Hello there! Here's another one-shot from me. Enjoy~!

Be warned! Misaki is very OOC in this, but I assure you, there's a reason. And I know it's not winter yet, so let's just pretend.

Disclaimer: I, most definitely, don't own Kaichou Wa Maid-sama. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfics for it, now would I?

On a Winter Night

She has made a decision: the world isn't fair.

And she hates the world. She does. Well, maybe not the world, per se. Perhaps she hates the people contaminating the world, or maybe fate for being so cruel to her.

Whatever it is, she hates something.

It's a cold, cold night. December winds slap her cheeks, and bite her fragile skin harshly. The moon shines its light down on her, somewhat of a reassuring gesture, she concludes. Maybe the moon is looking out for her.

She's neglected to wear her winter coat. The cold doesn't really bother her. It feels like a refreshing pat on the back after an accomplishment. Nothing so threatening, or worth hating. The boiling hot anger coursing within her veins is heating her up.

Bystanders stop in their tracks as they see her walk – no, stomp – passed them. They practically drown in the angry, dark aura emanating from her. No one wants to mess with her, that's for sure.

Sharp, unpolished nails dig into the skin of her hand, and she's bleeding, but she doesn't care. The blood almost freezes once it drips to the ground. Her jaw's starting to ache. Amber eyes glow with flames, with fury, and they burn, but it's such a beautiful burning. A beautiful burning unique to only Ayuzawa Misaki.

Raven locks flap about her head from the strong breeze. A man stops in front of her, to warn her about the cold. Frigidly, she swiftly passes him, and ignores him as if he isn't even there.

Misaki isn't a rude person; no, she's as nice as a woman can be. But, she's noticed how being nice doesn't get you anywhere in life. People around her don't bother to be "nice", so why should she?

Her boss isn't really a nice person, is he? No, he's horrible, terrible, heartless. Fuckin' heartless. There's a black hole inside of him, and Misaki saw it, when he bluntly "let her go" from her only job.

He fired her, from her job at The Caramel Café, the job she loves oh so much, the job that is – or was – putting food on her family's dinner table every night. The job that had been keeping her mom alive in the hospital.

Her eyes glisten with tears; she refuses to cry. She won't cry. She refuses to show weakness. Ayuzawa Misaki is strong, and she won't crumble. She won't.

On the other hand, she doesn't have anyone who'll prevent her from shattering.

She's…tired. Physically and mentally. Psychologically, she's exhausted. She feels her mind can collapse at any given moment.

There are a whole bunch of feelings flaring inside of her. She doesn't know why she's tired. Ayuzawa Misaki never gets tired. Maybe it's the fact that her father left her when she was young. Maybe it's the fact that her mother is slowly fading away, dying, leaving. Maybe it's the cold, pained expression her little sister Suzuna has on every day. (She misses her smile.) Maybe it's the fact that her whole household is depending on her, her work, her studies. Perhaps she's feeling overwhelmed, and hurt. Pain. There's a stinging in her heart, and she doesn't know what it is. She doesn't like it.

She sees her deep, erratic breaths in the freezing air. In her thin, white button-down shirt, she feels goose bumps pattering on her skin.

People around her are looking at her like she's crazy. She doesn't know where she's going. She just walks, walks, walks, with no destination, with no place to go, with no one to be comforted by, with no one who cares. Her feet appear to have a mind of their own.

Her eyes are blurred by red, red fiery flames, and she can't really see where she's going. She sees some concrete, people walking around her, a street light turning green, and a big, big neon sign. It's so obnoxious.

She stops, and stares up at the large sign. The Corner Pub is what it says. She enters, without hesitation, without purpose, without any thought. This is the best decision she has right now. It doesn't seem wrong, or immoral, or out-of-character. It seems right.

Lecherous eyes follow her body's every movement as she walks in. But, she can't get herself to care. She sits down at a barstool, orders a martini, and just drinks, drinks, drinks the night away. The toxic alcohol feels mind-numbing as it slides down her throat. Her senses are gone. The alcohol feels so good. There's no pain anymore, no sadness, no fear, no anger. Just her mind on could nine. And it's wonderful.

It's absolutely amazing.

He doesn't really know why he always takes a midnight walk. It's become a nightly routine.

Obviously, people think of him as crazy, going out on the busy Tokyo streets in the blistering cold for a leisurely walk. No sane person would do that. But, Usui Takumi isn't really an ordinary man.

He tries to ignore the suggestive looks being thrown at him from women. He's been blessed with good looks and money (as noticeable from the suit he's wearing, courtesy of his half brother); it's not a mystery as to why women chase after him.

The cold, cold December air doesn't feel so clipping on his tan skin tonight. It feels…welcoming. Almost like a soothing lullaby a mother sings her child to sleep. It doesn't bother him.

The moon's rays reflect off his spectacles; he adjusts them with his forefinger. Blonde tresses ruffle in the slight breeze, and green orbs sparkle in the night. He's walking passed so many apartments and houses and stores and buildings. He reaches The Corner Pub. He doesn't like drinking, or partaking in any vulgar events of the like. He hates The Corner Pub with a burning passion.

Drunken idiots are staggering out of said pub; he swiftly steps and evades every one of them. He wants to enjoy his nightly walk. He doesn't want to interact with anyone right now, much less an alcoholic. He wants to be alone. Many people have described Usui Takumi as a "loner". He doesn't mind; it's true, after all. He's been alone most of his life. He's isolated. So very isolated.

And then he hears the sharp sound of heels clicking on concrete. In front of him a drunken woman is stumbling on the sidewalk. She's barely able to stand, and she's wobbling, holding onto the bricks of buildings for support. She's just like everyone else, he assumes, and he slips passed her like a ninja.

However, as their shoulders brush, she grabs onto his forearm. Alarmed, he jerks his head around, and his glasses almost fly off his face.

Takumi is greeted with bright, bright amber eyes. They're burning, burning with flames and they're so unique, and beautiful. Her ebony tresses are lazily tied up in a bun, strands slipping out and chewing the hollow of her neck and the sides of her face. Pink grazes her cheekbones from her high, and she's giggling like an idiot.

She's gorgeous, he declares, and she's wearing a waitress uniform; her nametag (which is falling off her shirt) says Ayuzawa on it.

He briefly wonders if he should actually rip his arm out of her grip. Then again, he doesn't know her, she's drunk like crazy, and she's no different than the rest. However, this "Ayuzawa" woman strikes him in some way. Something is spurring within the pit of his stomach, and he doesn't know what it is.

In the end, Usui Takumi always prefers being alone.

Yellow, lemony eyes dazzle up at him (She's so short, compared to him. It almost isn't fair.). She giggles, and hiccups, and slurs.

"Whaddya' doin' out here, handsome?" Her breath reeks of alcohol. Maybe he should be repulsed.

Instead, he adjusts his glasses with his middle finger. His mouth is pressed into a bored, thin scowl. He should try talking to her first, shouldn't he?

He clears his throat, for good measure. "Erm, Miss, would you please let go of me?" He gently wiggles his arm in her hand, but that just makes her hold on tighter. He swears his whole arm is going numb.

He tries not to grimace in pain as she stutters, "B-but I don't wanna'!" She bellows in laughter, and smacks him upside the head. Hard. He finds himself chuckling. Emeralds dance in amusement, and he finds himself smirking down at her.

"Miss, you're very drunk, you know that?" She laughs even harder, and pretends to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Well, of course I know that! Duh!" She hits him again, and this time, she smacks him in the face, and she laughs even harder.

He's pretty sure his cheek is red. It's stinging. This woman has one hell of a hand.

He looks down at her, and she's calmed her laughter. She stares at the cars zooming on the street with dazed, hazy eyes. A subtle smile plays on her lips.

Takumi then realizes he shouldn't be standing with her in the middle of the sidewalk like this. So, he wags his arm out of her grip, and instead clutches hers, and leads her across the street. She's wobbling and squealing behind him.

"Ooh, where are we going, Blondie?!" He tries not to shudder at the nickname. Yeah, he hasn't heard that one before. "On an adventure? Yay!" She screams in excitement, and waves her free hand in the air. Onlookers are eyeing the scene very skeptically.

She cocks her head upwards and looks at the sky. "The moon is sho bwight." He snickers at the baby talk. "Hey, why is Blondie laughing?!" She smacks his back; he starts coughing uncontrollably. "Ehh, Misaki is sowwy! Don't die, Blondie!" She then hums a catchy tune to herself.

This woman is so drunk.

'Her name is Misaki, ehh?'

"Blondie's hand is soft."

He tries not to stop in his tracks. She said that in such an overly-sweet, overly-girly, overly-sexy voice that he feels heat creeping in his cheeks. He swallows thickly, and he doesn't grace her with an answer.

They continue walking, and finally reach Central Park. Takumi drags her to the bench and sits her down. She bobs her head back and forth, and is still humming that tune.

He stands over her. He should at least try to get some answers out of her, even though it's probably useless.

"Ayuzawa-san, yo-"

Cleanly, she cuts him off.

"What's Blondie's real name?!" she pipes loudly, and some people turn to stare at her. He sighs, and runs a hand through his blonde mane.

"Usui…Takumi."

Her mouth forms an 'o' shape, and her ambers eyes glisten with excitement. "Taku-chan!"

He tries not to faint.

Smacking his forehead with his hand, he tries not to sigh again. He regains his composure, and asks, "Ayuzawa-san, don't you have a purse or something?" She should have some identification on her, and maybe he could find her address and drop her off.

She looks around her, and at both her arms. "Well, looks like I left it in the café!" She laughs and waves her hands in the air. "Ohh well!"

This time, he does sigh.

'Okay, it's in a café, not in the pub, so it should be fine."

She grows quiet, and shakes in her seat. Calmly, he decides to sit down next to her on the bench.

Underneath the alcohol, there's a faint smell of strawberries and vanilla fused together emanating from her. She smells heavenly. He breathes deeply, and exhales a ragged breath, as if wanting to break the silence.

He notices something, and something keen to anger surges within his chest. He clenches his jaw, and blonde eyebrows knit.

"Ayuzawa-san, your shirt is unbuttoned."

She looks down, and appears to be marveling at the fact that her shirt is indeed unbuttoned and ruffled.

"Did someone try to touch you in the bar?" There's a hint of bitterness in his tone.

She shakes her head vigorously back and forth, and her fist flies in the air. "Hell fuckin' no! They tried, but I beat the crap outta them before they could!" She bellows triumphantly and happily, dainty fists punching nothing in particular.

He doesn't believe he's actually believing what this drunken woman is sputtering.

Something in his mind is nagging at him, saying "Believe this woman. Believe her."

This is why Takumi doesn't like interacting with people. He's declared he's always better off on his own.

He's actually smiling at her, the corners of his lips quirked upwards genuinely. His emeralds are sparkling in something they haven't in a long time: happiness.

A gush of wind hits both of them simultaneously; her hair whips about her face and his flies in one direction. He sees her visibly shiver; he takes back what he's said about the cold being comforting.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and nudges it into her. She stares at it strangely for a few seconds, as if it is an object that's offending her in some way. Finally, shrugging, she takes the rick black coat, and drapes it over her shoulders. She breathes in deeply, and snuggles into the silky fabric, eyes sliding closed and a dreamy smile forming on her perfect features.

"It's so warm…" she coos. "Taku-chan smells good." She snuggles more and more; Takumi's afraid she'll drown in the fabric.

His cheeks tinge in pink, and he coughs ruggedly and nervously. The cold is bone-chilling, but he doesn't mind.

He leans back on his hands, and stares up at the black sea of a sky, and at the white plate floating in it. "Ayuzawa-san," he starts in a low, throaty voice, "I think I should try to take you home now."

Abruptly, she jerks her hand and grabs his arm, and shouts, "No!" There's a troubled, frantic expression on her face. Takumi briefly wonders if she's gone back to sober, but the pink hue on her pale cheeks is still there.

He's a little startled. He looks at her with slightly-widened eyes. "Why not?" he asks, and his voice is quieter than he thought it would be.

She pouts, and he thinks for a moment that she's just so adorable. Burning amber eyes glisten with something similar to sadness, or emptiness, or loneliness. Whatever it is, he knows he has that same exact sheen in his emerald orbs.

"Because it's so lonely at home…" she breaths, and dips her head low, low enough that he can't see her venomous and oh so lovely eyes anymore. Black bangs curtain them.

Her voice cracks slightly, and it's significantly weaker now. "I don't like being at home. It's depressing…and quiet, and I just want to cry. I don't want to be there." Something splashes on the brown wood of the bench, and it shimmers in the dark night. His eyes soften, and he looks at her with pity. His mouth is pressed into a thin line.

'She's lonely…just like me.'

Gingerly, he uncurls her fingers from around his elbow, and he holds them in his own hand. His fingers are so much longer than her nimble ones, and they're soft, like pillows.

He hears the slow, deep breathing of hers. "I feel so…sad. I don't want to be sad."

Then, she lifts her head, and on her face is a heart-stopping smile, a smile so warm, and subtle, and comforting, and real.

"I want to stay with Taku-chan tonight."

Takumi almost has a heart-attack.

Unconsciously, he squeezes her hand tighter. "You don't even know me."

Her smile grows wider, and her eyes are luminous. "Taku-chan is a nice man. I know he is." She giggles, and smiles wider, bright white teeth blinding his eyes.

Unintentionally, he smiles slightly. It's small, and subtle, but it's there, and it's very visible.

And then suddenly, she jerks upwards, and drags him along with her to stand up. "Let's play on the swings!" she yells, and pulls him over towards the playground.

"It's past midnight and you wanna play on the swings…?" he asks incredulously. She nods proudly.

"Come on, Taku-chan!" This woman is surprisingly strong. She tugs him all the way to the playground, but lets go of his hand and runs like a little girl over to one of the swings and sits on it. She's laughing stupidly, and he can't help but chuckle.

"Push me, Taku-chan~!" she sings, and kicks her legs up in the air. Sighing, he walks over in long strides, the uncomfortable feeling of sand sinking into his shoes making him grimace. He stands behind her, and places both of his hands on the small of her back. And he pushes, and she swings swiftly and highly and gracefully in the air, all the while screaming and kicking in excitement.

He steps back a few paces, and he watches her glide happily in the air. Sometimes he wishes he could be a little kid again, and enjoy things like that. He smirks slightly, and he closes his eyes as he snickers.

'She's…interesting…'

She's not kicking her legs anymore, he's noticed. The speed of her swing dies down, and soon she's just dangling around on it aimlessly. Her head bobs back and forth, and she stands up.

"I'm getting tired…" she mumbles, and she staggers around the sand. She looks like she's drowning in Takumi's huge coat. She's so small.

She's stumbling around, and instantly Takumi rushes up behind her, and catches her limp form before she hits the ground. He expected she'd faint sooner or later.

She's so light in his arms, he muses, and he carries her bridal style. He stares at her face, eyes closed, lips gently parted, strands of hair shadowing her forehead. He can't help but smile. She looks so innocent.

'It's about time you went to sleep…'

She wakes to bright yellow sunlight streaming through a window, and it's burning her closed eyelids. Groggily, she opens her eyes, and shields them from the sun.

The first thing she notices is the sharp pounding in her forehead. Her skull is throbbing, and she grasps it in her hand. She moans in pain.

"What the hell did I do last night?"

She examines her surroundings, and immediately she panics. She's sprawled out on a sofa, a yarn blanket tangled with her legs. There's a large sky window next to her, in an otherwise empty living room. Her clothes are all rumpled.

This isn't her apartment.

"Where the hell am I?" she mutters angrily. How could she have been so stupid? Drinking…how foolish.

"'Morning, Sleeping Beauty," a deep, husky, flowing voice says. Misaki's ambers dart around the room quickly, and they land on intoxicating emerald-green eyes. Her mouth drops open.

Instinctively, she shrinks back into the fabric of the couch. Raven eyebrows kit together, and her defenses skyrocket.

"Who are you?" she asks slowly, clearly pronouncing each word. There's a hint of fear and uncertainty in her voice, though she'll never admit it.

The green eyes of the blonde man sparkle in amusement, and he looks at her in a daring, coy way, with an attractive smirk on his face. He leans against the wall opposite her, arms crossed over his chest, a spatula hanging from his fingers.

"You were quite…interesting last night," he murmurs slyly. Immediately, Misaki's face flares like a tomato, and she starts sweating. She lurches up from the couch, almost tripping on the damn blanket, and lunges toward the tall blonde man.

"What did you do to me last night?!" she screeches, grabbing him with the collar of his shirt. Mockingly, he holds his hands up in defense.

"Calm down. Calm down. I didn't do anything to you," he reasons, that jolly smirk still plastered on his face. Misaki holds him tighter. Anger is flaring within her now.

"You're lying! Why do you look so smug?!" Her teeth grit.

His smirk widens somewhat. "You should be thanking me. I took care of you last night."

At this, Misaki's eyes widen, and she loosens her grip on his shirt. She loses some of her resolve. "H-huh?"

"I found you stumbling outside of The Corner Pub," he explains, eyeing her with a deadpan expression. "I was going to walk past you and ignore you, to tell the truth," Misaki growls, "but you held onto me. And you called me handsome." His expression is smugger than ever, and Misaki's blush grows redder than ever. "You don't remember anything from last night, do you?"

Sheepishly, she shakes her head.

"Well, you hit me several times," he grimaces, "and then I took you to the park, to talk. When I told you I'd take you home, you refused."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Why did I refuse?"

"Ehem," he fake coughs, "firstly, you were drunk. Second, you said…" he pauses for a brief moment, "that you're sad and lonely at home." This time, Misaki lets go of his shirt completely, and steps back a few paces.

"Well, that's true," she murmurs incoherently. Suddenly, it's a whole lot colder in the room. She rubs her arms and avoids eye contact.

"Then, you wanted to play on the swings, and fainted," he concludes. "I brought you here, since I have no clue where you live."

Sighing, Misaki says, "Something tells me that you're not lying." Her cheeks had paled, but return to a bright crimson color now. "Thank you."

He smiles. "You're welcome."

A few fleeting seconds of silence pass by, before Misaki breaks it. "I, erm, should leave now." She walks back and gently folds the blanket she'd woken up with. And her head is still pounding.

"But I'm making breakfast." He pouts childishly.

"You've already done too much for me." She waves her hand in the air as she walks to the front door of his apartment. She slips on her shoes, and her fingers curl around the knob. "Thanks…again. It's hard finding…decent guys like you." She doesn't look at him. She's too embarrassed.

He smirks delightedly. "I'm decent, huh…? Last night you said I was more than just decent…" His voice drips with perverseness.

She smacks his arm. "Shut up!"

He chuckles deeply and throatily. "Make sure you take medicine for that hangover. And you left your purse at a café last night. Remember to pick it up." Misaki nods.

"Thank you." She rubs her forehead gently.

"It's cold outside. You don't have a coat." She waves her hand.

"I'm fine." She begins opening the door, but he clutches her hand and stops her.

He nudges a long, black coat into her. "Here. Make sure you return it." Misaki fumbles.

"Ehh? No, I can't take this! It's too big! I'll be fi-"

Emerald eyes darken somewhat, and his tone deepens. "Take. It," he demands huskily. She gulps, but accepts it anyways, and slides it on her shoulders.

A faint tint of pink brushes her cheeks. "Thank you."

He smiles wider. "How many times are you gonna say that?"

She frowns as she opens the door and steps out. But she flashes him a small smile before she closes the door. And she doesn't miss the smile on his face either.

The clipping cold gnaws on her cheeks as she walks outside, and she snuggles within the coat. It's warm.

'It smells like him…'

The scent is heavenly, and divine.

Unconsciously, she dips her hands in the coat pockets. She feels something brush against her fingertips, and pulls it out.

It's a small, folded piece of white paper. Curiously, she unfolds it. Scrawls are elegantly penned on the small paper, in blue ink. The handwriting is so neat, like a prince's.

"You look so cute when you smile."

Her blush grows darker. Damn him…

Under that sentence is a phone number, and a name.

'Usui Takumi, huh…?'

"Call me whenever you like."

A vein pops in her forehead. No way is she gonna call him! Well, she might…to return the coat…

There's a lazily drawn arrow on the bottom right corner of the paper. She flips it over and reads the other side.

"Don't be sad. You won't be alone anymore. I'll make sure of it."

Her burning eyes glisten with coolness and softness, and she can't help a small, genuine, melancholy smile curve in her lips.

"Pervert."

Well, I hope you liked it. It's almost 1 A.M. where I am, so I'm dead tired, and I have school tomorrow morning. I just needed to finish this and publish this, though, so forgive any mistakes. Also, I hope Usui wasn't OOC...

To the people who've read my fic Coffee, I'm working on the sequel, so it should be up around next week, or the week after that. To my Shameful readers, I hope to update on the weekend. If not, you may hit me with rocks...

Was it good? Bad? Awesome? Terrible? Tell me your thoughts in a review! :)