A/N: I know I'm a bit absent from the archive, but. Here's an unedited pile of mess. Thank you so much, Riri and Rikan for watching me write this on msn
"Ri-ma, you shouldn't lie down on unmarried men's beds like that," Nagihiko frowned, flipping the page. "It's like asking for a man to have his way with you."
"You'd know about that, wouldn't you, Nagihiko?" Rima told the ceiling, and Nagihiko nearly dropped his book. "N-no! Of course not! That's obscene!"
"You say that now, but in a few years, those hormones will just keep swimming, and you'll have these maniacal urges," Rima imitated her health class teacher in a flat monotone. "To stick your happy stick up some warm gooey pastry or whatever euphemisms they use nowadays, I wasn't listening."
"That's disgusting!"
"It's ," Rima told him, picking his alarm clock off his nightstand and fiddling with the hands.
"How do you even know I have a-" When met by Rima's incredulous eyes, he hastily amended himself. "Joking!"
"Thought so, Nadeshiko."
"Can we change the subject, please?" Nagihiko hissed, and Rima's eyes casually flicked over to his bedroom door.
"I don't know, how long is Amu insisting on keeping us in here?"
"I-I don't know," he said feebly, and the short girl threw him a glower. "Then you're useless. I'm hungry."
"Too bad. I don't have food."
Nagihiko was getting slightly irritated by her- sure, she was cute and small and adorable but she was a spoiled brat.
Why did Amu even lock them in here, anyway?
He dimly remembered her yelling something all sternly about "resolving their differences!" and running off to go flirt with Tadase or whatever.
Burying his head in his hands, he heard Rima get off his bed and the slight rattle of wood.
"How is she even keeping sliding doors shut, anyway? Is it even possible to lock them?"
"I don't think so, no," Nagihiko replied, looking up. Traditional Japanese people clearly didn't have burglars. She attempted to move it for a nanosecond, before giving up and sitting on the floor.
"Nagihiko. Make yourself useful and try to move it," she ordered, giving her the most commanding slave-driving stare she could muster, and Nagihiko grumpily stood up, stepping over her legs. "I'll try."
"Trying isn't good enough, Fujisaki."
"What are you, a military teacher-" he grunted and tried his best to slide it and suddenly, it shifted open an inch; Rima leapt up, but the door refused to move any further. Pressing one eye to the junction of the two screens, he let out in a growl: "She jammed the slider path."
"Why is Amu-chan even doing this to me," she grumbled, sitting back on the floor and pulling her legs to her chest. Nagihiko tried and failed to come up with a way to comfort her.
"Uh, something about resolving our differences, I was too busy panicking to listen to whatever crap she was screaming."
Rima snorted humorlessly.
"It's not a bad idea, you know," Nagihiko uttered. "I don't know why you hate me so much."
"Because."
Nagihiko stared.
"Because you're too perfect." Rima stared at her knees.
Nagihiko lost his balance for a minute, catching himself on the wall. "Sorry, I just hallucinated, what did you say?"
"Are you deaf? I said you're too perfect. Amu loves perfect people like you and Hotori and she's never going to notice me, ever, unless I eliminate you."
"But you're not going after Tadase."
"- Because he keeps fanboys away," she said dismissively, before resuming her grumbling.
"Amu gets stupid perfect people and who do I get? I get stupid imperfect fanboy stupid people who are all Oooh Rima-sama I love you Rima-sama." Standing up, she demanded, "Do have a Go board or something?"
Was it just him? Nagihiko wondered idly to himself. Or was she slightly red?
"No, we don't, firstly and secondly-"
"Wow, what do you do in this place, then?"
"- AND SECONDLY-"
Nagihiko fixed her with a stare. "Why are you whining about people who are so devoted to you? It's a wonderful feeling to be in love."
"Love? That isn't love, that's puppy-like devotion." Rima's nostril lifted lightly in a sneer. "Love is for humans who are desperate for an emotional vent. Love is for people like you."
"That's me," Nagihiko replied dully. "The emotional vent."
"It's naive and moronic and so you," Rima replied scornfully, for once looking him straight in the eye. For some reason, Nagihiko's adrenaline levels surged.
"What's so me? To believe the best in humans? To think that we're not all out for self-preservation like you?" Nagihiko demanded, gritting his teeth, and immediately regretting the words the minute they flew out of his mouth. She had done nothing but treat him like dirt beneath his shoe all year, but that was no excuse to be rude to a lady-
"Sor-" he started, and she cut him off. "Call it self-preservation if I'm never going to wear my heart on my sleeve and let it get stabbed."
"Liar," he blurted out, and her eyes widened.
"Did you just- how da-"
"You're afraid to wear your heart on your sleeve because you're afraid somebody's going to take your heart."
"Who'd be dumb enough to do that?" She raised an eyebrow, mumbling softly under her breath, "You?"
Nagihiko almost stopped, brain working at breakneck pace, deciding slowly that she hadn't meant it that way.
"It'd be dumb for me to want you? That's not dumb, it's selfless and not as far-fetched as you might think," the taller boy replied, trying to keep his voice level. With regret, he noted that his hands were shaking slightly.
It was so quiet, the whirr of a fan could be heard several rooms over; Nagihiko could hear the trees rustling uneasily outside.
"Want me," Rima murmured, focusing on the floor. "'Want' is a selfish emotion for children," she shrugged, turning on her heel slowly and staring out the window. "All-consuming, selfish desire. I get enough of that. I thought I made myself clear that it's just not good enough."
"And I thought I made it clear enough that unless you drop that icy exterior, nobody's going to let their selfish want blossom into something better," he laughed nervously, and he saw her back stiffen.
Nagihiko had meant to take a step forward, but Rima seemed to have had the same thing in mind as she turned around; grabbing his arm while he put a hand on her shoulder, they found themselves with their chests touching, the other's eyes at close proximity. Rima could feel his breath coming sporadically, almost panicked; his nails were digging into her shoulder as if her nerves had become extra sensitive and her heart was thudding in her chest like a drum.
Taking a deep breath, she stared expectantly up at him. "Go ahead, then."
"H-huh?" Dig, dig, dig. She was going to have marks on her back, but it didn't even hurt that much; just a dim burning on her shoulder that didn't matter.
"I said, go ahead, Nagihiko," a tiny hand grabbed at his collar, a simple motion of selfish want like a child would do. "You want me, isn't that right? Prove it."
Lips tentatively brushed against hers, and leaned into it greedily, fisting her fingers through his hair and wrapping an arm around his neck in a mock imitation of strangling; this was so wrong, so delightfully wrong, something that wasn't supposed to happen.
But at the same time, it was rather perfect, in a horribly ironic way; they clashed and didn't fit together, but they forced it anyway, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces that you force side-by-side with your fingers.
It was messy, too messy, it wasn't the perfect Rima craved; there was tongues, and saliva, and raking fingernails on skin. Neither of them truly cared, because perfect was for people who didn't matter, and they'd take whatever they wanted in the most messy and imperfect ways possible.
Pulling apart with an obscene noise, a thin strand of saliva between their mouths, Nagihiko's eyes were met by a nearly identical, shocked pair hovering above flushed cheeks and a slightly open, panting mouth.
"Uh," Nagihiko said eloquently. Rima didn't say anything, just lifted an arm up and touched one of her shoulder blades.
"Bleeding," she said in a monotone.
"Sorry," he replied automatically.
"Didn't really hurt."
"Otherwise you would have complained," he replied.
"Yes."
"This isn't very romantic." He stiffened. "Was it supposed to be?"
He grabbed her shoulder silently, brushing her hair out of the way and planting a kiss on her cheek.
"That was disgustingly sappy."
"Nothing's good enough for you, isn't it?"
"You might make the cut if you take off your shirt."
"Ha ha ha, Rima, I didn't think you were capable of joki-"
"- I'm not joking," she said slowly, fingers brushing the hem of her skirt and tugging slightly.
A flash of understanding in his eyes, and a step forward. "You're too young."
"You're the same age as me."
"I'm too young, too."
"Age of consent," Rima reminded him, leaping up into his arms gracefully like a cat and wrapping her thin, doll-like legs around his waist.
"I can't, Rima," he said feebly, and he saw a flash of what lay beneath the ice queen persona; fiery anger rippled beneath the surface as she slipped a finger in between her legs, still on either side of his body.
"You're not going to-"
"If you're not." He saw the fingers moving, and he flushed a bright red. "D-don't do that-!"
Nagihiko grabbed her wrist, burying his nose into her neck and sighing. "Rima, you shouldn't rush it."
"Aren't we in love? Aren't we?" Rima demanded, almost whining and uncharacteristically grabbing his hair.
"Then you have to prove it-"
"It's obvious without physical evidence," Nagihiko said feebly, rather weary of emotional anecdotes.
Rima tended to have that draining effect on him, but he noticed her eyelids drooping.
"You seem exhausted."
"You're exhausting."
"I know, right," he laughed, hoisting her up higher and putting her down on his bed. "Just try sleeping and I'll try... calling Amu."
"You had your cell phone this entire time?" Rima demanded sleepily.
"She wouldn't pick up!" he replied defensively, flipping his phone out.
He felt the pad of her shoes on hardwood. "You are not calling her," she said in a deadly voice.
"Wh-wh-" the tiny blond girl took a step closer, grabbing the phone and flinging it against the screen; it tore a hole in the rice paper, clattering to the other side.
"RIMA-"
"Pay attention to me, not her," she hissed, clinging to his shirt. "Stupid."
"You're really too jealous and cling-"
"No, you're clingy. I just stake claims over what is mine."
"I'm yours? I think you have it backward. It's always the gu-"
"Sexist pig!" contrary to her statement, she grabbed one of his hands, needily twining their fingers together like vines; two very different vines, one long and thin and curling, the others short, stout and childish. Always different. Always imperfect. Always want.