Disclaimer: I do not own Mai Hime/Otome
Pairing: You tell me what pairing you think it is... I was shooting for a certain one but later realized a few couples work, so tell which one you think it is.
Rating: T for suggestive things
A/N: This one, suprisingly, was not prompted by a question but rather a random spree of ideas and words that became this... I hope you enjoy it!
Thanks to: TwilightMoon7765 for beta-reading

"I really couldn't control myself, so it's not my fault: it's my hormone's fault." That's always been my excuse for that event. My forwardness, brilliance (though I argue that this is not an odd occurrence, I was outnumbered), and (apparently) strangeness (which I also argued, but I digress) on that day was all due to my lack of self-control over my hormones. That's how I've unfortunately been labeled; though I usually prove the label wrong, it still pops up in the most inconvenient times. Still, the excuse has served me well over the (forced) retellings and sometimes is worth all the teasing I receive for using it. After all, if I ever told the real reasons behind my actions, the teasing would only increase, and I certainly didn't want that to happen. So in the end, I just accepted the excuse they provided me and shut up.

I always begin by saying how, until that moment, it was a very normal day. Everything was routine and had been done before. It began as a beautiful, normal Sunday sunrise slowly progressing into a clear Sunday afternoon. The daylight was dwindling and flowing into a normal Sunday evening. Nothing new, no surprises, and absolutely no randomness was the exact definition of my day until around 5pm, where everything went exactly opposite as planned.

I was walking through the park, planning to go home and begin cooking, having everything ready by six thirty. That was the plan, and, of course, it was later thrown out the window for other priorities (this usually got me a snicker, the word choice of "priorities," but I usually pretend I didn't hear them. The word itself was the best word for the job and other choices i.e. desires, wants, etc. were not going to be used for obvious reasons). I recall the park as having a light spring breeze and the beginning sunset causing a multi-colored light show through the sky. For a reason unknown to me even now, I couldn't help but notice everything around me: the children playing on the swings, the friends hanging by the vending machines, and the mothers sitting on benches discussing whatever they discuss. Though it was only was five in the afternoon, the sun was reaching the horizon, planning to set in a mere hour. The shadows were playing with the kids as they helped each child measure how far he could jump off the swings. I wonder if the kids were trying to touch the shadows or if the shadows were trying to touch the kids… perhaps they met halfway. For whatever reason, I was in a philosophical mood, though that didn't last long after I saw her.

Glancing around at all the trees, I continued walking down the gravel path. Suddenly, as though something was out of place, I stopped and looked around. An orange color caught my eye in a sea of green. I focused on the spot and soon identified the orange to be a jacket, and the jacket to be connected a girl who looked about my age, who was leaning against the trunk of a large willow tree near the back of the park. She seemed to be fast asleep with her bag at her side and her head falling onto her shoulder. Her hair covered her face and was speckled with either grass or leaves, from the where I was standing it was hard to tell. One of her arms was positioned across her stomach while another was resting on the grass next to her. Though I couldn't make out her face, I was interested nonetheless. Why would she be here? She's must have been there for over an hour… what was she doing? She seemed to have no reason to be at the park. Why, I wondered, was she there? Was she waiting for someone? Where were they?

So though it pains me to say this, I ditched my stuff next to a nearby tree, took up a bench and made it my task to stare at her intently (cue more chuckles from my audience, at my expense naturally). I convinced myself that I would leave in a few minutes and go on home, considering it was almost six. I attempted to convince myself that I was only there to fulfill my curiosity about the situation and that I had no ulterior motives. This may have been so for a while, perhaps until I saw her face. For some reason, she moved and suddenly I could see her face. One thought ran through my mind that second: crap!

I stiffened. I really didn't expect to see her here, and to tell the truth? I didn't want her to see me staring at her like a lost dog. Though I say that I didn't want her to see me, it really was, looking back, the only thing I wanted; for her to recognize me, outside of school, as someone to care about, someone to notice; that was, sadly, my goal. Of course, I made sure that this was always left out of the retellings: it was not something that I want going around. But now that I recognized her, I was even more intrigued about why she was here at this time of the day. If I remember correctly, she lived quite near here (for some reason beyond me, I always get called a stalker when I say that I knew she lived near by). Why fall asleep here if your home was nearby? I just, sadly, kept watching.

By now, the park area was becoming more disserted. The mothers have left with their children, the shadows now owned the park, and the lights were just flickering on. Looking around, I noticed that a group of boys over by the vending machine, her, and I were the only ones left. The wind was no longer blowing, and the rustling of the leaves ceased. It was like time stopped for there was no change in the area for a few minutes. But time never stops, and per usual, it continued.

Something – whether it was good or bad, I'm still not sure—happened. The friends who were by the vending machine apparently took the initiative and started walking in the general direction of the girl. At first I thought it was just coincidence, but I was soon corrected. There was no doubt; they were walking towards her. I tried to convince myself that they were friends or that there was no issue to worry about. However, the longer I watched, the more I knew with certainty: these guys meant bad business. So I responded.

So that's how it came to this action, which I never expected of myself. My actions were completely justified. I mean, what can I do if she's sitting there, defenseless, almost asking for someone to advance on her? It's not my fault that my body has the sudden urge to make her feel safe and protect her until the end of time, naturally meaning that my course of action had to be this one. What can I do if others act? What can I do but respond? I can't control hormones, other people's actions, my feelings… so really, it's not my fault, or at least, I'll convince myself that it isn't.

Sad, isn't it?

Well, I acted anyway, picking up my stride so I will be at the girl ten seconds before the guys. I am still amazed how I managed to not look at them once while I was walking towards the tree. I approached the tree and squatted down next to her. For the first time today, I realized, I was looking right at her. This would be a bad time for her to wake up with me staring at her right in the face and all…. Still, in a time of peril, I couldn't help admiring her beauty, impulses telling me to touch her face. Of course, once the thought came into my mind, it refused to go away. Only the repeated reminders of the boys (and how idiotically I was acting) got me to take my ideas and store them in the far corners of my mind (for later use, of course).

I noticed the group was coming closer, so I closed my eye, took a deep breath, and spoke. "Huh… so that's where you were all this time." I spoke as if I had the slightest idea of what I was doing, which definitely was not the case. I noticed that the group halted when they saw me go up to her and speak. By then, I was leaning down next to the smaller girl, desperately trying to wake her up: we had a better chance if we were both awake. I tapped her on the head a few times and spoke aloud. "Ah… she fell asleep again. Come on, wake up already." I tried to hide the nervousness and anxiety in my voice, acting as calmly as possible. I doubt it worked, because the boys somehow had made the decision to come up to us both. I pretended I didn't see them and picked up her bag and put it on my shoulder.

"How 'bout you ladies join us for a drink?" The tallest boy said arrogantly. He was over six feet tall, easily towering over me. He had a short cut hair and a shirt that was illegible but had a half-naked woman on the front and I wasn't sure that I wanted to know what was on the back. His friends were all relatively fit and I knew there was no way in hell I could win in a fight… yet I needed to get out of this, for her sake. Come on; think… what I could say to get of this mess….

It happened at the exact same moment; she woke up and I came up with an idea. She blinked a few times and everyone's attention was instantly on her. She looked around at the people huddled around her, let out a yawn, and then muttered something completely incoherent and incomprehensible. She seemed to be falling asleep again, so I spoke quickly, attempting to have her realize the severity of the situation. "You fell asleep again at the park. Come on, we're late."

She looked up at me and started to say something then got kind of drowsy again. I looked up at the boys, who were on edge. They looked between themselves and the girl who was slowly, but surely, waking up. Then, in my attempt to escape, I put my idea into action. I looked at the boys and said, "Sorry about this. We were going to meet at the park and then go home, but as you can see, she fell asleep again."

I quickly glanced at my watch for effect and continued, "Shoot. We're late. We were expected fifteen minutes ago." A pause, I started lifting her up. As a final thought, I turned around, back to the guys and said politely, "We got to hurry home so we'll have to take up your offer another time. Come on," I muttered as I finally pulled her up. We started to walk away, leaving the guys to themselves. I went to the tree and grabbed my stuff, adding it to my back along with her bag.

Together we walked out of the park, me supporting her on my shoulder. I was too scared to look back at the boys, afraid they were going to be following us or something. Not looking back, we could only move forward. As we were walking, she began to wake up. Slowly getting off my shoulder and walking on her own. However, she still was falling asleep mid-step, so I found it easiest just to drag her along with me. When we got to the first major intersection, I looked at her and asked where her house was. She point in the general direction and we walked.

I finally got the courage to look back and was relieved to find that the group was not following us. Until then, I didn't notice how fast I was walking out of fear, so we instantly slowed down. It was then that I realized that I was holding her hand and how soft and warm it was. Suddenly, as my age just hit me in the face, I turned red from the recognition that I was holding her hand. When we were nine or so this may have been acceptable, but at sixteen, it was no longer normal for two girls to walk hand and hand down a street together. A strong, awake voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"This is my house." She looked at me with a smile on her face. I let go of her hand, now knowing that she had obviously been awake for a while. Though my hand instantly missed the warmth, I mentally told it to deal with it.

Awkwardness felt the need to linger in the air, allowing a space in time that was filled with silence. Unsure of what to say, I scratched my head and attempted to end the day with a normal sounding phrase: "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

I should have known that by now "normal" was thrown out the window, and the response I should expect would be anything but my desired "normal". She delivered of course.

Though my listeners hate it and they just know something else must have happened, I always leave out the ending of this day in my retellings. To this day, other than her, nobody knows of anything past "I'll see you tomorrow," and I would love to keep it that way. I make no mention of her response, "Bye, my prince"; no mention of her bold action, her kissing me on the cheek; no mention of my very bright red face, which was no doubt emitting all my body heat. I never mention anything of the sort. It saves me a lot of teasing, blushing, and stuttering; the three things I would rather avoid if at all possible.

Then again, if the truth ever did come out, I would always have my (and the majority of the teenage population's) fall-back excuse: My hormones made me do it.

FINE