Time limit
Summary: "Yuuma, do you honestly think she'll wait for you every night like this?"

The Vocaloid-verse fanfiction home needed some VY1 x VY2 love. I'm here to provide it :3.

"Yuu, I think that's enough work - you overdid it," a woman with short green hair muttered while igniting another cigarette and stuffing it between her fingers. She inhaled the toxic smoke and pulled it out of her mouth, exhaling. She leaned against the doorway, growing impatient, and tapped the end of the cigarette away from her.

A man stood up, silent, unnerved, and cleaned his hands with a cloth. His eyes never left the floor as he turned, stuffing the cloth into his back pocket.

It was dark, lonely, and definitely bloody. About five bodies were sprawled all over the floor, tied and beaten unconscious. One was curled into a ball, probably reliving the scene in his head, another was leaning against a crate, head tucked down, and another prostrate, her face unseen and covered. They were securely knotted and definitely beaten to some inches of what life they could manage.

The woman huffed another puff of lung-killing smoke. The man returned to her side wordlessly, grabbed the stick and threw it to the ground. He finished it off by smashing it with the heel of his foot and kicked the remains into the rain outside of the warehouse. She watched him, no expression seen on her face, then kicked back from the wall she was leaning initially leaning against.

"That was my last one," she informed, giving him a monotonous look. "You owe me another pack."

He didn't bother looking at her and grabbed the umbrella that was propped up against a crate beside the woman. He unfurled the object and stepped outside into the pouring rain, hearing the loud rumble of thunder overhead. His eyes were set on hers, both pairs tired and monotonous, and she stepped beside him, exiting the warehouse. They heard the faint sound of sirens as they entered a filthy alley and hopped onto a motorcycle.

She stuck the keys into the ignition and revved it while he closed the umbrella and situated himself behind her. She handed him a helmet after spitting the remains of her cigarette into a puddle, and he strapped it on without trouble. After she pulled hers over her own head, the sirens approached rapidly - the light could be seen through the mist of the downpour and the duo were nowhere in sight.

Dead silence lingered between them, if the roar of the engine was excluded, and he held onto her curvy body without feeling. She twisted the handles of the motorcycle, unfazed by the rain that whipped at the shield of her bike. He, too, was unfazed by the blinding lights that hurled before them in the city. They zipped corners and raced through a yellow light, scaring whomever was about to turn before their brief encounter. They unintentionally splashed water on a couple of people and heard a dog barking at them.

However, they didn't care. Then she stopped by a sidewalk, a trashcan filled only halfway was soaked by the rain. He wordlessly nodded his head, took out the bloody cloth from his back pocket and threw it in there. Without a moment's hesitation, they were off again until they reached a quieter development with no one walking around. Of course, in this unrelenting storm, who would?

Slowly, the momentum wore off and the woman parked the bike in a driveway, right by an old BMW. The trashcan was pulled to the right side of it, and drenched boxes of remnants of the past were stored by the sorry excuse of a trashcan. Beyond those objects was a tiny house, not even two floors, painted eggshell white with the curtains drawn. Two candles were residing behind the windows, in front of floral pattern curtains and radiated the homeliness of the tiny dwelling.

Its front door was a pale brown, a small light by its side and a welcome mat dirtied by its constant use. A plant was beside it and in front of the door was two steps made out of bricks and in front of those was a narrow pathway leading to the house. It wasn't a special house at all; it was generic just like the rest of the neighborhood it was built in.

The woman took off her helmet and allowed the rain to drench her hair, making the strands cling to her head. He followed suit and the two left their helmets saddled on the handles and she switched the vehicle off. "When do you plan on buying me that pack?" she reminded while swinging her leg around to meet the other and slid off her seat. He did the same and they stood in front of the house.

Thunder rolled once more and there was a flash.

"Never," he answered and started walking to the door, taking out his keys and mingling it against the lock. She sighed and followed behind him, and once he opened it she slid past him and slipped off her boots. It squeaked against her grasp and she finally whipped them off against the wooden floorboards. As soon as she walked away from the front door, he cautiously stepped in and gently pulled the door to a close.

"I'm serious, you owe me a pack," she insisted while shaking off her jacket and hanging it on the coat tree. It held about three others, two trench coats - one that looked like it was about to expire and another that looked as though it's been treasured - the other was a raincoat with a floral pattern on the inside. He eyed her, wondering what was going on inside her skull, and shrugged off his own coat. He hung it over the destroyed trench coat and shook off his own boots.

"I don't see why you want another - you're killing your lungs," he informed and made his way down the hall towards the bathroom. He grabbed a towel that was hanging and another from the closet. He departed from there and tossed the second one to the woman who caught it with ease.

"Only thing I got to distract me after I was stood up, y'know?" she recalled while ruffling her hair with the towel. She breathed and let it sit there for a bit. "Did you check the kitchen yet?"

He shook his head and she gestured for him to do so.

"It's well past one; the princess needs her beauty sleep, y'know."

"Yeah," he started after drying his short hair and slinging the towel over his shoulders, wiping beads of cascading drops of water from his face. "I know." If one looked closely enough, there were traces of a genuine smile on his poker face of an expression.

She sighed, "I don't understand how she puts up with you."

"Quiet, Sonika," he spat and she bit her tongue. Then he left her and stalked towards the kitchen to find that a candle was lit in the center and a sleeping form was at one of the small, rectangular tables. He flipped the lights on and spotted the waiting maiden, wearing her night dress with a cup of coffee set in front of her. Her glasses were still sitting in front of her eyes and she was using her arms as a pillow.

Sonika crept up behind him and patted his shoulder, assuringly. "You can't just beat this girl's faith."

"Tell me about it," he murmured and walked towards the sleeping girl.

"Yuuma, do you honestly think she'll wait for you every night like this?" Sonika questioned, leaning against the door as she brushed back her green hair. "She's too innocent and weak to be involved in this kind of lifestyle you've been born and bred in."

Yuuma stayed silent and stared softly at the sleeping girl. "Believe me, if I could, I would make sure I wouldn't meet her and get involved with her, but it already happened." He brushed back her black strands from her face and allowed a vulnerable smile to appear on his face. Sonika eyed him suspiciously and crossed her arms and legs, exhaling an exaggerated loud breath.

"She's poisoned you," she noted, hostile eyes beaming at him in the lit kitchen. There was a pause, then she pushed her body off from the wall and scoffed. "But I guess she poisoned me too."

"What do you mean?"

Yuuma looked at Sonika as she gave a sore smile in return. "I'm gonna file the report to Kiyoteru while you bring the princess up to her room." She left without hearing any consent from him because they both knew where their place was. He stared at their so-called princess and wiped away his gentle expression when she started to stir. She looked so innocent, radiating the innocence she still retained after meeting the underground duo.

"Mizki..." Yuuma murmured almost lovingly. She stirred once more, her bangs flopping over her eyelids. How come she looked so beautiful to him? So welcoming, warm, and just so enchanting that he wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the world. Maybe that's why he didn't like it when she left the house alone? That could be it.

Mizki stirred once more and he sighed, pulling her strands once more from her face.

"You're beautiful..." he whispered, leaning in and brushing his lips on her exposed forehead. Again, the girl moved and her eyes slowly fluttered open. He backed off and she stared at him longingly, batting her eyelashes teasingly. An angelic smile on her tired face.

"Welcome home, Yuuma," her delicate voice whispered. He paused, a mixture of shock and appreciation ebbing at him and then he nodded.

"Thanks," Yuuma replied, sheepishly. "I thought I told you to just sleep in your room when we're not here? It's not healthy to sleep here." And it worried him, despite how he risks his life for his job out on the streets to hunt down wanted criminals because Kiyoteru hired him, and Sonika for the less-than-legal ways in capturing the police's most wanted prey.

How he got into this job was almost a blur, what he did remember, though, was that Sonika was a childhood friend of his, and when he was practically broke, she handed him the job. Kiyoteru was a mystery, but what Yuuma did know was that he has a daughter whom he absolutely adores. Yuuma never met the ball of joy, but he's heard wonderful stories of her from Sonika and some mumbled bits from Kiyoteru himself.

Mizki lifted her head and delivered another picture perfect smile at him. "I think that...after an assignment of isolating everyone around you, both of you would like someone waiting to greet you," she answered and stretched her arms, the baggy sleeves of her night dress weighing down her thin arms. Then she breathed out and rubbed her right eye to rid it of any surviving grogginess. "And I'm here to do my job of welcoming the both of you."

He stared at her for what seemed like the longest of times and sighed. "...Is it strange that...I wait for that every time I return?" the man questioned, pulling out a chair and sitting on it.

Mizki thought about it, winding a long lock of her black hair around a dainty finger. She shrugged after moments of silence and beamed a playful smile that would light up an entire house. "No, it's what I wait for too." The she got up, tousled his pink hair a bit before grabbing her coffee, and dumped it in the sink. "You should go take a bath and change into a fresh set of clothes. I'm going to go to sleep."

She set the cup into the sink, drowning it out with some water, and twisted the faucet off. Yuuma muttered some incoherent sentences under his breath before he walked up to Mizki and grabbed her arm. She, with all of her innocence, looked up at him, a longing question in her eyes. "Would you...would you..."

Mizki merely smiled. "Yes, I'd wait forever for you."

So this was supposed to be a Len x Miku fic...but it reminded me of Facing the Consequences. So I changed it and used Mizki and Yuuma because I like them together (after their deubt in Role Reversal) and thought it fit better since I pose them as adults. It gets somewhat monotonous when writing them as teenagers as the central cast of characters, y'know what I mean?

If you don't, that's fine.

This was shorter than most of my one shots - it's only because I mainly typed this up on an iPad and touch screens annoy me. The reason why I didn't work on it on a desktop or laptop is because I never get the chance to go on it unless I'm alone in the house (which is very rare).

Here's some VY1 x VY2 from...

~Ventus