A/N: This was mostly written as a favor to my best friend. I'm not putting her name here, though, because she might kill me. Well, she might kill me anyway for writing this note, but, oh well, that's life for you. It's kind of my way to say thank you to her, because she introduced me to the wonderful world of anime and manga.

I never expected I'll be writing AMUTO, but this is her favorite pairing for one of her favorite anime, so that was it. And as I knew it had to be AMUTO, I just had to come up with an idea for a story. Yay -.- Nothing really came to me at first, but one evening I was taking a tram to the Center and while I was coming out, this popped up in my head.

So, it's finally out. And AMUTO it is.

Warnings: AU, meaning no charas, no character transformation, etc. I suppose there will be some minor cursing later on, but nothing serious, seeing how I don't usually curse myself. Anyway, nothing you couldn't handle.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shugo Chara! or any of its places and characters, I only own the plot.

Chapter 1: How does a day begin and end

She was there.

Granted, she was there every morning, but he still sometimes feared she wouldn't be. Like she was just a vision that could fade away any moment.

She was sitting at the very back of the bus, her earphones tucked in her ears, like always. She put her legs on the seat, positioning a writing pad on them. He watched as she bit the top of a pink-and-black striped pencil before she neared it to the paper, drawing off a few lines. Her honey colored eyes would lit up then, holding sparks of passion he knew too well. For several moments, she would unplug herself from everything, all of her attention and feelings focused on the drawing before her.

It wasn't untill he sat next to her that she snapped out of her trance. At that point, she would always turn her pad, and he never could see what she was working on. She would smile to him, and he would answer with that trademark smirk of his.

They never talked. They just sat next to one another, content with having the other there. There wasn't really any need for anything more. Watched from the outside, it looked like one of those passive relationships that people have at work, like someone you always pick up your coffee with, or the person you always say 'hello' to in the morning without even knowing its name.

He didn't want to believe it was like that with them, though. It was something else, something he couldn't really name. Something... deeper, as cliché as that sounds. Those twenty minutes were enough for them. They needed each other's presence. Nothing more, nothing less.

They would go for another ten stops before she would get up to leave. Taking her bag, swiftly slipping her pad and pencil in and hanging it on her shoulder. They didn't really exchange any goodbyes, but she would smile one more time before exiting. He would go for another two stops and then get off himself.

Going through his day, doing countless little insignificant things, he would often find himself wondering what was she drawing on that paper. He sometimes hummed to the melody of songs she listened. He was trying to find a reason for her hair being pink. Those few things kept him interested during the day. While he was writing his music. While recording. While his manager pointlessly kept going on about some thing or another.

It was amazing. Of all the events that took place around him, it was that morning bus ride that kept him alive. He didn't tire of it even after the amount of time that has already passed. All other things were regular. She was not. She was different.

When it was finally late enough, he would go to the station. It would be him to get to the bus first, siting in his regular spot. Lonely two stops would pass before she got on. He would always save her a seat, putting his bag on it and scaring anyone who wanted to sit there away with an angry glare. He couldn't know it, but he liked to think she did the same for him in the morning. Not that many people wanted to sit at the back, anyway, and same people rode the bus every day. After the amount of time they did their morning and evening routine, others didn't even try to sit at either of their spots anymore. Even if some stranger to their little bus community came uninvited and confused, they would talk him out of sitting at the back. He was grateful for that. No matter how annoying their whispers could get. No matter how much times old ladies winked at him when she got on. No matter that they acted like they knew something he didn't. He still was.

He would remove his bag just before she came inside. They would ride in silence. She never drew in the evening. She just listened to music and looked out of the window. That time, it would be him to come off first. It would be his lips quirking upward at their ends for just the tiniest bit, revealing half-form of a real smile.

When he settled himself in bed, he would often imagine how did the rest of her day look. Riding x number of stops more, getting up when the speaker announced hers. Walking to the door, maybe greeting some people she knew along the way. Walking down the streets, crossing roads on her way home. Pulling a set of keys from her bag when she reached her place. Probably apartment. Maybe climbing the stairs. Dealing with things she had to deal with for tomorrow. Going to bed.

He didn't even know her name. Yet, she intrigued him. They never spoke one word to each other, yet he enjoyed her company. He didn't know anything about her, yet he feared one day she might not come.

Sometimes, laying like that, he would understand the senselessness of the whole situation. It was unreasonable. Funny. Strange. Absurd. He knew it well enough. But he also knew it couldn't be helped.

She was a complete mystery. Yet, he dared to consider her his.

His, for all those mornings and evenings. For twenty minutes they shared with every ride. She was his then.

Only his.

His Bus Girl.

A/N: This kinda sounded like a one-shot. At least to me. It just gave such a feeling. And it was sort of short, especially considering the usual length of my things. Following chapters will probably be a bit longer, but still relatively short. As for how this turned out to be from Ikuto's perspective, I have no idea. I didn't even realize it was untill I was already near the end. It might flip to Amu's point of view for a chapter or two in the future, but it will still mostly be from Ikuto's. Otherwise the title wouldn't make much sense.

Anyways, my first AMUTO. Tell me what you think. I very much appreciate every review I get, be it compliment or a critic. Also, note that English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, feel free to let me know. Thank you for reading!