Rio 1. Chapter 1

_**PLEASE READ THIS WARNING:**__ I do not own Rio, Jewel, or any character or theme used in the Rio film. They belong solely to Blue Sky Films and 20__th__ Century Fox._

_OK, so I know I should be slaving away on the seventeenth chapter of NtY. But then... this idea. I just saw like was wondering what the hell was I supposed to give for Valentines' Day, you know, just to give a fic in honour of it. Then... I came up with this. It was a small idea, just forming in my head for a while, and then, it blossomed into something more._

_I might be ambitious, but I'm hoping for my idea here to be just as good as 'Love?'s. A whole different setting, but with some stuff reminiscent of my past works- I hope for this to be probably one of the best fics I've written. I've spent a lot of time into this... and it's pretty long, just to warn you. So I've broken it down into two chapters. You can just disregard reviewing this one... but I'm not so picky._

_Anyway, a little gift from me to you guys, who really love my work and Rio as a whole. Happy Valentines' Day. _

_..._

_...even though I'm still single. -_- Gah._

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><p>~Blu~<p>

Every day when I peered out of the window I would be greeted with a gleaming orange sphere, one that spread its blanket of light and heat to the jungle, one that never failed to emerge from the horizon to serve its duty. This is where the phrase 'as sure as the sun will rise' originates from: no matter what mood one was in, no matter what circumstance one was entrenched in, no matter how much the world shook its fist and cussed at it, the ever-faithful star would arise and reappear into the sky. You could wish that it never existed, you could attempt to perform some absurd ceremonial to eradicate it from existence, but the fact is at precisely 6:47 the sun will shine over all of us.

Just like the sun's rising, there are things in life that you can't change. If you couldn't change these elements of life though, you were only immobilised in a monotonous routine. When Linda... had to work, that was the only productive (and even then, it depends on your definition of such) thing she could do. Wake up, eat, work, eat, work some more, eat, sleep- repeat the cycle until death, and you had life in a nutshell. Needless to say, she loathed the lack of freedom and exhilaration that reality had so cruelly given her, and it was that point that I realised how Jewel... had felt when she trapped in that cage. If you were stuck in a rut slowly your sanity would crumble and degenerate before collapsing completely... you couldn't possibly live like this.

Of course, the irrevocable fact was, that _was_ how you lived. Life is filled with the unchangeable, and no matter how hard you try, it will always stay the same... forever.

The only thing that changed every day, if it was any comfort at all, was obviously the day of the year. One might rejoice and find jubilation in the arrival of widely-commemorated holidays such as Christmas or New Years' or any extraordinary occasion to befall that day. But in truth, and Wikipedia can reveal, that you could vomit out any random date and chances are something memorable to the world has already occurred on that date. I was challenged about this once, and so he randomly sputtered out June 25 and December 8- I instantly replied that those dates were the deaths of Michael Jackson and John Lennon. I could rebut every date that seems stereotypically uneventful and tell you that something supposedly important had already occurred on that date.

Every single day of the year is supposedly eventful... but because of this fact, one whole year would be saturated with significance that, inevitably, every day of the year loses its gleaming, unique quality, and suddenly life becomes but a grey spectrum, different shades of grey bleeding into each other.

I know because the same cycle of the year had rushed past me so many times already that it's countless, each year bleeding into one another to form my whole lifetime. Which, considering my age, now, was soon to draw to a close.

In all truthfulness, even, most days' causes for celebration are either in tandem with others' (Christian holidays like Good Friday and Christmas; Jesus came and died, we all get it) or hollow and absolutely meaningful (New Years'; so the 365-day cycle restarted, so what?). There is not a single existing day to commemorate anything uniquely extraordinary or a day that is worth the celebration, and every day loses whatever radiating, special remnant completely dissipated. Of course... save one day, save one day that represented the one quality that remains in the ashes, the one quality that is so potent that it is completely unmatched by any other day's cause for commemoration, one quality that saw everybody through and would ride out the storm... one quality that was all you ever needed to make it through life.

Of course... it's February 14. It's Valentines' Day. The Day of Love.

It's a shame, however, and not to mention a complete waste, that back in Rio de Janeiro nobody celebrated this quintessential holiday- probably the only trait in Rio that I loathed. For what reason I did not know, but back in Rio on this date, Jewel... had found no cause for this to be celebrated, and wished not for me to be pretentious- so thus I complied with her wishes. After all, she reasoned, why restrict the celebration of the phenomenon of love to one day when you could do it every day? Why reserve merely one day out of 365 to commemorate such an extraordinary emotion?

Why were we not in our natural habitat of tropical Rio, but here in urban Minnesota?

The inescapable fact is, a few months ago Linda and Tulio... were involved in a fatal car accident, an event that had me mourning over for a considerable amount of time, an event that would haunt me forever like a demonic spirit. I had survived... of course. The fact is, Linda... had willed most of her property to the only direct family member she knew- her sister. The fact is, her sister was so distant from me that her name evaded me as much as the possibility of a resurrection, and that she sold everything in Rio (except for Tulio's... intellectual property, which of course he was smart enough to will to his other ornithology associates).

The fact is, here we were, in Minnesota, with no warmth of a home or the love of an owner... it was just me and Jewel. Which gave me all the more reason to make this day all the more special.

The moment I looked out of the window, my mind raced to formulate an agenda for the day, in order to make this as memorable to my mate as possible, in order for me to present my love to her at its fullest extent. Of course, they were quashed the moment I reminisced something she said, back when I had made an unnecessarily grand arrangement for some date, that –in her sweet, feather-gentle voice-one need not be extravagant to show its quality, that the simplicity of an action alone would draw the innermost emotions of the other party. Couple that with the fact that 'old hags' like us had hardly the energy to soar through the skies at all, and my agenda was far more simplified than I intended it to be.

But nevertheless, after a little revision, a definite route lay ahead of me, one that I hoped would definitely satisfy the needs of this significant date.

Hoped.

I glided towards a basket, one that Linda... had reserved especially for me decades ago when I soared through the jungle to collect a mass bulk of items. She had told me if one was ever incapable of bringing something back, one could always resort to using other methods to aid him in carrying out his mission. I, slightly naive and youthful, had asked her if there was ever a situation in which you could never have a method to aid yourself in an impossible mission... and she had responded with a cherry smile, that such a situation never existed at all.

Of course, she couldn't have been more wrong.

As I grasped the basket, and headed out of the window- albeit rather sluggishly due to my age- I turned back and took a fleeting look at Jewel... I smiled. I knew that the house itself was enough to protect her, but of course I had noticed the subtleties in her features, ones that were as memorable as my name. She had an aura of sweetness around her, as she lay asleep peacefully, as she slept in that same position that was right next to me, as she always did. Of course, that was why I loved her in the first place. A glint in my eyes, I flew out of the window, determined to bring back something that represented my immense love back to her, a symbol of how much I felt for her.

This was, after all, Valentines' Day- the day to commemorate love, the day to find jubilation and rejoice in the most powerful emotion that had ever existed.

One of the best things about Valentines' Day was that it was situated almost precisely at the transition of winter to spring, meaning that the weather had a strong sense of chilliness as the wind that breezed by gave a cool sensation, simultaneously infused with a certain pleasantry that gave the place a natural, serene feeling.

Around me was a sheet of snow, though quickly melting in the heat our ever-faithful sun dispersed, a blanket that signified the remnant of winter. Under that sheet of snow, however, were tall brick skyscrapers, buildings of different shades of brown seeping into one another, one whole trail of monotonousness... which was all that reality was anyway. Evidences of spring were present –such as the blooming floral shrubs that dotted the area, along with other plants and trees that attempted to polka-dot the scenery with luscious green. But of course, something else just supersedes and negates that- the rest of the world.

I sighed. Minnesota, as much as I loathed admitting this, was much more boring and monotone as compared to vibrant and lively Rio... In Rio, it was a long plain of vegetation and undergrowth- which, as monotonous at that may stereotypically sound, was filled with blotches of multi-colour radiated by berries and fruits that lay scattered amongst the safari green, along with the various animals that resided in the forest. Rio was full of life, colour and energy, in a nutshell (which, by the way, is as common as oxygen in the Rio rainforests). Minnesota, in stark contrast to the latter, was a city. It was building after building, cuboid fortresses erected from the ground in complete succession, brown bleeding into black, humans rushing past each other to attend to their errands, big metal vehicles dominating empty space on the road. Technically there was life, but in all truth there was no life at all.

It was like as if they were dead... but of course they weren't.

I roamed around the area, the basket still in my talons. Of course, I had managed to attract some attention from unsuspecting humans, but I ignored it, my mind focused on my task. Besides, most people had known about Jewel... and I over the press, the newspapers, the Internet- the last two Spix's Macaws (the inception of children, ironically and by the work of Murphy, seemed to evade us completely, a notion that saddened Tulio, my mate and I) and the death of our owners. It was as if our lives were spilled out for everybody to view, perceive, and criticise... it was as if they had a right to do judge us. It was as if they had a right to personally degenerate or build up our reputations and the public's opinion of us. Our owner refused to elaborate on the matter, though, and that was one aspect of frigidity that I am grateful for.

I perched myself in front of a rose shrub, staring at the plant that towered above me. Granted, it was only twice my height, and roughly twice as wide as my basket... but for a shrub like the rose one, it almost looked monstrous. That was based on the fact that this sole spherical plant's stems were prickled with thorns, ever-ready spikes to fiercely attack anybody who ever attempted to handle them. If you were a bird like me, with no talon-protecting garments that would block the pain from the aggressive thistles, there was no way to extricate the flowers without having pain explode through every part of the body.

I sighed. What seemed to be the least troublesome phase of the plan (after all, what was picking a few flowers that were free for all, laid down for the public to pluck and utilise for their own use) now seemed like a humongous obstacle looming over me, a towering monster. I knew that every other shrub would be similar to this one, filled with tiny needles that sprung at any unsuspecting picker. But I knew that this was for Jewel... the roses were one of the symbols that represented my love- a few simple roses. Granted, these were roses that were glittered with thorns, love that hurt with the touch... but love, nonetheless. How could I, anyway, return back to Jewel without the one flower that was the ultimate symbol of my love? Back in Rio substitutes such as lilies and orchids... they sufficed, but never really satisfied. The rose, on the other wing...

I narrowed my eyes at the shrub, and mentally steeled myself. Once, Jewel... had asked me why roses' stems had those pesky thorns, why would such a stereotypical symbol of love have to be so double-edged, why would the representation of love be a mere flower of which its stem hurt to the touch. I was stumped for answers at that time- the inventors of literature seemed to imply through this symbolism that love did more harm than good. I had been silent for a long time... and then epiphany struck me, and so I turned to her and responded that, sometimes, to love somebody, you have to overcome great difficulty and obstacles, go through thick and thin... but it would all be worth it, in the end. You'll look back on the effort you spent to show your love, and then back to your lover and the way she smiled at you, and you'd know immediately that what you did, it was all worth it.

Needless to say, she agreed fervently with me.

Cautiously, I flew up, hovering myself right next to a loose rose, one that seemed to stick out from the globe of leaves. I contorted my face in frustration- sure enough sharp pink triangles dotted the stem, as if it were the one bleeding, as if it were the one that suffered. I stretched my talon towards it, my eyes scanning for an area that would not result in me shrieking in pain and clutching my talon the whole way back. Quickly having located an ideal, not-spiky portion of the stem, I lunged for it, grasping it with my two talons and yanking it out as hard as I could.

Suddenly, an unknown force –one that possibly had the power of a billion Watts and the temperature of absolute zero- struck me on the back, and I ended up plunging rather unceremoniously headfirst into the bush.

After a series of frantic yelps and an inelegant escapade from the spiky shrub, I quickly examined my body. A layer of snow covered me, snow that had previously adhered to the shrub as well as the projectile lobbed at me, a layer that shrouded my rapid trembling of the cold as well as the red polka dots all over my body. The snow turned light crimson as drips of blood started emerging through miniscule yet agonising holes in my body, wounds that had been pricked open by the thorns. Some of nature's spikes even remained on my body, along with some leaves and petals that clung to the snow on my body.

I winced at the pain, clutching my body as if it would alleviate the pain, as if mere actions could eradicate emotions. My audio receptors quickly detected a faint sound of laughter, and I traced it back to nearly half a dozen Canadian goose children, all pointing their wings towards me as they howled raucously, a relatively giant pile of snow ammunition ever-ready to be utilised standing in accusation. I hypothesized that Alice and Chloe had remained a second generation, one designed solely to torture me further and twice as much. Where the two were, it remained a mystery, but to have a multitude of mini-them ambush me like this...

My first time out of the fortress of the house, and it was already degenerating to become an absolute disaster.

I scowled at them briefly before turning to the rose shrub. A few rose flowers had been detached from their foundation from projectile impact and lay scattered around the bush, now truly free for all. Swiftly I hobbled over to the nearest rose, a gift that had rained down from the monster of nature, and took the flower in talon.

As if on cue, another snowball was launched at me, the ammunition pounding against my face with the same immense force before I collapsed on my back, adding more excruciation to my body. As I groaned while struggling to pull myself to my talons, I could espy the herd of terror bursting into hysterics once again, their volume accelerating, and the sound emitted from their beaks similar to screeching crows.

I exhaled sharply through my nostrils, as some of the rambunctious mini-bastards fell on the side, unable to control their laughter, and I glared at them icily. What were adults educating their children nowadays? That it was perfectly capable to mob a bird close to his grave, and pelt snow on his frail self as he attempted to follow through a plan dedicated to his love? That violence was a social norm as well as a means of entertainment, and that misery inflicted on others should result in jubilation? What kind of world do we live in?

It seemed that the world _could_ change: or rather, it was the good, judicial elements of reality that deteriorated into horrendous, heinous norms of reality. It was as if the world would never change for the better, but would always change for the worse.

"Hey!" I unthinkingly shouted at them, my voice hoarse from age, my head still pounding and my body aching. "Don't you kids have anything better to do, than to throw snowballs at me?"

One of the larger kids, one that would stereotypically and self-presumably be the leader, eyed me lazily with a smirk. "Of course we have better things to do, moron! Just that it's so fun" –he paused momentarily as his sibling hurled another icy projectile, in one swift motion, at my body, causing me to groan even more- "to see this! Pathetic people like you getting hurt; now _that's_ fuckin' priceless!"

As the rest of the goose children burst into laughter once again, I sighed in relent. I knew that it was no use arguing or intensifying the conflict between us as it is- should it resort to physical warfare I would definitely fail on an epic scale, and it won't be worth laughing about (although I knew that the world would do that _anyway_). As it is the whole situation was about to erupt in violence to result in full, blown-out aggression. As it is I was on the verge of death, of succumbing to the spirit of death... I had to treasure the moment as I could.

While the attackers were distracted, I quickly gathered the flowers on the ground, mentally counting the quantity that I laid in the basket, ignoring the stabbing agony the thistles in the stem induced onto my talons, quickly swooping all the stray flowers before I could be ambushed any further. I must've collected half a dozen before another snowball was lobbed at me, and I attempted to accelerate my pace as a barrage of snow ammunition rained upon me, some missing but most of them hitting the target.

As I grabbed the basket, the wooden sheet like sandpaper to my pricked talons, the pain built up to the point where it was near intolerable. "Hey don't leave, Mr. Moron!" one of the smaller children chirped, its sharp soprano reminding me of stereotypical queen bitches in high school who thought they owned the world, and they really did. "You haven't died yet! Come back so we can kill you!"

Instantaneously my eyes started to well up with moisture, just on the mention on death, just by the very notion that the people of the world, even _children, _could treat assassinations as medals of honour, that death was now treated nonchalantly or even celebrated in this world. Bravely I clung on to my basket and flapped my way out of the scene, the curtain of snowballs still pelting upon my back as the sound of sadistic laughter and disappointed groaning bled into one another, as I tried to break away from the scene, albeit unceremoniously.

"Hahahaha! Look at the idiot go!"

"Look at him _suffer_!"

"Shit, he's such a coward... no fun."

"Are you kidding? Look at the way he flies. He's in complete agony! _Priceless._"

"Hey old hag! Why don't cha stay around a little more?"

"Forget it, he's not coming back. Fucking pansy."

"Why didn't he die?"

"Probably from fucking pants?"

As soon as the voices vanished and projectiles of frost ceased to pour upon me, I ducked in an isolated alley, seeking shelter from the world before it could inflict more harm upon me. Silently I attempted to war with the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes, as I perched myself against the wall, the basket of roses my only companion.

I shivered near-uncontrollably, my beak's edges chattering against one another, my body frozen by the sheer amount of snow that had been launched unforgivably upon its frail self. February was never cold, unless a freak snowstorm or one of life's unexpected table-turners struck the world like a tidal wave- so I should _not_ be trembling or feel so bitter cold at this point of day. I desired to curse at the wind, curse the world and its cruelty and nonchalance towards negativity, curse the world and its fate that was benevolent to the evil yet merciless to the innocent... but of course it wouldn't make a difference.

I turned to my basket. The wooden material started to turn damp, as the snow began to turn liquid. The roses remained rather intact, though patches of white tainted the interior of the basket. I heaved a sigh of exasperation, and sacrificed the remaining energy that I contained to empty the snow, twirling the basket airborne around its handle back and forth in a ludicrous fashion, letting the snow and water fly away into oblivion, yet attempting to retain the roses.

I surveyed the basket again, making sure that the wood was of acceptable dryness, and I beamed at my handiwork. The second thing to go right today, I thought; something unusual. If you attempted to count the number of things that ever went right in 24 hours of reality, your one hand would suffice to contain them. You would never be able to count the number of things that went wrong in one day- you'll lose track, the numbers all bleeding into one another, and then, it's no more.

Somehow that applied to this alley as well. One might perceive such a deserted, uninhabited area to double as a fortress from reality, as if it were a separate portion of the harsh, real world that one could seek shelter in. Of course, reality had already cracked the code- which is why the darkest and most heinous of deeds were committed in dark alleys- these cracks that the rest of the world could ignore were the host for all sins to be done. They might have been refuges, but now they were even more hazardous than the outside world.

I looked around. I knew that I could not reside here for the rest of my life- I had a plan, after all, one that was far from involved here, and one that had to be accomplished for the sake of my mate. This was not my home. The fact that more danger than those terrorising herd of children could ever inflict lurked here, and I could not afford to have myself beaten up again... I had to move on.

Sometimes, when life gives you trouble and obstacles, and when you're bruised and injured everywhere... cowering in fear would never serve you any justice or good. Your best option, ironically, is to continue persisting through the lemon storm life gives you.

After I had regained a considerable amount of body heat, after I had recovered slightly from my wounds, after the tears' power had dissipated away, after I regained the will to persevere and brace through life, I emerged from the alley back into reality, ready to follow through the next phase of my agenda.

Basket in talon, I flapped my wings, hovering over the city in a relaxed fashion, my eyes scouring the surroundings once again. Ignoring the plain of the brown spectrum, I pinpointed the greenery in the area, before investigating each tree and shrub, searching for the fruits that I had mentally catalogued. The cycle repeated itself, as crestfallenness befell every time each plant refused to yield what I desired for, and every time I hoisted my hopes up they would crash to the floor twice as hard, as the duration of which my basket held nothing sans the six roses extended to near no end.

I was almost convinced that I had scoured the whole of Moose Lake –no, scratch, that, the continental U.S.- as the sun pointed west of the sky, signalling that it was nearly sunset. I groaned- Jewel... she was residing at home, patiently expecting to me to come home, and here I was, nothing but a bunch of pathetic plant organs in my basket.

I mentally cursed Christopher Columbus, the founder of Minnesota and God, for depriving my home state of dearly needed vegetation, of the bright, kaleidoscopic Rio that was inlaid with the vast variety of biology. Back in Rio, you could almost literally say a name of a fruit while flying and instantly crash unceremoniously into its parent tree. In stark contrast, Minnesota was equivalent to a desert with bricks- hardly any vegetation was littered around the place, and even within the sparse greenery no edible fruits were exhibited, let alone any superiorly tasty ones...

I internally kicked myself. Why hadn't I used common sense and analysed the situation further? Obviously in big corporate countries like the U.S., the very notion of food free-for-all to pluck, the presence of even a streak of colour, even; in countries like this, conditions made it impossible to exist. The world outside the jungle was ruthless and unforgiving- people fended for themselves, and Mother Nature was never benevolent to give back to them. Corporate and residential structures dominated the scene- no traces of natural food present, no sign of life. What was there ever a chance that any portion of Minnesota resembled Rio or that it could have the tiniest signal of life, or that what one perceived of reality was reflected back at him?

I glanced at my basket- it had the capacity of a large watermelon (tested before in the state of dire emergency), leaving much vacant space surrounding the six lone roses that lay in the basket. I sighed- I could not possibly return with an empty basket, without any symbol to express my immense love for Jewel... to present nothing to her- that would be completely unacceptable, improper, and spoke much negativity about myself. This, this was what represented my love, what my mate could perceive of me, how I could present my love unadulterated and completely poured out to her. And here I was, gliding over Minnesota helplessly with less than one percent of what could suffice to represent my love... here I was, without any option, no alternative paths to take, entrenched in my own hopeless situation.

How could I show my mate that I was strong and enduring enough to make through whatever reality threw towards me?

Quickly my mind began to contemplate over possibilities, to scrutinise any alternative path that could possibly exist. There was no way in hell that I would exhaust my flight capabilities and travel to any nearby jungle- Rio was miles away, and as far as I knew hardly any parks or forested areas existed in the U.S. The idea of a flea market did not exist, and supermarkets never supplied fruits that were as fresh as daisies- and there was no way I would resort to the dirtiest of deeds and thieve.

There were always other types of food- Western-cooked food, the food that humans' gustatory senses were skewed towards. But I remembered at one point, when our new owner had not devoted enough time to purchase the type of food that we had been accustomed to, she had brought back a 'feast' of McDonald's for us, as if expecting birds who had lived 20 and 35 years in the jungle respectively to possess the ability to stomach down the fast food industry's factory goods. Needless to say, after a string of ranting and demanding for bird conversational rights, along with an almost futile attempt to calm down an enraged mate with vocal chords trained to nag, about 90% of the food had been tossed down the trash. It had been slightly humorous at first to me and Jewel... but the fact that she would only eat organic food- that single thought was emblazoned into my mind forever.

Every single triviality about her, they were all eternally etched in my memory, as if the pointed tip of a heart was scratching against me without inflicting any pain.

I pursed the edges of my beak. I definitely could not return with empty talons...but the puppet master of resources was not on my side. There were only concrete cuboids and stupidly sparse vegetation that surrounded the place, none of which contained any form of food that could possibly be acclaimed edible by my mate. The bleakness of the situation began to settle, and suddenly I felt engulfed, completely trapped in my own situation. It was as if reality had shut me in, my plan screeching to an unceremonious halt, everything suddenly at a standstill, and with no option out. And no matter how much you writhed or struggled against it, you couldn't change reality- ever.

There was but a one-way path: and that was to make a whole one-eighty degrees turn, and reverse my trail back to the building I had originated from, where my mate awaiting with open wings was the only element that could classify the place as home. Home... home, where it had nothing in store for me. Nothing but the things I needed to survive and endure life's tragedies- Jewel... air... water... food...

...

...food?

Suddenly the metaphorical light bulb flashed alight over my head, and with renewed determination, along with a glint in my eye, I flapped my way through the atmosphere, once again ignoring the curious stares of bystanders wondering what an old, frail bird like me should be out here flying with all of his might, and I burst through the open window of my 'home's kitchen.

The room was devoid of items, almost as if it were a quarantine chamber, almost as if paranormal activity was present. Kitchens are often perceived to be the headquarters of the finest culinary delights to spring from, but in reality, in such a corporate and unnatural world, kitchens were but a perimeter of walls surrounding geometric shapes- the fridge and countertops as mere cuboids, the dinner table a circle mashed on a cylinder, etc. Coupled with the pale white painting, the monotonous tile tessellations on all 6 faces of the room, the lack of homey aromas or nostalgic flavours... what was the very essence of Rio, it could not transport itself over to Minnesota.

I scrutinised every corner of the kitchen, until my eyes chanced upon a bowl laid on the table, and suddenly my mind burst into pure ecstasy and rejoicing. Sure enough, within the bowl contained an assortment, albeit without variety, of apples, oranges, bananas and grapes- organic fruit, sufficient to serve its purpose as food. Such a decision might only have represented a fraction of how much I was willing to offer Jewel... but it was better than offering nothing.

Even though, not everything is better than nothing.

Hastily, I perched myself next to the bowl, strictly examining each item for the most miniscule of flaws, the most microscopic of bruises or anything that deemed it imperfect, before extricating a few choice fruits and claimed them in my basket. Interiorly I hoped that this act would not earn me a tongue-lashing from my owner, but in all honesty her relationship with me and Jewel... it was as distant as China would be from Rio- she wouldn't have given a damn if I had admitted her house to be under arson.

Satisfied, I peered into the basket once more. It was now half-full, previously vacant space now displaced by fruits that stood at the pinnacle of quality, ones that were worthy to be presented to my mate, worthy for a queen. Coupled with the six roses, the tender flowers that I had valiantly protected from any further damage and satisfaction filled my soul. I finally had concocted with something presentable to Jewel...

Slowly the wrinkles of franticness and frustration weathered away, and the corners of my beak slowly began to curve upwards. Such an emotion of joy and contentment... it was refreshing, the hopelessness from before being neutralised by this new feeling of satisfaction and completion. It's always darkest before the dawn- sometimes, when the rays of hope illuminated your world, their prologues would have been enveloped with blackness, a door-less prison to trap you in. But all was to prepare you for what would happen next- flourishing and jubilation awaited you on the other end of the spectrum.

Reality often flips the tables on you at the most unexpected of moments- it could transform the bleakest of days into causes for celebration... and it could dislodge you from the peak of your life and smash you into smithereens.

My eyes wandered to the ceiling, where in the room above me, a mate eagerly awaited with open wings, ready to embrace me and what I possessed hidden from her, to offer to her as a gift with magnificence beyond comparison. I knew that up in that room above me awaited my destiny, my future, my love... and now that I had accomplished my mission, there was but one thing to do- to celebrate the notion of love with the very bird that I shared this emotion with.

And so, my expression beaming, exhilaration causing my heart rate to fall into accelerando, and my love and happiness on the verge of overflowing from me like a waterfall, I grabbed the basket firmly, and with a gleam of determination in my eyes, I beat my wings as fast as I could to my mate's presence.

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><p><em>Goddammit, just click the next chapter already! I don't really bother if you review this chapter... to be honest. NO REVIEW ARROW! WHAT IS THIS SORCERY!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_**PLEASE READ THIS WARNING:**__ I do not own Rio, Jewel, or any character or theme used in the Rio film. They belong solely to Blue Sky Films and 20__th__ Century Fox._

_...keep reading..._

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><p>"Hello, <em>meu amor<em>," I greeted cheerily, the same smile plastered onto my face, as I slipped into the room through a crack in the open door. She still lay by the window, resting her aged body and regenerating health via sleep. I couldn't blame her- birds like me and her were never designed for such strenuous physical activities... keeping alive, even, it was one of the most onerous tasks to accomplish.

Of course, that's exactly what reality wanted us to do.

Outside I could espy the sky turn azure, the dawn of evening, the blanket of the sky announcing the approaching end of day, and the transition into dusk. A large part of me grunted, stomping on the floor with much force in stymie- I had depleted such precious time in the process of preparation, that the actual execution was spared with such scarce time... it would be roughly 5 hours until the day came to a curtain close, and by then it would be far too late to compensate for anything. To think of the possibility of Jewel forgiving me was equivalent to a sin- I had but only a few precious moments to utilise, to pour out all my love to her in the commemoration of February the 14th.

Of course, I wore a masquerade of a smile, concealing all my concerns and frustrations from my mate. This was the day where, regardless of all the circumstances that reality lobbed at you like icy snowballs, regardless of all the thorns that have pricked you, regardless of the hopelessness that may seem to engulf you... you could show your emotions and offer all your love, unbridled and pure to your mate. Of course, such method to express the truest of love should never be restricted to one single day of the year... but the truth was, there are loves out there, loves so diluted that you could take one glimpse at them and classify them as enemies on first glance. To restrict it all one day, sometimes, packs the punch, gathering all the emotions in one compact, saturated area before exploding in full force.

Sometimes buffer exists, the empty space that enveloped one, in order to prepare for the right moment for all emotions to burst out in one full flurry. It need not represent what would occur in the future... but rather, it could be a complete, opposite contrast, a hopelessness enshrouding completion and everlasting joy and love. 364 days of stale relationship foreshadowing the final day of true love exposed raw to one another.

I perched myself next to my mate, her body to my right and the basket to my left. Immediately the joy that was contained within me expanded, the moment my eyes fell to Jewel... she looked so serene, as if she were part of nature's architecture than part of reality. Of course, she had been detached from this world- she was merely asleep. That was what sleep could do- keep you peaceful regardless of the horrors of reality, restrict you into slumber-land and blanketed you from concerns and frustrations... where you could be safe.

I remembered at some point, millenniums ago beyond the stars of distant memories, back when we were newly-mates, she had once jokingly commented on my over-stretched sleeping periods, and how uphill the task of arousing me from my deep slumber had been. Sometimes we'd concoct ludicrous –which now, though, seem not so absurd anymore- conjectures that we were designed to reside in the world of sleep, not in the world of reality. After all... sleep was our final, penultimate destination, where it was more eternal than life could ever dream to be.

I reached into my basket, and gingerly extricated the six roses with my beak, despite the pricking agony it inflicted against my beak as I carried it over to my mate's side, despite the exhaustion that imprisoned me and leeched the energy from my body to perform even the simplest of physical activities now. The fact was, I didn't care one iota for the pain whatsoever- that was the effect of love, when you sacrifice everything that buckled under the cruel circumstances of reality just for the sake of your mate, to offer it all to the one you loved with no questions asked, no regard to the things around you... and you keep fighting till the end. All for the sake of your mate.

Carefully I laid the roses by my mate's side, letting the stem jut outwards such that the thorns did not prick her, as if her body emitted beams of green and of light pink thistles... but was outlined with small spheres of crimson around her. The petal globes seemed to revolve around her, or rather, it seemed to be almost like glittering red light that bled out of her... as if all the flowers' life centred around her, as if without her existence they would wither away and disintegrate into nothingness.

As if I were those flowers.

"Here, Jewel..." I said, my tone as comfortable as she was. "These roses are for you... they're lovely, don't you think? Beautiful ...just like you."

Without missing a beat, I tipped the basket over, not caring how unceremonious it would be perceived to be, and the fruits spilled out in the space between us the wall in front of us. I gingerly held up an orange, turning to my right towards my mate to offer it to her. When she did not respond, I exhaled in relent, and proceeded to peel the orange, unravelling the first, inedible layer to reveal its tangy interior.

I extracted a small portion of the orange, laying it by her side, before lunging for a beak-full of the fruit, savouring the sweet and fresh, tangy taste that overwhelmed my taste buds before swallowing it contentedly. The fruit' quality was only a fraction of that of Rio's selection of treats... but it satisfied, nonetheless.

"You should try this, Jewel..." I commented, turning to her after I scarfed down another bite wholesomely. Jewel ... she remained asleep... the roses still diverging towards her, and the portion of orange remaining uneaten. I retained my smile- I didn't bother that she would ignore me like this and decide not to follow me, since she _was_ asleep. Additionally, I wouldn't have bothered if she ranted about the sorcery or horror of oranges in my face before throwing it out of the window, or did a less exaggerated version of said action... since she was my mate. I remembered at one point, back in Rio, I had basically done the equivalent of flaming Brazilian culture with my anti-samba rants- and in retrospect, I realised that I should have been reprimanded, or condemned from the community of Rio forever. But Jewel... not only did she restrain from fuming at me, she accepted my opinion... as if it wasn't a thorn in the rose, as if it didn't hurt her feelings whatsoever.

As I completely wolfed down the rest of the fruit, I espied that the sky was now a brilliant orange, the sun having nearly accomplished its task for the day as it begun to conceal itself. Dusk was imminent- the golden sphere that once gloriously hung over all the earth was now ending its journey, a minor sector hanging on the horizon over the west.

The sunset was often as beautiful and marvellous as sunrises- the light spilling out over the edge of the horizon rather than completely illuminating the whole place. It gave a rather dazzling, orangey hue that shone in the atmosphere, as if adding a warm, comfortable temperature to the place. Crimson and cerulean tints streaked in the clouds, and they radiated amongst the haunting darkness hovering above Minnesota. When you looked past the buildings and their squares of artificial lighting, the sky was a magnificent piece of nature's art, one that was mostly ignored by civilisation. Sometimes when the darkness enveloped you, but with a form of light peeking around its edges... it almost seemed brilliant, gorgeous even.

"The sunset is beautiful, don't you think Jewel? ..." I asked, once again whirling my head to the right. The moment I laid my eyes on my mate, with the rosy spheres outlining her divine shape, one that refused to leave its alluring curves even through the weathering of age, and with her face so serene and so gorgeous even after all these years... suddenly the sunset that leaked out for all to see seemed to pale in comparison with the very bird right next to me.

"Of course... it's hardly as beautiful as you, _meu amor_..." I whispered huskily as an afterthought, bending down to whisper the words in her ear. I remembered then, back when we were half our current age and possessing less maturity as compared to now, we would often hold one another in our wings' embrace, our faces in such utter proximity that our titillating mix of breaths could almost be eaten, and we would croon in each other's ears sweet lovers' professions.

I remembered once when for some reason my memory obstructs to rein in, I had been a mood fouler than any fog of pollution any factory could emit, and by the time I had slept, the grudges and sourness enveloping my very being. Jewel... of course, she laid down next to me, wrapped me in her wings and began to whisper huskily in my ear sweet nothings- except they weren't 'nothings', but rather promises of love. That she would love me forever, stay by me no matter what, and always be next to me till death do us part. And instantly all my infuriation and grief dissipated, vanished into thin air, and in its place were thoughts of my mate and my love for her. And it was that point where I realised how much we loved each other... how inseparable we would be regardless of the circumstances.

I knew that the sun would disappear from the sky, no matter how much the world desired for it to remain and hang over all of us permanently, no matter what sort of ritual we would perform that 'would' prevent it from setting. These were irrevocable facts, and they would never ever waver. But sometimes, we wouldn't want to change a thing. There are things in this world, that we never ever to buckle over under different conditions, or suddenly morph into something else. Sunsets this dazzling, for example- who would ever desire for such a gorgeous picture of nature to never exist?

The same could be said for our love. It could never waver or weather away over age... it remained as sure and steadfast as the sun's rising and setting- it remained to exist.

I wrapped my wings around her without thinking, longing to feel her touch against mine, and I buried my face into the back of her neck. The roses had been displaced, but I didn't bother in the least. Her familiar aroma still lingered around her body, but it had weakened slightly, as if dropping proportionally to her increased age. She was slightly cold to the touch as well, although it had nothing to do with the mild cold that the remnant of snow emitted, since the walls were heatproof. But nevertheless, just the mere touch of Jewel... it was enough to remind me of how much we loved each other, how we would always stay together, and how much I longed to stay in her wings forever... till death do us part.

"Happy Valentines' Day, Jewel..." I muttered into her ear, my tone slightly exhausted and hoarse with age, but all the while assuring and overflowing with love. "I love you... I always will..."

She remained motionless.

I inhaled deeply, greedily sucking in the aroma that I knew I would never experience for a long time, yet was so rich and intoxicating that even after all these years, it had served something quite close to drugs for me. I hugged the cold, near-lifeless body of my mate tighter towards mine, such that they fit perfectly, the familiar curves and shapes blending into their familiar places, and suddenly we became one entity.

There was a silence, save for my rhythmic, inerratic breathing, along with my heart echoing against my chest against hers, as if knocking on the other side for an unreturned answer. The soft breeze that bled through a crevice of the window pricked against my back, one that was not interfered by any synthetic forces, one that was free to move along wherever it wished to go without the world holding it back.

My eyes drooped down, to my chest where my heart boomed, as if multiple bombs detonated consecutively on the wasteland, and I scrunched my face up in confusion. Jewel... I had been in her wings far too many times for even my sharp mind back then to track, and my heart would have been too weak by now to even beat so fast... there should be no reason behind this phenomenon to exist.

_Ba-dump_.

"_Blu..."_

_Ba-dump._

"_Blu..."_

For a moment my heart nearly skipped the next beat, almost breaking the synchrony of which it thumped. I exhaled in relent... it seemed that my heart, it had been so attached to Jewel. It seemed that my love for her... it never died, but instead, it resounded through the night and day, as if creating a prologue of a tattoo before the main instruments to dominate the rest.

It seemed that every time my heart knocked against my rib-cage, the thought of my mate would re-enter my mind.

I remember once, when we had performed one of the infamous mating rituals, when we were young lovers, we had laid together with our bodies touching, our feathers tangling into one another's and our hearts thumping against our chests. They beat rhythmically, like two snare drums synchronising with each other to boost the volume of love, as if they were just as connected as us. It always seemed like my heart reached out to Jewel- be it with her around or not- and it never failed to thump against my chest, as if desiring to escape from the prison of the body and try to locate the sole reason it even beat.

That was, of course, before it was swallowed up in the bottomless abyss of cruel reality, never to be seen ever again.

Now, of course, my heart kept knocking against her chest, but all was in vain- it was but a solo percussion, the only thing left to keep us going.

Outside I could glimpse the sky had officially turned azure, and that there was but an illuminated golden speck left dangling over the edge of the atmosphere. The blue tint that dominated the sky seemed to be reminiscent of Jewel- and I remembered I used to croon about it all night long- how she was like a part of nature, and how beautiful she was, and even though I had been terribly and romantically cliché, she still blushed and rewarded me with kisses every time.

I gazed upon the peaceful face of my mate. I had been so used to being greeted with her sapphire eyes, and her angelic voice injected into the simplistic yet potent words 'I love you', and her wings that naturally coiled around my body, along with the taste and waltzing of her beak and tongue against mine. It had been so vividly etched into me that once I was no longer exposed to it, it left a hollow feeling in me, as if a part of me had been ripped out of me.

In a sort of experimentation I pressed my beak against my mates, in the full knowledge that it would not reciprocated, that I wouldn't –and would never- feel her hungrily accelerate the pace and added more force into it, as if it were necessary to express the full extent of her love every time we were together. I could still detect the faint taste of her against my beak, that oh-so-titillating experience that used to send me on a rollercoaster of ecstasy and lust, but now was so diluted that it failed to deliver any effect to me at all.

I pulled away, and I looked into the eyes of the body of my mate. The way her body failed to emit and form of warmth to me, the fact that she would never be able to hear my words and vows to her, the fact that I would never feel the shudders rippling down my spine every time I could feel Jewel's breath mixed with sweet everythings against my neck, the fact that I could never look into her eyes ever again and see our future ever again... there were so many things I would never be able access anymore, so many things that I had lost along with Jewel.

Jewel, the one I loved so much, the one that I had spent my whole life with... my mate, my love, my everything. I had none of these now- and it wasn't either of our faults.

Here was her body, the shell that had used to contain her soul and her emotions, her very inner feelings about me... but by itself, as if quarantined from her soul for being a burden of the world, it was as if it were a mere piece of matter. I could have easily been kissing a corpse.

Of course, that was exactly what I had been doing.

"Jewel..." I moaned involuntarily, as if the announcement of her name could possibly resurrect her, as if I were performing my own secret ceremonial. It wasn't until my whole body started to tremble uncontrollably and that my eyes felt an injection of heat that I realised I was crying, and that the sorrow that I had bottled up ever since Jewel had left me the day before was overflowing and bleeding out of me. I buried my face against the back of my mate's neck, pouring all my emotions out for all to see, as if I hadn't already exposed my heart for the world to judge. I felt my tears trickle down Jewel's back and my wings tightening its grip around her body, as if I could magically activate the life back into her.

I must admit that I am a terribly cynical person. I blindly criticise emotions that distort reality and the way feelings taint the very notion of logic and makes everything be perceived to be completely warped and nonsensical. Why should one wear such a temporal sheet of happiness, strutting through life as if he could make it, as if the abyss of death never awaited him at the end of the journey of life? Why should one say to one another 'Have a nice day' or 'you're the best', when clearly the notion of a pleasant time in reality is nonexistent, and that there would always be someone better than you? Clearly people are way too optimistic about life and are blinded by their own emotions to ever see the truth- that life will never waver from its own substance of harsh cruelty.

But back in Rio, Jewel and I had rode out the storm for nearly the whole of our lives- and all we ever needed to be motivated to live was ourselves. All we had was to look into each others' eyes, or feel the embrace of each others' wings, or to have our beaks dance and wrestle with each other to remind ourselves that even if the stars burn out or if the whole world was against us... we still had each other. And sometimes love was all you needed to supply a reason to even exist in the first place- we, as mates, and cherishing the duty that was attached to love, would stay by ourselves regardless of the circumstances that got in our way.

I remember hearing once somewhere that marriage in the human world, in the reality that was partially segregated from the animal paradise, marriage was represented by nothing but a mere certificate. To be husband and wives was the equivalent to trudging around with a title, one that supposedly showed your love to one another but was held together by nothing but legal terms- which could, in turn, be neutralized by a divorce certificate. In a nutshell- marriage is hardly significant.

According to the Bible, however, marriage was so much more. Marriage was a bond, a seal between two mates, a responsibility to never sway from each other and stay by their sides forever. Marriage vows- these golden words were the seal that intertwined two lovers' destinies together. It was somewhat applicable to Jewel and I's love, I suppose, that we might be loyal to one another and always remain right next to each other for the rest of our lives. The Book of Common Prayer states that as mates we held duties to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish... till death do us part.

Of course, nobody ever talked about death... about death creating chasm impossible to cross once it struck unprecedentedly, about death separating even the closest of mates with just one blow, about death completely negating the years of love and emotion that had been built between mates. Death was powerful- it completely and perpetually engulfed one, and shut her off from the rest of the world, vanishing without a single spiritual trace. That was the end of the story.

Once death struck, no matter what you attempted to do, no matter how much you loved that one, no matter how much you pled with or cursed at fate... you could do nothing to reverse the situation.

But what about her mate? What about the one bird who unconditionally and irrevocably loved that mate, the one bird who would never desert her despite the circumstances, the one bird who had devoted his whole life, soul and love to her, only to have it all go into futility?

Of course, the world pretends that such tremendous effects were never attached to the arrival of death. The world pretends that the falling of one person out of its seven billion (and that excludes animals and plants and other living organisms) never occurred, pretends that the aftermath of one's disappearance did not ripple through the earth, pretends that it hadn't been the cause- direct or indirect- of the death that plagued its inhabitants and broke the hearts of millions.

And if not millions, the heart of the one bird that had been offered up to his mate, only to have it stamped on and crushed by reality.

Death only thieved the soul of one's body, but it might as well have thieved the world of the ones around her. It already had been traumatizing to have the lives of Linda and Tulio snatched away mercilessly... but when old age had let Jewel succumb, I remembered not being able to feel anything. It had left a numb, dizzying ring to reverberate through my body, but by right, the sorrow should have been overwhelming and crushed me as if the weight of the world had doubled itself upon my shoulders. I should've been where I was right now, hugging the carcass of my mate and the twin waterfalls from my eyes attempting to wash away the burdens of the world on me. But I was devoid of that from the beginning I found out that I had lost the one last being that loved me more than I loved myself.

It was as if I had been hollow... as if along with my love and joy, my capacity to emote sadness, infuriation, indignation and remorse was taken from me.

No matter how much I pretended that Jewel was here, in my wings and loving me, I had to face the reality- the reality that Jewel was forever gone, and that death had done us part.

Suddenly, I sniffed, when the trickling moisture from my eyes had decelerated to a considerable rate, and I gazed upon the face of my lover once more. A tidal wave of memories poured down upon me, a frenzy of vivid recollections of me and Jewel, the moments that were stereotypically trivial yet cherished as gold and silver to me. The times Jewel had taken care of me when I fell ill, the flights that Jewel and I shared as we seared through the Brazilian rainforest atmosphere, the sort of dates Jewel and I had in the romantic bask of the night, as if we could love each other freely, secret from the rest of the world... every little, subtle moment that we shared, the little remnants of my heart that laid scattered on the ground.

One abruptly, supremely important memory appeared in my mind, one that had been engraved into my mind the day it occurred. It was one of those infrequent occasions where gloom and an ominous sense had seeped into the perfect realm that was shared by me and Jewel, when one of our random conversations of who-knows-what had suddenly ignited the topic of death. Initially we just laid there, stunned in paralysis, and we merely stared into each others' eyes wondering what we had been thinking, what notions and objectives swam in the ocean of the great mind. Death was taboo, death should not be spoken of, death should never ever be mentioned unless you fancied the notion fervently. Nobody ever thinks of death- and if they did, they would enter its realm in no time at all.

Then suddenly, after an unbearable, deafening silence, Jewel smiled. It was that type of smile that one wore after her first kiss, or when her to-be-husband said 'I do', or when looking into the eyes of her first newborn child. She embraced me gently, and planted her beak on mine, and suddenly I was engulfed in her once again, my sense completely dominated by her touch and kiss. She pulled away and, placing her head right next to mine, she whispered lustrously in my ear. "Blu..." she said, her tone clearly indicating that she had deciphered my thoughts, as if she were telepathically unified. "We will never be apart. We'll always be together, right next to each other... remember? I promise, that no matter what... I'll always stay by you, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in death...

"...even after death do us part."

Needless to say, I reciprocated her promise... and needless to say, I knew that that promise alone was enough to carry us through the storm of reality. Even when the toughest of times had came by.

As the tears began bleeding out of my eyes, the corners of my beak began to curve upwards once more. I had seen Jewel's face countless times- and had been in such proximity with it that I could practically sculpt a bust of it blindfolded- and I could see beauty, divinity, and love written all over her face in Edwardian script. Now, when an outsider viewed her face, he might comment that it was devoid of anything, like it was a blank slate, like it had been erased of any life in her and left no emotional trace.

Of course, when I see Jewel's face, I could envision her cerulean eyes that gleamed when I had gotten her a sapphire pendant, that one portion on her beak that always made her moan loudly in pleasure when I kissed it, that one spot of her cheek that often was splattered with mango juice and had to be cleaned off with a mate's tongue bath. I knew that I would never see her eyes, or succumb to her breath titillating me, or feel her kiss synchronise naturally with mine. But I _did_ know that, as far as my tired old mind could recall, the beholder of this body, this shell used to possess the life that I loved and spent my whole life with, and also contained the sweet memories we as mates shared.

I knew that once birds died, their carcasses, suffering from the absence of life residing in them, decomposed over time and disintegrated into nothingness. But all I ever needed was to cherish the memories we had, to remind myself how I had managed to come here at this point of life, to remind myself that I had a reason to keep on going- all for the sake of love.

I didn't care that Jewel was gone. I would still love her forever, even after the storm of life, even after we were eternally separated, even after death had done us part. I would never leave her side... if not physically, I would always remain ethereally connected to her, and always keep her spirit in mine.

Death will never be able to keep two lovers apart. Love prevails on- and love meant never leaving the side of your mate.

And so, gently planting a kiss on her cold, frigid beak, I laid her down gingerly onto the counter-top, and laying the roses on top of her body. I reached out for a cluster of grapes that had been scattered aside from me, plucking out each violet sphere before savouring each one, cherishing every single piece of the cluster. I plucked out a few and laid it next to the uneaten orange, a sacrificial offering to my mate, a last gift to my loving mate.

I watched as the sky turned black, as if devoid of any vibrant colour, a process as inevitable as death. Above us a circle of light loomed over the sky, its pale light illuminating the countertop, as well as Jewel's body. The night sky was beautiful and serene, devoid of any human life but rather of natural peace, but of course, it could not compare to Jewel, whose body lay in sleep in eternal serenity. Her beauty refused to be weathered away by age... and her facial features, along with the curves of her body, and the texture of feathers, and the shape of her head and tail feathers; these features, along with the rest of my collection of memories shared with my beloved mate, they were all etched in my mind. How could I forget them and let death take away what I treasured the most? I would hold everything that constituted of Jewel forever, never letting them go, and would cherish them for as long as I live... and beyond...

I took one fleeting look at the night sky once more- constellations of white glitter sparkled in the atmosphere, the little fragments that constituted lines that created pictures so beautiful and mesmerizing to mankind. And then I looked at Jewel, smiled once again, and laid my body next to her. I knew that my owner would eventually find Jewel dead and bury her, and I knew that this Valentines' Night will never last for eternity, as death did. But to be honest, I didn't care. All I could think of was this night, this night where I could cherish our first Day of Love together, where I would always treasure this moment forever. All I could think of was me and Jewel together back in Rio, me and Jewel flying in the jungle freely, me and Jewel crooning in each others' ears with our breaths mixing like the night sky blended with the stars, me and Jewel living our lives.

And even if our lives came to an end... love never did.

All I could think of was how much I loved Jewel and would stay by her, never leaving her side.

Even after death had done us part... but not really made us apart.

* * *

><p>~The End~<p>

_I really really hope I don't get flamed for this... gah. _

_Anyway, here you are folks. A little (ok, not so little) fic I cooked for ya'll. So, um... yeah. I have no idea what to say... since I have no idea how this will turn out. I think I worked too hard trying to make this fic good... so I have no idea if I failed, or what. _

_I tried to keep the little twist at the end hidden from the start, but I don't know how many of you guessed it. If you did... just proves how bad a suspense author I am. But oh well. I write because I love writing... _

_So yeah. Please review! xD I know it's rather long, but still. You got all the way here. Please?_

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