I like taking breaks from Beautiful, can't you tell? Inspired by my conversations with Dah-ling and Babe, and the song "Marching Bands of Manhattan" by Death Cab for Cutie. Dedicated to Babe, 'cause she likes "thoughtful" stuff... like my two-shot "Trapped", I suppose.
To Be Loved
Jounouchi-centric
Despite how clichéd this sounds: Contrary to popular belief, there have been girls in the past who have confessed to me. It's almost unbelievable because I'm what you would call a "bad boy", but they came to me anyway, and even today I still don't have a clue as to why.
I remember the first time a girl confessed to me; she told me she loved me.
I was only sixteen at that time, barely reaching the end of my first year in high school (1). She was a pretty one, too--long black hair, soft brown eyes, with a slender body and a cute personality. She was what would be considered the ideal Japanese wife-to-be, but something about her just didn't click with me. Maybe it was what she said to me.
"I love you."
Three little words, but those three little words seemed so wrong.
"You don't love me." I told her.
She got this really shocked, offended and depressed look when I said that to her, though, and appeared to be on the verge of tears.
"How can you say such a thing!?" She yelled at me, looking positively livid. I didn't understand why she was so angry.
"How can you tell me what I feel isn't what I feel!?"
But it was true. She didn't love me. How could she possibly have loved me when I never loved her back, when she hardly knew anything about me? I figured I could indulge her since she seemed so inclined to prove me wrong--or to just yell at me, really.
"Tell me why you think you love me."
It was my first confession. I had never gotten one before, and I wasn't used to dealing with girls like this. Lifting skirts to scare and anger them was something completely different; they were just too easy rile, and it was just too fun. Never did any of that have anything to do with like, or love, as that girl claimed.
"You're the most kind-hearted person that I've ever met, and I know that your bad boy exterior is just a cover up..."
Tch. What a lie. What a big fat lie. It sounded so clichéd, so sappy.
As if she knew me. How could she say it like she knew me better than myself? No one knew me better than I knew myself, yet she had stated things about me that were the truth (at that time, anyway) and she had said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.
It was frightening.
Terrifying, really--to have someone know you so well, but it couldn't be true.
"You don't love me."
When I said that the second time, I just wanted her to get away from me. Maybe she did love me in some delusional way, in which she had convinced herself that she really did indeed love me. Maybe. But the point was, I didn't love her back, so it never mattered whether she loved me or not.
She threw me a disappointed look before walking away. I smiled at her departing back fondly.
She didn't love me. She just thought she did.
---
To say I like Kaiba would probably be the most correct way to put it. My feelings were just that--like--a simple attraction. Yet, when faced with this attraction, I couldn't help but feel the need to tell him this. I had nothing to lose, really, and I just wanted it out of my system. I wasn't used to liking someone so it came to me as the most natural thing to do.
Sure, I've thought plenty of times, "That girl's hot" or "That guy's really handsome", but never had I liked them.
So I told him.
But it didn't come out the way I wanted it to be.
"I love you."
Kaiba had actually looked shocked when I told him that. If I hadn't been shocked myself by what I had blurted out, I would have laughed at his expression. Almost immediately though, he put back on his emotionless mask, no longer just screwing around with my head like he normally did. He was now a blank wall that I couldn't read at all.
"You don't love me."
He was right. I knew he was right. Love wasn't what I felt for him, but I couldn't help what came out of my mouth, and it didn't change the fact that his words stung. They were the truth after all.
What did I know about love?
Nothing.
And he knew it too.
It hurt to know.
But I couldn't stop myself.
"Don't tell me what I feel or don't feel, you jerk!"
Kaiba smirked at me, and I knew I was in for it.
"Humor me, bonkotsu(2). Why do you 'love' me as you so claim?"
Humor him, he said. God, what a jerk.
But I accepted his challenge anyway--just like the fool that I am.
Though what I said weren't exactly the most brilliant things to say.
"Because you care! You actually care about me! Else you would just ignore me! Why do you keep paying attention to me!?"
I knew I was just spouting nonsense, making things up as I went, and it all sounded so clichéd to my ears. It wasn't how I had wanted things to be. I just wanted to confess, be rejected and have that stupid 'like' thing over with.
Of course that didn't matter at all, not to him. Kaiba just had to choose to run things his way.
But I had to say something. I couldn't just let it end there, not since I had already pushed so far.
"You don't love me."
And he was so right. I really didn't, but he didn't have to tell me something I already knew (twice, too).
Speechless, I didn't know what else to say.
What could I say?
Or rather, I had nothing to say to start with.
Love?
That wasn't it.
Kaiba gave me one last look, then turned and started to walk away.
No, I couldn't--didn't let it end there.
I didn't love him, and he needed to know from my own words, not his.
"Kaiba!"
I chased after him, but he caught me in surprise when he turned around with arms outstretched--as if he were inviting me to run to him for a hug--and I slammed right smack into him, causing the both of us to tumble to the ground with me lying awkwardly on top of him.
"Kaiba--"
Before I could get another word in, he raised his head up to whisper into my ears…
"I like you too."
He knew.
The jerk knew all along.
I felt like crying, and I didn't even love him.
---
I realize now the difference between me and that girl. We both wanted something, but the difference lay in how much we wanted that something.
I was right; she was wrong. True attraction will be returned. All I needed to do was to call out to him.
But what do I know?
I just wanted to be loved.
---
Fin
(1) Japanese high schools don't begin with 9th grade like in the U.S. They tend to begin with 10th grade, because high school for them is only 3 years. (Junior high is also three years.)
(2) Bonkotsu: "mediocre"/"proletariat" (Shirohane's translation--the preferred one)
A/N: I was just messing around with the idea of "love" and parallels. Go listen to "Marching Bands of Manhattan" now, especially the ending. (Leave a review with your e-mail if you want me to send you the song or just visit my fandom LJ.)