AN: Wrote this after a rather interesting conversation with a certain friend of mine who.. well, still hasn't mentioned anything that comes close to an internal organ beating against his ribcage. Yes, I am referring to a heart.

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne.

Quite the Disaster

It's Valentine's Day and I wouldn't say it's that great. Sure, there's the usual pile of chocolates, roses, and teddy bears covering my desk, but I couldn't find the heart to care. HE still hasn't given me anything.

It feels pretty good, sitting in class while some students read out names from the flower-grams. "Hitomi?" And I'd raise my hand with an embarrassed smile, receiving flower after flower, card after card, delightfully reading each and exclaiming an "Aw" over them. My teacher joked loudly that he hopes they weren't all from the same guy.

Across the room, his scowl only deepened. Each time someone called my name, I could hear him complain. "Jeez!" he said angrily, "another one!" I felt rather pleased to have him squirm in his seat, but I refused to lift my eyes and give him the satisfaction of knowing I was waiting for his rose.

Needless to say, I was disappointed. At the end of the day, I had accumulated quite a collection of pink and red, but none carried a card from him. Secretly, I hoped that my only anonymous rose was his. Secretly, I hoped he would confess his undying love to me.

As he walked me to my last class that day, he could only give me his irritated smile-turned-grimace. "So, you have a lot of admirers, don't you?"

I looked away so he couldn't see my eyes. "Yea, I guess, but they were all from my friends."

We were silent as we walked together, carefully avoiding each other and tactfully ignoring everyone else around us.

Finally, he said, "I don't understand the need for people to shower flowers on someone to show they care."

"What?"

"I mean, is that all you care about? All this materialistic stuff? The card, the rose, the chocolate?" He sounded just a little disgusted but by then, we had reached the door to our class.

I took a deep breath. Of course it wasn't what I cared about. I wanted him to tell me how he felt, to express his feelings. He was always so unwilling to do so and I thought, with the spirit of Valentine's Day, he'd send a message my way to show me he cared. Quite obviously, he didn't.

"That's not what I care about," I reply a little softly, more hurt than anything by his accusation. He glanced at me rather surprised, used to my normal angry outbursts.

I cut off whatever response he had to that by walking into class and slamming the door in his face.

Maybe he felt bad for his comment, but we didn't speak on the ride home. Even his usually high spirited sister could sense the tension. If he was mad, then how did he think I would feel? Perhaps I held too high of an expectation for him. There was no way Van would suddenly forget all his shyness and blurt out his heart to me.

Without even a word of thanks that day, I left him sitting in his car, staring out at me with his dark eyes.

---------------

Valentine's Day turned out to be quite the disaster. But although he never admitted he sent me that anonymous rose, he did make it up to me by taking me out to the movies twice. Oh, and he treats me to drinks after school.

Everyday.

Contrary to popular belief, we are still not boyfriend and girlfriend. That idiot hasn't gotten up the courage to officially ask me.

8.31.05