Characters: Umika Kawashima, Chinen Yuri, Haruma Miura as Haruma Kawashima, Maeda Nozomi, Eiji Wentz as A. G. Wentz, OC's

Warning: The following organization are fiction and do not exist is reality. If found to exist, then it's purely coincidence and coincidence only.

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Sometimes I want to live a life not mine. I would wake up in the beaming strakes of sunlight shone in my face. Greeted with the scent of breakfast aroma. I would drive myself to school and wave ‘hello’ to the persons I know. I’d sit next to my best friend and talk about our favorite tv show. And during lunch, I would sit around with my selected friends and laugh along with our old memories.

But today, I woke up to be me. I woke up feeling my own skin on my own flesh and the odor of cigarette smoke I could have been used to. I flip myself from the thick sheet covering my body, slowly get off from the bed and reach for the expensive perfume I never spent with my own money. It was from Maeda Nozomi. We were in the same Psychology class. Aside from learning human behavior and human mind, she is learning human preferences—trying to be famous. She does tv commercials and the perfume is just one of them.

It was during the library week that she gave out samples of the perfume. And I’m one of those so called ‘lucky’ to have one. But I never sprayed it on myself, instead I sprayed it on walls like insecticide to kill the ‘buggy’ odor of cigarette coming from somewhere outside of my room.

I put on the hood of my jacket, put on the pair of earphones on before grabbing the bagpack from the top of my study table and hang one sling on my right shoulder. Swinging my room’s door open, I felt the intensity of the cigarette smoke mashing my face. It was the smell of new and old lighted cigarette scents sprayed like air freshener all over.

And there he was, looking all too worn out with that white tee-shirt and old denim jeans. He was lying on the couch before he lifted his back up and transfers his sight from the television, which is playing the same baseball game for the most humble and redundant twenty-fourth time, to me.

He was supposed to be my most caring and loving big brother. But all he is now is the forgotten piece of yesterday—with a torn mind to heal or to rip and a scraped heart to mend or to break.

“School.” I said and put my sneakers on.

“Breakfast?” He asks with his husky chain-smoking voice, lifts his up from the couch and move towards me.

I stand after I tied my laces. “No thanks.” I said not because I don’t want but because I know there was no breakfast. There wasn’t breakfast since the windows were closed and thick curtains covered them. There was no breakfast since the battery of the wall clock stopped at 8:43 and I don't know if it's am or pm. There was no breakfast since this cigarette smoke lived with us in this four-walled house.

He smiled at me and planted a kiss on my forehead. I felt the strong cigarette scent penetrating through my skin. “Okay. Take care.” He continued walking to the kitchen and would probably get a glass of water since that’s all we have.

Two years. It has been two years ago since my real story begun. It never started with an epic ‘Once upon a time’ like fairytales do. I don’t even know if there would be a ‘happy ever after’. Rather, it all started with the tragic death of Yuta and Himeko Kawashima. They were not just those socialites you read on magazines and newspapers.

They were my parents.

Dead.

Murdered in this home, in their own bed.

We were left frustrated, devastated... and bankrupt. Not to mention under suspicion of murder. We were under surveillance investigation but because of lack of evidence we were released from it.

So, do you think more tragic things happened after we became orphans?

Yes.

My brother, Haruma, has been in and out of jail because of theft and robbery. He needs to feed us and stealing could have been the most easiest way. He had been supporting my school with cash I don’t know where he gets.

*****

If I have an option, I would quit school. I’m sick of such educational institution where students are more trying to be public figures than professional on the process, and professors acting more like dictators than instructors.

I felt heavy hands on my shoulders. “Look who’s here.” Maeda Nozomi was peering down at me. Her scent which I used to kill cigarette odor was burning in my eyes.

Everyone was looking at me now. So much attention. I’m used to it, but still it boiled me to irritation.

Maeda Nozomi removed my hood revealing my pale complexion. She almost wraps an arm around me but instead she pick her nose. “You should wash your hair.” She said with disgust and the monkeys she called friends laugh.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to control my trembling fist from giving her a knock to her overly powdered face. I glared at her. “I did. With a bottle of your sh*t perfume.”

Whistles and laughter became heavier as irritation filled her being. I put on the hood back and I snapped off away from her and from the crowd she used to gather to remind me of my unfortunate life.

This has been my life.

And this has been the world that I live.

I opened my locker. Confetti fell. Or not.

Garbage fell. So my locker is the new trashbin now? No one gave me a notice!

So you thought only kids are bullied? Now you know that even a twenty year old like me gets bullied eventually. For a year of going in and out of this university, never had a day that any of these eyes surrounding me stopped on giving a damn fuss about me. And I'm sick of it.

Nothing I can do but sigh as I swept more garbage inside of my locker. I want to yell at everyone behind me, laughing and mumbling. But I won't. I won't yell at them. I don't wanna be called to the detention office for the 66th time this year and try to listen to Mrs. Kobayashi's ranting or as she call it 'advice'. I won't yell at them this time. I won't.

"Want a help?"

"No!!!"

Okay I just yelled. I am still in the middle in consuming my anger when someone talked behind so it's innevitable.

Who in the world...

"Hello." And a pair of green eyes sparked in front of me.

I sighed.

"Seems like your locker is dirty. I can get it cleaned." He said and I saw his incisor when he smiled. He has a skatebard tucked on his left arm. He might be left-handed just like dad. People usually tuck things on the side dominant.

Left-handed people. I always thought they are cool.

I never said a thing as I swing close my locker and walk passed him almost bumping him in the shoulder.

He ran after me and blocked my way. His gorgeous rare green eyes flashed in front of me. I can only glare at him.

"You're Kawashima Umika right?" He asked. "I just transfered this week."

"So?" I know I'm a bit rude. And I don't care.

He smiled. "We are in the same research class. I'm your research partner."

"What?" I remove my hood and I saw him freeze-stare at me before immediately looking down at his shoes.

"Our research professor, Mr. Tucker, told me." He lifted his chin and smile again.

"Who gave him the authority to assign you as my partner?"

"His the professor. His superior. So I don't think he'll need your approval." He shrugged.

I sighed. "Fine."

He smiled. "So, your place or my place?"

"No one." I raised a brow at him.

"Eh?" He forced a smile. "But--"

"I'll do it alone. I'll make sure we'll get a good grade, I'll pass it on time. I've been doing this, so I'm used to it." I made a step to leave but he blocked my way again.

"But were partners. We should be doing the research together. I'll feel bad if I don't help you."

He is annoying. Too annoying.

"As I told you, I'm used of doing things alone. I