What is most important to me? Cigarettes, alcohol, oreos, and sex.
You heard me. Oreos. Little chocolate cookies with sweet cream on the inside. I could live on oreos. Hell, I practically do. Oreos and instant noodles. Yum.
But tonight, I've got my stash hidden away in my room. Double-stuff oreos. My cigarette is nearly burnt out, but that's okay. The alcohol and sex will come later.
Clubbing.
My night off. Same old story, every time.
A girl. I don't want a girl. I want a blow job from one of the boys who strut their stuff on Lexington Avenue.
I want a good, hard, come-till-you-cry fuck in a dark alley.
I want another cigarette.
It's my night off, dammit, and I should enjoy it! I just wish I could get Him off my mind. I want to lick the tears from his face and tell him I love him.
I want to fall asleep with my head in his lap after a long night of ass-bruising, rubbed-raw sex. I want to smile, and see him smile down at me.
But that won't happen. Of course it won't. Not on my night off. His night out.
I'm such a traitor. To my friends, my family - myself.
I want to smell his hair.
I want that CHILD and there is nothing I can do about it. I want him to smile. I haven't seen his real one yet, but I know it would be beautiful. Like Asuka's. He would glow.
Aya would kill me if he could read my mind like that orange-haired sonofabitch.
Ken would never speak to me again.
And Omi - Omi wouldn't believe it.
Persia and Manx would hunt me down and kill me, while those Schwarz bastards tore him apart.
I can just see what they'd do.
He would be screaming and crying and pushing them away. The insane one would draw blood, and stain the ever-present school uniform.
Schuldig would laugh, and rip his memories of US apart, crushing what I worked so long to obtain.
And Crawford would just kill him, no expression on his face. The betrayal!
I want to see him. I need another cigarette.
Christ, he's only fifteen! I'm a hypocrite. I shouldn't have cared when I saw his eyes - desperate, in their own, silent way.
Nagi.
Naoe Nagi.
I want to take him home, and watch old movies, and feed him cookies and tell him how FUCKING beautiful he is.
I want to kiss cookie-crumb lips and taste the vanilla cream on the inside. His eyes are gorgeous. I bet I'm the only one who notices.
I refused the mission, but I don't know why. I could have seen him again.
We're like the oreos.
He is one chocolate cookie, and I'm the other, and the only thing keeping us together is the Sweet Vanilla Cream.
I need a drink. I can do without the boy son Lexington. I can do without them, all right.
I need a light.
I need my inse-fucking-curity, and I need my betrayal. I need HIM.
Just another cookie in my box.
I would look for him, but I need a drink, a cigarette, a good hard fuck.
I need a Double-Stuff Oreo.
The cream is the best part - the cookies can be thrown away.