In this little bit, I try my hand at the oh so revered crack pairing, MasqueradexRuno! I hope I am not infringing upon CloneGirl's domain, and if I am, I apologize. Anyway...
Disclaimer: Cocoacharm15 does not own any of characters mentioned or Bakugan in general.
Starstrukk
At four o'clock exactly, every afternoon, Runo would walk down Main Street, carrying a bag of groceries for the restaurant.
At four-oh-one exactly, a flirtatious whistle would distinguish itself from the cacophony of city life and echo in her ears.
At four-oh-two exactly, she would glower, let out a volley of unladylike words, and stomp off in the direction of her house.
Five minutes after four, a blonde head would peek out from an alley, whistling again as he watched the swing of her hips, and disappear back into the darkness with a chuckle when he heard her resentful scream.
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Routine demanded it. Runo abhorred it.
The same route yielded the same results everyday. It was expected—the whistles, the coyness—but she never tried taking another path home. She would not change. If anyone was backing down, it would have to be him.
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She knew.
He knew.
Everyone knew.
It was no secret that he was the one. He made no effort to hide it. Their tug-of-war relationship could not be hidden by petty lies and clandestine rendezvous. But no matter how much it was pointed out to them, each one would vehemently deny any claim of attraction toward the other.
For them, that was simply how it worked.
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At seven thirty he walks into the restaurant, smirking incessantly and seating himself in a booth.
Twenty-five minutes later she steps out of the kitchen only to offer him a glare.
One more minute passes and he whistles loudly.
In the span of another minute, she slams down his usual order on the table–the one he never touches–and gives him an aggravated stare, communicating the usual message. You know that doesn't work with me, the whistling and the flirting.
His smirks disappears, and in that same minute, while they stare at each other, he catches the way her heated glare turns into a dreamy gaze tinted with sadness, knowing his reaction. We were never in love.
He basks in it for a minute, pulling up the smirk again, the mask over his mask. L-O-V-E is just another word I never learned to pronounce.
At eight o'clock, she yanks the door open, showing him the way out, announcing, to his mild surprise, "L-O-V-E is not what I want."
Well, there you go. How is my writing? Let me know in a review~!
Cocoacharm15