Sugar Song

"Hurry up!" The girl yelled impatiently "They could be back at any minute!"
The boy shook his head and continued tuning his guitar, turning the pegs incredibly slowly in between checking.
"Patience is a virtue Shimi." He said, his eyes staring at his strings "Besides, why do you wanna write this song anyway?" He asked, partly out of curiosity and partly out of stalling for time.
Now it was her turn to stall for time, it wasn't like she had to answer the question. She didn't have to tell this dork about her guy friends. He didn't need to know...
"I'm writing it for someone." she finally replied, color finding its way onto her pale cheeks.
"Aw, that's so sweet." Llewellyn grinned, put the guitar down and started scribbling chords on a piece of paper "So... who's it for?" He asked reluctantly.
Shimi paused for a bit, weighing her options. Thinking of whether or not she was actually going tell him about her guy friends. She then opted to not be specific.
"Just a guy." Her voice started to get soft. She could just feel her cheeks get even redder.
For a brief moment Shimi completely forgot the song they had due and dawdled with her pen. Drawing all sorts of wild beasts, obviously trying to not look embarrassed... Needless to say... She failed horribly.
"Shi-Shimi?" Llewellyn shook her shoulders, trying to snap her out of her self-induced trance "Are you okay?"
"Yeah..." She replied, face flushed "I was just sorta..." Shimi paused unable to finish her sentence.
"Embarrassed?" Llewellyn inquired, getting only a shy nod as a reply. "Well, you must really like whoever it is." The boy sighed, his voice hiding a tinge of bitterness.
"How did you?..." Shimi tried to ask, once again unable to finish her sentence.
"You started blushing when we started talking about it." He explained "And I bet that he'll tag along with Cyber and... What's her name again?" Llewellyn deciding not to try and remember the brunette's name. "And we're writing this song, because you wanna show how special he is to you... Right?"
Shimi sat there for a brief moment. Dumbfounded? No, she was quite responsive. Surprised at Llewellyn figuring her out? Pretty much.
"I didn't know you were good at Psyche." Was her only reply.
"When you live out on your own, you learn more about people." Llewellyn said, his voice taking on a different tone "But let's not mind that, let's write that song!" He declared loudly, his answer ripe with false enthusiasm.
"Thanks..." Shimi said sheepishly "You... Still want to help me out?"
Llewellyn gave a small chuckle, he always thought Shimi looked adorable when embarrassed, and he always had soft spot for Shimi... And at that moment, as he looked into her whimpering eyes... That was it, the boy just didn't have the heart to turn her down.
"Of course I do!" His smiled sincerely, his voice filled with real determination -or if not, at least something close to it- "I did promise, didn't I?"
Hearing this, the girl's face looked as though the color couldn't escape it. Though she also felt more relaxed. Actually a better way to describe it, would be that she felt happy, happy that her friend was willing to help her out. Despite his obvious reluctance... "So how are we going to start the song?" She asked, a grin visible on her flushed face...

Llewellyn sat up, breaking away from the bittersweet memory. He reluctantly put his pen down and cried. Not the way a grown man cries, with their shoulders held up high, head facing down as drops of dew drip down their faces. No, Llewellyn cried like a kid -granted that he is one... Technically...- his eyes swollen as he wiped the fountain raining down from his face. Hands rubbing his cheeks awkwardly, not even bothering to find tissue or a towel.
He didn't want to remember his last meeting with Shiraishi Yumi nor did he want to remember Anna's cruel fate. He just wanted to finish his pack of smokes -this would be the first and last time he'd even try to light up a cigarette-, eat one last beef bowl and end all of it. He just wanted to fade away... But as he stared at the relic of a gun on his desk, with Desert Eagle .50 faintly written on its side, he knew that he couldn't forget the memory. He knew that he couldn't just let it pass. He had to finish the series of images in his head, sketchy and surreal, yet somehow still able to seem so real. Like a reel of old film, tattered, decaying and breaking down, yet still refusing to fade from existence...