-Have you had a story dedicated to you before?

-No?

-I can fix that

-This story is dedicated to you, you beautiful creature.

** **

°KYLE°

The blue sky bathed the whole world with beauty, associated by it is the luminosity produced by the sun. I can feel it warming me as I lay down on the flowerbed. It's itchy but I can bear it. Nature sure is beautiful. The grasses are green, flowers already stretched outwards, and I can even hear birds chirping. I hope this isn't a dream.

“Kyle…”

I push myself up to stand. The sun isn't as hot as this when I was lying down. It's like a dream.

“Kyle…”

I wander around, stepping the grass beneath my shoe. It's so wide. It's as if it runs until the next planet. I can smell flowers, grasses and I can even smell the chirping of birds. It's funny. It's like a dream.

“Kyle!”

I open my eyes, adjusting my vision. What just happened. I finally focus my eyes on the person in front of me.

“What's wrong with you?” Her voice is soft and feminine.

“I've been screaming for your name for almost five minutes now. What's wrong with you?”

I rub my eyes and shake my thoughts. So it was a dream. What a disappointment. And now, this girl standing in front of me is the reality, the reality of this emotion shifting world. Oh God! I'm back. Lifelessly I push myself to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“This is not gonna happen again, Kyle,” says the girl irritably as she heads to the door.

“Wake up now, sleepy head.”

She disappears from the door and closes it as she did so. So it was a dream. I pound my temple and slump down.

I go by the name Kyle Artemis. I'm eighteen years old and I'm fourth year high-school. That beautiful girl who can be a distress sometimes is Kate Yato, also eighteen years old, and a classmate of mine. Kate and I had been living together in one house rented by us for almost three years now. We decided to live together when both of our parents died in a car accident. But believe it or not, we're just friends. Her mother was the childhood best friend of my mom and expectedly, we became best friends too. I can simply describe her as beautiful. She has long, dark, straight hair which reaches the middle part of her back. She has brown eyes, white imperfect face for I can still see couples of black heads around her forehead, but it suit her perfectly tho–perfectly imperfect. Four inches smaller than myself, slender arms that exceeded the standards of stereotypical femininity and overall appearance that indicated the best of breeding. She has one of those Japanese eyes and she wore it perfectly. Her mother was American and her father was the Japanese, and in my case, it was my mother who was the Japanese and my father was European. Her mother was a high-school exchange student when they became friends, and after years of school, they brought angels with their husbands, angels in the form of us; Kyle and Kate. They were amazing and caring parents–too bad the God almighty already took them.

** **

°KATE°

This is pissing me off. I think I would be thinking of a great way to wake Kyle up. He's always lazy during the mornings. I head back to the kitchen, bowls of ramen and tempura are on the menu. Sinks down on the chair and waits for Kyle to follow.

I was only five that time when I first caught a glimpse of who would appear to be my companion. That was Kyle Artemis. We were the same age at that time. My mom brought me to an establishment I knew a little about at that time. It was kindergarten. I stopped just outside the door, hesitant to socialize with those kids for I was once an introvert. Though there were toys, I couldn't bring myself to have the urge to go. It was as if my intuition was telling me not to. But it wasn't my intuition–it was probably fear.

“Sam,” I heard a woman's voice calling my mom's name. We turned around to look. She was beautiful and slim and he had a smiling boy with her. That was Kyle Artemis–the companion of my life and the one who would always bring such convenience in every part of schools where they brought out test papers.

“Yuki,” my mom bursted, her eyes filled with abrupt excitement. She looked down at the little boy smiling up at her and for a moment I was jealous.

“Is this your little Kyle?” my mom inquired. Kyle suddenly grinned that time, stood erect, and bowed his head in proper introduction.

“Ohayo gozaimasu. My name is Kyle Artemis. I'm currently five years old. Please to meet you,” he uttered in fluent Japanese. He did look Japanese, but he looked European as well which is very interesting.

“Ara ara–what a fine boy you have, Yuki,” my mother said, obviously unaware that my heart is aching with that compliment I selfishly longed for.

“And this is my little sweet.” She urged me to introduce myself but I just hid behind her. I couldn't. After how this idiot just introduced himself and knowing I am an introvert once. As hard as I probably could, the words dragged out of my mouth.

“I–I'm Kate Y-Yato. Pleasure meeting you.”

“Oh, you're so cute!” I heard Kyle's mom adoring me. I glanced at Kyle and he locked his eyes on me and smiled. What a charmer. In the two of us, it's Kyle who's academically inclined. He's good at English, science and he has such a beautiful voice. We had the same height that time–but now–he's way taller than I am. He's more handsome now. White, tall, clean. He has dark hair which he always intends to fall down his ear–only there–the school doesn't tolerate hairstyles as long as five inches. He has ash-grey eyes which he probably inherited from his father. He has smooth and delicate lips and he has long fingers which would always give me terror if we play thumb wrestling. He's quite a charmer. Funny, smart, interesting, weird and a gentleman. We sometimes tease each other. It's a miracle he didn't give in yet–well, it's not as if I'm planning to do everything for him to do so. We're friends, and we will remain as friends.

He stands in front of me while I frown, glaring up at him. I can see from here that he's avoiding my gaze.

“Sit,” I say to him and he did as what he was told. It was Christmas that time when both of our parents died in a car accident. We were only fifteen that time. We were playing video games at that time. The rain was pouring heavily against our roof and in every shelter of Tokyo, Japan. It was so chilling that I could feel my toe inside my sock shivering. Our parents were singing which we could hardly hear because the storm was as strong as their voices themselves.

“Kyle, I read the story you wrote in your diary,” I said to Kyle as I focused on the team TV, eager to win.

“What?” he demanded, taking his attention from the game, and for the first time that night, I won!

I bursted into happiness and looked at his frowning handsome face.

“What do you mean you read the story I wrote?”

“Yes, the one titled An agreement with the billionaire,” I said to him.

“You have the talent, Kyle. You know how to structure words and not make the whole story boring.”

“But you didn't ask for permission to read my story, Kate.” He grunted.

“You're not gonna let me anyway,” I replied. Suddenly he bursted out of his room and I followed him, not certain why my offhand statement offended him. We were in the stairs now, he suddenly paused and I did so too. I could hear the displeased murmurs of our parents.

“I really need to go, Sam, we will be back, I promise,” my mother said, tears filling her slits of eyes.

“But it's storming outside, Yuki. You can't go there without getting sick,” she protested.

“We're coming with you.”

Kyle's mom surged through the couch and reached for her jackets.

“Yeah, she's right–we're coming with you,” the words came from Kyle's father. I grew bewildered, curiosity hanging on me like a giant chain, giving me anxiety. I went down the staircase one at a time and slipped beside Kyle.

“Mom, what's happening?” I requested, my face abruptly flushing warm. She looked down at me, inconvenience of how she would explain crept around her eyes and I could tell that she was in such distress.

“Kate sweet, listen.” She bent over, putting her arms on my shoulders.

“Your grandma is admitted to the hospital, sweety, and she's in a very severe condition. Me and your father need to visit her.”

“Can I go?” I asked.

“No honey, the guards won't let you,” she had said, obviously making excuses.

“Don't worry, Katey, we'll be with your parents,” says aunt Sam.

“Mom?” I heard Kyle as he bursted down the stairs.

“You're gonna go with them?”

I could see sadness in his eyes and I pitied him despite not being on good terms.

“Mrs. Sarada will be here any minute, Kyle. They'll look over you,”

“But mom,” he said stubbornly

“It's Christmas.”

“I know, little champ, but you gotta understand. I need to accompany your aunt, they need my help,” she explained patiently.

“We'll be back, little champ, don't worry,” His father rubbed his shoulder cheeringly. There was nothing we could do but, we were left with no choice. Through a blurred window, we stared as the vehicle disappeared and I was alone with Kyle and we were forced to be on good terms. I smiled at him comfortingly, and he smiled back. The clock ticked to twelve–they did not come home. The clock ticked to three–they still did not come home. The clock finally ticked to five–still they did not come home. It was then that we heard the news. The street was so foggy that they crashed into another vehicle. They all died, and so were our dreams that time.

** **

°KYLE°

I was digging for the ramen because it tasted good–or was it just because I am hungry. My chopsticks did their very best to claw food and shove it inside my mouth. It wasn't like this before. It was fine. But now I can feel my stomach wiggling like worms in protest. I cannot enjoy the craving of my stomach because Kate is glaring at me. I shot a glance at her–I could see streams coming out of her nose, arms crossed. I finish my mouthful and put my chopsticks down. I sink back to my chair and exchange her gaze.

“What's wrong?” I ask in Japanese. She didn't speak, she didn't even move her eyes.

“Your look is frightening me.” I take my eyes away from her, careful not to ignite a war. Remaining her sinking eyes on me, she clips a piece of tempura, then she slides it inside her mouth, gritting the food. I stare at her confusingly. She looks like she's about to burst. Suddenly she slams the chopsticks she used against the table and I swallow hard. Her eyes were on narrow slits, eyebrows diving down, facing each other.

“Why are you so difficult to wake up? Is there a way to wake up yourself? Shaking you won't even work.” She pouts and she does look adorable with it. I open my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.

“I do the chores, Kyle. I do the dishes, I do the cooking, I do the cleaning, while you just sleep there, difficult to wake up.”

I split my mouth to speak–she cut me off again.

“How are we going to get successful with that?” She slams the side of his fist against the table, moving the bowls slightly.

“How are we going to change the country? How are we going to be a great model to everyone? How are we going to influence other nations for world peace? To make this world a beautiful place? To make our government better?”

Once her words come out, there's usually no stopping. She can state words that might even contemplate the meaning of life–over killing a chicken in video games. Very childish. She springs from her chair, fumed by my silence.

“Are you not gonna answer?” she roars, eyes are like buttons–it's amusing.

“I-it won't happen again,” I tell her, covering myself with my arms. She finally sits down, still with a pouting face. We continue to eat, savouring each meal we put inside our mouths. They were satisfying and mouth-filling.

“I'm still irritated,” she remarks.

“To make it up to me; you're gonna carry my bag to school.”

I sigh, dropping my chopsticks off the table. That's just unfair. I need to stand up for myself. Her eyes darken and I continue to eat. Shucks. She's not even my wife but why is she always bossing me around?