I didn't think I'd get anything written for Valentine's Day, but inspiration has a way of sneaking up on you... and forcing you to stay up until 3 AM.

This isn't a typical fluffy one-shot like you'd expect, but I do find it romantic in its own subtle way.

Pairing: Scarlett/Max

Disclaimer: I do not own Total Drama.

As the people move around on the fairground, I cannot help but be reminded of ants. The city's holiday festivals are easy to look down upon from my bedroom window; thankfully, my parents stopped pressuring me to attend several years ago. Aside from a scientific curiosity in the event, I have never wished to be a part of any Valentine's Day traditions.

I watch the people move about in their red and pink clothing, exchanging chocolate and teddy bears, playing their ridiculous games… An entire holiday dedicated to the grandest myth of all: love. Strange how an emotion of supposed goodness so often turns the sane mind sour.

I suppose I can see the glamor in the idea of romance, though it isn't something I find personally desirable. It can certainly be convenient to have someone loyal by your side, bound to you through a cause greater than yourself… Fate, the gods, the soul… Of course, reality is blander than that.

A noise somewhere in the distance distracts me. I turn back to check that my bedroom door is locked (it is) and return my gaze out the window to the Valentine's Day Festival…

A pair of teenagers is hiding behind a haystack, lips locked repulsively. A middle-aged couple is fighting near some kind of ski-ball type of game. An elderly couple holds hands as they walk side-by-side, starry-eyed as new lovers, sharing a cotton candy. I know exactly how each relationship began, as at its core, every romance is the same.

Boy meets girl. They each notice attractive physical attributes. The automatic urge within them, sexual arousal, brings their lips together. Many members of the human race take sexual arousal as evidence of love, which causes empty relationships closer to infatuation than anything else. Even non-psychopathic humans will agree with me there. The sad thing is, even "true love" is nothing more than a strong infatuation.

The phenomenon is nowhere near as fascinating as humans would like to believe. In actuality, love is a biological reaction to assist in the breeding process. A social construct adds no value to human relationships. It is―

"Scarlett!" someone is screaming. I ignore it. Where was I? Ah, yes, true love.

Let's say two people meet, find each other attractive, and decide to act on that arousal by spending time together. As they speak to each other, she realizes his personality is also very attractive to her. He can say the same. This sparks the chemical reaction that lesser minds have naively interpreted throughout the centuries as "falling in love". And from what I have noticed of others' relationships, things like charm, musical talent, and physical beauty tend to reign supreme over all.

And that is romantic love: a fluffed-up exaggeration of an evolutionary desire. So when you celebrate an anniversary, a wedding ceremony, or a superfluous holiday like Valentine's Day, you are no more special than the trillions of life forms who have been foolish enough to fall for this trickery.

"Scarlett! Where are you?!"

My entire life, I have operated under logic. The only laws I would never break are the ones of science. There are absolute truths of the universe, and one that I have always held in high esteem is the myth of love. The fact that any such feelings are falsehoods created by the body's desire to preserve the species. I am fortunate that I can see the world as it truly is, without empathy or emotion to blur my vision.

I am a superior being. I say this not from arrogance or narcissism, but from black-and-white fact. My IQ cannot be measured accurately by current tests. My parents have only refused to let me skip grades for fear of hindering my social development―counselors say I could've been in college by age 12 if it weren't for them. I am the start of a beautiful disaster for the human race, and when I rise to power, the beings I have been forced into contact with will be only an afterthought of my magnificence. I was born better than the troglodytes who cling to their myth of love. And yet…

"Are you in your room?!"

And yet…

"Scarlett! I demand to see you this instant!"

The shrill voice brings a sneer to my face and a twist to my chest. Few people ever seek me out―and only one boy would dare call out my name.

"Come in, Max."

I listen to him fumble with my doorknob. He starts pounding on it, gasping as though he's never encountered a locked door in his pathetic life.

"What is this trickery?" he exclaims. "Scarlett! Your door is broken!"

Taking my time, I rise from my desk chair and stroll to the door. He scratches at it like a puppy whose master has just returned home. I pause for a moment with my hand on the knob, enjoying the sounds of his distress.

"Let me in!" he whines. "Scaaarrrlleeett! Let me iiiiin!"

"Calm down first." I don't let my smile seep into my words. "I don't want you getting overly excited and tearing up my room."

"What does that mean, woman?! I am always calm!"

"You have five seconds before I revoke your access to my room entirely." My smile widens.

Curious how such a small thing can affect him so much. Slowly, I hear him calming down, the scratching fading out. I finally open the door, raising an eyebrow as I look down on my purple-haired cohort.

Unlike the horny teenagers at the fairground, I see no desirable physical traits in my companion. Max stands about five feet tall, his fat arms crossed in a huff. Black eyes stare up at me from his chubby, pouting face, his skin so pale that it has acquired a slight grey tint.

"You amuse no one but yourself!" he huffs.

"I don't try to. It's obvious that you are the amusing one in our duo."

"I know." He smiles, but it falters slightly. "Wait. Was that a thinly veiled insult?"

"Wouldn't an evil genius such as yourself be smart enough to see if I were insulting you?" He never hears the sarcasm in my voice. Before he can thank me for the false compliment, I ask, "What do you want?"

He blinks rapidly, again reminding me of a puppy. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Why are you in my house, Max?" I say it slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"Oh! Right." He tries to put on an heir of superiority; Max's attempts to be taken seriously are always amusing. "Well, perhaps you're unaware, but today is Valentine's Day."

Something about the way he says it… "I am aware of the holiday."

"Well, my family can be rather annoying around this time, so I thought I would spend time with you rather than them." He walks over to my desk, pulling up the chair he always uses during his visits. Folding his hands on his lap casually, he looks at me with an overly serious face that only serves to make him seem more childish. "While the lesser minds drone on about romance and hearts, I figured I would spend the day with a fellow evil mind. Someone who, like me, has their priorities in order."

Coming from a normal person, the implication would be that he's asking me to be his "valentine". Thankfully, this is Max.

"You just automatically assume I have no romantic plans?" I try to sound offended, but the words almost make me laugh.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Scarlett! We both know how you feel about… romance." He clears his throat and turns toward the window. "You've always been perfectly clear of it. The true shock is that a handsome, illegible bachelor such as myself is single on this day."

I don't correct his mistake, because he never learns anything. "You are the most self-righteous guy I have ever met, Max."

"Thank you. Now let us get to work, fräulein. It is time to evil!" And he turns dramatically in the chair, examining the blueprints on my wall.

I watch his eyes trail over my hard work, straining and squinting. The way his eyebrows knit and his stare stays steady… It's as though he genuinely wants to understand the magnitude of what lay before him. Never before have I seen this look on Max's face. Usually he'll toss aside the things he doesn't understand, labeling them "dumb" and "broken". Perhaps he is doing this now to feign intelligence.

He turns absent-mindedly in my chair… I don't realize until now that he's the only one I let sit in it. The only one I let look at my projects before they're anywhere near completion. The only one I've ever allowed in my room.

"Gah, I wouldn't be having trouble with this if you had more readable handwriting!" Max insists. "You write like a cat!"

"I had no idea cats could write. Forgive me for my cursive," I snark, watching him look for a different plan to read.

"It isn't an easily forgiven thing! Most evil masterminds wouldn't put up with someone so aggravating. You're lucky I find you useful, fräulein."

That word… Max's nickname for me, replacing the far more infuriating "sidekick". I can see how the German word for "girl" is diminutive, but it just never sounded disrespectful to me. On the contrary: I have always enjoyed the sound of the German language, and it is quite humorous coming from someone half my height.

"…Scarlett?" He tries to keep his face blank, but his chunky hand starts to shake. It isn't an uncommon reaction to seeing me, though I'm unsure what provoked it in this case.

"Yes, Max?"

"You're looking at me funny." He stares at me with wide eyes.

"I hadn't realized." Suddenly, I recall the couples I've observed. The kids at my school, the couples at the Valentine's Festival, and even my own parents… Kissing, obnoxious, basking in the glow of their false-true love… Each of them follows the model of infatuation I have logically laid out. Biology, arousal, facts.

"Well, I must know why you're staring at me! Is there something on my face?" He pauses. "Answer me! I don't have time for your troubling games!"

This grey-skinned annoyance has no traits I find attractive. He has proven no use to me, and yet we've managed to grow closer than I ever thought possible. I hold no desire to be physically intimate with Max―the very thought of it baffles and repulses me―but here he sits. In my chair, in my room, on my mind. On Valentine's Day.

"I wasn't staring. I was mentally analyzing the ramifications of today's holiday, and you happened to be sitting near my window."

"…Oh. Good. I thought you were falling for peer pressure and going to ask me to be your valentine."

"Don't be ridiculous, Max. We both know what our relationship is."

"Indeed." He seems sure at first, but confusion settles into his features. "Um… And what exactly would you classify our relationship as? Just out of curiosity."

I can't hold back the smirk on my face. "Don't tell me you've fallen for me."

"I won't say it if you won't."

My eyebrow raises. Our eyes lock. I hadn't been expecting such an eloquent response; he seems proud of himself for even coming up with it. In that moment, there is a truth between us, an understanding and a revelation. Both of us know what's been implied, even if neither of us likes it. My heartbeat escalates as everything I've observed about the "myth of love" comes falling down around me.

He pretends to read my blueprints again, and I feign looking out the window. We will never say it out loud. It does not need to be said to be understood.