Day Twenty-Three: Arguing

Day Twenty-Three: Wednesday

Twenty-Third Challenge: Arguing

Author’s Note: Under a “Read More” for A’s mouth. And Matt’s.

Let’s just say a lot of screaming and swearing takes place.

Day Twenty-Two: Battle

Day Twenty Two: Tuesday

Twenty-Second Challenge: Battling Side-By-Side

The black car zoomed across the Japanese roads at 1AM in the morning. The woman was at the wheel, driving as fast as she could, not caring less if she broke the speed limit – she was part of HQ, that didn’t quite matter at the moment. Beside her, a man spoke quickly into his phone, telling her where to go and where to turn, where to stop and where to stop the car if ever needed. She grit her teeth, sweat dripping down her face as she stomped on the brakes, hearing his voice telling her to stop at a certain building.

“I’m on my way there,” he muttered into his phone, “with her. We’re armed and ready. Just wait for our signal.” He turned his head to look at his girlfriend while the other person on the line spoke, the voice laced with much quickness and authority.

Her usually fixed hair was in a tight ponytail, a few strands of black hair in her face and clothes clinging to her skin. Her hand shook as it reached the black gun she kept in her cloak, checking if it was loaded and keeping her face empty as she looked at the man next to her. He gave her a deep kiss after taking out his own gun, soon telling her to get out and saying two last words:

“Keep calm.”

Keep calm, that was right, she groaned to herself as she turned off the car’s engine and soon stepping out. She heard him hiss at his phone and growled at him to keep quiet, which she did. She quietly walked to the warehouse, keeping her footsteps silent and holding the gun in her hands, ready to pull the trigger if ever she had to. The holder of her dagger shook slightly as she moved, it attached to her black belt.

From behind, Matt pursed his lips, also holding his gun and quietly walking after her. His sharp eyes scanned the area, making sure that no one was there to see them just yet. He couldn’t let her go alone – her coworkers were patrolled at different stations, and she was assigned to go in and take them out. Matt had asked if he could join, and despite Ari’s protests, was granted permission by the head, none other than Touta himself.

A low voice spoke from the inside, and he saw her stiffen. Her hand rested on the door and her hand trembled, and before she could slam it open, he laid his hand on hers and gave her a quick smile – a smile of reassurance.

She smiled back just as slightly and soon slammed the door open, yelling at whoever was inside to stop what they were doing and surrender immediately.

Immediately came an uproar, and Ari yelled into her transceiver to initiate the process. Instantly came in the other agents – Matt recognized Peters – and thus, it began. Everything flew by quickly. He could recall various gunshots as the area was raided, and he could remember seeing her grit her teeth as she narrowly dodged a bullet and shoot her own gun. He could hear Touta yelling at him to keep down, and he did, shooting as well and focusing on whoever needed to be brought down.

His days as a hitman certainly taught him well. Yells were heard from here and there, and he could hear Ari barking out orders as the men surrendered one by one, their weapons dropped and them on the floor, afraid for their lives. As the agents walked with cuffs in hand, from the corner of his eye…

…Matt saw one of the captives lift his gun to shoot at her.

The realization hit him a split second later, and without hesitation, he lifted his gun and shot. The man fell, bleeding from his side and the sound of the gun alerted the other agents, who spun around with weapons in hand. Her eyes met his and she gave him a furious stare, wherein he could only point at the one who was about to shoot and possibly kill her.

Her eyes widened as she absorbed what could have happened, and she turned back to the kneeling group, shakily taking out the cuffs and muttering for the agents to do whatever they did. Peters gave her a hard look but Touta let her get back to him, the Japanese merely nodding at Matt.

As she came to him, trembling from head to toe, he dropped his gun and swept her into a tight embrace. He felt her shake all over and pressed his lips on the top of her head, now aware of how hard she tried to survive.

Day Twenty One: Cooking

Day Twenty One: Monday

Twenty-First Challenge: Cooking

“Calm down, Ari…it’s cooking, not rocket science.” Chuckled Matt as he watched her perform a simple dish, technically breakfast. She scowled at him and cracked an egg onto the sizzling pan, cursing as a fragment of the broken shells fell onto the surface as well. Quickly throwing away the shells into the trash, she got a fork and quickly evaded disaster by taking out the shell (and panicking about it getting stuck in the food).

“You keep quiet,” growled Ari. “You’re the pro at cooking; now hush or your face goes into the damned pan.” A cheeky little grin came onto his face, knowing that she wouldn’t actually attempt to stick his face in the pan out of her anger. Knowing her, however, he decided to take a little bit of caution and stop with the teasing for at least a while. “…do I wait for the eggs to cook?”

“You can scramble them like so,” he replied, walking forward and proceeding to scramble the cooking eggs in the pan with what seemed to be some kind of whisk. Ari blinked and watched him, the eggs soon into small little pieces, definitely scrambled. “Or you can simply make the eggs into an omelet by mixing the egg first, putting the mixture into the pan, and then putting whatever you want on top and then folding it.”

“Folding?”

“And that will be used in another lesson.” He kissed her head, handing over the pack of bacon. “Now transfer the scrambled eggs onto a plate and we’ll try bacon next. It’s fairly easy. Just need to fry and flip to another side, repeat, and have as much bacon as you want.” She nodded and did so, then spread out the bacon on the pan.

It sizzled, and the scent of bacon spread throughout the kitchen. Ari made a small whine, hungry already, but followed Matt’s instructions (watch and flip, watch and flip) until he was satisfied with the results. It was the first time she felt frustrated with him and the food. Unknowingly to her, the man was a strict one when it came to the kitchen, and this was a side she didn’t know about at all.

It ticked her off.

“I don’t think that’s enough for us,” Ari muttered at the sight of the plates of food. “Hold on, I’ll scramble more eggs and cook up a little more bacon. Just prepare the table and I’ll get this done.” He nodded and walked off, and she was able to relax without his blue eyes inspecting her cooking and telling her what to do.

Picking up the mats, he let out a small chuckle. He could see the irritation in her eyes, and though he felt a little guilty that he had to boss her around, this was how he was taught to cook. If she wanted to learn, then so be it – she would just have to cope with his own style of teaching.

Matt carefully arranged the placemats as well as the plates and utensils, then walked back to the fridge. He took out some bread and toasted it, then while waiting checked up on her. She was calmer, he noticed, and decided not to interfere this time. The man heard singing, and upon checking her once more, saw that she was calmly cooking the bacon and eggs while singing to a song on the radio.

His eyes softened and he just watched.

Ari soon flipped the food onto another plate and turned off the stove, washing her hands soon enough and coming across him as she brought the plate to the table.

“It isn’t burnt like my first try,” she told him (her eyes darted away from his face), looking somewhat ashamed. “I think it’ll taste nice.” She walked to the table and set the plate down, then sat and waited for him to do the same. When he did, she hesitantly took a few pieces of bacon as well as eggs, and started to eat.

Her face took on a relieved expression, but her posture stiffened upon seeing him get some food as well. Matt pretended not to notice her nervous eyes yet gave her a wink as he ate, remaining silent even after swallowing.

The twosome then ate, neither acknowledging the food she prepared. Ari felt somewhat irritated yet reassured. She didn’t want Matt picking out the errors in her first time cooking (and actually accomplishing the task). It wasn’t until their plates were empty when he finally spoke.

“You know what, babe?” he grinned. “That was actually pretty good.”

It took her a few seconds to process the compliment.

The next thing he knew, she was cooking once more with a proud look on her face.

Day Twenty: Dancing

Day Twenty: Sunday

Twentieth Challenge: Dancing

Jun Matsumoto nudged Matt’s arm, pointing to the couples starting to dance to the slow music that played. “Where’s your sweetheart? I thought you two would be dancing right now.” Matt merely looked back and so did he, and the two men saw Ari conversing with another woman who Matsumoto had invited to his occasional galas. “She doesn’t want to dance?”

“She’s shy,” he replied softly.

“Take her there. I’ll distract her little friend over there.” The Japanese winked and walked off to the two women, complimenting both on their appearances for the night. Matsumoto casually brought up the talk about other people, causing Ari to listen politely for a few minutes before drifting back to Matt, who welcomed her back into his arms. From the side, he saw Matsumoto throw a wink and gesture to the dance floor, which was actually looking rather spacious.

“Who’d you meet, lovely?” he asked, gently tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. She smiled at him, pecking his cheek and lacing her fingers with his. “She looks like someone from his workplace…”

“An important figure where he works, I’m thinking. But I didn’t catch her name.” she blinked as he led her slowly to the middle of the room, and the sound of soft classical music rang in her ears. “Matt, you know I’m dreadful at dancing…”

He smirked, leaning in to nip her ear and whisper something only she could hear. “You didn’t say that when we were at the beach house, beautiful.” Her cheeks flushed and she glared at him, as she always did when he used that memory to his advantage. “Just follow my lead, and you’ll be alright. Now, come on before Matsumoto throws a fit. He didn’t take your lady friend for nothing.”

She realized his intentions and glowered at him, but complied nonetheless.

Her hands on his shoulders and his on her waist, and he slowly started, she keeping up just fine. The music grew louder and though many people had come to his gala, they and a select few other couples seemed to be the only ones dancing in the middle of the large room. Ari took note of this.

“They’re watching,” she protested, looking away and blushing at the fact. Matt lifted her chin and kissed her lightly, making her cheeks darken more. Her arms pulled themselves around his waist and they kissed, stopping in the middle of the room. He pulled away from this kiss and lifted his eyebrow, resuming the dance as if nothing happened. She was flabbergasted, and could only follow his steps as he wheeled her around the room.

Matsumoto, who was watching a few feet away, was sniggering at the young woman’s reaction. Women’s eyes focused on him and men’s on her, but the two could only dance as if they were the only ones left. Their eyes gazed at each other, and he spun her around before gently dipping her.

She panted softly, flushed as he stole yet another kiss before lifting her back up. “Wanker,” she complained, but a smile fixated itself on her face as their dance went slower, and they were only following the flow of the music. He smirked playfully, pulling her into his arms and bringing them away from the dance floor.

“You know you liked that.”

“I’m trying to forget that even happened.”

“Try all you want,” he kissed her before she could protest. “You know I’ll never really leave your mind.” 

About the Blogger

Q: Hey, blogger! How about a general rundown about you?

A: For short, I am Arianne Maxine, a fifteen-year-old writer from the Philippines. More details about me can be read on the header, though they can be rather unclear. 

Q: When did you start this blog, and what is it's purpose? 

I started this blog around August of 2012, mainly for writing and slightly personal reasons. I actually had another blog last year, but I deleted it because of inactivity and how, er, unprofessional it looked to me. My dad was the one who told me to have a blog, and I decided to give it a go.  

Q:  What do you mainly write?

It depends on what you mean by "mainly".  

Well, it all depends. I can be writing a FanFiction at one point, or I can be formulating my own original one at another. It's up to how I typically feel, though mostly, I'm in a FanFic mood about 90% of the time. On genres, I'm more of a romance/adventure/drama person. I'm working on the comedy, I'm quite the corny person. My weakness is writing fantasy-type stories. 

Q:  What's the origin of your URL?

4ri-anne was my old Tumblr URL, but then I moved to another blog. I decided to use it for this type of blog because 1) I wanted to, and 2) It wasn't actually taken when I signed up for blogspot. Plus, I'm pretty much attached to it. And I like my first name. My lucky number is four or eight, but mainly four. 

 Q:  What can we, the readers, expect from this blog?

You can expect my nightly musings, my babbles about my OTPs, and a lot of random writings. I'll get around to tagging my posts soon enough, I probably will when I get the motivation to. But a common theme for my posts are mainly my OTPs, or One True Pairing...s. (Personally, OTP needs to mean One Trillion Pairings because I have a lot.)

Q:  What else do you do?

I make graphics with Photoshop CS5. I still see myself as a beginner, and want to learn more. I'm actually experimenting with GIFs and manipulations now. Aside from that, I'm a person really interested in Biology and Asian History. Most of the time. 

Q:  Who's your favorite (insert object/human here)?

Authors: John Green, JK Rowling, Mitch Albom   

Bands: Paramore, The Pretty Reckless, Fall Out Boy, Coldplay, Simple Plan, Maroon 5

Fandoms: Doctor Who, Axis Powers Hetalia, Harry Potter, Death Note, basically a lot of fandoms. My tumblr should tell you about them. 

Artists: Porcelain Black, Lana del Rey, Ed Sheeran, Lily Allen, P!nk

Day Nineteen: Formality

Day Nineteen: Saturday

Nineteenth Challenge: In Formal Wear

Tears streamed down the cheeks of the eleven-year-old girl, not bothering to wipe them off as her friend’s funeral took place in the grand garden of Wammy. Speeches were told and flowers were laid down, while Heather stayed glued to her seat, looking down and silently sobbing at the fact that she lost someone important to her.

A the Great.

A the First.

A the Brilliant.

Linda couldn’t get her out of her seat, and could only look on sadly as she walked back inside. The funeral finished and she still remained outside, now watching as the sky remained blank and unoccupied by the clouds. Grey tinted the view, a slight rumble occupying her ears. The rains would come soon. They would come just as her tears did, quiet and unnoticed by many.

She didn’t notice the footsteps come up from behind her.

Her eyes didn’t dart to the person who sat next to her, who sighed softly and looked her way. She could feel the person’s eyes on her, but she didn’t want to speak just yet. Her friend just had his funeral. Other people had to wait, she needed time to grieve. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but a hand gently clasped her shoulder and a white handkerchief was placed on her lap.

She turned her head to the left with a lost, confused expression.

The boy looked a little older, with his blue eyes boring into her reddened green ones. His lips were pursed and he had wild ginger hair, some sticking up in random positions. He caught her looking at his hair and quickly tried to smooth it down, working a bit in the process. His cheeks were light red from her noticing.

He took his hand away.

“Um, it’s best if you use this.” He gestured to the handkerchief.

She stared at it and then picked it up, as if unsure on how to use it.

“You wipe your face. Sort of like this.” He took it from her and dabbed the tears away, making her redden a bit. She snatched the piece of cloth away and wiped her own face, eyes wide as she recognized the boy, but couldn’t put his name into place with his face…how odd. Who was he?

“He was…he was your friend, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

Her reply was soft, quaint.

“I’m sorry, too.” Her accent, though fading, made the letters in her spoken words rise and twist in peculiar ways. “He was amazing. Fantastic, even…” tears leaked out of her eyes once more, and she wiped them away before she could see them fall. She thanked her lucky stars her long black hair shielded her face from the rest of the world.

However, she knew he could see the fallen tears that made marks on her dark dress. The dress that fit her petite, thin frame and reached her knees. Now that she looked at him, she could see that he was in formal clothes – probably dark pants and a long-sleeved, button-down shirt with a tie – and that he still looked at her with the same emotion on his face.

Concern.

“Everyone loved A. No one knew his real name, though.”

“He liked keeping it a secret.” A shrug came from her. “He liked being mysterious…” she suddenly became aware that she had used his handkerchief. “W-Wait, your handkerchief…I’ll have it cleaned and give it back, I swear,” she started. Her accent became more prominent as she panicked, but stopped when the guy flashed a quick smile at her.

“You can have it.”

“…have it?”

“Yes. It would match your formal dress, yeah?” he nodded at her attire, making her cheeks darken in color. “Not like we should dress like this more often.”

“…thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” he began, but cringed at an angry yell coming from the inside. “God – I sort of have to go.” She looked at him.

“Will I see you again?” the question left her lips before she could stop it.

He thought for a moment.

“Yeah, I will. Alright. As longs as we’re not in these clothes,” this made her smile slightly, “it’ll be alright. Don’t cry.”

Another yell, muffled.

“I have to get going. See you,” he bid her goodbye and ran off, yelling back at the one who had called him. Heather smiled, but suddenly realized that she didn’t get his name.

She looked at the handkerchief all over, but saw nothing.

All she had of him was the boy in the formal clothes.

Day Eighteen: Doing Something Together

Day Eighteen: Friday

Eighteenth Challenge: Doing Something Together

“I’m not that good at drawing.”

“Exactly.” A grin flashed on his face. “I want to have a good laugh, and you know you want to, too. So…” he patted the couch. “Just lie down here and look at me. And then when I’m done, you can draw me and we’ll show each other what we did.” She shook her head but a smile slowly made its way onto her face, and then walked to the couch with a snort.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me for it.”

“I can’t deny that.” she lay down and shifted a little, pushing her hair back and merely looking at him with a lifted brow. “What should I do?”

“Just talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Just anything.” He picked up a sketchbook and a pen, sitting down on a chair and starting to sketch out the outline of how she looked. He gazed at her and smiled, and looked back at the paper, brows arching as he quickly erased a small error in the picture. “Talk to me, love. It’ll seem more natural.”

“Well, work was alright. Same old, same old.” She frowned a little.

“At least smile for me, beautiful.”

She blushed – he chuckled internally at the sight – and slowly, her face broke out into a smile. “I will. Alright. So anyway, we had sort of a meeting…” she ran a hand through her hair, momentarily forgetting that he was getting a conversation out of her just to sketch a simple picture. “And as usual, it went nowhere. I’m actually thinking of skipping work for tomorrow.”

“I think you have to.”

She chuckled.

“You’re a bad influence on me, Matt.”

“I know I am. I don’t hear you complaining.” He grinned, and she laughed once more, shifting a little on the couch. “Face me, will you? I’d like to capture you in all your beauty.” She rolled her eyes yet complied, relaxing and twisting a lock of her hair in thought.

“What made you do this?”

“Hmm?” he looked up from his sketchbook. “Oh, nothing. I just wanted us to do something together, you know?” he looked back down and rounded her face slightly. “Something we haven’t quite done…I mean, when we watched Titanic you were clinging to me like a child. While sobbing.” She blushed, and he gave her cheeks color, focusing on her eyes next.

“It’s the Titanic. I have a soft heart.”

“I know, lovely – and that’s adorable…” he sketched her eyes slowly, hand twitching to grab the green-colored pen to fill in the color of her eyes. He squinted and colored in, the paper showing a pair of vivid green eyes looking back at him, a smile etched on her face. Her hair was in a bun, a few locks framing her oval-shaped face.

“Are you finished?”

“Jesus, lovely. Hold on for a bit more.” He did a rough sketch of her body and hesitated. He wasn’t quite good at anatomy.

“Is there a problem?”

She must have caught the nervous look on his face.

“No, no. I just regret not taking the advanced drawing classes back in the Orphanage.” He pursed his lips as he sketched, slowly relaxing as he easily did a rough sketch of her body and clothes, a loose shirt and shorts that showed off her slim legs. He did the couch last – just doing a rectangle, some pillows here and here, and her arms leaning against the arm rest lazily.

Exquisite.

They had talked and he had sketched for thirty minutes or so, and finally, he grinned lopsidedly, asking her to sit up and relax. She did so, letting off a small groan and stretching her arms. Matt rose from the chair and walked to her, chuckling and showing the work he had done.

She couldn’t speak.

It was an amazing sketch of her lying on the couch, her eyes seemingly twinkling at him in a teasing manner. Her hair was up yet her arms were draped around the arm rest, her legs at ease on the couch. She was smiling at him, her cheeks slightly colored in to represent the blush on her face.

She actually looked beautiful.

Her finger traced the sketch, and she smiled, just a bit.

“You like it?”

“I love it…” she tore her eyes away from the drawing to look at him. “…is this how you see me?”

“Of course.” He leaned in and kissed her lips lightly. “But I see you much more beautiful than what I just did in half an hour. No drawing can express how striking you are to me, love.” He smiled again, that half-smirk appearing on his youthful face. “And now, it’s time for you to draw me.”

She took the pad from him and got up, soon sitting on the chair. Matt simply sat on the sofa.

“Sit up, but look away.”

He blinked at her request, but complied nonetheless.

“Want me to talk?”

“Of course…I need some expression in here, you know.”

“Alright, so I recall taking a class back in Wammy’s…we were made to draw a bowl of fruit.” He grinned at the memory. “I recall Linda, though. Asked for a sketch and did a watercolor. She was a nice girl, though – but a real gossip. Spread rumors about me having the hots for Mello, remember?” she snickered, and he smiled fondly.

“Even I believed it for a moment.”

“Babe.” His face took on a serious expression. “If you were a guy, I’d go gay for you.”

She paused, working on his hair at the moment.

“Gay?”

“Flamingly gay.”

“That’s a relief to hear.” She worked on his eyes, emphasizing the blueness upon coloring them in. They appeared to be slightly crinkled as she focused on bringing his laughing face to life, frowning a bit at the uneven proportions she did. Frustrated, she decided to work on that later and worked down to his body.

He smirked a little, observing as her face changed from one emotion to another. Matt ran a hand through his hair, letting it fall back into his face and sitting up so she could have a much better reference. He watched as her left hand quickly sketched, she sometimes erasing an error he couldn’t see, or adding a little bit more into the picture.

“You’re taking this quite seriously.”

“It’s hard putting perfection on paper.” Her green eyes met his. “More especially if that kind of perfection is hard to complete and even comprehend.”

He smiled faintly.

She sketched his shirt, his jeans, his bare feet and went back to his face, slowly fixing the proportions and grinning to herself as she finished.

“Finished.”

He stood and walked to her, and she showed it to him albeit shyly.

There he was, sitting on the couch and laughing. His eyes were slightly open yet the blueness in them was raw and alive, the grin on his lips never leaving the paper. He was at ease, a leg crossed over the other and one of his hands going through his hair.

He was stunned.

“I took the Advanced classes.” She smirked.

“…did you take the last spot?”

“Possibly. I’m sorry if I stole it from you.”

“No matter. It doesn’t matter.” He cupped her face. “If this is how you see me, then those lessons were worth missing out on.”

“Silly…” she let the sketchbook fall on the coffee table. “You know I love you and all of you. Your looks are just an added bonus. You can see you in the picture, right? Because I do. I see a calm, carefree man who knows how to laugh. And he’s everything I want and need.”

He flipped to the previous page, with the drawing of her.

“And here, I see a pure, yet devious little woman who knows her limits. You’re serious when you have to be, but you can loosen up as well. You have a beauty that you yourself needs to see.”

The sketchbook was left on the table, a blank page facing up.

It watched as she threw her arms around him, locking their lips together.