The Devil's Assistant (19 Days Fanfic)

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(A/N): Oh. My. God.

March is finally over. That month has been horrible. Part way into this month and it's somewhat better. Time to vent (feel free to skip):

Spring break was the good thing; went to San Francisco and got a cheap hotel that was coincidentally in Chinatown. I got like several chapter outlines and drafts done, but because I'm Satan, I'm holding out like a virgin on Prom Night.

But then: family drama. Got into a fight, like an actual fight, thus an injured hand and trip to the hospital (nothing broken/fractured/sprained, thankfully). Just moved out of that place at the beginning of this month and now I am kinda, sorta homeless.

Currently house hunting and working graveyard while going to school in order to get some money. It's hell.

So the update is... late. Like, horribly late.

Oh, yeah-- a bonus-- I found this fan art of Redhead, and I decided it was time to put it on here to make up for the "breakup" from the last chapter.

Now, aside from the bruise (which is a reference to that one rainy day)...

Imagine He Tian lovin' on that body.

Ohhhh yesssss.

*AHEM* I've stalled for long enough, here is the continuation of the story. Brace yourselves, it's long, and, like I've said before, not much Redhead x He Tian interaction... LET'S READ.

。。。

One of the things I could say about not having He Tian around: at first it was okay.

When Jun Li finally woke up, I had decided to just act normally like the cafe never happened. We went to the arcade and pretty much played away the little money we both had, spending hours there before calling it quits and leaving. Instead of going back with him to his place, I decided to go back home and at least see if my mom was there.

Normally, my mom would work really late, and she'd leave notes telling me to "make whatever"; last time I came home, which was days before, I'd come directly from He Tian's house. The note on the kitchen counter said:

"In case you've remembered you actually live here, there's some money for delivery or takeout on the dining room table." It almost made me laugh thinking about it. Did I really spend that much time with him?

Surprisingly, she was home; as I came in, she looked up from the TV as soon as she saw me. "So you've finally decided to show up," she said.

"Yeah," I mumbled, walking into the kitchen. Mom followed suit and went in with me, hovering by as I took out ingredients for dinner. "Did you eat actual food the past few days or was it more junk?"

"The occasional takeout isn't all that bad. Wait, aren't I supposed to be lecturing you? Look what time it is."

"Is it really that late?"

"Don't get cheeky. You're cooking for me as a punishment." Smirking, I pulled down some spices from the rack as I asked her,

"How come you don't cook for yourself?"

"I'm not the best around the kitchen like you."

"Hm... True."

"Hey, you're supposed to deny that, brat," she said, giving me a playful push on my arm. "It's called modesty." I rolled my eyes, but still smiled. She leaned against the counter cocking her head to the side in order to get a better look at my face. "Anyways, where were you? Up to no good?"

"I was at a friend's place."

"So this friend, you stayed all weekend?"

"Yeah, pretty much." My mom had a flash of mischief in her eyes as she asked,