Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

A/N: Constructive criticism is appreciated, as are suggestions, questions and comments. It'd be nice to hear from you (:

Oh, and by the way. This is AU, and they may be a bit OCC, but I'm trying to make this as realistic (situation-wise) as possible. No sudden love-at-first-sights. (; Because the world doesn't work that way.

Read and review, please. Like I said, feedback takes but a minute of your time (:

You
Chapter One

The worst part about not being in love, one might remark, would be the loneliness. The kind that slowly gnaws away at your inner gut as you watch an affectionate couple walk down the street on a cold January morning, fingers intertwined, eyes dancing with laughter and affection. But inside, in the back of your mind, you secretly wonder how long it will take before the euphoria of young love has dispersed, and they're too busy throwing angry, biting words at each other to remember how happy they used to be.

Or maybe you might find that same loneliness when you're "in love" as well, and you're left wondering why your relationship isn't working when someone else's is.

Her green eyes looked down on the street from her apartment window, watching the passer-byers stroll down the street, some walking hurriedly, some strolling leisurely. On such a morning, there were less people on the streets than usual. The fall semester at the nearby college had just ended, and many students had decided to go back home for the holidays.

Her eyes are immediately drawn to a pair of lovers, out for a walk in the frosty morning air. She touches the frosty pane, and leans her forehead against the cool surface, watching them laugh and whisper words of affection to each other. And those very dark, very cruel thoughts began to run though the back of her mind. How long, indeed. She had woken up an hour earlier than usual on this particular day, and had decided to indulge herself in a little bit of quiet by taking in the scenery. The grey, Saturday morning sky was especially cloudy, and she hoped that it would stay this way for the rest of the day. She had always loved cloudy days; there was a peaceful calm about them that she particularly loved. Unfortunately, 'calm' was something she rarely had, and given her particular situation, today had a feeling of gloom that had already settled itself in nicely.

Her alarm clock shrieked, and she jerked away from the window with a start. Then, she got up, crossed the room to her nightstand, and silenced it, switching off the alarm. Seven-thirty, her clock read. Better get moving. Hitomi Kanzaki tore her eyes away from the window, and headed to the bathroom to wash her face.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged, dressed and lightly made-up. She walked into the kitchen, stretching her arms up over her head, before grabbing a bowl and fixing herself a bowl of cereal. After pouring herself a nice glass of orange juice, she settled herself comfortably on a tall chair by the kitchen counter. Upon the counter, near the disconnected telephone, lay an answering machine with the number '5' flashing in red on its display. It had been a week since she had answered the phone or checked her messages, plenty of time for her to brood and contemplate her next course of action. Hitomi calmly took a bite of her Honey-Nut Cheerios before pressing the play button.

"Tuesday, Nine-twenty-two, PM", the machine recited. Then, a male voice filled the room.

"Hitomi, please. You haven't answered any of my calls all day. Look, I'm really, really sorry about what I did. I know it was really selfish of me, and I had no right to do that to you. I know it's going to be hard for you to forgive me, but can't you just hear me out? Love is all about making mistakes, and overcoming them together, right? I believe in what we have, Hitomi. We can make it work, if you give it another chance. Call me back when you get this, okay?" Beep.

Hitomi didn't look up, and continued to munch on her cereal, nonchalantly, waiting for the next message to play.

"Thursday, Eleven-thirty-seven, AM", the machine continued. The same male voice flowed into the room.

"I just talked to Yukari, and you've disconnected your telephone all this time? Hitomi, you're being ridiculous. It's eleven; you should be home by now. Why aren't you picking up my calls? I've admitted that what I did was uncalled for, but now, you're just acting unreasonable. I know you've at least gotten my last message. What I'm asking from you is very little, Hitomi. I'm asking you to be understanding so we can get through this together. I love you, Hitomi, and I want you in my life. Call me back, please, I need to talk to you." Beep.

Hitomi rolled her eyes. She got up to place her spoon and now-empty bowl in the sink, and returned to her seat to finish her orange juice as the next message began to play.

"Friday, Three-fifteen, PM", the machine noted. Again, the male voice filled the room.

"Hitomi, stop this. You can't avoid me forever. I stopped by personally today, and no one was home. Either you're avoiding me, or you really weren't home. I really hope it's the latter, Hitomi. I didn't have your apartment's spare key with me at the moment, so I couldn't check inside, but I wouldn't invade your privacy like that, and you know it. Especially not at a time like this. Hitomi, you've had enough time to calm down at the very least, and I've had my share of guilt. It's time to make things better, Hitomi. Let's talk over dinner – it'll be my treat. Let me know when you're available." Beep.

She downed the rest of her orange juice and placed the glass in the sink, alongside her bowl. The messages continued.

"Friday, Six-fifty-one, PM", the machine announced. This time, a worried female began to speak.

"Hitomi, this is Yukari. I'm so, so, so sorry. I didn't find out what happened between you and Allen until after he called me. I noticed your telephone was disconnected, and I didn't realize you were trying to avoid him. He's probably been calling non-stop, huh? Well, he's been showing up at the coffee shop quite often, looking for you. But anyways, I called to let you know that I can't keep covering for you. I told the Gerie you were sick, but it's been almost a week. You need to come back to work by Monday, or she may…not be so happy with you. I hope to see you then – I'll help you out if Allen shows up – but remember, it's not worth losing your job just because you want to avoid the guy." Beep.

Hitomi smiled slightly at hearing her friend's voice and impatiently waited for the last message to play.

"Friday, Nine-oh-four, PM", the machine concluded. A male voice began to speak, and Hitomi groaned. She couldn't take another message from Allen.

"Hitomi, please, lis-", the message began, before her finger quickly hit the 'Skip' button. Three messages were enough – she knew the general idea of what the fourth would be like.

Hitomi sighed, and leaned back in her chair. A floral scent filled her senses, and she looked over by her front door, where many bouquets of roses were stacked. They were particularly large bouquets – no doubt expensive – and they had arrived each morning at precisely nine in the morning. The doorbell would ring, and by the time she had crawled out of bed to answer it, the floral delivery boy had left (she had seen the car driving off the second morning, and realized that Allen didn't even have to consideration to deliver them himself), and a bouquet had been left on her doorstep, along with a card from Allen. These cards held messages that begged her forgiveness and made promises that she knew would never be fulfilled. Not that she ever bothered to read them; Allen was just too typical and predictable.

Each bouquet was a different color – pink, red, yellow, and even one bouquet was dyed blue. However, Hitomi found it ironic that after a whole year of dating and countless reminders, Allen had forgotten that Hitomi hated flowers. An even more unforgivable fact was that out of all the colors he had picked, he had missed her favorite one – green. Not that a green rose would look particularly attractive, but at least it would have meant that he'd gotten something right about her. But Allen wasn't the type who would understand – in fact, Hitomi doubted that she would ever find a man that would.

It had all started about a year ago. Hitomi had been introduced to Allen through a mutual friend during the end of her third year of college, and they had gotten along great. Because they had clicked so well, they had started dating not long after their meeting. At first, she was happy, but after a while, Hitomi began to feel as if she was losing interest in him. She had felt guilty for this thought, and quickly convinced herself that it happened frequently in many relationships. She just had to bear with it, and she'd be happy again, right?

Wrong.

She couldn't fake herself into feeling happy. Hitomi knew Allen didn't deserve this from her, and tried her best to be there for him like a girlfriend should. But, no matter how hard she tried, their dates became more and more infrequent, and their calls increasingly shorter. Hitomi blamed herself, blindly believing that it was her fault it ended up like this.

Then, it happened. The very recent event that led up to her current situation.

Allen called her a week before her birthday to let her know that he was going to take her out for dinner. Hitomi had happily agreed, and cleared the day of any plans. Hell, she had even blown off her best friend's invitation to a weekend in Hawaii for dinner with Allen. The day rolled around, and Hitomi stood waiting by her door, beautifully dressed and ready to leave.

Six o'clock, the promised time, and he wasn't there. Hitomi smiled; he'll be here any minute, she thought. A little waiting never hurt anyone.

Seven o'clock. There's probably traffic. He'll be here soon.

Eight o'clock. She thought back and suddenly remembered all the times he had canceled on her in the past, and how she had so readily forgave him. How had she forgotten?

Nine o'clock, the phone rang. It was Allen's secretary, who informed her in a clipped voice that Allen was sorry, and that he was unable to meet her. Try again tomorrow. Hitomi had returned to the restroom to wash away the make-up and undo the hair that had taken her an hour, and gone directly to bed, too frustrated to think.

The next morning, she called him. He had picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Allen, it's Hitomi. About yesterday…what happened? I thought we had plans together."

"Sorry, honey," he had replied, "my schedule was full. I forgot to tell you. I told Edna, my secretary to call you. Did you get my message?"

"Yes, but-" Hitomi started, but Allen swiftly cut her off.

"Good. We'll talk another time. I'm in a meeting right now. Listen, I'll make it up to you. I'll check my schedule, see when I'm open, and we'll-"

Hitomi had promptly hung up on him. How dare he, that son of a bitch. She wasn't a time-slot filler that could be so easily replaced. She was supposed to be his girlfriend, dammit, his girlfriend! Didn't he have ANY sense of obligation towards her? More importantly, it was her birthday he was rescheduling. Out of all days, her birthday! She had passed up Hawaii for a date with him, and he had stood her up!

Hitomi's phone had rung again, and upon seeing his name on her caller id had promptly disconnected her phone. Then she had gone back to her room to sulk, not bothering to stay around to listen to his message.

The sulking didn't last long, and by the third day of her social isolation, she was embittered and tired. Apparently none of her relationships were fated to have a happy ending, so why bother? The bouquets started showing up on her doorstep, and she had tossed every single one aside, resulting in the now growing pile by her front door. It had taken a while, but she now knew that her year with Allen had been for nothing. He obviously didn't know, much less understood, a damn thing about her. If he had actually listened, he would have known that she hated flowers.

Which is what brings us to this very special day.

Hitomi was up early today, not because she had decided to go to work, but because she was waiting for the flower delivery boy.

She checked the clock. Eight-fifty-five AM. Time to go wait by the door. After a few minutes of staring at the wood flooring of her apartment, she finally heard the sound of a car pulling up to the curb by her apartment complex. She waited until she heard his footsteps coming before whipping open the door.

"Excuse me." Hitomi leaned against the doorway, watching him.

The stranger was in the middle of placing them on her doorstep when the door had opened, and he straightened up in mid-bend to look at her. He was dressed rather casually in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It would have been quite easy to mistaken him for an average guy who had just knocked on the wrong door if not for the jacket he was wearing. On the jacket, the words, "Winged Florist" was embroidered, confirming his employment.

"Oh, these are for you, from Allen. I assumed you wouldn't be home again, so I was just going to leave them out here…" The man tried to hand the bouquet to Hitomi, but her hand pushed it away firmly, her emerald eyes blazing.

"I. Hate. Flowers." She said, glaring at him.

Maroon eyes watched her inquisitively with a spark of budding annoyance. "So?"

"So, I want you to tell Allen to stop delivering them. Tell him to give up, it's over." Hitomi stated firmly.

"Look, I'm just the delivery guy, alright? If you want to tell your loverboy something, go tell him yourself. He paid for these, I'm delivering them. That's my job. End of story." The man pushed the bouquet into her hands again, but Hitomi pushed it away.

"Fine. But hold on for a minute." Hitomi said, and went to grab a piece of paper. She quickly jotted a note down and handed it to the delivery man. "Can you at least give this to him then?"

"Sure, but just take the flowers, okay?" The man answered, shoving the bouquet into her hands and grabbing the note.

"Thanks."

"No problem." He answered over his shoulder, already walking away.

Hitomi shut the door, and promptly threw the bouquet into the pile by the door.

Outside, the man was getting into his car when he glanced at the note in his hand. After a moment's deliberation, he opened it and read it, figuring that a small peek wouldn't hurt.

Fuck off.

Love, Hitomi.

The man chuckled quietly. Short and to the point. This Allen guy must have done something pretty bad. Not that it was any of his business, he thought hastily.

He put the note away, and shaking his unruly dark hair out of his eyes, he started his car and continued on his route.