A/N: Ah, yes. The inspiration struck me again. I randomly came up with the theme Repetitive and wrote this.
Enjoy :)
.:A Stroke of Luck:.
I'm really glad I met you.
The girls gossiped among themselves enviously and furiously as a certain redhead strode past them, her books clutched to her chest. Even the most stunning young ladies could not help but stare as the girl's subtle scarlet hair, smooth as velvet, swishing from side to side as she headed to her destination.
In all truth, she was nothing compared to them. Whenever they lined up for partners to dance with at parties, she would look so shabbily plain standing next to their sparkly gowns and fancy, extravagant hairstyles. She had nothing but a sleeveless pink dress with ribbons by the side. Her hair was just as it was—down and swaying. No makeup either—all she put on was a layer of lipstick, a stark contrast in comparison to their mascaras and blush powders.
If not for that little secret she held, she would've blended into the faded blue walls of the corridor, invisible to the eye of the well-known. But that didn't happen—the vast majority who had so blatantly said so had to hang their heads in complete shame and humiliation.
They would die to be in her position right now.
"She's such a lucky girl," the girls murmured and hissed, watching her pace up the steps to her secret place.
It had been so many months ago, right from the very beginning of the fresh school year in the pleasant spring breeze. She was just another transfer student from who-knows-where, bearing thick glasses on her heart shaped face as she aced her way to the top.
Out of nowhere, a bookworm-slash-genius had sprung from the ground. It was so sudden, it made the elites furious.
And so the epic drama began. The new girl was subject to the taunting, tormenting, and the mocking of her peers, while being left alone to cry by herself at the same time. No one dared to interject; no one opposed the cream of the crop. They were such hypocrites, playing innocent before the school board. The poor thing cried for weeks!
These tears mean nothing.
And so, she hid. Very skillfully, she made full use of her intelligence and calculated. Nothing was amiss in her formulas: the lunch line, the crowded spots of the hallways, the closest route to the restrooms, and the end times of lessons. No one was able to find her since that day. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was no fantasy story at all.
She became a mini-celebrity among the 'nerds and geeks'. No one could decipher what she was formulating with those red eyes beneath the thick glass of her spectacles.
She was rather quiet too. The person who sat next to her would think that the seat was empty till she spoke, firm and clear. It was astonishing, really. She came and went like the wind, vanishing like a wisp of dissolving smoke.
Some even doubted if she even existed, childishly assuming that she was the ghost of some brainy student. The harassing stopped as well, and the efforts put in to locate her were horribly futile.
Who could catch a shadow?
The rumors soon started to spread like delicate feathers in a strong gale. Gossipers came up with everything they could think of; even stating that one of her tormentors was her ex-boyfriend. These tales were like candy: sweet, but not very nutritive. They gave up after a month of silence—she didn't even attempt to go against their allegations. These things weren't at all important, and they didn't deserve anything.
She had already found someone to hold on to as she cried—a person to cuddle with to comfort her, someone who loved her as much as she did.
There were plenty of people to look up to in the school. Len Kagamine had both brains and brawn (though it was hidden beneath his… feminine features), and was respected by all. Mikuo Hatsune was a joker; he often entertained the class with his corny lines and witty comebacks against the exasperated teachers. Gumi Megpoid was a skateboarding champion, and Yuki Kaai excelled in cooking.
Among all these people was him. He was an athlete, someone who could hold his liquor, and was known for not having a girlfriend. He was silver haired Piko Utatane. He topped nearly everyone in terms of sports, and was constantly pestered by charming girls who wanted a gorgeous hunk at their side.
He would excite his comrades each time they spotted him with a girl, only to disappoint them by coming back the next day walking all alone. He even rejected girls who had supermodel potential by saying simply, "I'm just not ready to be in a relationship. I'm sorry." He had earned the titles 'Heartbreaker' and 'Iron Nut'. No one ever heard of a girl who had managed to get close to him in that sense.
It reached his ears that there was a new transfer student who would be enrolling the next year, and searched as soon as spring came. He never had the privilege of getting the slightest glimpse of her, however.
"It's as if a ghost enrolled here," he humorlessly muttered after a tiring day of mundane lessons. He had decided to head up to the library for his 'me time', which comprised of reading thick novels till the sun set. It was his the small thing that threatened his reputation: what kind of star athlete read books?
He had his own place in the library too—it was a little corner at the very back of the maze-like facility, where only bookworms and nerds managed to find. (They never really bothered him.)
From there, he would pick out books from the nearest shelf, reading each one till he had practically skimmed through the entire bookcase. The cycle would repeat as he absorbed all sorts of information until he was too exhausted from the minute streams of words flashing before his eyes. That was how Piko had become one of the 'Elites'.
Piko had been doing this for almost his entire high school life, or as far as he could remember. He had been rather shy and clammed up at the beginning of the rough journey, till a good friend came up to him, joking about what a "handsome nerd" he was. He could so vividly recall the amount of red in his face from the compliment.
He had faked confidence and pride as he greeted the rest of his classmates, among them girls who couldn't get their eyes of him. Confusion melted away into awkwardness, then into realization. From there, true confidence blossomed, like a late yet beautiful flower. He got even more attention since then.
"Every day feels the same, it's so boring…" He grumbled quietly to himself as he easily navigated the vast bookshelves and tables. Each day that passed, it felt like some déjà vu, replaying like an old video, over and over again. It was boring to be all alone, but he couldn't help it: he just didn't see girls the way his hormonal buddies did. ("You really need a life, bro," one of them had said.)
His ears soon caught the faint crisp sound of turning pages, indicating that someone was there, getting comfortable in his little area. Piko shuddered. Could it be a stalker?
He had been caught by his admirers before, and he didn't want to experience it again.
Oh, what the hell. I might as well get this over with… Here goes… One, two three!
Instead of a rabid fan girl, Piko was greeted by the most beautiful scarlet hair he had ever seen.
And then I met her.
Miki Sakurano was minding her own business at a quaint corner of the library. It was the only place she could go, after all. It seemed that wherever she went, the eyes of people would bore into her soul, trying to scratch and damage whatever was left of her. It hurt so much…
She was glad the library had such a convenient spot for her to enjoy her solitude in. it was almost coincidental; as if it was made just for her.
But there was only one little problem…
An angry scowl bent her pink lips down from the straight line they were in as a boy came and took the seat across her, pretending to read his novel. He never really did a good job covering up his actions—she felt his eyes on her every fifteen minutes. It was annoying, really.
No one likes to be watched while reading, right? It was not the first time either.
Like what she had done each time, she opened her mouth and hissed, "Go away, you white-haired freak." Miki gave him her perfected death glare, a skill she had obtained when she faded into the shadows.
And, like what he always did, he happily replied, "I think I'm fine here, thank you very much." He returned her anger with a cheerful goofy grin, flashing his white teeth.
Though this silver (or was it white?) haired stranger didn't notice, Miki was secretly counting the number of times he came to her, tapping her finger once on the wooden desk as soon as she saw his curved cowlick peek out from the nearby bookshelf.
He smiled. "I'm back, redhead."
Tap. It was the fortieth time her nail made contact with the firm mahogany. Ten times four, four times ten. Eleven times four, then minus four. Miki's ruby orbs watched his every move with the usual wariness till he sat down. Only then did she deem it right to continue with her book.
"Say, why do you always do that?" He asked, leaning on the chair and frowning thoughtfully. "Do you hold some kind of grudge for me or something?"
She never really paid attention to him. After what felt like an eternity, he got the message and sighed in defeat, resuming his routine of staring at her till she glared.
"You know, it kinda feels like I've known you for a long time." He said philosophically, grinning from ear to ear as she glowered at him. "The way you're retaliating isn't helping either," he added cheekily, gently touching one of her free hands resting on the table.
She withdrew it immediately, scowling even more.
"Gee, now that I think about it, you're not like most girls," he murmured thoughtfully, his eyes not leaving her as he supported his head with his hand and elbow. "Not many of them wear glasses."
"Thanks for the compliment, Sherlock," Miki answered sarcastically. "It took you quite some time for you to figure that out."
He feigned a look of hurt. "My name is Piko Utatane, if you must know."
"Sure, whatever you say," she huffed back.
Strangely, she didn't move when he touched her hand again. Except this time, he was actually holding it.
It felt so warm.
It had taken weeks for her to actually form a full sentence and actually talk to him. Most of the time, she curtly answered with monosyllabic words like "Yes" or "No". Whenever she was on her period (or what he thought was her period), she would shoot back fiercely with a "Shut up" or "Whatever", emphasis on 'ever'.
Piko was persistent, and was rewarded for it as she asked, "What's up, Pickles?"
Well, it wasn't really his name, but still…! He could've sworn he saw her lips curl at the corner. It grew wider and wider, till she was broadly smiling. Her shyness got in the way though and she turned away from him, hiding her face behind a thick encyclopedia.
She looked even more stunning when she smiled.
His heart beat twice the usual rate that day.
It's indescribable.
Piko grew stiff as he approached the table. It was empty.
It was day number fifty, and she wasn't there.
All he could do was to miserably bury his face in the pages of a random book, straining his ears to pick up her footsteps.
He went home, watching the sun sink into the mountains as his lips quivered.
She didn't come.
No one is an island.
"Hey, you're back!" Piko chirped as he spotted the redhead at the desk. He plopped himself down onto his chair, but stopped short as he got a better look.
Her face was covered by her pale hands and she was making little hiccup noises. Her black-rimmed spectacles were neatly folded and were lying on the tabletop.
She was crying.
Instantly, Piko got up and rushed to her side. "Miki, what's up?" He queried, taking her face in his own hands. He nearly jumped as the girl lowered her hands to reveal sore, puffy eyes. "Hey, you can just tell me. We're friends, right?"
I'll rip off the limbs of whoever did this to her.
"H-have you heard of the s-school dance?" She choked, wriggling free from his touch. Piko nodded in reply. It was the main topic of practically every student, the little details littering the hallways and classrooms, coming mostly from the girls.
Piko frowned. He had been on the girls' spotlight too, and was subject to constant begging and pestering from the females who so desperately wanted to go with him. Heck, even nerds were brave enough to approach—whoever went out with the school's top athlete would gain popularity, not to mention the special privileges of being respected instead of taunted.
In addition, he didn't have a girlfriend. To them, they all had an equal chance of reeling him in: it was just a matter of time till he cracked.
"What's wrong with the dance? It's an occasion when you can really have fun," Piko reasoned gently, stroking Miki's heart-shaped face.
This only made the girl bitterer. "A couple of girls in my class made fun of me," she sobbed. "T-they said I didn't even d-deserve to come because I was so u-ugly!" As she said that, she dropped her head on the table, folding her arms around her face as she continued to weep.
"What are they talking about?" Piko asked incredulously. "What are you talking about? You don't look ugly or plain to me, Miki. I don't think you're hot either. I think you're beautiful." He had a tiny smile in his voice.
Miki raised her head. "Y-you're just saying that t-to be nice…"
Sighing, Piko grabbed her face and made her face him. "That won't change my opinion." He took a deep breath and repeated, "Miki, you're beautiful."
"If you really t-think so, prove it."
Piko sighed again. "I wouldn't do this if you weren't pretty…" He leaned in and captured her lips in one swift motion.
Something coursed through him like a crashing wave on the shore. He relished the feeling of her supple lips, warm and heavenly. He could feel fireworks explode inside him as pure delight bubbled in his chest. He had been waiting for this for so long; it gave him a sense of achievement, too.
And from the way she was moaning and sighing against him, he could tell that she didn't object to the kiss either.
As they pulled away, he collected her into his arms in a warming embrace.
"I love you," he whispered.
Heads turned as a couple stepped gracefully onto the dance floor, calmly weaving their way through the masses to get a drink.
"Hey, check out that girl's ass."
"Whoa, she's hot!"
"Oh em gee! Who the hell is she?"
"Look, Piko's with her!"
"That's amazing! How did she get him?"
"That's not fair!"
No one could recognize the elegant young lady who was accompanying Piko as they twirled around the dance floor. No one could object or protest as they danced away without a care in the world. No one knew who she was.
Everything fell silent as Piko leaned down to kiss the mysterious girl. The boys cheered enthusiastically with cat-calls while the girls sighed and wept.
The two headed to a secluded spot, a quiet corner of the school hall, giggling and smiling.
Piko admired his partner's silky pink dress, which was sparkling in the moonlight. It complimented her milky skin and gorgeous hair. He couldn't say much about himself in comparison to her.
He laughed at the thought. Girls have always been able to dress up, haven't they?
"What's so funny?" The girl asked, arching an eyebrow. She glanced at her fancy outfit and sighed. "I knew this dress didn't fit me! Oh, why did you have to bring me along?" She continued with her adorable rant, flailing her arms in pure embarrassment till Piko gently embraced her from behind.
He breathed onto her neck. "It's alright, Miki. You look fine." He played with a lock of her hair and chuckled. "See, no one even recognizes you with your glasses."
"Y-you really think so?"
"Cross my heart."
No one will hurt you anymore, because…
"Piko, why don't you come with us? We're so much prettier than her." A girl came up to Piko, winking seductively while her friends eyed him hungrily. Their eyes held certain contempt for the redhead beside him.
He hated that.
"No, no," Piko started, draping his arm over Miki's shoulders protectively. "She's my girlfriend now. I'm taken." He grinned at the thought as Miki flushed red beside him, twiddling her thumbs in embarrassment.
"Wh-what?" The girl stuttered, stepping back. "How can you possibly date a nerdy girl like her? You deserve so much better than that, Utatane!"
"She's not nerdy," Piko defended firmly, shutting them up instantly. "Miki, take off your glasses and show them."
The spectacles that had been the shield to protect her from the world slid off her face, revealing her sparkling rubies as light pooled in them.
Gasps were elicited.
Piko shrugged. "Well, I guess you know now. Let's go, Miki." He accepted the redhead's grip on his arm as they strode off, relishing in pride and joy.
I love you with all my heart.
They didn't care about the school press or the newspaper as their names appeared in the headlines in capital letters. They didn't care when the malicious gossipers spread the word in pure envy and hatred. They didn't mind the mini celebrations as Piko's friends cheered and rooted for them down the hallway.
In the end, though, only a select few knew how the school's most famous couple met. Miki would often shake her head, close her eyes and smile gently, preventing the interrogations. Piko merely laughed and shrugged whenever people came up to him for the story.
Now, Miki was the most-wanted girl. No one dared to bully or harass her. The male population of students admired her blooming confidence, matching with her stunning hair and eyes. She was a role-model and inspiration for victims of taunting.
Piko no longer held the title 'single', and never once regretted his decision. The secretive side of him was gone, and he now enjoys company with others in the library together with Miki. ("You know, he seems a little bit happier now," others would say when they spotted him.)
Anyone would die to trade places with either one of the couple.
"She's such a lucky girl," the girls would sigh sadly as Miki skipped gleefully past them. They were right about that, because they were nothing compared to her.
A/N: I hope I didn't use too many line breakers. The events just happen, you know?
Microsoft word count: approximately 3, 242 words.
Thanks for reading this all the way. Do leave feedback with your thoughts :)
~Jelly-O