered to the floor, some of it shattering. She heard it from a distance, from far away, the words he had said ringing loudly in her eardrums. Or maybe that was her heart?

Golden eyes wide, she stared blankly at the wall of the kitchen across from her, one foot forward and the other lifted slightly to take the step to join it's brethren. She blinked in slow tandem, trying to process the words and deny them at the same time. There had to be a mistake, there had to be, there was no way Tsuruga-san – her senpai, the man she loved – had just told her…

"…...I'm Corn."

The TV was playing on some comedy they had been watching while they ate and the muffled sound of laughter mocked her. Her heart gave a painful squeeze but she refused to turn around. A part of her had known it all along, ever since that day in Guam, and if she were being honest with herself, probably longer than that. She had known, shrugged it off, because if she acknowledged that the man she loved now was also her Fairy Prince, her best friend, then…...What could stop that ugly, destructive emotion from pouring out?

What excuse did she have now? How could he do this to her, make her unable to deny her feelings any more? Closing her eyes, she inhaled quietly, hear heart oddly silent as she tried to gather her thoughts. Besides the TV it was silent behind her indicating he wasn't approaching her.

She was grateful for that.

He was allowing her to make the choice for herself what she would do and though Kyoko would have liked to believe she could be angry for the lying – and that kiss she was avoiding processing as she was angry – she couldn't when he said it with that heartbroken, tired voice. Swallowing thickly, she opened her eyes, looking down at the shards of glass and the dishes scattered at her feet.

Shotaro had broken her heart in more ways than one, he had left her used and hateful. Tsuruga-san had picked up those pieces, her Fairy Prince still, and opened that box despite her struggle.

Now, she had a choice to make of her own and it would decide the fate of them both.

Bending down quietly, smoothing down the pleated skirt of her high school, she reached for the dishes that were intact and began piling them up to return them to the kitchen. The clinking of the dishes helped soothe her nerves as she focused on the emotions coursing through her. A hint of anger for the lies, confusion for the kiss in Guam and as to why he had told her the truth right now, a numb acceptance of a truth she had kind of known but shoved away, and the most worrying of all was the sudden desire to turn around and fling herself at him.

She wanted to touch him, to feel him, and her shaking hands as she began to pick up the shattered dish shards told her she was losing the fight. Why couldn't she hate him like she hated Shotaro and move on, move away from love, and be free of having her heart broken? What had prompted him to suddenly tell her that? The shards tumbled into the bowl at the top of the stack as she glanced back at the hunched form of Tsuruga, Ren on his couch. His head was bent but even from her position she could see him clutching at his left wrist, where the broken watch sat, his long fingers dug in tight to the skin.

And just like that her emotions settled into a single coherent one that shook her to her core. She knew it, had felt it many times, and it spread warmly through her body. Her lips stretched and her cheeks flushed, golden orbs glowing, as she stood to her feet. Padding towards the couch in her bare socks, she stopped behind the hunched over man and her gaze fell to her feet, hands fidgeting in front of her.

Her Fairy Prince needed her. It was time to step up and if he was willing to tell the truth, then so was she!

Inhaling sharply, she unintentionally let it out in a sharp shout, "I'm Bo!"

The room grew colder and instinctively – though her hatred for Shotaro had lessened, her grudges hadn't dissipated – a hateful grudge popped out the top of her head, grinning at the presence of the coldness rolling off Tsuruga-san's back. Biting her lip and trembling, Kyoko's thoughts spiralled as she vaulted off into a train of fearful thoughts. Ohhhhh, she knew he would be angry! Why did I do that, why did I say that!?

Shivers shot down her spine and as she threw herself into bow after bow, shouting sorry over and over, until a muffled laugh made her hesitantly look up. Tsuruga-san was still shaking but he had leaned back, his head tilted over the back of the couch to look at her. The strands of what she was now realizing were a sparkling blonde beneath the darkness of a wig hung from his head.

He was smiling but those lensed eyes were turbulent with the emotions and memories she knew nothing about. His gaze was soft when he told her, amusement in his voice, "I told you right to your face and you still don't know."

She blinked, cocking her head to the side, gaze falling from his as her cheeks flushed. Confusion reared up as she tried to understand what he was talking about but her brain was stuck on the fact that Tsuruga-san was Corn. Golden eyes falling to his hair, she bit her lip, thinking of that sparkling golden blonde and she caught the moment when Tsuruga-san's entire face melted, softening as she realized she had probably zoned out into Fairyland staring at his hair. Before she had time to do anything, he lifted his hands and, sparing himself a moment of hesitation, pulled off Tsuruga, Ren's wig. Just like she remembered, those blonde strands glimmered bright from the light of the TV, dancing across her vision like golden silk.

Her heart was already lost and even as, internally, she screamed in horror and lack of propriety, her body ignored her and she stepped forward, lifting a hand to his hair to dance her fingers through some of the loose strands.

Ren allowed her, just simply watching her, and she mumbled unconsciously, "I have always liked your hair, Corn."

A noncommital hum from the fairy – for surely he could be nothing else even now – was all she received. The first touches are tentative, hesitant, as if by allowing her fingers to thread through the golden locks will dislodge her from reality. Perhaps this is a dream? Shocked golden pools drop slowly to look at the man staring up at her and her heart begins to race in her chest, thumping without abandon against her ribcage. Her stomach is light and filled to the brim with fluttering butterflies. Squeaking at the soft look in his eyes, she darts her gaze away but feels the heat flood her cheeks.

If the way her cheeks darken and her belly grows warm are any indication, he's noticed.

When no lies jump at her and the illusion isn't shattered, her fingers brush the smooth, silky strands firmly wanting to hold onto this small piece of her fairy tale. She watches the movements of her fingers, watches the way the golden strands of hair slide through her fingers and fall into the air with his head bent over the back of the leather couch. The TV is still on, flashing colours across the living room and the man with his arms on the couch, head bent back and at her mercy.

And, she realizes with suddenly widening eyes, he is.

He opened himself up to her, admitted the truth to her even knowing she could hate him, and what was she doing? Hands freezing in his hair, her body tenses as she loses herself in the hues of gold that glitter in his hair from the light of the flashing TV. Her heart skyrockets into her throat like a rabbit running from a lion. Here is her Fairy Prince – he would always be her Fairy Prince – after all these years, sitting before her and at her mercy. She could turn around right now, walk out that door, and she knows he would let her.

And she's scared! Oh God, the fear is a numb cold coil in her stomach. It is sharp claws digging into the tender flesh of her heart, urging her to run.

Her grudges are screaming at her. This is bad, this is bad, THIS IS BAD! Run, run! They hiss and scream and plead with her, whisper to the broken pieces of her heart, that this cannot end well. Love, after all, only hurts. Even now it hurts. This man who has no idea just how much she loves him and oh what fool she is, again. Because if she had ever loved Shotaro as much as she loved this man, she would not be broken: she is sure she would cease to exist.

A cold ache settles in her chest and she remembers this feeling – a tight, suffocating heartbreak that begins to tear at the fragile, soft heart encased by her skin and bone. Heartbreak, she thinks through the agonizing pain in her chest, is soft. It is not a hard pain but rather a tender SNAP! Quick but soft. It is the flood of sorrow and anger and pain that is harsh.

Drowning must feel like this.

Her fingertips fall from his hair and subconsciously, she takes a step back, unaware of the action and still lost in fairy gold.

She's not sure what expression she's making and everything fades around her except for the muted hum of the TV and her own slow breathing. A breath here, a breath there. Enough to survive but not enough to care.

Finally, when she thinks she cannot take any more, she shatters at the numb, empty remembrance of why love is a disgusting, hateful emotion. Even now, she cannot prevent the heated, dark thrum of jealousy that rushes through her when she thinks of Morizumi, Kimiko. Because her…..No, he isn't hers, he will never be hers. She takes another step back. A long slow blink at the warm haze that brushes over her eyes at the thought of Morizumi, Kimiko in her place. Kimiko in this apartment, in his kitchen, in his bedroom.

A crystal clear picture of them cuddling on that leather sofa, teasing in the kitchen while she cooks because Corn is hopeless with food. Laughter echoing through these walls, meals shared at the table, and love – the horrid, stupid, vile thing – between them. And she's not sure what shatters her the most, what breaks her more in that moment: that what she has with Corn are only fleeting memories and nothing more or the image of Kimiko, running fingers through golden hair, and saying three words Kyoko hates – and wants to say more than anything else.

She breaks apart, splinters into tiny shards. The dam bursts, the locks all turning to dust and her grudges all falling into a soul wrenching lump that chokes and tightens inside of her.

The box, cracked open, slips shut with a quiet click.

And she falls to her knees with a thump, her skirt rustling as she hits the ground. Golden orbs squeeze shut, anguished tears sliding from the corners. For a moment, she can't hear anything over the TV. Broken, suffering cries and sobs wail out and it takes her a moment to realize that isn't the TV: it's her. The tears come harder when she realizes this, the sobs physically ripped from her stomach and pulled through her chest to leave behind burning gashes. The cries hurt more than the tears and all she can do is tilt her head back through the storm.

She doesn't have Corn – did she ever truly have him at all? – and her Fairy Prince isn't hers. This life she lives is nothing but a lie. Love is a lie. How could she have ever thought a plain, boring, useless, worthless stupid Kyoto-born girl like her could ever be a Princess or deserved a happily ever after with a beautiful Fairy Prince whose heart she could never hope to –

Everything stops the moment strong arms wrap around her, pulling her into a firm chest. Tight like bands around her, she can't move through the heady scent of a familiar cologne that tickles her senses, calming her erratic thoughts instantly into nothing but a fuzzy muted hum in the back of her mind. A soft whistle is all that is left inside of her from the torrent of emotions assaulting her, driven away by the low, smooth voice that echoes from the chest her ear is pressed against and the words that fall over her from the mouth that is pressed gently into her bright orange hair.

It's mostly a shushing noise but she hears her name a couple of times. A numb blankness envelopes her as her body sags into the warmth she craves. For once, she lets go. Mogami, Kyoko gives into the forbidden emotion she hates. Just this once, for just this one moment, she is the Princess and she is loved. The tears have stopped – everything has stopped, even her heart she can't hear beating – and she lifts trembling arms to grasp at the broad, strong back of the man holding her. Fingers dig into the silken material of his shirt, clutching it in her hands, and her face contorts in pain as she buries it in his chest.

Limp, numb and broken Kyoko holds her Fairy Prince and lets herself love him.

Deep inside, in a once locked box surrounded by curled up and sleeping grudges, lifts an ornate lid. It lifts slowly without a sound. From the crack in the box peers out a pair of unsure golden orbs. It does not see grudges. Instead, these eyes see hatred and anger and the sharp shards littering the ground from a heart that had once been made of glass. The lid stops its slow ascent and then flings back suddenly, letting a dark dim light fall on the small singular form peering out.

It squeaks and falls back into the box, blinking up at a dark void before looking down at the tattered and ripped pink dress garbed around it's form. There is a shape of where a heart used to be on the dress but the red heart is missing, torn from the dress in a vengeful hurry. It's once white wings are dusted a dark grey from the ashes of the fire that had once burned brightly. It's black hair was in a tangled knotted mess at the nape of it's neck that hurt to touch and the small, thin being of emotion lied there, staring up at the empty void.

Once, there had been singing and happiness and dreams. The box, locked and kept safe, had glowed brightly, full of hope and fairytales. Darkness is all that remains in the heart of Mogami, Kyoko. The creature knows it is an emotion, and that for some reason it should feel sad, but it cannot remember what emotion it is supposed to be. It sits up slowly, blinking, and looks back down at the heart shaped hole.

What emotion am I? It thinks.

Something wiggles and it's gaze draws to the movement. Blank golden eyes stare at small wiggling toes of it's bare feet and it blinks, seeing the swollen red on the heel. It tries to lift it's feet to it's face but ends up off balance. Falling to it's back with it's feet in the air, it watches the dark light dance through it's toes. It's eyes blink half-closed as it's body begins to lighten. The Sleep is coming and this time, it does not know if it will wake again.

What is there for me to open my eyes to? What emotion am I? What is my purpose?

As the light dances through it's toes in cold, wispy tendrils it thinks it remembers light glittering through beautiful glass slippers that cast a rainbow. It remembers an odd sound and it's little eyebrows furrow slightly. It tries to replicate the sound but nothing seems to match and it lets it legs fall with a thump back to the dusty floor of the box. The sound is light and airy, soft and warm, like the tinkling of a bell. The hole in it's dress is cold, freezing, and it shivers remembering a warmth that could rival the Sun burning in it's chest. The Sun is but ashes now, dusting it's wings a charcoal grey and leaving it's golden eyes empty.

And then a tremendous crack resounds. It watches, in numb fascination, as cracks dart across the dark void above it like lightning. The world shakes, the box rattles, and it watches as the darkness splinters into millions of tiny black dots. Gold winces and squints at the sudden bright light that falls over it, lifting it's arms to shield it's face. A dizzying sickness washes over it and it squints painfully. The light hurts. It burns and brings tears to the small being's eyes. There is no Sun only bright light all around. As it adjusts, it's arms fall away.

Something tickles it's mind, a far off memory, and the being finds itself rising in lazy movements. Blinking through the hazy blank cloud enveloping it, the being slouches toward the edge of the box and jumps. Short fingers grab hold of the edge and it hauls itself up to peer out at the world beyond. It's white everywhere the eye can see with small, wispy pink clouds floating by. Off in the distance is a glittering crystal castle as tall as the eye can see – when it tries to tilt it's head back, it squeaks when it nearly topples off the edge and back into the box – with the grudges lying still and motionless at the foot of the box.

A deep feeling surges in it's belly and it looks down, cocking it's head slightly at it's stomach.

Am I hungry? It blinks in confusion and looks back at the castle, as if the glass holds all the answers. What do I eat?

One of the grudges groans and a single orb opens. Hatred looks at the nameless emotion and the emotion wants to hide at the smirk that curls Hatred's lips. The blue grudge chuckles twice and it's eye falls closed. The emotion watches – Is watching all I can do? – as the grudges' blue bodies slowly turn to dust, carried away by a sparkling wind. It follows the tiny specks of blue grudge dust until it can no longer see them through the expansive world. Looking back at the castle, the sparkling wind brushes at it's limp, useless wings.

Leaning over the edge, it begins to lift a leg to climb out and loses it's balance. Toppling over the side it tumbles to the soft white ground with an 'oomph'. It's fall scatters sparkles into the air and it watches the lights, numb except for a dull ache in it's dress' heart shaped hole. Rising to it's feet, body sagged and wings limp, it meanders towards the castle made of glass.

I need to be there. I think.

Everything is the same as it turns in a slow circle, continuously walking forward. When it glances back at the open box, it is gone and a small pang reverberates through it's empty body. The castle towers over it, sparkling and bright yet empty. The emotion stops and tilts it's head back, following the castle up, up, up until it almost falls backward. Waving it's arms, it keeps it's balance and looks at the steps laid out before it. Everything is a clear, glittering glass that is filled with sparkles and shiny magick. Though it is glass, it is not see-through and the emotion cocks it's head again at the conundrum.

It is glass that is glass but is not glass. Somehow, it feels it should know this but is confused when it doesn't. It hobbles forward to the first step and lifts an angrily swollen red foot. The glass is smooth but not cold when the emotion's bare foot steps forward. The glass is warm and a rush flows through the small being as a memory rises to it's mind from the depths of the engulfing numb. Hesitantly, it presses it's toes against the glass again but there is no rush of warmth this time.

This leaves it feeling oddly disappointed.

Climbing the steps doesn't take long if you don't count the stumble up a couple and the trip that sent it rolling to a halt in front of two tall, arched glass doors of the castle. A small head cocks to the side as it's gaze travels around the doors, trying to peer into the crack that lets it inside. A beat pulses in it's belly and the emotion sits up on it's knees, looking at it's belly in confusion. What is going on?

Having no answers – but knowing it will find them inside – the emotion stands back to it's feet. The small frame squeezes perfectly through the crack in the doors and the emotion stumbles into a large grand foyer. Tangled black hair brushes out of it's golden eyes as it's head falls backward. The glass itself is not see-through but the light of the world outside sparkles through the glass, casting hues of colour and magick across the foyer. The small emotion remembers dancing and singing, memories that are out of reach now that still haunt it's fuzzy mind, clawing at the numb haze that envelops it.

It can hear the nostalgic laughter still echoing in the glass. All of this is too much for the small emotion and suddenly all it wants to do is get away. It squeezes it's small eyes shut and runs, barrelling down glass hallways that echo with memories, through doorways and open doors that still scream of times long past. It runs and runs and runs, bare feet pounding against the smooth castle interior. The hole in it's dress, over it's chest, it aches. The pain is too much, too much!

Charcoal grey wings hang and drag despondently behind as it runs, it's breath coming quicker and quicker, until at last it can take no more. Falling to it's knees, the emotion shoves it's small hands over it's face, and cries. The pounding in it's feet and tight breathing are nothing compared to the pain in it's chest. Tears sting it's eyes as it's hands fall away and blurry golden orbs open. The room is long and wide with an open ceiling, allowing light to fall in and glitter across the glass floor like stars. It resembles a ballroom and a throne room with, at the very end of the long room, a beautiful glass throne.

As soon as it's eyes fall on the throne, a loud beat echoes from within, calling to it. Sniffling, it shakily crawls across the room towards the throne. As it takes each agonizing step forward, the pain lessens until it is numb once more. Standing to it's feet, the emotion stares at the throne and feels a pulse urging it to sit, to remember, to feel. A shaky hand trembles as it reaches towards the throne but pauses.

What if…..What if all those scary things come back? The aches, the burns…..The pain? Fingers curl into a shaking palm as it hesitates. It's eyebrows furrow when something glints at the base of the glass throne and the emotion looks down, retracting it's hand to it's chest. Small, tiny shards litter the very base of the throne and the emotion looks at it's bare feet. A memory comes of glass shoes shattering and the empty heart over it's chest grows colder.

I can't do this! Why am I here? Who am I? What emotion am I!?

It sniffles but before any tears can build, something faded catches it's eye. Reaching forward the emotion shakily, hesitantly, picks up the small faded red heart sitting on the throne. Both hands grasp at the ripped, frayed and faded red heart in it's small fingers. A moment passes as it stares at the heart in it's hands before, finally, it is free. The heart glows brightly, sparkling and beautiful, and the emotion gasps when the glowing heart shoots towards it's chest. When the light settles, a glowing red heart is sewn into the torn and tattered pink dress.

And the angel finally remembers.

Tilting it's head back, it spreads it's arms and let's the light of the glowing heart wash away the emptiness inside. Happiness, hope, joy, everything good gurgles and bubbles, filling the small angel with everything it had forgotten. It's thin, pale limbs strengthen, skin smooth and shiny. Limp charcoal wings rise and with a single flap, the ashes are blown away revealing pure white wings that glitter and shine.

Tangled, messy black hair falls away, trimmed to the shoulders as a bright orange splashes through like paint on a canvas. Each strand is filled with life, a small golden tiara with a giant heart in the middle resting atop her head. Her tattered clothing is surrounded by a glittering magick that rushes over her before revealing a lacy pink dress that swishes in the wind left behind. The magick slowly scoops up the tiny, scattered shards of glass at the base of the throne. It swirls and twists into a flurry of light and when it fades, in it's wake are two glittering glass slippers.

When the angel opens her golden eyes, they are wide and bright and filled with hope. She looks at her slippers and smiles.

Fluttering her white wings, she hovers off the ground. Lining up her feet with the slippers, her wings drop her and her feet slide effortlessly into the shoes. The glass is warm. Giggling, she spins around and with a deep breath, puffs out her chest, and sits on the throne. Silence befalls the world of white in a sudden moment of change.

Then, from her red heart in the middle of her chest, bursts colour. A pulse of red washes out over the silent world holding it's breath. It starts from her chest and echoes out farther than she can see, leaving no stone unturned and nothing left untouched. Blue dust swirls into the room from different directions, coalescing together in a tangled mess of light and dark blue. The angel grins, bouncing on the edge of her seat and clapping her hands as she waits for her friends. Once changed, nothing is ever the same. But that's okay! They have time.

Pop!

Another angel pops out of one of the swirling mists of light, falling to the glass floor with a shriek and a wave of arms. She lands on her chin with her butt in the air and knees underneath her. When she sits back to rub her chin, the heart angel looks on in sympathy. Where once the world had been filled with pink dressed angels and red hearts, now there remain only herself untouched. Her friends – angels turned grudges, forgetting themselves and lost to the darkness – pop out of the magick, one by one, all with hair dusted black and orange and golden eyes. Yet not one looks like her.

She is sad but understanding, lonely but happy her friends have returned.

She looks them over and her heart hurts. Where they had once worn pink dresses with red hearts – and had hateful symbols carved over their chests to never let them forget the pain as grudges – they now wore dark blue dresses with red trim. In the middle where their hearts used to be lie the symbol of a broken heart: one side is pitch black and the other is a faded pink. Their wings, once a fluffy white like her own, are various shades of mottled grey with one of her friends – she snorts when she realizes it is Hatred – having one completely white wing and one completely black wing!

Their once pink slippers are gone and she watches the confusion for a moment, waiting for the moment when they realize. It doesn't take long before Hatred, spinning in a circle looking at her mismatched wings, sees the Queen sitting in her throne. Her friend – tears burn her eyes at the sweet angel she remembers and the lost demon who had locked her away – storms up to her, hands on her hips, and huffs out, "Just look at what you've done now."

The angel looks at her bewildered friends all scattered below, knowing there are many more throughout this world, before looking back into the eyes of her friend. Light gold meets dark gold. Some say it is a very thin line between the two of them and our angel agrees. She stands slowly – and tries not to cry at the distrustful glare her twin sends her – and cups her sister's cheeks in her hands. Where her skin is luminescent and glowing, her sister's is empty of light.

She looks into her sister's eyes, so much like her own, and she smiles. The line between them blurs as her sister's dark gold glisten with tears. The darker angel sniffles and whispers harshly, "Why?"

"Because," She smiles. "I am Love. That is the emotion I am."

She's lost in a haze of warmth. Strong arms are wrapped tight around her and really, she's sure they're the only things keeping her from disappearing. Tight and secure, his arms encase her. One of those large hands is holding the back of her head gently to his chest. The touch is so gentle she can barely feel it if not for the heat his body emits. Her self-awareness of him doesn't help either.

His other palm is pressed firmer into her lower back, keeping her within the cage of his wide, broad chest. The erratic thumping in his chest relaxes her, golden eyes peering out at the apartment through slits. She can barely hold the lids of her eyes open, the rainbow hue of the TV playing out across the shiny hardwood floor. There is a ringing in her ears like a dropped bomb has just gone off, leaving her body dazed and numb. The after effects are a dull throb in her blank mind.

Vaguely, she thinks she can hear a muted click from within her.

It sounds almost final – the click of something closing, once and for all, and she knows she knows what it means. Except he's so warm, he's here, and for just this one moment, she's allowed to hold him. Feeling silk bunched in her hands, her fingers twitch and dig in tighter. The body she's attached to presses her closer and slowly, the numbness fades with each exhale of her breath. As the ringing in her ears melts away, she can hear the muted voices of a variety show and the uproarious laughter from the audience. The male voices are low but she finds them oddly familiar, the corners of her lips twitching upwards.

The apartment is dimly lit with the lights turned down low. The shadows stretch across the apartment like shadowy wings. Light glares out from the kitchen and her mind flashes to broken glass. Eyebrows furrow as she remembers the sound of dishes shattering, trying to place it, but she's distracted by the heart roaring in her ears.

Her lids fall closed.

Her own heart dances to the tune in her ear but there is an ache in her chest she knows she has to face. She doesn't want to, she knows what awaits her even if her memory is fuzzy from the warmth of the man she lo–

And then it's over.

The single moment she allowed herself falls through her chest, dragging her heart with it. Golden eyes snap open and the world suddenly crashes into focus around her. Everything cracks, splinters, as reality slams down.

Love. Why is it always love that breaks her?

Instantly and without her consent, hot tears build behind her eyes and she swallows past the jumbled knot in the back of her throat. The variety show in the background brushes her memory before it, too, clicks into place.

She can hear the laughter and when a voice joins in, the recognition that passes through her is affectionate. Hikaru-nii-san. Yappa Kimagure Rock is playing and if she weren't internally dying, she would find that ironically humorous. Instead all she can manage is despair that even at her weakest Fate continues to mock her.

Ren – No. Kuon's body is hard and warm beneath her cheek, the silk of his shirt smooth against her skin. It takes a couple of firm blinks to shove back the tears before she gathers the strength to push herself away.

Her moment is over. The moment of weakness – of love – is over. Now all she can think about is leaving this apartment. She has to get out. The walls are too big, the ceiling too high, and she feels like she's drowning. Her only anchor is the man she can't have.

Her hands curl tighter and she presses closer for a brief moment before she lets go. Her hands, the shaking is hard to stop, rise to his chest and she pushes. She knows he will let her go. He has Kimiko waiting for him and despite that, he would never hurt her. This is a fundamental fact she knows. The cold ache is now a burning lodged in her chest but it isn't Kuon's fault; no, the only one to blame is Kyoko herself for becoming the fool she promised Shotaro she would never be.

How the hell was she supposed to resist this man?

She lost before she had even realized there was a battle. By the time her locks had started falling, it had been too late to stop it. A pang of hurt and bitter jealousy sweeps through her when his arms loosen. Head bent, she pulls away with her hands falling into her lap. One small hand grips the other tight in an effort to brace herself for her next words.

But he beats her to it.

"So that's you."

It's a statement but she feels the question and hesitantly looks up. The regret is instantaneous the moment her burning, bleeding heart stops beating. He's staring over the back of the couch at the TV but her gaze is solely focused on him. How could she see anything else? How did she not see it before? His golden tresses fall into his face and over his ears, messy from the wig, but they glimmer and shine. The long bridge of his nose ends in a point above lips that are lifted in a soft smile that renders her grudges defeated.

And she's shocked to find she cannot find any of her grudges at all.

His jaw is sharp yet refined and her fingertips itch to trace it. Clutching tighter to her rebellious hands in case they decide to act on their own and follow her traitorous thoughts, gold turns to follow his sight. There she is, dancing on stage with a guest in a giant chicken suit, with an audience practically screaming in laughter. Bou spins the happy guest – a rising new idol singer – who giggles heartily and curtsies when Bou gives an over-exaggerated bow. The black bow-tie at his neck falls off and Bou scrabbles to grab it.

The scene plays out on the screen and washes over the quiet of the apartment. Her nerves fade slightly when she doesn't see any sign of hate for not telling him.

The word slips out easily and she is proud when her voice doesn't tremble. "Yes."

Her eyes fall to her hands, head ducked, when she sees him begin to turn back towards her. She can't handle looking at him not when this is the last time she will ever see him again.

There is a moment where she can feel his stare on her. It's not intense but her skin sparks from the heat she can feel from him. They are still awfully close despite him having released her and she knows she should move away, put distance between them, but her legs are numb. She's scared and if she's being honest, Kyoko has never wanted to stay so badly anywhere in her life. When she leaves, it's all over and she presses her legs down to the floor discreetly. Not yet. Just another minute in this apartment, near her Fairy Prince, then she will leave and never look back. She will give up and she will move on.

His chuckle is more a rumble in his chest. "I should have known it was you." He's clearly amused but there's a softer emotion lacing his words that she can't place. "The bowing, the apologizing…"

A tic makes her eye twitch at the way his voice fades off in a teasing tone she knows all too well. The pain in her chest eases and she can breathe easier for a moment.

A commercial blares out from the TV but she hears his soft voice over it as if he had whispered the words in her ear. "I should have known when I trusted a giant chicken for love advice that it was you."

The wistful tenderness sends the pain in her chest sharply back. Her heart clenches, chest aching and tight. The hot knot in her throat from earlier threatens to strangle her if she doesn't breathe through it, tears burning up the back of her throat like acid. They build in the back of her eyes but inside she screams, no! No! You're an actress. You will not cry. Not now!

Then she opens her mouth.

"It was me and I'm happy my advice has helped you. I'm sorry for deceiving you. You and," She pauses, the name on her tongue bitter as jealousy seeps into her blood. "Morizumi-san make a….good couple."

It all felt like watching an old movie you loved years ago but forgotten the plot to. You loved it so much, you knew it by heart, but then suddenly, years later when you re-watch it you realize how little you actually remembered it.

That feeling fell over her the minute before Kuon responded. She felt it in her bones. Her blood stopped flowing, her heart stopped beating, she couldn't even breathe any more.

Right as he took a deep breath to speak, that feeling doused her in a cold dread as wave after wave of icy cold burst from the man before her.

"Morizumi-san?" The way he said her name wasn't soft and Kyoko blinked down at her clutched hands.

That wasn't how you address someone you love. And why did he sound as if he didn't remember the name? Why was he so furious that he was planning on sending her into the next Ice Age? She couldn't stop her trembling reaction from the coldness emitted by the Demon Lord still on his knees in front of her. Well, if she died, she would leave everything to Moko and Chiori. Besides her voodoo dolls. Those would go to Maria-chan.

When he sighed as if the world had suddenly fallen onto his shoulders, Kyoko shot her gaze up without thinking. He was on his knees but still loomed above her though closer than their heights usually allowed. She still had to bend her head back to stare up at him and she regretted it when he looked down at her.

Those weren't the eyes of a Demon Lord staring down at her.

What stared down at her was a desperately tired and sombre man. She inhaled sharply, all her breath caught in her lungs as her gold orbs widened. Kuon stared down at her – not Ren, not Corn, not her Fairy Prince – and she could see every part of him in that dark gaze. Her heart lurched forward reaching for him as they stared into one another's eyes. He was so close again and for a moment, she wondered if he had inched closer to her. His dress shirt was rumpled, the top two buttons undone, and she could feel his body heat soaking into her own.

Her skin tingled, the fine hairs on her body rising up. His cologne – something fine and expensive – was outweighed by the clean heavy smell of his natural scent. It wafted over to her like a mist, curling a finger and beckoning her to return to his arms. But her gaze remained locked on his, those irises darkening with something that did send her heart fluttering.

The Emperor has made his appearance.

The dark heat in his eyes burned her but she couldn't look away. There was something there behind the smouldering fire of his gaze that made her heart flutter in both fear and excitement. A strange feeling tickled her mind at the Emperor's gaze on her. Frozen, she could only watch as he lifted his large hands to dab at first one eye and then the other. He kept his eyes closed as he flicked his fingers but Kyoko was still frozen, staring at those closed eyes in muted and confused horror.

She knew, when he opened those blazing orbs, she would lose. What, exactly, she was losing, she wasn't sure.

When they opened, the Emperor dove into her chest and gripped her heart with a firm grasp, wrenching a gasp from her lips before she could stop it. She thought it was bad when Ren gave her that look.

It was worse on Kuon.

Bright emerald green tinged a very light aqua at the very rim bore down into her, half-lidded and full of dark promises.

Her heart was...Somewhere. And she was breathing...Right?

Kyoko could care less for anything but the man in front of her and the way he was looking at her. Her lips parted and his gaze – slow and languid – fell down at the motion. They sparked with the intense gaze and her belly flipped before he brought his gaze back to her own. His movements were slow and steady like he had all the time in the world.

Mouth dry from his stare, when his eyes slowly met her gold again, Kyoko's cheeks flooded with heat. Even the tips of her ears burned. Those emerald green pools had darkened to a luscious, light viridian and Kyoko wanted to melt into the floor.

She would have, too, if the Emperor hadn't chosen that moment to lean down. The air thickened, hot and heavy and tense, as Kuon slowly leaned down towards her until their noses were almost touching. Hot warmth engulfed her jaw and the bottom of her cheek when his hands brushed her skin. His touch was gentle despite the heaviness of his gaze but Kyoko felt her body tremble anyway.

Both of his hands eclipsed her jaw and her cheek, her face and her jaw too small for his giant hands. It should have made her feel afraid or nervous.

Instead, all she felt was a pulse heat.

Deep inside of Kyoko, in a castle made of glass, stirred an angel that had never woken before. It opened it's liquid gold eyes slowly, blinking long lashes as a slow smile curled her lips. Her wings were both black and her dress was not blue or pink. She was garbed in a red, strapless dress that was not like the others. It hung to her upper thigh and the dress was fitted to her form. A pair of red glass heels clicked when she landed on the glass floor. Where the other angels had broken hearts – or where Love had a full red one – this angel had a flame.

For the first time, Desire stretched her arms above her head and grinned.

A surge of heat flooded her stomach and Kyoko tensed, unprepared for the emotion that begged her for something she didn't know. The heat in her belly sparked through her blood and it must have shown in her eyes because Kuon's hands twitched, tightening and pulling her just a bit closer. The green of his irises drowned her in the thick, heavy emotions that sucked her in. A streak of pleasure burst through her – followed, barely, by a twinge of guilt – as she wondered if Kimiko had ever made Kuon look at her the way he was looking at Kyoko.

"And just why is it..." He tilted his head, never breaking his gaze from her own. "You think I wasn't talking..."

He leaned closer until she could feel his breath wash over her lips and her gold orbs grew wider. "...About you?"

His intense stare stopped time only seconds before those eyes narrowed and Kyoko knew: she saw it and she could have stopped it. She really, really should have…!

But she didn't.

His words rung in her ears just as his lips crashed into hers. Her first kiss had been stolen by an ant-eater siphoning food. Her second by a Fairy Prince. She had always envisioned her true first kiss as being tender and sweet, filled with love, and Kuon's kiss completely erased Sho's from her memory.

Kuon blew the entire vision away the moment his lips met hers.

This kiss was not sweet. It wasn't tender and soft. Passion burned her lips, stroking the fire in her belly into a roaring flame that sent her blood humming and her heart fluttering into her throat. The heat of his hands deepened into a scorching burn that when they fell away and to her shoulders, her skin ached and tingled with his touch. Every pore of her skin felt alive, sparking and exuberant from the heat of Kuon and his devouring kiss. Thin hairs rose on her neck and her arms at the desire that flooded her veins, begging her for something she didn't understand.

Kuon understood. He heard the pleas of her body and he responded.

The flesh of his lips were soft but firm, insistent as they pressed into her own. Those long fingers slowly curled into her shoulders, the touch sending a shiver from her neck to the base of her spine, and unconsciously, she arched forward in a confused, heated daze. Kuon tilted his head, those lips parting against her own.

When Sho had kissed her, shoving his tongue into her mouth to taste the chocolate he had shoved in, his tongue had been rough and cold. His touch as he grappled for her had made her shiver and want to run away, to jerk from his hold and it had been nothing like her dreams. A hot, wet and silky tongue parted her lips, slow and gentle, before delving into her mouth with a flourish that left her completely breathless.

Sho was an icy cold that washed over her. Kuon was a burning fire that threatened to burn her alive. The Emperor dominated her with his tongue, pushing and prodding and tangling with her own. It brushed smoothly through her mouth as if he knew every corner of her. Devouring her every breath the touch of his tongue slowed, soothing the aggressive touches with gentle caresses that sent her into a reeling dizziness.

Her heart slowed, falling back into her chest, and the burning heat thickened to a slow crawl in her blood. A heady pleasure fell over her and before she could stop to think about it, her hands rose. Her small hands pressed gently, shaking from the desire that still lapped at her belly, into the silk shirt hiding the carved chest from her gaze.

Something snapped between them and Kuon jerked away from her, his body instantly tensing beneath her hands. The hot blood in her veins flooded her face when she let out a soft shaky whimper at the loss of heat and warmth that had enveloped her. Golden orbs slowly fluttered open, head still tilted back as she looked up at the man who had not only stolen her heart but her body, too.

The look in his green eyes stirred the heat inside of her.

Shoulders tense, his back was tight with tension. His hands had left their perch of her shoulders to grapple at the floor, fingers curled into tight fists that trembled on the cool wood. He was still looming over her, gaze dark, with a chest that rose and fell heavily. Shiny golden hair fell over his face in loose strands, casting shadows over that strong face she would recognize in any crowd. The Emperor was still holding court, staring down at her in all his full dark power, yet twisting through the darkness of his eyes lurked her Fairy Prince.

A soft emotion curled through his dark eyes, twisting beneath the passion and the desire, reaching out for her and begging her to understand.

Slowly, she did.

One slow blink after another, the air of the apartment cool against her wet, swollen lips and slowly, the words registered in her mind. Yappa Kimagure Rock played the last of it's skit, the ending tune playing out, as loud to her ears as a drum banging repeatedly in front of her. His words seeped from her mind down to her heart, cuddling into her heart and filling her chest with a warmth she knew she should fear.

His question – it was a question – rang in her ears as, finally, she understood.

Golden pools widened as she parted her lips to speak – instantly aware of the way those dark eyes fell down to her lips and narrowed – and blurted out in a frantic mumble, "Y-You can't….You don't…."

Her words, slow and hesitant, caused those fathomless eyes to snap back to her own and she couldn't help the involuntary squeak that fell out of her.

The darkness softened slightly before he spoke, voice rough and heavy that sent a thrill from the top of her head to her toes. "I can't what?"

Swallowing, Kyoko was instinctively aware that she was back on another cliff. Her back was to the very things she knew, the darkness in which she could fling herself and hide from the truth that looked brazenly at her in the form of the Emperor. If she answered him, if she took that step toward him and away from the edge of the cliff that begged her not to, she knew she would never be able to escape him.

Their eyes both stared into the other, steady and deep, neither one searching or probing. The air grew thick between them like a mist of gun powder, ready to ignite and explode at the slightest hint of a spark. In this moment, Kyoko knows if she gives in, if she answers him, her feelings will be revealed and he will see the stupid, foolish woman she's become.

Lory's words float back to her in a muted whisper from that fateful day in his office: "I truly believe you're laying your hands on the curtain of a great love drama. But no matter how good it is, it's nothing until the curtain rises."

Does she want to throw the curtains aside? Can she let go of her hatred, her fear and her doubts, and let herself love Kuon?

Her Fairy Prince, with glittering wings and shiny gold hair, holds out a hand to her, his green eyes soft and tender as they beckon her away from the edge of the cliff.

Love, deep inside of Kyoko's heart, smiles as she sits upon her throne, staring up at the sparkling sky above the open castle, peaceful and content.

Every moment she has ever shared with this man, every piece of her life with him in it, even the moments with only her thoughts, rush into her like flowing water. With new eyes and understanding alight in her breast, Kyoko pulls back the curtains and faces her fate.

What she sees is a reverently smiling Fairy Prince with bright green eyes staring down at her, unsure but glowing in a breathtaking, gut wrenching tenderness. All the times she hid her feelings bubbled up like a gurgling fountain, pouring from her heart into her eyes. Her lips curled sweetly into a soft smile, still slightly parted and wet from their passionate kiss. Cheeks a warm pink, her eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile brightened up her gold irises that reflected back at her in Kuon's tender green.

The love she felt poured out of her, her entire body relaxing as, finally, for the first time since her heart broke, she felt herself give in to the love that flowed into her as easily as if it had never been missing in the first place. Love was warm and bright filling her with air. Bubbles burst inside of her, full of hope and light and caressing her heart. When she thought of why she had hid it so long she couldn't understand. How could she have ever hoped to fight the sparkling magick that sang through her blood?

Swallowing past all the words she suddenly wanted to say, Kyoko looked at her Prince and said, "You….You love me."

The moment she said it, the truth settled in her heart. This otherworldly – for surely he was a Fairy, she refused to believe otherwise – man loved her.

And suddenly Kyoko didn't feel so foolish any more.

Soft smile still gracing her lips and a heart pounding in her chest, she leaned up slowly. His reverently content face melted into shock as she brought their lips close. The surprised gleam in his eyes brightened with hope and her heart instantly sprung out of her chest at the glowing, shining hope that glittered in his green orbs. His expression shifted and she felt the air change around them, charging with electricity and sparking over her skin.

Small fingers climbed up the silk of his shirt to his shoulders before looping behind his neck, hands fidgeting at the base where his sparkling blonde hair teased her fingers. Lifting herself up half-way, with love reigning once more in her heart, Kyoko whispered against his lips in a gentle, teasing voice, "For a prince, you were awfully late."

One corner of his lips twitched, the desire in his eyes – desire for her – lightening with humor. Cloth rustled and he shifted before she felt those wide palms and long fingers splay with the softest of touches over her hips before he responded. "I'm sorry, Princess. That was rude of me. Is it too late?"

His eyebrows furrowed and his green eyes flicked away from her face for a moment before he took a deep breath. They ensnared her again as a low, insecure rumble washed over her. "Am I too late?"

With her heart pounding, her blood pumping erratically through her veins, giddiness and a daring, playful urge rushed through her. Soft turned lips edged into a teasing grin, wide and thrilling. Golden eyes glinted with promises of the future.

Love bloomed in her heart where hatred had once festered. The dark curtains thrown back, love poured into every inch of her body and every piece of her soul.

"You know what? You're right on time, Corn."

And then she sealed their happily ever after with a kiss.