-May 2010-

"How's Aurelia doing? Did you read his blog today?" I asked, hovering around the vat of marinara sauce simmering on the stove. I was ready to pounce. He only needed to turn his back one time. The garlic bread was on the cooling rack, already cut. I'd snatch a piece, and dip it in that beautiful sauce. It'd be in my mouth before he could turn back around.

"Yes, I read it. Well, some of it. He posts several times per day." He picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the sauce, concentrating hard on it. This caused steam to come up, and it filled my eagerly awaiting nose. Oh, his cooking! What a perk to dating him. It could be all mine! But this was for Lyra. However...I was a part of Lyra now. Evil laughter went off in my head.

"What did he write about?" I watched his wrist turn the spoon in circles hungrily. The spaghetti bubbled on the stove behind the sauce pan. It was the most beautiful sound of cooking ever.

"Well, he's in Osaka, right? He wrote about Dotonbori. He and Mermaid Orchestra are over there, or at least they were. All the neon was in the background." He sighed. "He looks good anywhere he takes a picture of himself."

"We should have gone over there! We could have caught him in the act." I eyed the bread, my fingers rubbing my thumb tips, waiting to snatch one so quickly. The garlic smell was intoxicating.

"No, I'm pretty sure he posts stuff like that hours after he's gone. I would have been too nervous anyway." He lifted the top off of the pan which held the Italian breaded chicken he was frying. "Ooh, time to flip this," he muttered under his breath.

"I don't know, he seems kind of ditzy to me? He might post things as they happen. That's just what he seems like to me." I bounced on my heels, seeing the chicken. It was golden brown, like a fantasy come to life. My mouth was watering.

"Does he?! I don't know. Maybe. I think he's just kind of a positive person, and it's easy to interpret him that way. From the way he dances, I think he'd be anything but a ditz. He's a genius." He smiled, clearly thinking about Aurelia. It warmed my heart to see.

"Hmm. That's true, but you can be a genius and a ditz at the same time."

"Maybe. Hey, you want some bread? You can't stop staring at it." He chuckled, gesturing to the bread for me.

"Yes!" I gasped. My hand dove for it immediately. The crust was crispy, but still squeezed in my hand, showing how soft the middle was. My teeth sank into it, and I lifted it above my head as I spun around, dancing. "Mmm!"

Sana laughed delicately, so feminine and cute in his pink gingham apron.

"I want you to sing Lucia's Mad Scene from Lucia di Lammermoor on Wednesday. It's pretty recognizable, and impressive. You can sing it as a kind of intermission, I think. Like a break," Yami was saying at his position at the top of the dinner table.

"A break for who?" Sana laughed. "The second half is pretty difficult, you know."

"Can you eat, Yami? I'll eat your chicken if you keep talking," Nobu interrupted, sticking bread in his mouth again. He couldn't get enough of it.

"This is a band meeting, isn't it? We have to plan Wednesday out. That way, we can be ready to practice tomorrow and be prepared. We can practice exactly the songs in order for our show. Now, for the beginning, I thought we'd come out with a bang if we-"

"Chill, Yami," Nobu sighed. "We all had a pretty big day today. Tadashi's out. Let's celebrate with this nice dinner and welcome Annie into the band. This is Annie's favorite meal that Sana makes."

"Even more so that we should double down in practice. Annie's seen our stuff, but she hasn't practiced it with us much before. Please tell me you agree, Annie." Yami poked at his salad as he was talking despite himself.

"I agree, but we can talk after dinner, can't we? I want to respect Sana by eating."

"I guess so," he shrugged, sticking salad into his mouth. His eyes lit up. He swallowed. "What kind of salad dressing is this?"

"Balsamic vinaigrette. There's honey and dijon mustard in it. I made it." Sana smiled cutely, and went back to cutting his chicken into very small pieces.

"I think you've just made me like salad. Wow." He speared more salad on his fork, way too much.

"Thank you. I know how you hate vegetables. Your mom will be pleased." Sana's hand went over his mouth, trying to hide his wide grin as Yami stuffed all that salad in his mouth, getting the dressing on the sides. "Here, I'll get it," Sana giggled, folding his cloth napkin in a triangle. Carefully, he tapped the corner on Yami's mouth, as Yami came forward a little to receive this.

Nobu leaned into to me, and I leaned into him. "Doesn't that make you jealous?" He whispered, all smiles. He was joking.

I shook my head. "I can get him to do worse," I whispered back.

"Ooh, spicy Squirrel," Nobu chuckled under his breath. I laughed with him.

After everyone had left, Sana stood at the sink wearing his pink gingham apron again. I admired him as he swayed about, singing over the noise of the dishes. Confidently, he sang Meiko Nakahara's "Fantasy". He dumped the sauce pan into the soapy water, using a brush to get all the sauce out. I'd asked if he wanted any help, and he'd declined. So, now I watched him from the couch, my arms resting on the back of it as he danced around his kitchen nook, cleaning.

What kind of domestic bliss was this? My stomach was full of my favorite meal. Even hours later, I couldn't eat another bite of anything else. He'd offered us pie, but we'd refused with playful moans and groans, making him laugh. We were way too full. There were still chicken leftovers in the fridge. Nobu had taken all the rest of the bread home, as he usually did. He never could get enough of Sana's bread, no matter what kind it was.

Sana changed to a sultry, sensual sounding version of Anri's "Remember Summer Days" and I sighed silently from my perch, my cheek resting on my hand. His music was a spell which seemed like it could make rainbows of lights appear, magically matching the mood of his singing. It took you to another world. It was nothing like my sister's singing. She'd been singing since she was a child, but there was no spark.

Sana just had something... It was it's own whole universe. The dynamics of it... The things he did with his voice. He projected and casted it like a ventriloquist sometimes. There was once a stunning moment during a live where it sounded like his long, held, vibrating note started from one end of the stage and then slowly traveled to the other, though he didn't move from his spot. Yami called things like this "tricks", but it was more than that. It was something indescribable. I was so disappointed when I realized that the video of that performance didn't capture this trick in the flesh. You couldn't hear what he actually did live on the recording. I so wanted to experience it again.

Because of his voice, there was no really good way to describe Lyra's music. His voice lent a classical element to it, no doubt about it. Even when he sang other styles, he couldn't hide his opera training. It was in the way he pronounced things, and the sharpness of his notes, the clarity of his vibrato, the way he shifted gears in his throat. Especially the moods he lent to the music, creating whole atmospheres out of nothing, truly moving you. Sometimes, I'd watch him and not be able to believe what I was seeing and hearing. It might be what audiences feel when they attend an opera. I wouldn't know.

I got up, almost dizzy in my enjoyment of his song. I wandered over to him, and my arms went around his chest, pulling him to me. The dish he'd been scrubbing fell from his hand. For a split second, I thought it was in excitement for me, but...

"Ah, ah, ah, wait-" He breathed through his teeth. "Ooh, ooh, ooh, ow, I can't-" He wiggled, loosening my arms. "I'm sorry, ow, ow..."

I froze. "Is it your ribs? I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Yes, it is. You don't have to be sorry." He breathed through his teeth in such pain. I wanted to make the pain go away. Oh, ice! I could get him ice!

"I'll get you some ice. Go sit on the couch, I'll finish the dishes."

He made the most adorable face, his bottom lip out, his eyes all big. Clearly a sincere thank you. I giggled. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and pointed towards the couch, smiling, and took off his apron. I took it from him, and put it over my head, fastening the back of it. I went to his fridge as he plopped down on his couch in the corner of my eye. I repeated the same steps as last night, securing ice into a bag. I wrapped it in a paper towel and brought it over to him.

"You look so cozy wearing an apron, I can't describe it," he said warmly, accepting the ice from me with both hands in such respect.

"You wear it way better than I do." I smiled at him. Before he knew what was happening, I was kissing him. His head went back, resting on the top of the couch. My knee found the couch, and pressed between his legs. He let out a loud moan into my mouth, and I took this as a cue to keep going. I pressed harder, and he let out a lower moan, his hands coming up and holding my face.

I leaned forward, getting closer to him. My fingers went into his hair, sweeping to the back of his head, holding it there, his hair a mess between them. I pressed him to the couch more.

He let out a sound like high pitched hiccup and began to struggle. Alarm bells went off in my head. In a split second his hands were pushing at me desperately, trying to get me off him. I obeyed quickly, going backward. My fingers relaxed in his hair, and untangled from it fast. I stood over him, watching his scrunched up face. His hands held his back, his teeth bared. He was letting out the worst noise, breathing hard.

I grabbed the ice next to him. I put it where his hands were, but he jumped, and not because of the sudden cold. He yelped, his eyes snapping open. "No, no. No ice," he fluttered hastily. "No ice. I can't take it." He bared his teeth again, then his mouth went wide as he made a silent scream.

"What's wrong with your back? Your ribs? Then the ice should help it. Should I go crush the ice to make it more fine? Where's your meat mallet?" My hands hovered over him, unsure what to do. I pained to help.

"No, I don't know, I don't know. Maybe some pain medication. I know the doctor said that'd make my healing time slower, but I don't care, I need something..." He moaned a little, and I saw tears in his eyes. They made me panic.

"I'll go get some. The doctor said no Ibuprofen. Do you have anything else? I'll go check."

"I don't know. I don't know. Please help me, I- I don't know-"

"I'll be right back!" I turned to run, but I only got a few steps before he doubled over and began to sob, holding his back so tight. I ran faster.

My hands scrambled in his medicine cabinet, knocking things over. I'd rearrange it later. He needed help now. There! A pain medicine that wasn't Ibuprofen. I grabbed the bottle, and ran back to him. He was making small sounds, completely folded over. I ran to the kitchen to get him some water.

"I feel strange," he said, loud enough for me to hear, but still quiet. "I don't know. My heart's pounding. It feels like..." He said a word in English that I didn't understand.

"Probably because you're in so much pain. Your heart's beating so fast in response to it." I sat on the couch next to him, struggling with the medication bottle. I paused, scanning it to see how it opened. I figured it out and still struggled, going too quick. I finally got it open and put two pills in my hand. I thrust these towards him with the water. He accepted it and downed them in his position. I took the cup back and set it on the floor. My first instinct was to put my hand on his back, but I resisted this terrible impulse.

"You're right," he said, breathing so hard.

"It's going to be okay. Stay in that position. Recover. I'll be right here."

"Okay," he said, gulping for air.

"Do you need your inhaler?" I asked, already getting up to go get it.

"Yeah. I can't breathe. That nebulizer treatment didn't work at all. I don't know why."

"Maybe you need another one. Do you want to go to the hospital again? You're not doing well." I found his purse in the hallway and came back fast with it.

He shook his head violently. "I can't let Yami know about the first time, much less if we go a second time. I'll be okay. I think my couch just pressed on my ribs wrong. I'm fine."

There was no way he was fine. I stared at him. The more I did, the more worried I got. He really wasn't doing well. My hand went over my mouth as I grew more anxious, but I put his purse in my lap and tried to ignore myself as I fished for his inhaler.

This wasn't about me. It was about him. I had to focus on that. No time for hesitation.