Alright, here's my very late entry for the Negitoro Summer Smash! So far (and this will be updated as need be), Can't Catch Rabbit, NegitoroShipper, Leeks and Tuna, and Gray Voice have also submitted their own texts to the event! Check them out. :D

My text shares the same prompt as Leeks and Tuna's text: "Luka and Miku get handcuffed together as part of a party game. Then the key gets lost." Big thanks to Can't Catch Rabbit for suggesting it!

Unfortunately, things never go to plan and this story will have multiple chapters. Will update as fast as possible, then I'll return to my regular projects. Thanks to Kokodoru, who beta-read this whole thing!

Enjoy!

"Are you having a good time?"

Somehow, the question had made its way through the music, the lights, the constant chatter, and startled Miku back to the present moment. She blinked, finding Meiko, her best friend since they first met in preschool, her best friend who had flown away almost ten years prior with only a scholarship and a beaten-up suitcase, her best friend who she had seen again for the first time only that morning and with whom she had exchanged only a handful of sentences until that the meantime, Miku saw that the makeup on her face had gotten a bit smudged, and the unfocused look in her eye told her that she had served herself a glass of wine too many, but the sincere concern was unmistakable. She'd missed it.

Miku managed a smile. "Yeah, I am. This is just a little bit different than what I'm used to."

"Oh, I can imagine," Meiko said with a tipsy giggle as she sat next to the tealette. "I'm sorry for bringing you all the way here. I just really wanted to have you by my side these next few days."

"Don't apologize! I'm glad I came, I swear. I'm just a little bit out of my depth, is all."

It was a ferocious understatement. The moment Miku had stepped out of the airport, she had been surrounded by nothing but money. The limo that had picked her up was sleek, new, polished and filled with leather and ivory. The driveway up to the house was lined with tall, carefully pruned trees and bright green, well-watered grass. The house looked like a modern castle, a mansion, with separate wings and too many floors and glittering windows and new paint and a disgustingly gorgeous garden. Out of the limo, into the house, and there was only more: blinding chandeliers, tasseled curtains, checkered marble, gold-plated art, antique furniture, hand-woven rugs, gourmet food, old fine wines, and a fucking chocolate fountain. The guests were dressed to match too, with long dresses, high heels, braided hair and sparkling jewelry.

All in all, it only served to make Miku feel like an alley cat dragged straight out of the gutter. She'd dressed to her nines, of course, but her nines were composed of old ripped jeans, tired work boots, the one shirt that didn't have a band logo on it, and her leather jacket. It was the best she could do, even with all those months to plan ahead. But even she had to admit that she felt strange sitting on the expensive furniture, in an expensive room, looking the way she did. She never was one to feel under-dressed for anything, so it was a major step out of her comfort zone. Still, she meant every word she said.

"Well, I'm just really glad you could make it," Meiko assured her, putting her arm around her shoulders. They used to sit like that after school, Miku remembered. On an old, beaten-up bench somewhere in a park, they'd do nothing but sit around and kill time. It tasted like childhood, summer vacation, and worry-free afternoons.

She smiled fondly. "Same. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

The brunette chuckled, pulling her closer. "Tell me about what you've been up to."

"Nothing much," Miku muttered.

"Come on: we got lights and sound and a bunch of other people to hang out with: we don't have a ton of time to catch up, so let's catch up!"

"Alright, then you tell me about him," Miku asked.

The brunette sighed happily, leaning into her friend. "He's my love."

"Your love? I didn't think you were a romantic."

"I'm not!" Meiko giggled again. "He's just... He's someone I know I can always depend on. Ever since the first day of class, at uni, he's made me laugh, smile, cheer..."

"That sounds amazing."

"It is."

"What's his name?"

"Kaito. I'll introduce you two tomorrow. He's dying to finally meet you."

"And what's he do?"

"He studied in various human sciences. He's training to be a psychological therapist now."

Miku nodded. "That's good. If he's any good at it you'll live a nice, easy life."

Meiko's smile faltered. "Right."

"I didn't mean that you're not good at what—"

"I know what you meant, silly." The brunette's smile returned, but her eyes lacked the same sentiment. She sat back upright, but kept her arm around her friend's shoulders. "I... I wish you didn't still have that on your mind. Money, that is."

Miku paused, then shrugged. "I guess I do. I have to."

"I wish you didn't."

The tealette didn't reply. She didn't want to talk about it. They were surrounded by monumental wealth, and everybody around them was dressed in woven money. The bulk of it, namely the house, food, transport and so on, weren't Meiko's, but it sent a very clear message: Miku, the car mechanic's daughter, was not only sorely out of place, but she did not fit in Meiko's new life. Her friend had left the ordinary behind, and with it, her exposure to those who lived paycheck to paycheck. And, in the sparse conversation they'd had so far, Miku could see that she had changed. People change over time, and the tealette had accepted that fact. However, seeing her change so much, seeing her with people so unlike her, it made her heart swell with sadness no matter how much she tried to rationalize that it was felt lucky that Meiko was still understanding, sympathetic even, but Meiko used to know that there was no use in wishing things were different for her. Miku didn't have time to imagine "what if I had more" or "what if I had this life." It wasn't her life and she didn't have the time for those fleeting fantasies. She needed to celebrate with her friend, get home, and help her dad so they could still eat by the end of the month. So Miku couldn't find a proper answer, one fitting the occasion, that didn't sound hostile or felt too much like a slap to the face. She was there to celebrate in Meiko's honor, not to dream wasteful dreams.

She had only one regret, though.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find you a gift."

Meiko sighed. "We already talked about this."

"I know, I know."

"It's not like you to bring these things back up."

Miku's eyes flickered across the room, analyzing the faces. Among Meiko's mother, who didn't even seem to remember her, the groom's mother and grandmother, and seven other guests, there was one person she was looking for: the hostess. She swallowed thickly.

"I guess I just feel bad."

Her friend stayed quiet for a minute. Miku finally glanced at her and realized that the brunette had been studying her carefully. Finally, she asked, "Miku, has someone here been difficult with you because of it?"

She tried to feign nonchalance. "Not really. Just being a bit of a pretentious bitch. I'm here to celebrate, not to start a fight, so it's just annoying."

"Who?"

"I don't—"

"Who?"

"Your generous hostess. For this bachelorette party."

"Luka?"

"If that's her name, yeah."

"Oh."

"I don't want to make a big deal out of it. I'm only here for a couple of days anyway: it's not like I'll ever see her again."

Meiko shook her head, pulled her arm back to her side so she could wring her hands together: looks like that nervous habit of hers had never left. "I guess not... Did she say anything to you?"

"Just snarky bullshit. She asked 'What beautiful gift did you bring for our friend?' right after we talked about it, too: she probably saw I had nothing."

"She's... She's not pretentious."

"Could've fooled me." Miku sat back in her chair, eyes locked on the ceiling. It was painted with little angels and scared-looking people: maybe some religious scene. "I see this place she lives in. I see all that she's doing for you. She's loaded."

"That doesn't make her a bad person."

Miku shrugged, and repeated, "That doesn't, indeed. The way she acted, though?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I'll be out of her hair soon enough. Then it'll all be over." She turned towards the brunette with a smile. "I'm here for you and nobody else, so don't worry about me."

Meiko grinned weakly. "If you insist. I'm... I'm really, really happy you're here."

"As am I."

"No, really. This is the first time in almost ten years that we see each other. The fact that you came all this way despite it all is worth more than anything anybody else could give me. I mean it."

Miku nodded, trying to push down the lump in her throat. "If you say so."

"We'll catch up, these next few days, right? That's all I could want from you."

"Of course."

"And..." Meiko had hesitated but continued with that blunt honesty her friend always appreciated, "If there's anything you can't cover, just tell me. I'll take care of it."

"But you're the bride-to-be, you're not supposed to—"

"And you're my oldest friend. Please, don't let my party become another burden for you. I didn't invite you to cause you more strain."

More strain... Meiko's considerate nature had never died. Thankful despite all the strain she'd already faced, Miku couldn't help but hug her friend tightly.

"Tomorrow, after the wedding, we're going to sit side by side and you'll tell me everything," the brunette whispered. "When there's less noise."

Miku chuckled. "Definitely."

"Now..." Meiko sat up and briefly scanned the room. "I must see to my other guests. You'll be ok?"

"For sure. I'll just sit here for the most part. If anything, this is all real interesting to watch."

"You'll be up for a few games later?"

"Games?"

"Truth or dare and stuff like that."

Miku couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Truth or dare? What are we, fifteen?"

"It's my party," Meiko teased, sticking her tongue out. "And what I say, goes!"

"Oh, of course, your highness," Miku said snootily, and mock-bowed in her chair. "I will tend to your every whim!"

Meiko winked, gave her a strange little wave goodbye, and headed straight towards a pair of guests: a blonde and a redhead, both much less sober than most other guests.

Her heart a little lighter, Miku scanned the room, hoping to find some entertainment in the sights.

She wasn't sure what kind of room it ought to be. She would have called it a ballroom, what with the high ceiling and the intricate pattern in the wooden floor. Columns ran from floor to ceiling, and large heavy curtains decorated the windows. She could see that it was already getting dark outside, which was typical for late fall. She guessed it was probably seven, maybe seven thirty. Despite the darkening skies, inside was all lights, lights, and more lights. Maybe in this behemoth of a house, this ballroom was more of a living room, because of the myriad of fancy couches made of either leather or fancy woven fabric, the tables that grouped them together, and other furniture which served random, inane functions, like hold a single vase. There wasn't any TV or gaming system, but Miku guessed that was because those had a room entirely to themselves. Instead, the electronics were dozens of lights, some of which lined the walls, others hidden behind furniture, others hanging from the ceiling, that Miku wouldn't be able to guess the original color of anything in the room even if she was given a hundred years' time. Purples, reds, blues, and oranges flew around and flickered, lighting up the booze-fueled fest and the pretty barbie dolls indulging in it.

Miku scoffed at herself: it wasn't fair of her to be snarky towards them. The blonde and redhead Meiko was talking to seemed like nice people. They all did, with maybe one exception. They probably also got to the same university Meiko went to thanks to scholarships, won through sheer hard work and dedication. They were most likely smart, bright, fascinating people. Maybe they'd be easier to approach the following day, at the ceremony, when less drunk. Not that Miku cared: she didn't plan on socializing much, if at all.

Meiko gave the blonde and redhead that same wave and headed towards a new group. Or rather, straight to the hostess. What did Meiko say her name was? Miku frowned at the sight of the woman: she looked like the house, she looked like money, like a marble sculpture brought to life, dressed in crimson and adorned by jewels.

She was gorgeous, Miku couldn't deny it. What sickened her were the various scowls that had been thrown her way throughout the entire afternoon. She was absolutely sure that she'd seen that the tealette had arrived empty-handed, and she was positive she was giving her a hard time for it. At least she wasn't roping anybody else into it, Miku told herself. It could be worse.

The song changed, and Meiko and her rich friend went to the empty part of the room to dance. It was probably a favorite they both shared. They'd probably danced to it a million times. They both sparkled, from afar. They were both magnificent to behold.

Miku closed her eyes and breathed out the envy. She was there to have fun, to celebrate. She'd have all the time in the world to be broken-hearted later.

After taking a moment, she opened her eyes and watched them.

They were close. Miku wondered what hostess had studied. Kaito had done human sciences, and Miku knew Meiko was big in business studies. What did Ms. Marble-come-to-life do? Work out, Miku quickly concluded. Maybe not as part of her curriculum but it was obvious that their well-off friend had all the time in the world to look after her figure: her backless dress showed the world that she was toned, without any kind of hard edge or tan. Miku briefly let her eyes run along the length of her spine, a graceful serpentine curve, before looking away, somewhat angry with herself. She saw her own knuckles, their bruises and scars hard to see in the multi-colored lights, with the tendons becoming all the more obvious: their shadows cut over her skin like knives.

Miku closed her eyes and breathed again. She wasn't the dirty hungry alley cat in the lioness' den, she thought. She was at a party. No animosity, no violence. If their hostess wanted to play mind games, Miku would let her play; she had better things to do.

When the song ended, Meiko and her friend embraced and laughed before the brunette moved to the next guest. At least, Miku thought so, but she instead turned the music volume down.

"Attention everyone!" she called for all to hear. "Are we all here?"

Miku didn't have to reply: she hadn't moved. But there was a series of replies, and the tealette quickly counted heads. Eleven people, including herself. Everyone was accounted for. Especially Ms. Lioness who, surprise surprise, was already shooting her a subtle glare, an all-saying scowl on her blood-red lips. If Meiko noticed it, she didn't let it show.

"Has everybody eaten?"

A short series of cheers followed. The glare didn't stop.

"And I suspect we've all had a few drinks?"

Another, louder, bunch of cheers. Miku had never heard only nine women make so much noise, and one of them was a grandmother! Or maybe the music made them seem louder. Or the room echoed? She couldn't tell. It was hard to focus.

"So we're ready to play a few games!"

A few of them mirrored Miku's initial reaction, but others were enthusiastic. The lioness finally looked away, so Miku rolled her eyes, somewhat amused.

"So what'll it be?"

Truth or dare? Never have I ever? Classic teenage games for silly adolescents or, apparently, drunken adults. The tealette was ready to play along: Meiko's party, her rules, and she was willing to oblige.

Truth or dare was chosen by the bride-to-be, so most of the party quickly got settled in the group of furniture closest to the tealette. The nearby armchairs and couches were quickly filled, while the three eldest to the party quickly excused themselves to the kitchen so they could prepare dessert. Miku couldn't blame them: they probably wanted to avoid any chaos.

As she got settled in the chair she'd never really left, Miku wondered how exactly adults would play this game. Meiko was to get married and most of the others probably had their own partners. If no daring requests for kisses and unwanted touches, what then? Skinny dipping in the pool? Did this house have a pool? It probably had a pool. Maybe even a jacuzzi. Maybe it was close to that gym the lioness used.

Just as Miku started wondering if even that would be a possibility because of how expensive the dresses were, Meiko suddenly said her name.

She'd started the game, as was her right as bride-to-be.

"Me?"

"Yes, truth or dare?"

She suddenly felt seven pairs of eyes on her. There were those who were curious, there were those who were delighted, and there was one that immediately regarded her with disdain.

Miku let it slide off her back.

"Dare."

A wicked smile appeared on Meiko's face, but it was nothing unusual. Knowing her, Miku could expect any kind of crazy trick or trap. All in good fun of course, nothing cruel.

"Wear this."

Miku did a double-take when she saw a pair of handcuffs.

"What the fuck, are those real?"

A gaggle of laughter followed her reaction. "No, silly! They're the more tame version. Easier to break out of, apparently."

"At least they're not fluffy!" a guest contributed from somewhere behind the brunette.

"Ah, fine," Miku held up both her wrists, but Meiko only latched the right one. "Huh?"

"Follow, if you please."

Again, the tealette obliged and followed her friend to the other side of the circle. Before she could even think, much less act, the other handcuff was promptly attached to the very angry lioness.

"What are you—"

"Ah!" Meiko shushed her wealthy friend, and gave Miku a warm warning smile. "You two are going to learn how to get along!"

Miku wondered if was hallucinating, dreaming even, maybe she was still asleep on the plane, but the cold on her wrist felt very, very real. "Are you really—"

"Shush!" Meiko shot her that same smile, strangely friendly yet daring her to refuse. "I can't have my two best friends calling each other pretentious or stingy. Ten rounds, you'll be wearing these!"

"T-ten...?"

Meiko waved the key before them. "Ten rounds plus five for every time I have the impression that you're fighting!"

Miku couldn't even talk. She felt the other woman pull at the cuffs, tugging her along as she tested the metal, and she couldn't decide who she had to direct her anger to. Was she seeing red, or was it just the lights?

"Now, you two will sit on this couch and put aside your differences!"

The blonde who was sitting next to the hostess went to take Miku's old chair, so the tealette had no choice but to obey, refusing to even look at the other woman.

"Can they still play along?" someone asked.

Meiko considered it. "No. They have much to talk about, so let's let them be."

"You've got to be kidding me," the hostess muttered under her breath. The voice was low, husky. It was almost a growl.

Miku closed her eyes. She listened to Meiko as she took another turn: normally it would have been Miku's, but since she was out, they might as well start again.

She tried to ignore the fact that she could feel the glare on her skin almost as much as the steel.

She tried to ignore the resurfacing memories of her snide remarks, her not-quite-subtle glares she had endured literally all day, throughout lunch and the afternoon partying.

She tried to ignore the fact that she was the one with her right hand imprisoned: lucky Lucy still had her right hand free.

No, her name wasn't Lucy, not quite.

"Just because you can't see us doesn't mean we can't see you."

Miku wanted to take something apart. An engine. Something difficult. Something that would take her many, many hours and possibly a few tries. She wanted to get her hands covered in oil, she wanted to feel old metal in her hands, not around her wrist. But no. She was stuck in a palace attached to a princess.

"I'm not trying to disappear," she seethed in return.

She was trying to stay calm, she told herself. To honor Meiko at her party. She was there to celebrate. She was there to celebrate, to get out of the cuffs as soon as possible. She was there to avoid any hostile interaction to avoid any addition to their time out.

"So, what are you doing? Trying to find another excuse for not bringing a wedding gift tomorrow?"

This time, Miku was sure she saw red. She dug her nails in the fabric of the couch, but didn't open her eyes, didn't open her mouth, not quite yet.

She breathed deeply, and finally let it all roll off her back.

"I'm trying to keep our company limited to ten round's time," she quietly said. "I probably hate this as much as you do."

The other woman huffed, but most likely agreed; she didn't say anything else, and for a few minutes, Miku could listen to the game, her eyes still closed. She picked up on a few names. There was a Lily, a Cul, a Gumi, an Aria, and a Yukari. Most of them only wanted to do truths, so Miku learned that one of them didn't necessarily wash her hair every day. One of them still bought plastic-wrapped oranges from the grocery store. Another hadn't read a book since graduation.

She counted seven rounds.

Her neighbor sighed. "Alright. Maybe I misjudged you. What did you get her for tomorrow?"

Miku considered staying quiet, but suspected silence might ire her more than her honest reply. "Nothing."

"You're serious."

"Yes."

"You stingy bitch."

"Ah! Five bonus rounds!"

Miku's eyes flew open. "There were only three rounds left, you ass!"

"That's another five!"

"Meiko, I swear to god!"

"Don't you dare talk to her like that, you worthless—"

"Five more!"

"If you say one more thing, you vapid piece of—"

"That makes twenty!"

Miku bit her tongue, and could see her neighbor was doing her very, very best to do the same.

And to be honest, the woman was seriously intimidating from up close. She was taller than Miku, and by a fair bit, too. And despite the way every single facet of her seemed to be polished to perfection, this serious care in her appearance only made her look more dangerous. The red of her lipstick made her electric blue eyes pop, and the way her hair was tied up only revealed the smooth muscle tone hiding under the skin of her neck and shoulders. Miku knew she wasn't weak by any means; few women her age and size could boast being able to carry as much for as long as she could, but she sincerely felt like she had been handcuffed to an apex predator. This woman could tear her to shreds if she'd let her. God, even her nails were red: nobody would ever see the blood.

And suddenly, the beast calmed down. The angry crease between her brows, above her lip, disappeared, and the pure anger was replaced by resigned disdain. "Twenty rounds it is."

"Twenty-three," Miku gently corrected: she had no intention of provoking her any further.

"Twenty-three..."

Miku closed her eyes again, determined to let the rounds pass uneventfully, this time around. She thought of their altercation, considered the words they'd exchanged. Maybe she could apologize for what she'd said. Would it be worth it? Most likely not: she wasn't ever going to see her again, after the wedding. Never again.

So, she just let it all out. In one breath, she let all the anger, envy, and rage simply flow out of her. All she wanted was to get back to the party.

By the time she'd let it go, she realized she'd missed several rounds. There was little point in counting, so she tried thinking of all the things she and Meiko could talk about later. She wondered about her fiancé, Kaito. He was probably around their age. Was he rich, too? Or had he also depended on a scholarship? Did he also move in from afar? Did his parents also fly all the way here just for this?

She hoped she'd like him. If yes, then she'd have more reason to visit them once they found their own place to live. Part of her couldn't help but wish Meiko would move somewhere closer to her, so she wouldn't need to spend so much on a plane ticket across the Pacific. Then, she could see her friend more often. They'd be able to catch up for real, without other guests getting in the way, or music, or other distractions, or—

"So, how do you know Meiko, actually?"

Miku grit her teeth. "Please don't try to start something again."

"I wasn't trying to start something—"

"Alright! Alright. Sorry. I just want to get back to the party as soon as possible. You too?"

"Of course."

"So no more swearing? No more insults? No trick questions?"

The hostess hesitated, probably bit back a retort or something, but finally said, "Of course."

Miku exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Her neighbor was a bit more relaxed, but still held some anger in her eyes. She couldn't really blame her. "We met in preschool. We practically grew up together."

"No kidding."

"Nope."

"So how come I've never seen you before?"

Miku averted her eyes. "I'm guessing you two met at your university."

"Yes. We shared a class in philosophy. She approached me in order to debate a certain reply I'd given. We've been friends ever since."

"So, you know her fiancé, then."

"Yes. He's a great man," she said. Miku could hear the smile. "I'm sure you'll see tomorrow that they're deeply in love with one another."

Miku chuckled. "Meiko never really was a romantic type."

"That may be so, but their fondness for one another is unlike anything I've seen so far."

"Yeah, I believe you, don't worry. I can't wait to see it for myself. Seeing Meiko be happy makes me happy."

The taller woman paused, and finally said, "Yes. It makes me happy, too."

"I suppose we can agree on that, then."

An uneasy silence settled on them. Miku tried to figure out how many rounds had passed, but there was no way to keep track.

"What do you study?"

"Study?"

"Well, I imagine you've at least finished a bachelor by now. Or am I mistaken?"

"Well, what do you study?" Miku asked back.

"I majored in philosophy. I tried to go into the less-explored stuff: everybody knows of Freud, Arendt, and all the western greats. So I did a general exploration on philosophers who were less in focus, from other areas around the world."

"...Right."

"For my Master's, I decided to go more in-depth on the subject, and actually travel..."

Miku totally zoned out. She understood nothing of all those names, those technical terms. Despite the uneasy truce, she just wanted to get back to the party. She hated being in time-out.

"But I digress. You avoided my question. What are you studying?"

The tealette blinked slowly. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

The woman seemed baffled, before a contemptful frown came over her features. "Then how could you possibly contribute to society?"

Miku bit her tongue, closed her eyes, and did her very best to keep her cool.

She just wanted to go back to the party.

She just wanted to hang out with Meiko.

"Hey, where are they going?"

She opened her eyes at the question and saw that the group was disbanding. She stood, her hostess quickly following suit, most likely due to the forceful pull from the cuffs.

"Is the game over?"

"Let's find Meiko," Miku grumbled, eager to get the key.

Together, wrists still very much stuck together, they made a beeline for the brunette.

"Key, now," the tealette hissed.

"Have you two reached an understanding?" Meiko mumbled with a giggle, her eyes glazed over and her voice slurred. How much had she drunk while Miku wasn't paying attention? Her stomach dropped.

"As close as we'll ever get," the other woman muttered.

"Alrighty then. The key, the key..." Meiko patted at her dress, hesitated, then continued searching.

"Meiko, are you drunk?" the tealette asked.

"Maybe," her friend laughed again, pawing at the seams of her dress. "Key, key, can't find a key..."

Miku's patience was paper-thin: if she had to be trapped with this insane woman for any longer, she swore she was going to do something regrettable. But consequently, she would likely be forced to endure another half hour of her company, which was exactly what she was hoping to avoid! So she resorted to staring at her friend with all the patience she could muster, and if the faint clinking of the metal at her wrist was any indication, her undesired partner was trembling with similar effort.

They could also agree that they needed to be separated ASAP, it would seem. But Meiko's movements gradually slowed down, and it dawned on Miku that she wasn't about the be freed any time soon.

Suddenly, Meiko perked up."Oh, I remember! I put in on the ground: I figured I'd lose it otherwise!"

Miku sighed deeply. "Alright, let's go look for it."

"You two mind doing that? I need to help my mom in the kitchen," Meiko slurred.

"Sure, we're on it."

Miku tried to turn around, spinning on her heel to her right, only to run straight into her neighbor, who'd attempted the same, but in the other direction.

"Watch it!"

"You watch it!"

The taller woman tugged at the cuffs, Miku retaliated, tried to force her way around the other woman, only to run into her again. The tealette grabbed the chain and pulled down, hard.

"Listen. I'm just trying to get us out of this thing. The more we bicker, the more we're going to fight. Let's just turn this way, and get a move on."

The lioness glared back, but finally replied through clenched teeth. "Fine."

Finally, Miku thought, they could get the key and go their own ways. They headed over to where Meiko was sitting, the entire room still lit up by the neon lights, but there was no key to be found.

"Where is it?"

"Maybe under the carpet?" the hostess offered.

Miku, who had moved to look under a couch, got suddenly yanked backwards when the other took a step to the carpet.

"Hey!"

"I'm trying to look!"

"So am I!"

"I turned your way, so let's look where I want to first!"

"Fine!"

The carpet had nothing to hide, and after some more fighting, the various armchairs, pillows and other furniture around the game area had nothing more to reveal.

"What color was the key, even?" Miku mused out loud.

"Metal. Shiny."

It would be impossible to find, the tealette concluded. Everything in the household was shiny, everything reflected light, everything shimmered and gleamed.

"You two looking for something?"

They turned around, once again in conflicting directions, but Miku refrained from starting another fight; the blonde guest, also drunk but somewhat concerned, was heading their way.

"Lily!" the hostess greeted her and held up her left arm, pulling Miku's arm along whether she liked it or not. "Have you seen the key to this?"

"Ah, can't say I have," she mumbled, barely audible over the music. "Uhm... One of your staff walked by to clear some of the bottles, earlier. Maybe it was taken away by accident?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Thank you, Lily! We'll have a look."

"No problem! We're all going to be in the kitchen to help with some cooking," Lily giggled. "It's going to be a disaster. Hope you two join us soon!"

"We hope so, too. Don't wait on our count! Go on ahead."

Lily gave them a little wave, not unlike the one Meiko had given them, and disappeared into the hall.

"Come on, we need to speak to my staff. They'll know where it is."

Miku silently obliged. She felt the cuff hang from her wrist, how it sometimes pulled when the other woman walked out of pace with her. Her head was pounding: was it the music, the lights? Was it the fact that literally everything seemed to shine? Was it the height of the ceiling, the length of the walls? Was it the excess of details hidden in every single piece of shit that populated the area? Or was it this woman, this "contributor to society" who only seemed to know how to talk shit? This lioness who had staff at her disposal who cleaned her trash, who kept track of her stuff?

Once out of the room the lights returned to something closer to normal, and the music faded into the distance, but the sheer abundance of things, decor, decorations, continued to make Miku feel dizzy and sick. She suddenly hated the place, truly and sincerely, almost as much as she loathed the person she was attached to. They walked out of pace, the cuff kept pulling, and she noticed they were both holding their arms and hands in such a way to avoid any and all accidental contact. The micromanaging of their actions was exhausting.

After what felt like an eternity walking through winding halls which all looked alike, the taller woman finally flagged down someone who was rushing down the corridors. They had a brief conversation Miku couldn't find the energy to tune into. Her wrist was cramped from keeping her hand away from the other woman's. She couldn't stand the sight or the sound of her, more than she needed to bear. Once the man darted off, she asked, "So, you have the key?"

"You didn't hear any of that?"

"No. Where's the key?"

"He said he'll ask the others: if nobody has seen anything, they'll look through the trash and see if it was thrown out by accident."

She couldn't believe it. She had people who would dig through trash for her. Miku was ready to dive into a dumpster herself to get free but no, this princess had to let the others do it.

"Well, there's no use in waiting here. We might as well join the party."

"Like this?"

"We may be stuck together, much to our mutual disdain," the hostess said with a bit of that old contempt, "But we're not forced to talk one another non-stop. I'm ready to collaborate, for the sake of Meiko's party."

"...So am I."

"Very well then. To the kitchen."

The taller woman lead them down the hall, continuing in their original direction instead of turning back. Miku was lost and had no way to tell where she exactly she was. The house was too big, it was all too much.

After they turned a corner, the hostess cleared her throat. The long hallways filled with nothing but their own beauty carried that sound into an echo, accompanied only by the faint thump of music that carried on in the distance.

"So, if you're such a dear old friend of Meiko's..." she started, "How come none of us have ever met you before?"

"You asked that already."

"You never replied."

"Well, if you care so much, it's 'cause I live on the other side of the ocean," Miku just about growled.

"So? It's not like you were studying or anything. You must have had plenty of time to come visit. Ryain Blair put it best, I believe: If it is important to you, you will find a way. If not, you'll find an excuse. And—"

Miku yanked at the handcuff, hard. It didn't budge; the only reaction she got was a loud yelp from the taller woman. Seething, the tealette grabbed at the bracelet around her own wrist, and pulled.

"What are you—"

The shorter woman ignored her entirely, pulling and twisting at the metal, before grabbing it by the chain and trying to pry the latch open with the bone of her own trapped arm. She pushed hard, with no mercy, disregarding the pain as the metal dug into her skin. When the only result she got was drawing blood, Miku let out a sob.

"She said these were easier to get out of!"

"Stop! Stop!"

The taller woman's hands tried to get in the way, tried to pry the metal from her grasp, but Miku batted them away.

"Let me go!"

"You're hurting yourself!"

Finally the other woman managed her get the metal band out of her skin and the cuffs under her control, and Miku could only sob again. Her wrist bled, the skin angry and red, and tears burned her eyes.

"Why won't you just leave me alone, you sadistic, evil bitch!"

When the hostess tried to grab for Miku's jacket, the tealette pulled at the cuff again, but her arm hurt so much she couldn't even try to free herself again in earnest. When she realized that she was effectively trapped, with no way out except for the small hope that the paid trash-sorters would actually find the key, the tears finally rolled down her cheeks. She fell to her knees, letting her wrist hang above her from the cuff. It hurt.

Miku breathed deeply, her hand into a tight fist, but all the emotions, the burn from the wound, they were too much for her to contain. She clenched her teeth, tried to suppress the tears, hiding them as best as she could by keeping her head low. She had nothing else.

Her suspended arm lowered, and she felt the grasp of a warm hand on her wrist, while another pulled up the sleeve of her jacket. There was a short, tense silence.

"You're hurt."

Miku seethed. "You bet I'm hurt. Ever since I set foot in this stupid fucking house, you've done nothing but hurt me. You've done nothing but try to hurt me!"

The hostess stayed quiet for a moment, before saying firmly, "We need to get this patched up."

"Fuck that. What do you care."

The other woman stood, still gently holding her arm. "Follow me."

Miku felt the blood trickle up her forearm, to her elbow. She knew it would stain her shirt, maybe even get to her leather jacket. Hell, it might already be dripping all over the expensive wooden floor. That fucking design, custom-made wooden floor.

"Your name is Miku, right?"

She didn't reply.

"Please stand. You need a bandage."

Miku sneered sarcastically, even though it couldn't be seen. What was the princess going to do, summon her bandage-applying staff? Or maybe her in-house doctor? What next, a helicopter trip to the hospital for stitches? The tears finally slowed, the helpless anger replaced by a resigned one.

"I want to go to the party."

"We will, I promise. Just let me patch you up first."

Miku didn't want to stand. She didn't want to follow that woman, the witch, anywhere. She needed to see Meiko again. She needed to go to a room with decent, normal level of lighting. She needed a room without echo, without music. She needed normal floors made of standard tiles, or that plastic flooring made to look like wood, or even linoleum. She needed to see the cement walls of her dad's garage, needed a drink of tap water out of a standard glass.

She needed something, anything, that was familiar.

"Please, Miku."

She didn't have that luxury, she reminded herself. She was there to celebrate. To see Meiko. There was no time to lose.

"Might as well get this over with..."

Renounced, she stood. The taller woman still held her injured arm in her hands, Miku felt it, and didn't have the energy to try to yank herself free again. Docile, the bleeding alleycat followed the lioness in her den of gold and ivory.

Surprisingly quickly, they arrived at a large bathroom, and the taller woman turned on the lights with her elbow. It was probably a totally normal bathroom to the taller woman's standards, Miku told herself. It had a toilet, sink, bathtub and shower in a corner, with a disgusting amount of room between all units. It would take entire seconds to go from the shower to the sink at a normal walking pace. There were numerous racks from which snow-white towels hung, crisply folded and immaculate.

It was all immaculate. Porcelain, white marble, with golden accents. The cupboards there weren't of wood, but Miku couldn't tell what they were. They were gorgeous, that was all she knew.

The bathroom was gorgeous.

And it was blinding.

"Can you turn down the light?"

"Down?"

"I can barely see."

The other woman turned back towards the door and released her grip around Miku's arm. It was then that Miku saw her outstretched hand: it was spattered with blood. And when she pushed a button, dimming the lights, she left a bright red fingerprint behind. But the woman hardly seemed to care, and turned her attention to the wound.

"Alright, then..."

When the other woman turned on the sink and started rinsing the injury, Miku realized that she was actually going to do this herself, with her own two hands. Somewhat dumbstruck, she could only watch as the woman worked, cleaning her wrist and their hands with lukewarm water and soap. She even carefully made sure the ever-present cuff rested on the back of Miku's hand, well away from the angry gash. The wound wasn't as deep as Miku had feared, but it was long and angry, stretching across the back of her wrist.

The white bowl was soon stained pink. It was a strange sight to see, Miku thought. It was strange to stain the immaculate porcelain, to bleed all over the palace. And it was strange to see her hands in the other woman's, to watch her bruises and scars show and vanish between the suds of the soap, to see those marble hands wash her, their nails as red as her blood. The tealette gulped, remembered to breathe, felt her heart rate slow as she indulged in the gentle, warm touch.

When the taller woman turned off the tap, she didn't wash bother with the blood still in the sink. Instead, she headed straight for the cupboard beneath it, on her knees with only her cuffed arm still above the porcelain bowl. It was strange to stand over her, to see her from above, to watch her search and toil with the help of only a single hand. Her injured arm was shaking. A sudden red splotch diverted her attention.

"...It's still bleeding," the tealette observed, a new red trail forging a way down, down the back of her thumb, creeping down to the nail before finally letting go and adding another drop in the sink.

Miku wanted to turn on the water, rinse it away, but the other woman instead grabbed one of those immaculate towels and gently pushed it on the wound.

"Hold it there, ok?"

Dumbstruck, the tealette obeyed. The hostess used her free hand to once again wash away the new trail of blood before finishing her search, returning victorious with a first-aid kit. With unpracticed movements, she sifted through the various bandages and supplies. Finally, she found some gauze, painstakingly folded it over so it was of an appropriate size, and set it aside. Then, she took out a bottle, opened it, and ordered Miku to lift the towel.

Miku, entranced by watching the woman work and struggle, blinked at her voice. She glanced at the bottle. "What is it?"

"Betadine. Disinfectant."

It stung a lot, and Miku wanted nothing more than to push back on the wound with the towel, but found that the gauze had already been applied before she could complain. The pressure was firm, comforting, and Miku hated to admit it more than she hated the sting. She gulped heavily.

"Hold it."

"Where do I...?"

"Just put it in the tub or something."

Again, Miku listened, though it needed more of a throw than the woman's words would suggest, and even if the towel wasn't drenched, it still left pink streaks on the tub. She held the gauze as her makeshift nurse rolled out some self-adhesive bandage. She handed the end to Miku, who held it down, so the other woman could one-handedly wrap it around the wrist. Finally, the entire affair was neatly bundled up, so Miku held the roll while the other woman cut the bandage and gently pressed the end down. Her skin was pale against Miku's, the tealette noticed. Pale and perfect.

"There we go."

Miku swallowed thickly. "I need to wash my arm."

"What?"

"Blood ran up my arm... I want to wash it off."

She seemed to understand, but finished putting away the first aid kit. "Need help rolling up your sleeve?"

"I guess?"

"Let's do this together."

As promised, they carefully rolled up the sleeve so Miku could wash away the slowly drying trail that had reached just a little past her elbow. When she was done, she was handed another pristine white towel to dry it off.

"There. When you're done, put that in the tub as well. I'll tell Leon this bathroom needs to be cleaned up."

"What's your deal?"

"Pardon?"

Miku rolled her sleeve back down, eyes downcast. "One second you're insulting me, and the next you're helping me, letting me bleed all over your towels and bathroom, patching up my wound. What's your deal?"

The taller woman considered her reply for a while. "I might dislike you as a person, I'll admit that. But that doesn't mean you're undeserving of help. I was capable of providing help, so I helped."

Miku sighed, and gently, carefully pulled at the handcuffs again. "I'm guessing this is part of the equation: don't want to be stuck to some bleeding peasant."

"I'm...not sure that's part of it."

"What, you're saying that if I had gotten stabbed by one of your fancy statues out in the hall and you happened to stumble upon me, you would've helped me anyways?"

Her reply came without any hesitation: "Yes."

"...Alright. Fair enough."

"Now we can finally go back to the party," the hostess said with a sigh.

Miku wanted nothing more than to go back to the party, to see Meiko and to confide in her all the nightmares she'd been forced to endure so far. At least, that's what she thought: suddenly, the prospect of leaving the bathroom, back into the brightly lit hallways, to go back to the noisy LED-infused party, it all made her head spin.

"I— I think I need to sit down for a second."

She thought that maybe the taller woman would protest, would insult her again, but instead, she said, "Ah, sorry. You did bleed a fair bit."

Right, the blood loss. Miku hadn't even considered it. Feeling stupid and weak, she sat down on the toilet, while the other woman stood beside her.

The tealette took a few minutes to breathe, to fully understand that had just happened.

It was crazy.

She was going crazy.

But the bathroom was dark and quiet and it was a blessing.

She felt she could relax, if it weren't for the woman standing next to her.

"You said peasant, earlier."

Miku exhaled loudly: there went her relaxation."Yeah, I did."

"Do... Do you sincerely think I see you in such a way?"

"I mean, why wouldn't you?" snapped the tealette as she sat straight up. It was a mistake: her head started spinning again, but she powered through. "Considering the way you treat me."

"The way I treat you?"

"Don't play dumb with me. All those questions about the gift I didn't bring, my studies, the fact that I've never even stepped foot on this continent before. I'm fucking dirt compared to you and you're treating me that way."

"I'm treating you that way because you're treating our friend like dirt," the woman retorted. "It's her party today, and her big day tomorrow, and you can't even spare a gift? Even a keychain has worth in sentimental value. Yet you brought nothing."

"Oh please. Don't pretend to be so virtuous for Meiko. Those comments about my non-existent studies has nothing to do with this."

"You're right, but it's a hell of an indicator of your character."

Miku was tired.

So tired.

She just dropped her head again and leaned forward, trying to bask in the dark quiet, no matter how bitter it had turned. "Yep, if you say so," she muttered.

"Let me know when you feel better. I want out of these cuffs."

"You can say that twice."

"I won't."

"Your choice, princess."

The taller woman huffed, but thankfully said nothing more.