“Well, I must endure the presence of two or three caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies. It seems that they are very beautiful.”

                                                                            --An excerpt from The Little Prince 

∞ᴪ∞

Chapter 8 – Disaster Magnet

I opened my eyes just to find out that the horrible night I thought was a dream, was in fact a reality.

For once I dreaded going to school. If I could just bury myself under the ground, I’d go straight to our backyard, next to my dog Shaggy and the other two gold fish I had tried to raise with not much success. I forbid myself to recall the past several hours. Rubbing the grain of sleep from my eyes, I went straight to the shower, jumped into my school clothes and combed my hair haphazardly.

Before I could hobble out of my room, I cursed, throwing my bag back to the old dresser that used to be my mom’s and sat slapping my hand on my temple. It was a Saturday. I moved in a languid attempt to change again, groaning as I undressed and muttering curses as I pulled the long sleeved shirt down my head.

At least I still have two days to delay my next encounter with Leon. My face turned warm and red again as I curled up and buried my face on my knees, rocking in an austere, futile attempt to clear my mind.

I yawned. I slept late last night but I did not hear the guests leave. They must have had a ton of fun. My mind raced in a sudden flicker of fear.

Mom!

I hurdled down the stairs swiftly, (I didn’t know I could run so fast!) my heart racing in my chest in a frantic gallop. “Mom! Are you there?!” I bellowed almost indignantly.

No answer.

Mom was gone! Arthur might have kidnapped her to use her against me. Why else would he befriend my mother?

“Mom!” I scuttled to the living room. No Mom. “Mom, where are you?!” My voice let lose the panic that welled up in my chest. “Mom!” I screamed, running aimlessly, toppling a flower vase as I did. To my relief, Emma (also known as Mom) came stomping from the kitchen, both arms folded on her chest, glaring at the pieces of the white vase on the floor.

“Sarah Johannes Littman!” Mom groused furiously. “You better explain yourself young lady, or I will have to ground you ‘til college!”

“I… I was—“ I desperately racked my brain for any excuse; to stray the topic off the broken vase. “I had a nightmare…” I mumbled hesitantly.

A hint of astonishment painted on her porcelain face. I didn’t usually tell her about my dreams or nightmares. In fact I rarely do tell her anything. For fifteen long years we coexisted in an inevitable, distant liaison. Emma cocked her head, curiosity in her eyes.

“In the dream, you were kidnapped… because of me.” I avoided her eyes.

She seemed to overcome her curiosity and headed to the kitchen beckoning me to trail behind. I sat stiffly, folding my hands over the table, watching Emma pull out a rectangular tin baking pan from the oven then carefully placed it on the wire rack in front of me. It was a huge chocolate cake that smelled like hazelnut and vanilla.

“And why was that?” She finally spoke as she set a plate of carbonara for me.

I twirled the pasta on my fork, and stared at it blankly for a few seconds. “I… don’t know.”

“Was I rescued?” She thumbed thoughtfully through her hair.

“I don’t know…”

Emma paused for a while as if pondering. “Well, there’s no use brooding over it all day, is there?”

I nodded. I felt stuporous; thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

“Eat up.” A small grin lit her face. “I have errands for you later,” she said eyeing on the cake with a satisfied smile.

The pasta tasted incredible—which was a once in a blue moon thing since Mom’s cooking is practically horrible. Before I knew it my plate was licked clean although not literally— that would be gross. Mom was definitely in a good mood. Somehow, her emotions had a direct invisible link to her cooking.

I left the plate on the sink after she practically shooed me to my room so she could frost her cake without any distractions. I was glad she didn’t probe me again about my dream.

It was late in the afternoon when I finished with all my reports and homework for the next week. I’ve done advanced reading on the lessons we would tackle for the next month. And I got nothing to do. I have got to get a life… and soon. All this unnecessary thinking could probably send me a one way ticket to a mental institution in no time.

Suddenly, I regretted not having to do Matt’s report. Ugh. I turned the TV on, pushing the channel buttons on the remote impatiently with a lethargic sigh, scowling as I caught a glimpse of Leon’s new house across the street through my window. Turning off the television, a light bulb flicked on top of my head— not literally of course.

I shambled to my desktop computer and turned it on, impatiently tapping my fingers on the light wooden table that held my PC set consisting of a modem, printer-scanner, pen tablet and a web cam that I almost never used; attached to a jumbled braid of wires.

When the screen finally finished setting up, I clicked on my favorite search engine and typed as fast as I could.

Leon Walden.

Then I pressed enter so forcefully, I wondered how my keyboard withstood everything. I clicked on a fan blog on the top of the search result list.

Leon Walden was born in Ireland, in April 4, 1994. It wasn’t until at the age of the eight that his acting career started when he starred in 2002 film Jeremiah, which in turn plummeted him into stardom. Young “Jeremiah” as he was known to most of the population received recognition from different award-giving bodies.

A picture of an eight-year old dark-haired Leon Walden flashed below. I wondered if he had been a blond too long that people seemed to have completely forgotten how he truly looked like. Pop culture, I guess. His innocent angelic face was smiling genuinely, though there was something in his eyes that got me stumped.

After a couple of years, he side-kicked Tommy Steinfeld in the action-packed fantasy movie, Treasure Island 3, with his role as Sketch, a common street thief, turned-over-a-new-leaf. This time, his fame grew even brighter, though some issues and speculation concerning his family resurfaced through the media. It was a matter of Leon’s custody; whether he’d be in the care of his mother Elizabeth Grest or Arthur Walden; his low-key father.

I closed the window clicking furtively as though someone could see me then laid my head back, closing my eyes with a sigh. It didn’t feel right, reading his life through another person’s eyes. It wasn’t the most decent thing to do.

As I read those statements about his life, I felt an estrangement toward him — as though he wasn’t of this planet. The Leon Walden I’ve known for more than a month now abruptly became unreachable, unreal, just like an alien from another universe. And there was a hollow feeling that curdled in the pit of my stomach. Once again, I blamed it on indigestion.

I tumbled on my bed, burying my face on the mattress, trying not to breathe for as long as I could until I’ve gotten myself lightheaded.

Mom knocked on my door but asserted her authority by coming in anyway, without my permission.

“Sarah,” she called eyeing around my untidy room, sighing heavily. “Dr. Mason called. He said they badly needed my help in the clinic. Kevin was, for some mysterious reason, out of town and—“

“Okay, Mom.” She didn’t need to finish. “I’m fine by myself.”

Emma nodded as she pulled the white overcoat that was her uniform over her shoulders. Mom worked as a dentist specializing in corrective and surgical areas. Dr. Mason, her colleague, was an older orthodontist who was responsible for the braces I wore throughout most of my childhood. Go figure.

Mom headed for the stairs then went back panting. “Before I forget; the cake is in the fridge. There is a box right on the kitchen table. Put the cake in the box and bring it to Arthur’s house. Give it to Leonard and apologize for last night.” Her instructions were clear and she wasn’t asking me to do it. It was an order. Once again, she put me on a mandatory suicide.

Before I could whine and retort and object, she sped to her car and the front door slammed shut.

I did as I was told. “Put the cake in the box.” I muttered with an unnerved mockery. “Way to go Mom.”

After tying the box with a long piece of blue ribbon I managed to scavenge from Mom’s stash, I sat there stiffly and eyed the box for what seemed like hours; picturing the worst case scenario and practicing the words inside my head.

“Hi Leonard. Sorry about last night. Here’s a cake to make you feel better.” I shook my head. No good.

“Leonard. Here’s a sorry-cake just for you.” I grunted. This just clearly proved how socially incompetent I was.

“Hey there!” I tried to smile. “I was worried about last night. You know, when I accidentally— Definitely not!” I scolded myself. “I wouldn’t dare make any mention of it. I forbid myself to!” My cheeks turned warm again.

Ugh. Great! Just great.

I stood up, almost angrily as I slipped in my jacket. With a ninety-five percent probability of failure, it would turn out into a huge mess anyway, so I might as well get it over with. I snatched the box and headed outside, slamming the door grudgingly behind me.

“Sarah, you can do this.” Some encouragement wouldn’t hurt. I breathed in and out with extreme force I felt like passing out. “On three. One… two… two and a quarter… two and a half… two and three quarters,” My delaying tactics weren’t of much help. “Three.”

The sun was already setting, painting the sky with a medley of indigo and ginger. It took me five long minutes to ogle at the front door before I could muster enough courage and shamelessness to finally push the door bell.

The loud buzzing sounded like the honking of a huge truck and startled me, making me jump a step back, miscalculating my landing on the edge of the two-tiered stairs in front of the porch. I landed on my butt, against the surprisingly spongy Bermuda grass which cushioned my fall. It still hurt though especially in the bum department.

I tried to shamble on my knees, wincing as a streak of pain darted through my flank. At least the cake was unharmed.

The caramel colored wooden door creaked open, with Arthur finally rushing to help me up. “Are you hurt?” He practically hauled me to my feet with one large arm. “That blasted door bell needs some serious help, really.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” I managed to twitch the corner of my lips into a weak smile.

“You don’t look fine at all,” he said already leading me inside, a strong hand supporting me as I waddled; the box safe in my arms.

“Uh… is Leon—ard in?” I asked awkwardly as he settled me on a soft couch in black leather covers. Arthur nodded. “He’s in the kitchen. I’ll go call him. You sure you’re alright?” He asked again worriedly.

I nodded blushing. Way to go Nerdy! You proved yourself a certified accident prone area once again. I might as well wear a sign board warning people about it. I smirked bitterly, placing the cake on the table cautiously, just in case another wave of bad luck reach me.

Leon came patting his hands with a towel, eyeing on me with an unreadable air about him. It was the first time I’ve seen him without the woolen cap and the fake braces. But the glasses, they were there; obscuring his perfection but it didn’t really matter to me. My heart raced and I avoided staring at him. But he had his blue eyes fixed on me; a huge contrast to his dark brown, almost black hair that made me want to stare much more. It was his fault, really.

That wasn’t right. I realized that I was gawking like an idiot again. It was a potentially evil person I was talking about and I had no further intent to patronize him. Ugh.

He flipped the towel over his shoulder and stood in front of me crossing his arms impulsively. “So… what brings you here?” It was a though his tall shadow loomed over me with an ominous hue.

I stood up panicky, intimidated by his height, my head colliding with his face with a discrete but excruciatingly painful snap, knocking him a few steps back. Breathlessly, I fell back on the couch, dazed by the impact as a throbbing pain dimmed my vision for a while.

“Ow!” He winced rubbing his now scarlet chin, taking another few steps back.

I blinked the blur from my eyes and hobbled my way to him despite my confusion. “I… I’m really sorry!” I shrieked in panic and tried to see how bad it was. I didn’t mind the heaviness on my skull, nor the ringing sound the deafened my ears or that there were two Leon’s in front of me. “I didn’t mean to—“

He shook his head angrily which was in turn replaced by amusement. “You really are a walking disaster magnet, aren’t you?” I must be hallucinating but I thought I could see one corner of his lips being pulled upward into a curious smirk.

“Yes,” I nodded sluggishly, my vision quite in murky disarray and I didn’t comprehend what he was saying though he looked brilliant, no, divine with that smile. I felt my knees weaken as the throbbing started again, everything whirring around me. What the hell was I thinking? I must have bumped my head too hard. Leon didn’t appear quite as awful as me though.

“Hey!” His arms swiped both mine before I hit the floor and pulled me back to the sofa. “Dad!” he called, still smiling with such incredulity on his perfect face. It made me wonder if he found pleasure in my every agony. “I think we have a situation here.”

I opened my eyes in panic. Carefully, I stared at the ceiling of dark mahogany adorned with a small crystal chandelier. I found myself lying on the black leather-skinned sofa in front of a polished granite and brick fireplace. This isn’t my room, is it?

How long was I out?

“Feel any better?” Leon sat perched on the arm rest of the long couch, eyeing at me with a sneer.

“Yep. Was I out that long?” Slightly alarmed, I rubbed the top of my head and found an ice pack securely placed over the ridiculously huge bump on my head.

“Nope. Just some five minutes, maybe ten.” He rubbed his reddish chin impulsively.

“Sorry about that,” I said remembering to breathe casually as a rush of blood made its way to my cheeks. I focused staring at the wooden tiled floor.

He gazed at me for a while pensively.

“Err… My mom baked… a cake,” I stammered, reaching the box on the table with my sweaty hands. “I… About last night… Yeah… Sorry about that.”

He shifted his gaze between the cake and me with an unreadable façade. He opened it gingerly. I thought I kept it safe inside the box but the frosting on one side was smudged against the container.

I sighed, wincing at him. “Sorry about—“

“You always say that,” he cut me in mid-sentence.

“What?” I gasped, when I realized I was holding my breath. There was a lump in my throat that made my voice raspy.

“I bet five bucks, you’d say it again.” He snorted; seemingly pleased with himself which made my heart skip a few beats.

“Huh?” I gulped, pressing my drying lips together. I really didn’t know what he was talking about.  “Yeah… Sorry about that.” I had no idea what I was saying either. My vision narrowed and blurred at the edges as though my gray eyes were some sort of framed camera. My hand unthinkingly reached to the bridge of my nose to adjust my glasses.

“That.” He slumped beside me and placed an open palm on my lap, the cake resting on his other arm. “Pay up.” He sniggered lightly, in a melodious, otherworldly manner, like music humming in my ears. My hand mechanically reached up to my chest as though to prevent my heart from jumping out.

“W-what?” I mumbled in a bewildered reproach to myself. Wake up! I shook my head in frustration. Leon just sat there, scrutinizing my reaction with much amusement. He thinks I’m a lunatic. I don’t care!

“You lost the bet. Pay up!” His soft chuckle made my stomach flutter again. I may have to find some plausible way to get him so exasperated, just so my heart could stop hammering inside my stomach.

Yeah. When he was furious, he was rather easy to deal with. I would delightedly choose feeling irritated and outraged for long periods of time than this… anything but this.

“Are you serious? I didn’t even know bull to agree to that bet in the first place. That didn’t count.” I snorted sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I did, my train of thought circling on seven different ways to behave like a jerk in the hope that my agonizing encounters with Leon could, with a bit of luck be healthier or better yet, end. I crossed my fingers behind my back, praying to God that I sounded as obnoxious as I intended to.

“Now that you know, the next ones would.” Instead of a head-on retort, he smiled excitedly at the cake as if to ignore my attempt to enrage him. “Looks good. You sure you hadn’t made this?” There was an insulting tone in his voice.

I grunted. “No. Not a chance.”

“Good. Just checking,” He sniggered again as he headed to the kitchen.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” My voice hit a few octaves higher as I scowled at him.

He scratched his head, disheveling the dark silky hair that ran bordering between his perfectly defined eyebrows and his forehead. I gasped involuntarily with a sudden urge to comb his hair back into place with my trembling fingers, which was both utterly stupid and dead humiliating. I clenched my hands as I pocketed them just in case they moved on their own.

“Well, let’s say, I would love to live longer,” he said almost seriously then chuckled softly in the end.

Leon had done much laughing today; so much that made me lightheaded for the longest possible time I could imagine. I had enough, though deep down, I was ambivalent about it. It sent the same shivers down my spine whenever he laughed and I was literally shuddering when he disappeared into the kitchen. Obviously, the plan to annoy him seemed to backfire at me.

I finally sighed. I called to Leon turning hesitantly for the door.  “Well… I guess I can go now. About last night, I’m really sorry.” I bit my lip. I did it again.

I stared at the doorknob for a while before I turned it slowly. A hand caught my arm and pulled me back. The heaviness in my chest lifted at once and now a galloping sensation took its place. The most bizarre feeling launched from my fingers propelling all throughout my body as though I accidentally shoved my finger into a power outlet.

“Sarah,” he called my name with a hint of tenderness that I thought I was in a livid dream, and there was nothing but bliss. It sounded melodic to my ears as though the name did not belong to me at all but to some majestic being about to materialize out of thin air.

I just stared at him; my mouth parting half-way to speak but no words came out.

“Now you owe me ten bucks.” Leon rubbed his chin again almost automatically.

I felt the sudden urge to apologize again. But I didn’t like the thought of being fifteen bucks poorer so I pressed my lips together in a useless attempt. “I… haven’t any money on m-me.” I stuttered.

He grinned widely, and then furrowed his eyebrows, still scratching his chin as if to ponder about my pennilessness. “I do accept favors. So do me one and stay for dinner. Dad’s out and it gets unbearably dreary being alone here… Err… You know what I mean.”

Should I stay or should I step away like my brain was telling me half an hour ago? My mind raced stupidly to a familiar feeling. It was as though I was back to being five, crying for my favorite book—The Little Prince which was my Dad’s last memoir to me as a child— as I watched it being hurled into the boys’ toilet by none other than Matt Adams. (I know. It’s sort of gross to be recalling those things at such a grave moment, but what can I do?) The loss kept me crying for weeks, feeling miserable for the things that I had not managed to keep. I dreaded that feeling that I would probably mull this thought over at some later time, wondering with my “What ifs” and some “What could’ve beens”.

“Seize the day” was my father’s motto and this time, I decided to condemn myself to it. I nodded wryly. It wasjust dinner after all. Or at least that was what I would’ve thought.

“Brilliant!” He snatched my hand forcefully and dragged me like a limp rag doll to the kitchen; flushing as I did, my arm weakening against his grip.

The Dunn’s kitchen was exactly the opposite of Mom’s. Everything was not as organized but it has an inviting ambience to it. The light maple colored cupboards, the glass-paned windows, the sleek black stove, the matching blue plates, cups, teapot, salt and pepper shakers, the beige-painted walls and the small wooden table surrounded by four wooden stools in the center of the room gave the impression of a cozy cabin. However, it could only do so much to ease my apprehension.

We sat there silently, avoiding each other’s gazes, mostly staring at the plate of curried chicken with a side of steamed rice, Leon set for us. The lovely aromas caressed my sense of smell, it made my palate water but I was too petrified; too fearful that the fork would rattle in my hands if I hold it.

“So, Arthur cooked this?” I said, my stomach growling at the appetizing smell of the food.

“Nope. I did.”

“So even you lot do normal stuff… and such,” I hesitated against his untimely defiant stare.

Leon grunted in exasperation. “Yes. Even my lot are humans after all.” His ocean blue eyes glowered at me for a while.

Suddenly, I had the urge to say sorry all over again but I bit my tongue to put off the words, and then gulped.

“Why aren’t you eating up?” He wolfed down a couple of mouthfuls then chomped grudgingly. I could not have believed such a perfect thing like him could eat like a caveman.

“I… I’m n-not hungry,” I fumbled for words as a loud growl interrupted the silence and I realized it was my stomach. I must’ve gotten all red on the face because Leon almost choked on the piece of poultry he was gnawing on—I realized he was chortling, amusement almost evident on his faultless features.

When he finally composed himself or at least managed to forge his face into pretense lack of interest, he put down his fork and patted the corners of his lips with a table napkin with utter refinement that made my lower-lip drop a notch.

“Really?” he challenged.

“I was checking.”

His perfectly arched brows furrowed.

“Let’s say I would love to live longer,” I scoffed, mimicking his words.

“Ha-ha… Very funny.” He muttered sarcastically. I forked a piece of potato, rolling my eyeballs.

Before I knew it, the curry was gone. I was so focused on the glaring match with Leon, I hadn’t became aware that I’ve eaten every bit of it. He could actually cook edible food. I frowned at the discovery. Cooking was a bit of a tragedy for me.

“So… where’s Arthur?” I shuddered at the realization that we were alone in the house. But what could happen? He couldn’t possibly… I chuckled humorlessly at my lack of common sense. I’m a nerd! He’s like… a superstar from planet Hollywood or something like that.

“Business…” he replied glumly with not much intent to elaborate on the topic.

I nodded as I watched him slice the cake for both of us. He did it with precision and carriage, lithe just like a surgeon would. I prevented myself from hyperventilating and shook my head to clear the thought off my mind. It was wrong in all sense of the word.

I stood silently, the chair protesting with a gentle screech against the wooden floor, mustering every strand of courage to avoid his confused eyes. I stepped away, slowly to my resolve before I lost every voice of reason in my head. “I have to go,” I whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear it.

“Sarah,” he called back softly.

It felt though I was about to crumble but I fought harder to stay on my feet. I hastened my pace, breathing raggedly as a lump surged though my throat making my eyes fog a bit. His hand caught mine before I could even step out of the kitchen. I didn’t dare to look back since I was terrified that doing so would leave me weak on my knees. I tugged my arm to shake his grasp to no avail.

Leon tugged me back gently. I didn’t anticipate how wimpy I was, pivoting involuntarily as he pulled, landing feebly onto his chest. If my heart was a car, I’d have gotten a ticket tonight for it raced beyond my imagination, threatening to fling itself out of my chest any moment now.

My face was buried on his chest. From the loss of personal distance I could hardly breathe. His breathing was ragged but soft against my forehead. I pushed against him to regain my freedom with all the effort I could gather. One of his arms wrapped against my shoulders and hauled me harder back to him as his other hand held mine softly.

I felt my heart doubling up into a throttle but I realized that it wasn’t my heart that I was hearing. It was Leon’s.

“Please,” he sighed, almost begging and it made me want to surrender to him.

I froze. My mind went blank for a while as we stood there in silence. He didn’t speak, yet, I felt as though I knew exactly what ran in his mind. A serene feeling flowed within me despite the galloping in my chest.

Slowly, he loosened his arms which mindlessly found their way to my shoulders as though he was terrified to lose his grip. Leon gazed at me with his mystified sapphire globes and I met them cautiously for what seemed like eternity, struggling to catch my breath.

Leon’s eyes were questioning, content and longing as mine probed through the infinite blue that gazed like that of a little boy upon opening his presents on a Christmas morning. The corner of his lips slowly curved into the most dazzling smile I have seen in my entire existence. I knew from that point in time that I was dreaming. No. I was sure of it. My eyes widened and dared not blink for the fear that doing so would send me back to reality.

I heard the front door open gently and close shut with an audible thud. The adrenaline rushed as I pushed myself away from Leon with a surprising success evidenced by the two feet of distance that gaped between us.

“Leon?” Arthur called from the living room.

The sudden turn of event seemed to have petrified the both of us, both our feet glued to the floor.

Arthur came into the kitchen shrugging his coat. “Oh, there you are.”

Leon and I exchanged a quick glance then shifted to Arthur who appeared bewildered by our reaction. I gawked at the man for half a second and scrambled to my feet, amazed that I even managed to say my flustered goodbyes.

Mom was sitting on the living room when I arrived. Lifting her eyes from a D.I.Y. magazine, she appeared to scrutinize my pale, troubled face. “Been to Leon, I hope. What did you do this time?” She accused me without so much as a twitch on her humorless face.

My voice croaked. “Nothing, mother,” I muttered not intending to linger for another minute in an attempt to prevent a row.

“Aren’t you having supper?”

“No! Not hungry,” I said not mentioning the dinner with Leonard Dunn. I was afraid she would ask further. Instead, I hustled to my room pausing only to unlock my door which seemed impossible to budge against my trembling arms. It wasn’t until I was in the comfort of the four walls of my room that I was able to breathe freely.

After my evening routines, (even nerds do this, you know) which I did virtually in a daze, I grabbed the diary which I rarely bring up to date and started skimming the pages. There had only been three entries since that day I met Leonard Dunn, also known to me as Leon Walden.

Then pen on my hand quivered and for a while I thought I wouldn’t be able to restrain my nerves.

Dear Winfred, I wrote holding my breath. If someone else read my diary (which  is hypothetical thing since I would never let anybody even glance at it unless, of course they’re over my dead body), it would probably seem like a collection of unsent letters to a certain someone named Winfred, which was exactly what it is.

Winfred is my Dad who I’ve loved more than anyone in the world. But he’s long been gone and I couldn’t find any other way to tell him all these things except for this blank music composition book that was his only memory to me. As I wrote the things that happened to me during the days he wasn’t able to see himself with his gray eyes, and never will, I’d imagined him frowning and laughing silently beside me; but never sad. I couldn’t remember his face being miserable or gloomy. He was always smiling and chuckling and ruffling my hair.

I told Winfred everything, detail by detail and he nodded at me with curiosity. Sometimes he would furrow his dark brows, especially those things I reckon he would not approve of in a million years. I was about to sleep when I caught a glimpse of the apple Leon left on my side table the other night. My heart skipped a few beats at the simple mention of his name in my brain.

The apple stayed sitting on my table innocently. I hadn’t dared touch it for fear that it might disappear against my trembling fingers–—and I was just imagining everything. 

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So, after a long while... here it is! It's kind of a long chapter, I know and thank you for bearing with me...Had a bit of rough time there. I was thinking of entering this story in watty awards but I desperately need opinions about it. I know I've got a lot to improve so please do let me know what you think! Please please do click that button and vote :)

xoxo and always,

shim<3