The auditions, for all intents and purposes, went well. The auditions for Wendy were saved for last, while they got the numerous wannabe Peter Pans out of the way first. I didn't much mind the wait, as it gave me time to calm myself and go over my rehearsed lines. Honey had met me early in the morning (we were continuing our martial arts practice, though he seemed more reluctant after my collapse) and after training we'd helped one another prepare for the afternoon's events. 

Mori had supervised, though really, he was only their to make sure Honey didn't render me unconscious during our rigorous "duels". 

A third-year from the drama club had stood in as Peter while I performed my lines. He was excellent, easily slipping into the childish role and urging me to bring out my absolute best, something the panel of critics certainly appreciated. I was hopeful of good news over the next week.

Honey, from what I'd seen of him on stage, won over the other members of the drama club with little to no effort. He fit Peter's character perfectly, as I'd predicted, and his acting chops were surprisingly formidable. Honey was a shoe-in for the role, and from the sullen faces of all those dressed in green tights that ambled silently from the theater, everyone else knew it as well.

"Mi-chan~!" Honey called; I looked up to see him waving at me from the doorway, Mori standing guard behind him, as per usual. "Are you ready yet?"

I shook my head, smiling apologetically. "You don't have to wait for me, Honey," I reminded him as I continued packing my things into my messenger bag. I'd been reviewing for a geometry test coming up on Monday, and had forgotten to put away the materials before I was called up to audition. Part of the reason for my lack of forethought had come from ten minutes of worriedly staring at my phone, contemplating why I couldn't reach my father. He'd called while I had the ringer on silent, so I'd been unable to answer in time; now I couldn't get him to pick up. Worry further creased my brow as I thought more about it.

Dad wasn't one to call unnecessarily.

But with Honey beaming at me, oblivious to my concerns, I couldn't keep the thought from slipping to a forgotten corner of my mind. Surely my father would call back if anything was urgent. 

Everything was neat and tidy inside my bag.... except my notebook, in which I kept all my rants about the Host Club's absurdity. A journal, really, but if I ever called it that I was sure the twins would snatch it from me without hesitation, looking for gossip or the scrawlings of your average hormonal teenage girl, which I asure you I was not. Though if you haven't grasped that by now, then good luck to you my friend.

I ducked down, searching beneath the row of theater seats for a glimpse of the ruby-red cover. Nothing there. It wasn't caught between the folding seat, nor was it in the aisles. My cheeks colored at the thought of one of the Host Club members finding it. Even Honey or Mori. Actually, especially Honey and Mori. Before I found out they were cousins, there was slight speculation that the two might be gay... However, now I understood with perfect clarity how wrong that early assumption was. I just didn't happen to want to explain why I'd thought that in the first place to my two best friends.

I let out an exasperated sigh, nothing more than a puff of air from my pursed lips. This certainly wasn't going well. And after such an enjoyable afternoon. Two hours stuck in the theater was torture to most fifteen-year-olds; to me, it was the perfect experience to realize my dream of acting. If I wanted to salvage my earlier bubbly mood, I'd have to find that notebook.

I was on my hands and knees, taking another sweeping look at the underside of the row of seats I'd been sitting at, when someone cleared their throat behind me. Too absorbed in what I was doing, I didn't immediately react. So the person took it upon themself to lightly kick me in the butt.

I shot to my feet, hands flying to the back of my jeans (I'd gone casual for the day). "Did your pathetic excuse for a mother never teach you manners?" I snapped as I spun around, ready to scold whoever had desperately need my attention. The rest of my rant died on my lips.

A teen with crimson-red hair and breathtakingly blue eyes raised an equally bloody brow at me. "You're bringing my mother into this, Micah?" he asked, playfully serious. He tsked, waving the ruby-red notebook in his hand around teasingly. "And I was being so nice, picking up your things like a gentleman." His placed his other hand dramatically over his heart. "You've hurt me, Micah. Rejection cuts sharper than any knife, I assure you."

My  lips parted in a silent question; my throat was too tight to allow the required words to escape. I half-reached for the notebook, hesitant, wary of an imagination seeped in the creative light of a former masterpiece. This could all be some unsettling hallucination, I told myself. The thought dissipated as my eyes met Damian's. The corners of his crinkled in that forgotten smile.

"I've missed you, Micah," he said, placing the journal in my hands, bent down enough to lightly press his forehead to mine. 

"Oi! Damian! You found her!"

Another ghost of my past came barrelling down the aisle, skidding to a sloppy stop just in front of us. His chocolate locks had grown in our year apart, curling closer to his shoulder than before. His eighties-rocker style seemed to have been replaced with preppy-punk: He wore a black blazer - of course the collar was studded with metallic rivets - over a loose white shirt and wine-colored tie bearing the name of their band, Nevermore, in fanciful black script, and his black jeans carefully ripped in all the right places. I noted the checkered Converse on his feet with slight interest; they were the only thing that remained of the Riley I'd known a year ago.

Damian, on the other hand, was exactly the same. Same supple gray leather jacket; same plain collarless tee; same faded blue jeans and combat boots more practical than they were attractive. Same attentive smile that tried to ease my suffering, the same smile I thought I would never be in the presence of again.

Unconsciously I clutched the journal to my chest, needing something steady to have at the ready, something to promise me this wasn't a dream - or rather, a nightmare. "Damian... Riley... I..." The words just wouldn't come.

Riley, just like I remembered, filled the void in the conversation with relative ease. "I couldn't believe it, Mikes! When Daire told us you guys were going to the same school, I literally almost died."

"He'd been trying to figure out chopsticks and nearly jammed the things into his throat when Daire mentioned it the other day," Damian explained, giving Riley a condeming look; the teen shrugged innocently, as in "No harm, no foul".

"Daire... told you?" The question was soft, the loudest my contricted throat allowed at the moment. "He... he talks about me?"

Something flitted through Damian's eyes, an emotion heavy enough to darken his brilliant blue orbs. He ran a fidgeting hand through his hair, looking at me with care, as though he wasn't sure just what to say or express. "When we're together," he said at last, "and we're not practicing for gigs, it's just you, Mikes. You're all he talks about. He mentioned something about you fainting the other day..."

"It was nothing," I quickly assured him, anxiously waving my hand in an effort to furthing placate him. I didn't want Damian - or Riley for that matter - upset over something so trivial that it was fixed overnight. "But..." I had to ignore Daire's involvement in the conversation. "Just what are you two doing here? And how did you know I'd be in the theater."

"Duh." Riley cheerfully bonked his fisted hand on my head, grinning a Chesire grin. "Ouran's putting on a production of Peter Pan. Where else would you be on a Saturday?"

My lips twitched into a comfortable smirk; this smirk was only brought out with both Damian and Riley around. "Actually, on most Saturdays, I'm practicing martial arts nowadays."

The looks of shock on their faces couldn't have irked me more.

"Hey!" I cried indignantly, ducking my head to hide the rosy blush. "I'm not that athletically-challenged. You act as though I'm as dainty as some pompous mouse."

Riley's brow knit together as he crossed his arms, edging closer to me to peer curiously at my face, hidden behind a veil of raven hair. "How's a mouse supposed to be pompous, anyway?"

"S-Shut up! You know what I meant!"

The boys' raucous laughter, discorded as it was, was still a blissful melody to my ears. Daire was a memory I'd never wanted to have resurface; these two were an entirely different story.

"Hey, I've got an idea." Riley slid an arm around my shoulder, tugging me against his side. He either ignored my fierce blush or was silently amused by it. "We're taking you out for lunch... or linner." At my perplexed look, he said, "It's lunch and dinner together. Linner." 

Damian just shrugged, so I went with it.

And so, I was swept away to some fantastic cafe Riley had stumbled across just the other day, with practically no say in the matter. If only I'd realized I'd left Honey and Mori to fend for themselves back in the theater....

~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~

"I'm serious! This kid - I'm looking at you Mr. Cool - jumped into a mosh pit at our last show! He rode the waves until some freak pulled him down to the ground and nearly tore his shirt off! She was so horny, it took three security guards to pry her off him!" 

I couldn't stop laughing, and Riley was no better. Even though he was recounting the story, he made it almost unintelligible through his fits of snickers. And then we had Damian, stoically sipping his Western-style tear, expression unreadable but eyes pools of perfect clarity: He was pissed. 

"He's making it sound worse than it actually was," he tried to tell me, but with Riley snorting tea out of his nose beside me, it wasn't very convincing. Damian sighed in defeat, his perfectly tense shoulders finally slumping forward. "Alright, it was a near-rape. I was traumatized for the rest of the week."

I put a comforting hand atop Damian's, squeezing his fingers for added warmth. He peeked at me over the top of his teacup, mid-sip. "Don't be ashamed; everyone has to lose their innocence eventually," I told him. I managed to keep a straight face - with all the seriousness of a grave digger - until he frowned at me, lips dipping down so deeply it looked more like a puppy-dog pout than an expression of annoyance. And then I politely burst into laughter again.

Riley and I had to support one another, our chests tight from lack of air. The air was buzzing with our feelings, and everyone seated at the outdoor cafe was aware of that. They cast us strange looks - which we ignored without trouble - and whispered about the unsightly children someone had let loose on the town. 

"You two really are the perfect friends," Damian sighed. His teacup clattered as he settled it in its white dish. Leaning back in his seat, he studied us through narrowed eyes. Possibly, it was more apt to say he studied me - Riley just happened to be in his line of sight. "Odd, considering how long you've been apart."

"Hey, when you connect with someone, moving around the world and ditching you for a year won't break the bond," Riley laughed, swiping under his eye with one slender finger; he caught a single crytalline droplet and flung it away carelessly. Though his tone was light, my laughter peetered out quickly at his words. My problem hadn't been with these two; why had I abandoned them as well as Daire? Because they reminded me of him?

Then how was I enjoying myself so much now?

"So, how are things with you and Daire?"

Riley's question startled me out of my reverie. I straightened in my seat, spine stiff and unyielding, face turning as pallid as a wilted flower. Too disheveled to speak, I closed my eyes, fiddling with the napkin folded in my lap. 

I heard the subtle smack of Damian's hand connecting with the back of Riley's head, then the thud of said brunette's forehead cracking against the table, as well as the resulting quaking of the disturbed table. "Ow, man," he moaned, probably scowling at Damian's unruffled form. "Little too far, don't ya think?"

"The opposite really," Damian tossed back carelessly.

"They're as awful as the moment he dumped me, without actually dumping me." I felt two inquisitve stares burning into me, one genuinely curious, the other masking how startled I'd made him. I didn't want them fighting; it pained me almost as much as watching Honey and Mori quarrel. "I haven't forgiven Daire and I don't plan to."

Riley propped his elbows up on the tabletop, chin resting in his palms. He fixed his eyes on mine, brows furrowed, viridian orbs glossy with curiousity. "He broke up with Veronica, you know."

My breathing stilled.

"I thought we'd agreed to keep that out of the conversation," Damian hissed.

Riley shrugged. "She has a right to know, I think. And she also deserves to know that he left her because he still has feelings for Micah!"

"What kind of sick irony is that...?" I wondered bitterly. The scene of Daire hungrily devouring Veronica - not ten feet away from me, no less - flashed through my mind, lingering even when I denied it entrances, rubbing my temples like I'd just induced a massive migraine. That image would never leave me; it had etched itself into my heart admist the cracks it had orignally caused. "I pity that poor girl..."

Green eyes cut to crytal orbs: Riley's attempt at asking Damian a subtle question. He failed, oh so miserably, as I deciphered what he was trying to say with ease. I had known him for months, after all. Are you gonna try to stop me from convincing her?

"Convince me of what?" I questioned, looking between the two teens. They shared another look, Damian exasperated, Riley sheepish. The chatter of the other cafe-goers filled the silence that ensued between us. Growing weary of their tight lips, I reached across the table and clasped Riley's hand between both of mine. "What is going on here, Riley Parker?"

"Ooh, pulling the pull name card, huh?" he chuckled - again, he failed at lightening the mood, but I was grateful for the attempt nonetheless. "It's just..." He scratched at his cheek. "I think... maybe you should give Daire another chance."

"Absolutely not."

Damian and I blinked at each other, surprised we'd both spoken so fervently with such precise timing. I returned my attention to Riley so that my cheeks might not grow even hotter. "No," I repeated, balling my hands into shaking fists. "I won't. I've already told you forgiveness is out of the question, I will not return to being his little doll."

"But Mikes, he still lo--"

"That's not the issue, Riley," I cut in, fixing him with a damning glare. "I don't hate him for falling for an old flame; he couldn't help that."

I could tell both teens were firmly puzzled by this statement. Rightfully so, as it was something I was only just realizing myself. I forged ahead when neither spoke.

"I hate him for the fact that he kept it secret, instead of simply telling me he wanted to break things off. Now, I'm not saying I would have taken things better had he been honest with me - I probably still would've broken all contact with him and stormed off in a fit of inconsolable tears. I was hurt, and that wouldn't have changed no matter the circumstances. But as time passed I would've healed, as all broken hearts eventually do. I can't do that when the whole ordeal was swathed in lies and betrayal."

"You're still hurting, aren't you?"

I swallowed uncomfortably, averting my eyes from Damian's. I couldn't take that sympathy pooling in his crystal gaze. I simply couldn't. Pure, unbridled agony was threatening to blossom in my scarred chest as memories resurfaced - past outings of Daire and I, laughs shared and promises broken. What was the point of it all, I wondered, when he so easily tossed me aside when he'd found something better? Had I been a rebound the entire time? Someone simply there to ease his tattered heart? Was I ever something special to him, as he was to me?

From what Riley was trying to convince me of, I was, to some extent. But I couldn't let myself fall for honeyed words - not again. Daire wouldn't sweep me off my unsteady feet. He wouldn't come to my rescue, because there wasn't a need to this time. I was content with my surroundings now, with the people who accepted me without complaint or derision, the people I'd come to rely on in my darker times. Certain individuals, like Honey and Mori, had done so much for me, caught me when I'd fallen and cheered me up when the lights were darkest. It wasn't just them, however; all of the Host Club had contributed to my revival, so to speak. 

The roses lighting up my otherwise dim kitchen came to mind, and I felt my cheeks burn with realization. 

"...Riley, don't bring Daire up again," I heard Damian order the brunette, to be met with grumbled protests and a few choice words. Damian was unfazed. I felt his warm hand tuck under my chin and lift my face to meet his eyes. He smiled, crinkling the corners of his laugh-lined eyes. "He's not the right guy for you; never was and never will be."

I would have smiled, grateful and demure, or laughed at the sweetness bubbling in his tone, or possibly been struck with an even fiercer silence as my cheeks threatened to melt with all the hot bood rushing to them. But, as it were, I was saved from all reactions when I was suddenly plucked from my seat and held aloft by two identical thieves.

"So this is where you've been," Hikaru commented, raising an inquisitve brow at me. He and his brother each had hold of one of my arms, thrown around their respective shoulders; I dangled pitifully feet from the ground. Never in my life had I wished for a sudden growth spurt with such vigor. 

"Out with two guys, I see," Kaoru chimed in, leaning uncomfortably close. Wanting to keep him in my sights, I turned to face him, which turned out to be a rather big mistake, as it only put us nose-to-nose. "Seems out little Micah is growing up. So, which one's your boy toy?"

"What?" I breathed, incredulous. What were these infuriating accusations?

Riley certainly wasn't helping with his warped humor. "Oh it's this guy!" he laughed, kicking his foot up onto the back of Damian's chair. Damian himself made no move to deny him, though he did tug harshly on Riley's ankle, causing him to slide from his chair and hit the ground heavily with a moaned, "Ow! Dammit!"

Kaoru and Hikaru gave their famous unimpressed glares, directing them fully at Damian, who looked to them with a sense of contentment radiating from him. He wasn't fidgety at all, and seemed to rather enjoy the looks of contempt he was receiving from the twins, if his twitching smirk was anything to go by. "Just a friend," he assured them, as Riley jumped to his feet and swung a punch at Damian's head; the redhead ducked at the last second, and, upon straightening, shoved Riley off-balance with a well-timed palm to his diaphragm. The poor brunette hit the ground for the second time in the span of a minute.

The twins blinked at the display, while I giggled under my breath, wishing I could hide my amusement with a hand. Too bad they were both occupied by two very off-putting gingers.

"Mi-chan~!"

Again, against my will, I was snatched into the air by a pair of familair hands. Though this time, it was welcome, seeing as how it was Mori and he gently placed me on his shoulder. Honey, standing at his side, smiled up at me, eyes closed and lips stretched so far it hurt my cheeks just to look at him. "You left the theater without telling us, Mi-chan, so we got worried and followed you with the Host Club! Sorry! We didn't realize you were meeting up with friends!"

The Host Club's here as well? Oh, joy. "It's fine, Honey," I promised him, nodding to Mori to include him as well. "You were worried, so it's justified. Just... did you have to bring the others?" I jerked a thumb behind me where Haruhi, Tamaki and Kyouya were crouched behind a small, gurgling waterfall bearing the cafe's name in metallic letters beneath the flowing water. Well, Haruhi and Tamaki were crouched - Kyouya was standing apart from them, unperturbed, noting something in his little black book. He must have noticed my attention on him, because he gave me a sly smirk, sending a wave of frozen chills down my spine.

Damn. I would never get used to that condescending smile of his.

Honey, in answer to my question, shrugged innocently. I sighed. There could be no getting mad at Honey.

"Oh!" he giggled, reaching into his shorts pocket to pull out his shiny cellphone. "Mi-chan, check your email!"

Brow furrowed, I did as he bid and pulled out my phone - an old model, compared to the Host Club's various technological wonders, but useful all the same. I scanned through my newest mail - trying, once again, to ignore the missed calls from my father (another since I'd come to cafe - what could he want?) - and paused at one from Ouran's address. My eyes flickered over the screen, widening as I took in the message.

"Ah! You too, then!" Honey giggled and handed Mori his phone so that the giant could lift it for my viewing. There it was: an email almost identical to my own. 

Honey had, expectedly, gotten the role of Peter Pan in the upcoming production.

And I, the role of Wendy. 

"Hehe! I told you Mi-chan! I knew you'd get the part! Now we'll get to rehearse together for a whole month!"

"You're in a play?" Hikaru stole my phone, passing it to his brother once he'd read the email himself. "Why didn't you tell us? We can give you some great acting tips."

"We're pretty convincing actors, don't you think?" Kaoru added, raising both brows in a devious manner, lips curled into a frightful little smirk.

"I'd rather pass," I mumbled, just before Tamaki came hurtling out from behind the waterful - an unwilling Haruhi in tow - twirling around and gleefully announcing that the Host Club would put forth all their effort in supporting Honey and I in our ambitious endeavor (his words, not mine). He tried to pull me down from Mori's shoulder to possibly squeeze the life out of me in a hug, but the third-year easily kept me out his reach. Eventually, pouting, Tamaki turned to Honey and the two of them cheered about our upcoming "debut".

I chuckled, slipping my phone (which Kaoru had finally handed back to me) back into my pocket. Father's calls were forgotten again in the presence of these wonderful friends of mine. Well, there were exceptions, Kyouya's smirking form the primary one, but despite that, I was happy.

And relieved to see the amused smiles on both Damian and Riley's faces.

They approved, it seemed.

Things are looking up again. I only hope it stayes this way....