It's Not Even My Birthday... Or Is It?
By Saltwater Romance


Prologue


"I don't know how else to tell you this, but my hair is purple," he stammered, staring wide-eyed into the reflection. Not that he was particularly vain about his appearance. It's just that when he allowed himself to be her guinea pig, he hadn't expected this as a result.

"Don't be ridiculous," she waved her hand, "It's silver."

He blinked. How could he delicately break the news to her that she was colorblind or missing brain cells? Maybe even both.

Ignoring him, she smiled widely and gushed, "Don't you just love this? It's very Anderson Cooper-esque! Only… Fluffier! And you're way handsomer. No contest."

She ran her fingers through his hair as his mind reeled. His hair was purple. Purple. Purple.

And on a side note, Anderson Cooper has white hair. Not silver. Either way, was she trying to make him look like an old man? He pinched the bridge of his nose. At least he could rejoice in the fact that she failed—and turned him into the spitting image of a walking talking eggplant.

And how did he even let himself get into this mess?

Her doe eyes watered as she turned to face him, "Why aren't you saying anything? Don't you like it?"

Oh. That's right. That's how. He sighed. He was rendered useless whenever she gave him that hurt expression. Can you please watch my dog for the weekend? I'm not going anywhere, I just don't want her to vomit all over my carpet. Can you carry me? My feet hurt! Can I pierce your ears? I promise it won't hurt! (But it did and he ended up getting an infection). Can you please jump off a bridge? No reason, I just want to see you get critically injured and/or die.

"It's purple," he stubbornly stuck to his first opinion. Today would be day that he finally stood up to his bully! No more will those puppy eyes work on him!

"You're being silly," she laughed as if he told her the greatest joke ever, "It's silver."

"Mikan…"

"Let me blow-dry it for you, Mr. Colorblind," she grabbed the device, "For someone who can draw so well, you really can't tell your colors huh?"

It took no longer than five minutes, and sure enough, she was right. But still! Anderson Cooper has white hair, and not even she could change his mind about that!

She smiled triumphantly, "Don't you remember the color wheel? You need purple to neutralize the yellow. That's why your hair—when damp—looked purple. But it's totally silver! Now! Can I give you a Mohawk? It'll be super edgy! All the male models in Vogue have them!"

He looked at her.

And squinted his eyes to see if she was joking.

She wasn't, and she even began to make that face, "Ruka… First you doubted my hair-dying skills, and now you're doubting my abilities to make you look hot? Not that you aren't cute or anything. But trust me."

He sighed and surrendered.

Well, at least tomorrow was a new day.


He gritted his teeth as he squared his shoulders and made his way into the café he frequented quite often. He self-consciously touched his sunglasses, trying his hardest not to acknowledge the gawking that followed his every movement. The campus was overpopulated with boys that always wore polo shirts and khaki shorts and shiny watches and girls in oversized shirts and nonexistent shorts and Nike sneakers that cost more than his car—seriously.

He already stood out with his charcoal smudged plain white tee-shirts and faded blue jeans; now he had this hairstyle and color that made sure that anyone who overlooked his wardrobe couldn't help but notice his oddity.

Before he even opened the door completely, he heard a loud obnoxious chortle and a hoot, "What happened to you?"

"Mikan," he muttered and clenched his hands into fists.

His friend whistled low as Ruka came to sit across from him, "Dang, you have it bad!"

"Have what bad?" he asked, even though they both already knew the answer; they had this talk one too many times.

"A crush!" Tsubasa declared and pointed his finger accusingly as if the two of them were still in grade school, "You have a big ole crush on Mikan Sakura!"

"I really don't."

It wasn't his fault that he got stupid whenever she got teary-eyed. Blame chivalry and all that. There was nothing more that he hated than damsels in distress. And man, Mikan knew how to play that like a fiddle. If only he was strong enough to resist.

"You totally do! She can literally make you do anything that she wants!" Tsubasa refuted, "Remember the time when she pierced your ear and I had to take you to the hospital because it got so infected? And remembered what happened after that? She started crying, and you ended up apologizing! YOU! You should've made her pay those medical bills!"

How could he forget when it happened just last weekend?

Ruka shook his head, "You don't understand."

"I do! I totally do! You're unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Mikan Insert Middle Name Here Sakura!"

Ruka arched his eyebrow, "Why are you quoting Twilight?"

"How do you know that I'm quoting Twilight?" Tsubasa defended himself as the two glared at each other.

His friend broke the staredown first with a quick shake of his head, "Mikan's in your brain man! You need to get out of this vicious cycle!"

"I don't get why you're talking so negatively about her. Isn't she your friend too?"

"She is," Tsubasa nodded his head vigorously, "But I don't like seeing her taking advantage of you! Honestly, if we weren't friends, I would probably try to beat you up right now. Because you look like a fruit cup. A complete and utter fruit cup."

Ruka self-consciously ran his fingers through those spikes and said defensively, "I like it."

His friend could only stare, "You look like a nerdy prepubescent trying to look cool. You do remember those moves I taught you last week, right? Because they might save you from getting beaten up today."

"Quit being a drama queen," Ruka rolled his eyes, "Besides, Misaki thought that I looked very… 'bitable.' Her words, not mine."

Tsubasa winced, "That was low."

"Then stop talking about my friendship with Mikan and get serious. It's been ten minutes, and we haven't ordered anything! Should I get these blueberry muffins or a breakfast burrito?"

They didn't bother to look down at the menu, having been to this café for breakfast nearly every weekend for the past year. The coffee was already brought to the table without any preamble as the waitstaff was already familiar with their habits.

"Why not both?"

"I don't have enough."

"Why? Did you loan some cash to Mikan so she could go get some nail polish or something?"

"Stop," Ruka closed his eyes in frustration, "I'm not her dog. I'm not going to kill myself over her."

He heard a derisive snort.

"I mean it!"

"Just get the blueberry muffin, Ruka."

Ruka narrowed his eyes, knowing that Tsubasa diverted the subject to dismiss all of his refutes, not as an indication of defeat.

"May I take your order?" a girl approached with a blinding smile.

"Yes ma'am," Ruka glanced over at his friend and smirked, "May I have the waffles with a side of eggs?"

Point, check, and mate.


Author's Note: It takes place before Some Men are like Cockroaches and Maybe One Day. In deference to Hotaru's (and mine!) birthday month, I am hoping to finish this story by the end of October. Though I am in habit of beginning stories with no conclusions, I will strive to finish this trilogy. Perhaps along this journey, I will stumble across "my voice" instead of borrowing others' to tell narratives and increase my prowess as an author.