Nightmares in Fingerpaint –
(maybe we're just afraid of the prints fate left behind)

– Rift –
don't pretend
that it's not there

A/N: Pronouns are a bitch, and more edits have been made on previous chapters~
Disclaimer: I do not own Bakugam.

"Can't we listen to a CD?"

"I don't have a CD player or anything in this car," Mira answered (for the third time) as she automatically slapped Dan's hand away from the controls. "Don't bother me while I'm driving."

Snorting, Dan leaned forward, eyeing the array of various scuffed buttons for the blessed switch. "Why can't you turn the radio off? It's either this noise or some quiet; doesn't seem like a tough choice to me."

"Well, sometimes the radio works…like here!" Oblivious to the screeching wheels and shouts from her passengers as they were jerked around, Mira slammed the brakes. Dan opened his mouth in a complaint, only to be shushed impatiently and forced into an intense silence. After a second or two, the bop of techno melodies and smooth voices beat out static. "See, it's Super Sync Sound!"

"Do you just drive onto this street and stop to listen to the radio?"

"Sometimes."

"…Good choice in station. But only because the JJ Dolls are hot," Dan linked his fingers behind his head and glanced into the back seat with a wide grin. "Right, Gus?"

A stony grunt answered him, as they had for the last few attempts at initiating conversation. Daubing on a smile (a feat that was becoming increasingly difficult), Mira's eyes flickered towards the rear-view mirror. "They have pretty good music, don't they?"

"Who the hell cares about that?" Dan said, grin growing sillier. "They're hot."

"Don't be such a pi—"

A flinty interruption wedged its way into the impending argument: "They aren't anything special."

Dan twisted around to reward Gus' statement with mystification. "Okay, what? They're total babes! You have seen a picture of them, right?"

"I've seen my share," he said sullenly, restless gaze focused on the street passing by and the thinning fog, marked by yellow instants of tarnished lampposts. "It's all make-up and PhotoShop."

Mira couldn't stop herself from joining in. "What about their music? They're pretty good singers…"

"Voice synthesizers and lip-sync. They're just a couple of fakes who ride the high life by doing nothing more than sleeping around with the right people."

At least he was finally beginning to talk.

"Hey!" Dan gritted his teeth; he wasn't going to concede or let this go until the other boy understood the importance of good looks on female celebrities. "None of that matters because they are really, really, really hot!"

"Dan?"

"Any sane guy would totally recognize that!"

"Dan…"

"Are you gay or something?"

"Dan!"

Aforementioned boy jumped at his name, snapping around with a sheepish expression, just in time to avoid Gus' furious flush. "Heh, sorry, just kinda slipped out…"

Mira rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder. "Whatever, this is your stop anyways. Talk to you tomorrow."

He wasted no time – four seconds and the door slammed shut with a hurried "Thanks for the ride!"

As soon as the brunet's house was hidden behind glossy streets and drizzle, Mira decided it was safe to speak again. "Dan's actually a nice guy. Not the smartest – he was at a summer track meeting thing in the city, and missed the bus back with his team because he was eating in the cafeteria. And he says some really inappropriate stuff, as…as you just heard. But really one of the nicest guys ever, heart of gold—"

"You can stop advertising him." He sat with a rigid back, tensing as the car bounced over a pothole – Mira missed the useless lump she had picked up on the street over the harsh man with a voice that no car heater could warm. "I'm not interested."

"Oh…um, okay…" Sighing, Mira settled back into her seat, fingers tapping along the plastic rim of the steering wheel. "So…what have you been up to?"

"Stuff."

"Ah…I see. And…heh, how about all this rain?"

"I'm more than fine with not talking, you know."

"…Okay." A bit blunt, but Mira could handle that; she'd lived with two similarly disposed males her entire life. But that didn't mean she was any more inclined to shut up. "It's just been so long and all, no one's heard from you, so of course I'm a bit curious…"

Shifting blue caught her attention in the rear-view mirror as Gus leaned forward, jagged scowl twisting his lips. "Maybe I wasn't clear before. When I said I was fine with not talking, I meant that there is not a thing I could enjoy more than not talking with you."

The remark was clear even through the patter of rain, and she cursed the storm's break. Life would be much simpler if she could conveniently not hear the blatant insults.

Reddening and biting back a retort, Mira snapped her eyes onto the street. "Look, I know that we didn't really get along in the past, but we've both grown up since then. I'm sure that…" —you've learned a little bit about being civil. "…we can talk to each other politely now."

"Politely?" Gus' hollow chuckles couldn't turn her around, but she didn't have to see his likely sneer to find herself infuriated by it. "You might not know this, but being a fake little bitch isn't the same thing as being courteous."

This was the point where pointless niceties were finally eschewed. "You know what?" she snapped, yanking the wheel sharply; the involuntary yelp lent a sick satisfaction, but not enough to stop her from bumping against the curb. "You wanted to stay at a motel so much, you may as well walk there! I mean, if you just can't stand to be reasonable…"

"Er…" Mira still couldn't bring herself to glance at the mirror or turn around, even though the momentary hesitation was killing her. Finally, her anger was rewarded with the squeak of the car door and shuffling of lanky limbs. "F-Fine!"

She took a deep breath as the door was flung shut, and then another when orangish-brown and blue passed by, hastening ahead – he was still so wet from his last sojourn in the rain, and that jacket was as good as useless…

Biting her lip, Mira watched him stalk away, stumbling every few feet and constantly glancing from side to side, as though out of the misted shadows something was planning to leap out, attack—

—he wasn't carrying his bag.

She whipped around; it sat forlorn on her backseat, still dripping onto the balding fabric. "Great, just fan-frickin'-tastic…" she mumbled, turning around – of course the proper thing to do was give the bag back. It wasn't like catching up to him was going to be a problem; the idiot had given up on walking and just stood there, a lost, drenched puppy spotlighted in the bounds of a flickering lamppost and shrinking away in unknown territory…

Softened, she eased the car forward, until she was slowing to a stop beside him. It wasn't like she had to put up with him for long, just until she could dump him off into Keith's care.

"Gus! Your bag—" Sharp, damp winds flooded in as soon as the window was rolled down, cutting Mira off; her quarry jumped, sparing her a glance before lurching away. "Gus, stop, you forgot your stuff!"

Apparently, she couldn't be heard. Muttering to herself darkly, Mira fumbled with the seatbelt till it popped free.

"Hey!" The cold acted quickly, seeping into her clothes and joints (and she was just fortunate enough splash directly into a puddle, lucky her), but now was not the time to be prissy; she had a weirdo to help. Mira raised her voice, hand frozen on the door handle. "Okay, Gus, just get back in the car! Look, I'm sorry, but—!"

Pivoting on his foot and shivering arms folded across his chest (apparently, she could be heard), crystallized green glared through the hair the gust tossed into his face. Ebbing lamppost lights sent a sparked battle of shadows and fluorescence ghosting across his face. "But what? I'm fine, I'm sure I can find the nearest motel. In time."

"Come on…" Skirting around the car, Mira advanced, hands held out in a gesture that wasn't perceived as a beckoning peace offer. Gus staggered back, taut and ready to flee; this was like trying to coax an injured animal into understanding that it wasn't going to be chopped up and tossed into the oven for dinner. "If we stay out here any longer we'll both get sick, okay? And you don't want to stay at some motel, there's all kinds of, you know, cockroaches, rats…"

"—and bloodthirsty psychos," he finished, faltering – Mira immediately followed up and snatched advantage, nevermind the outlandish 'bloodthirsty psycho' comment.

"Yeah, you never know. Besides…what about Keith? I mean…" She stepped onto the sidewalk gingerly, smile weak. "Look, I really was happy to see you…before you started being a jerk."

The briefest flash of smug satisfaction broke through his porcelain expression, and then Gus was solemn once more, waiting for her to continue.

"And I really do want you to see come to my place. Keith…he'll be so happy to see you again, and…and you seem really down yourself, so it might do you a lot of good to see him too. Can we just…" Another stride and she outstretched a stiff hand, expectant. "Pretend to get along, for his sake?"

"Well…" Gus squirmed, foot to foot, casting his face down with a broken mumble. "I hate you."

"That's why I said 'pretend for Keith's sake'."

He acknowledged that with a curt nod, not once looking up. "And motels are just…ugh…"

"And it's really cold," Mira said hurriedly, the accompanying chatter of teeth solidifying the obvious. "So if you could just think a little quicker before we both end up with pneumonia…"

While Mira hadn't anticipated that to be the deal-breaker, it was effective; disregarding her completely, Gus tottered back to the vehicle, wrenching open the door and vanishing inside. "Hurry up!" he called out, cross voice muffled under the engine, "before you run out of gas and we end up stranded!"

If that weren't actually a very real possibility, she would have laughed.