YES

Valentine seemed to be somewhere far off, his eyes unfocused as they rested absentmindedly on Tulip. She shifted uncomfortably, and her nervous movement seemed to pull Valentine back into the present. He narrowed his eyes and murmured something intelligible. Automatically Tulip nodded her head. Valentine stared at her expectantly.

"Erm...I'm sorry...What did you say?"she asked stupidly. Valentine squeezed his eyes closed tightly, eyebrows drawing together in annoyance as he suppressed a sigh.

"I said, 'Why did you let me approach you?'"

Tulip stared at him blankly. The silence was iminent and the longer it was stretched so did it seem was the thread that was Valentine's patience. Nearly four lines had etched into his forehead by the time Tulip thought to respond.

"What do you mean? Like, when we trained? Or-?"

"The beginning, Tulip. The very beginning- after the funeral." Impatient, frustrated- he was treating her like a kid again.

"Oh, like when you killed me?" Valentine was glaring at her now. "What? We're big kids, right? I mean, it happened. It's going to come up. I don't know about you, but I'm over it."

"Over it?" Valentine snorted. "One can hardly get 'over' being killed-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm an idiot, I don't know what I'm talking about. Insert speech about my inadequacy as a human being here, and we're moving on." Tulip snapped. "Now what were you asking?"

Valentine's face was smooth now, almost business like. He was watching Tulip very carefully. The mood felt strange and Tulip was suddenly very uncomfortable having all of Valentine's attention focused on her. Usually she was the fly on the wall that he would swat at when it flew a little too close, and she was all too familiar with the sound of his raised voice and the blood-chilling quality of those sunset eyes. But now all of his interest had fallen on her, his eyes soft with curiousity and something else that somehow did not seem to compute into her mental picture book of Valentine's facial expressions. He looked almost...regretful?

"Why didn't you run, even when you knew I was going to kill you? And just then, a second time you gave up your life. Why?" His voice was unexpectedly quiet, and suddenly the air in the room seemed to be smothering her. Tulip opened her mouth to speak, but abruptly closed it again. This man before her was not the Valentine she knew. His eyes held no traces of cynicism, annoyance, anger, sarcasm, or murderous intent. Instead, here was a stranger with no ill-intent, with something bordering concern and guilt, for once questioning her well-being instead of his own. These uncharted waters needed to be tested before something foolish was said. So in typical Tulip fashion, she plunged right in.

"I guess, at the time, I didn't really think you looked dangerous. I sure know how to call them, right?" Tulip laughed and then abruptly stopped when she realized Valentine was staring at her blankly. She dropped her gaze and shook her head. "I'm sorry, that was rude. You don't really deserve that-"

"No." Valentine interjected forcefully. Tulip winced. There was the zero-to-sixty anger she had been expecting, that quick-acting anger that she had experienced more often than not. She welcomed it with open arms, relished it, bathed in it. I am so freaking weird. I'm one of those mice...no, no, no. That 'm' word. What is it? Misogynist? No, no, crap. Uhm...uhmmmm...MASOCHIST! YES! I am a masochist.

"I do deserve it." Tulip's head snapped up so fast she thought she might get whiplash. Valentine was walking slowly towards her, his eyes watching her carefully, a cat stalking a mouse.

"What did you say?" Tulip's voice was hoarse with shock, amazement, and a thousand other equally confusing emotions. This was a dream. Valentine was never in the wrong. EVER.

"Don't look so shocked, Tulip. Is it such an impossibility for me to admit the error of my ways? Popular to the contrary, I am not perfect." He was smirking. Son of a bitch was toying with her. He stopped directly in front of her, looking down into her eyes and she was aware that this was the closest he had ever come to her voluntarily. She squared her shoulders slightly and looked up into his eyes, steeling herself for whatever spiteful thing would come from that wry, crooked mouth next.

"Tulip-" In a split-second Valentine was gone, the stranger was back, and the eyes were soft and emotional. The cool mask had been discarded on the floor somewhere, leaving behind something raw and unrestrained. "-You do not deserve what you have been put through."

For a split second, Tulip could only hear her inner self cheering triumphantly at having conquered Valentine's arrogant self, and then there was silence. There was only her, Valentine, and the sudden knowledge that everything she had been through these past couple of months had actually been very terrible, and potentially traumatizing. Something which was already painfully obvious to everyone else, had suddeny been made even clearer to her. It was like a joke between adults that had to be explained to a child: it wasn't until it had been dumbed down and broken apart that the child was able to get in on the humor too. Leave it to Valentine to pull Tulip into the sick irony that was her life.

Her face suddenly felt strange, and her nose was unexpectedly runny. She rubbed at her cheek and it was slick with tears. The dam had broken, and she was crying.

"S-s-sorry, I'm crying. I don't even know why-," Tulip's voice cracked.

"Do not apologize." Valentine's voice was firm, but calming. His expression was peaceful, but his voice was chastising. "I will be honest with you, Tulip Seychelles, as you are honest with others- I do not expect to ever see you again after today, and therefore I am telling you these things with the confidence that you will not be able to repeat them to anyone, nor that you will ever make me regret them by taunting me incessantly with their meaning."

"Jeez, Val. That's kind of depressing. I mean, I know we aren't besties, or anything, but seriously? never again?" Tulip's voice was too weepy, but her waterworks did seem to be drying up. "And why won't I repeat them? You already killed me once, right? What else is there?"

Tulip laughed bitterly, and the corner of Valentine's mouth twitched into a wry smile.

"No. I am not going to kill you. Unlike others I do not feel the need to repeat the same mistake twice. But hear me out, Tulip- You have been through more than the average person could handle, could even imagine handling. You were pulled from your quiet, comfortable life through a violent act at my hands. What I did to you was unforgivable. There is no right or reason behind it except for my own foolish gains. For my selfishness- for my disregard of the value of your life, I am truly and deeply sorry."

Tulip's voice seemed to die in her throat as Valentine gently brought his hand to rest on her cheek. Wiping at her tears with his thumb, he gently tilted her face up to look into his eyes. Her heart was beating too loud, too fast. She wondered if he could hear it, feel it?

"Fortunately, you are receiving a second chance. I have paid the price in full for you, all though what I had to offer alone was not enough. When you return to your human body, you will lose your memories of these past couple of months. It will be like nothing ever happened. You will go back to school, with your friends, back home, with your parents, and you will be able to move forward once again."

"And Piper?" She asked hopefully. The thin line that Valentine's lips formed seemed to shatter that dream. "Oh, well yeah...of course not. I mean, she was...uh, she was gone before this went down. But...I'm really going to forget? All about you guys? Everything?"

Valentine nodded. From somewhere in the darkness, the chime of a grandfather clock echoed and Valentine scowled.

"That was not the agreed time," Valentine hissed. A tinkling of distant laughter, but the chiming of the clock did not stop. "Apologies, Tulip. By the time the clock has chimed twelve, you will be on your way home."

"What? Hey, wait! What about the others? Don't I at least get to say goodbye to David and Penelope?" Tulip whined. Valentine shook his head firmly. "That isn't even fair!"

"Tulip, you should know best of all that life is rarely fair." Tulip rolled her eyes as Valentine gently guided her to stand in the middle of a ominous looking circle. Three, four chimes.

"Yeah, yeah, pretty much everyone in that house has that as a motto." Valentine took several steps backward and smirked. Five chimes, and they were staring at each other, waiting uncomfortably. They weren't going to see each other again. That was inspiring.

"Valentine...you asked me why I didn't run?" Sixth chime going on seven. The words felt free and loose in Tulip's mouth, and she felt fearless now as seven chimes turned into eight. "I don't remember too clearly, but I do remember that I thought you looked really sad. And lonely. I thought that if killing me somehow made those eyes a little less sorrowful, I would be happy. And today, when it came down to whether or not I could make it back to my good ol' high school days, or help save you from Felix, I realized that prom and senior year didn't matter. At all. Because in the end, I think all I've ever wanted was to make you happy, Valentine."

Eight, nine- Valentine looked floored, the stoic demeanor completely vanished as Tulip smiled shyly. And suddenly he was there, hugging her tightly to his chest. She could feel his uncertainty and anguish, guilt, shame, and somewhere in there the faintest flicker of happiness, and something bordering pure devotion. And then realization struck hard.

"The only thing that can be traded for a life is another life."

He was kissing her forehead now, his hands on her face. Ten-

"Valentine?" her voice was distressed. "What was your payment?"

He would not answer as he began to pull away. Tulip held fast to his wrists. Eleven-

The proud, empty face was somehow content and relaxed. "Valentine!"

Twelve chimes and the floor shattered like glass beneath her feet. She tried to grab at Valentine's hand one last time, his fingers warm and entwined with hers before she passed through them like a ghost. She fell from black, night sky, to blue, clouded morning, screaming the whole way down.

*Mention Valentine's wish?

the silence in the room was heavy

"i..." all eyes in the room were on her now. she swallowed hard, the ringing in her ears deafening now as she stared at valentine disbelievingly. "...i'm dead?"

"yes. and for quite sometime as well." his voice was matter-of-fact, like he was stating a simple truth.

"but...but people have been seeing me. i-i've been going to school, a-and i-"

"who did you talk to at school?"

"what?" her stomach was beginning to twist, her chest was lancing with pain, and the cross around her neck seemed suddenly too heavy.

"what did you discuss? were you turning homework in? taking tests? who did you sit with at lunch?"

"i-i don't know-"

"val, come one..." david said .

"no." valentine responded bluntly. "this is important: when was the last time you remember interacting with another human being?"

introductions: i suck at them

1.

i used to have these crazy dreams. the weirdest most awkward things would bubble up from this sea of thoughts and swirl together at night. action, romance, drama, tragedy- they were like head-movies, no joke. the monotony of life was broken up by color-filled adventures every night, and whether i remembered them or not was meaningless. all that mattered was that i was free in every possible way, that i was granting my own wishes, i was holding on tight to my dreams.

and then someone called me. in that depthless void a voice came calling from darkness. a single white hand beckoned with a curled finger, drawing me close to something- hell if i knew what- that would end those colorful tirades. that white hand, those dark expressionless eyes shattered everything.

i took that phantom hand, and was pulled out into the blinding light of the sun. my dreams were over.

~

2.

skinny.

there's always that one defining charactertistic you would use to describe someone. for the guy in front of my it was 'skinny'. the one word didn't really do him any justice, there was a lot more to him than that, but skinny stuck out. mainly because it really pissed me off. he was tall sure, and his build was proportionate, but he was one spine away from gumby.

i stabbed at my salad with a little too much vigor and the fork sliced through the lettuce, striking the plate hard and making a loud clanking noise. the waitress glanced briefly over and popped her gum at me before returning her attention to the bunny-eared tv. i crossed my eyes at the back of her head and then faced forward. the guy was staring at me. i frowned.

in an empty restaurant with a plethora of vacant, equally clean tables to sit at this joker had come and sat at the booth right in front of me. on the side that faced me, forcing me into awkward, accidental eye contact and an enhanced feeling of annoyance. it wouldn't have been such a big deal if i hadn't heard the idiot request the seat. i got the feeling that he was that person at the movie theater that would come sit right next to you, no matter how many people were in there, just so he could prop his feet up on that bar.

i felt violated: he had basically deprived me of my most convenient daydreaming spot. if i were to try and drift off now i would end up staring at him like an overly-interested zombie. and now i was daydreaming about daydreaming, staring straight into those darkly gleaming eyes with my mouth slightly open. i clamped my mouth shut with an audible clacking sound. the man lifted a steaming cup of black sludge to his lips, hiding a smirk, eyes as dark as the coffee he swallowed still on me. my face went red.

all i wanted to do was make him feel as uncomfortable as he made me. and once the thought was out there, my mind acted on it. i wanted to seem as un-feminine and unapproachable as possible.

"'sup, bro?" he stared at me blankly. his non-response was the green light for every unattractive phrase i'd ever learned. "broski? brosef? brah? bosom?"

no reaction whatsoever. all though i could fee the waitress staring at me in annoyance out of the corner of my eyes. those dark eyes remained dead even over the brim of the coffee cup which he was neglecting to drink from.

"dong, where is my automobile?" i asked in my most grandfatherly voice. the man drained the rest of his cup before setting it down quietly. he was not looking anymore as he fished a few dollar bills from his dark jeans, his even darker eyes unfocused onto his table as he concentrated on his wallet. casting them down onto the cheap plastic surface, he slid smoothly from the booth, not looking at me, but the corner of his mouth still upturned in amusement.

i sure know how to reel them in.

~

oh shit bored:

the kiss was violent, scary. she wanted to pull away, she wantedto pull him closer, she wanted to bite down on his lip as hard as she could, she wanted to run her hands through his hair. she wanted to run away.

she pulled away slightly, valentine froze and in the darkness his face was a blur as he pulled her tightly to his chest. his breathing was ragged in her ear, and his voice had a possessive tone:

"don't run." he ordered hoarsely. his skin was burning hot, and his arousal was frighteningly obvious. she tried to push away harder now.

do i want this?

"please?" his voice was lonely, pleading. his grip went slack and she could move freely now. every instinct, every nerve-ending, skin-cell, screamed to 'run'.

so she stayed.

"I'll divorce her."

Olive froze. Robert stepped forward until he was a hair's breadth from her back. He leaned forward slightly and she could feel his warm breath on the shell of her ear as he whispered.

"I'll leave her- just say the word." Olive swallowed hard, and it felt like her heart had jumped up into her throat. This could not be happening.

"What are you saying?" She asked quietly.

"

Blood. Everywhere.

Piper grabbed onto the bathroom counter quickly, the room spinning around her, and her stomach gave another violent lurch. She threw up again, this time managing to aim into the sink. Blood splattered as her organs seemed to wrench and tear apart. It splashed into the basin, flecking the mirror and stainless steel nobs.

"Ok in there, woman?" Taunting, mocking, Grimmjaw knocked playfully on the door. Piper opened her mouth to respond, to beg for help, anything, but more blood forced its way up. Gasping for air, the blood was pooling into her nasal cavity as well, spilling down her upper lip, drowning her. There was too much, she couldn't breathe. It was thick, bitter-iron tasting, and she was throwing up again. Bile, this time- the contents of her stomach with a wild pink tinge. The playful knock was suddenly an impatient bang.

"What the fuck are you doing? Hurry up- You didn't even eat enough to puke!" His voice was annoyed, impatient. But there was an underlying tone of anxiousness. He could smell the blood, it was making him uneasy. "Did you hear me?"

Piper tried to stumble towards the door, but her limbs weren't working, and she felt so weak and horrible. She slipped in her own congealing blood and hit the ground with a thud. She cracked her head on the tile and the last thing she remembered hearing was the sound of splintering wood and Grimmjow's swearing as he tossed the door aside and took in the morbid scene before him.

*