Kurokiba stood on the edge of the waterline, letting the waves gently lap at his ankles. It was a little stuffy in the beach house and he felt like he needed the fresh air, not to mention trying to avoid watching an overly clingy Alice flirting with her boyfriend. Kurokiba spat into the ocean, even thinking the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was aware of the fact that he could be an angry drunk, something he definitely wasn't proud of, therein lies yet another reason he decided to take an evening stroll along the shores. He supposed that anger was simply a part of is nature. He was angry whenever he expressed himself, it was a reflection of how he grew up. Every dish was a battle, to prove his worth and beat any challenger into submission.

He heard a shriek from the beach house, but was immediately put to ease when a burst of laughter immediately followed. It wasn't Alice's voice, most likely a drunken accident from Erina or her Hisako.

Alice.

Kurokiba kicked the water in a sudden burst of rage, he anger subsided as quickly as it came leaving him feeling a little petulant and embarrassed. He stood still, letting the waves suck the sand from beneath his feet. He sighed heavily leaning back slightly to look up at the moon. He used not to feel any emotion towards it. He was hardly the poetic type and only regarded it as yet another object in the sky navigating sailors. The moon held a different meaning now. It reminded him of the autumn festival, reminded him of failure.

If Alice lacked the ability to put cravings above beauty, Kurokiba lacked the skill to cook with direction. Something Hayama was obviously more attuned to, Kurokiba wasn't going to lie, he was a little more than shocked when Alice announced their relationship. He'd remained as impassive as possible, any more emotion would have betrayed his misgivings. It wasn't his place to choose who she decided to date.

It angered him how easily Hayama made cooking look like an art-form. So subtle, so delicate, so sharp. Nothing like his own rampage in the kitchen. He hated how uncertain he felt about himself now. He'd prided himself in his rough past and how it had shaped him into who he was. But now?

Now he was uncertain and scared and he completely hated it. He was uncertain about whether or not his anger and compulsion to prove power and dominance should be the driving force in his cooking. He was scared that Hayama was a better match for Alice. Both chefs focussed on presentation and subtlety instead of his own style, overwhelming the senses and calling to the innate greediness of humans.

Kurokiba sighed once more, all emotional energy he had collected seemed to have been spent up in his single moment of rage. He had long since resigned himself to let Alice go. He was practise, simply a training dance partner, or culinary competitor… not an equal. How could he be with no distinguished family or wealth to speak of. A pub of a small fishing town in Denmark. He had nothing to offer. He had nothing to offer either. So why him? Why Hayama? Kurokiba always assumed that Alice would be swept away by some rich influential distinguished individual in a marriage arranged by her family. He was fine with that, so long as she was happy with the man they had chosen. It was all in the future, years away when Alice would relinquish him of his duty to her, when they would part their separate ways.

Not now. Not when he could witness her forming a bond with another person, a relationship closer than their own. Not with another man, with no social standing, with no wealth. It was a punch in the gut. Kurokiba had decided they would never cross the line from that of aide and chef and that his position in society was the sole reason that such a step would never be considered.

Except now. Now it was clear. The line he had drawn in his mind separating Alice from him was no different to that of Alice and Hayama, and yet, she had pronounced the spice master as her boyfriend. Kurokiba had nothing to hide behind. No excuse of having the wrong blood, no excuse of being poor.

Alice did not see him in that light. He was an aide. A constant in her life that wouldn't change. Despite people's impressions of him, he wasn't a forceful person. Sure, he may have a temper if rubbed the wrong way, or feel the need to exert power in the kitchen… but he wasn't tenacious, he was willing to let go of things he knew were unobtainable. He wasn't short changing himself, he was being a realist.

Alice, Alice was one of those things, something unobtainable.

And if Hayama was an example of anything, he simply proved just how far away Alice was from him… that is wasn't his heritage, wasn't his lack of wealth keeping them from making one step closer… it was him… or her… regardless of who was at fault his suppressed feelings were unrequited… so he would continue to keep them at bay.

…

The sight which greeted Kurokiba as he reached the beach house almost completely negated the act of taking a stroll to clear his head. Not even a minute had passed since he promised not to let his feelings for Alice grow, and yet simply the act of seeing her leaning against Hayama's shoulder was enough to waver his resolve.

"Milady." He whispered, squeezing her shoulder slightly, not wanting to also wake Hayama in the process. Alice mumbled something non-intelligible, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Milady, you'll get sick if you sleep out here." He insisted, pulling her arms so that she no longer leaned against Hayama. The silver haired male stirred slightly, most likely missing the warmth of the body previously pressed against him.

Kurokiba, held a hand to the back of Alice's head as it began to loll, not wishing for her to wake up with an even worse neck ache. The action was enough to cause her eyes to open.

"Ryou-kun?" she mumbled, in a sleepy daze.

"Milady, you shouldn't be sleeping on the porch." Repeated Kurokiba now that she was awake.

"But I was with…" Alice trailed off before giggling giddily, "What's the matter Ryou-kun. You jealous?" she asked playfully. Kurokiba assessed the situation, gauging whether or not she was too intoxicated to withhold any memory of tonight.

"Yes." He replied truthfully. "Yes, I am." Alice beamed at his words, but the expression faded quickly into a saddened smile.

"I must be dreaming then." She sighed tiredly. The black haired chef paused, what was that supposed to mean?

"Seeing as this is a rather nice lucid dream." Continued Alice, with renewed cheek, "carry me inside." Kurokiba lifted an eyebrow in response, before readjusting himself so he could pick her up without dropping her.

"No, no not like that!" complained Alice, "Are you this thick in my dreams as well?" she asked rhetorically. "Carry me over the threshold, bridal style." She said, as if it were the most obvious request.

"Yes, Milady." Sighed Kurokiba, as if it were an extreme inconvenience. Alice smiled triumphantly. It was what they did, Alice would request something of Kurokiba (more often than not ridiculous) and he would pretend to take no joy in carrying out the task.

In truth he wants to do things for her, no matter how foolish or insignificant it may be. Despite that, his pride wouldn't let him show any more emotion than that of an aide carrying out his duty. Because that's what was expected of him.

Alice snuggled against his chest as he lifted her from the floorboards of the porch, closing her eyes. Her pale skin almost luminescent in the pale light leaking from the house. He lingered for a little longer than necessary outside the door. Alice was a comfortable weight in his arms, it was easy to ignore the strain on his muscles by distracting himself with her steady breathing and body heat.

Kurokiba cast a sideways glance at Hayama as he turned to walk inside, tensing at the realisation of green eyes watching him from the floor. He returned the stare, red penetrating green challenging.

However the spice specialist didn't seem to hold a speck of dispute in his gaze. As if he were merely observing.

The black haired male threw a scowl at the other male before proceeding to carry Alice inside, Hayama making no moves to stop him quite literally taking her away. It angered him. How could he let Alice fraternise with someone so half-assed as to not utter a single word in refute at his actions?

As he walked away, he could've sworn he heard chuckling from outside.

…

Hi, sorry for the short chapter! I just felt like I had to get this out there, hopefully it was entertaining regardless.

:)