Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of its characters, merchandise, TV rights, ect… (I think you get the point.)

Summery

ONE SHOT – It's not in the things you say, it's not even in the way you say them, but the things that you don't say which tell me all I need to know. (Kai/Ming-Ming)

Like all of my work this is just something that happened to float through the empty void inside my head. Like it or hate it please R and R as honest opinions are always welcomed, as are random acts of worship.

Lamb: As always sorry for any bad spelling and if you feel the need to throw things at me please wait until I've hidden behind the sofa kay!?

Dedi: This is dedicated to Iluvbeyblade

Muse: On with the fic!

Today is a winding road,
Tell me where to start and tell me something I don't know,
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,
Today I'm on my own,
I can't move a muscle and I can't pick up the phone,
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know,

Honest Truth

"I think I'd kill myself if I ever fell in love with you." She said, honestly. It was quite probably the most honest thing the azure haired teen had said in all the time that he'd known her.

He turned his head toward her, the only sign indicating that he'd heard her. That statement should have hurt, at least a little. But all he thought was that her eyes were a darker shade of honey brown today and her usual guarded, confident façade was replaced by a more relaxed demeanour while she sat next to him under the sparse shade of the battered tree.

To all the world it seemed as if she talked in nothing but riddles designed to confuse and fox even the most insightful intellect. Always saying one thing while seeming to mean another, while in reality she was talking about something entirely different. She was a puzzle surrounded by an enigma wrapped in a contradiction and yet he could read expertly between the lines like no other could. The spaces behind her words always told more than most people could ever imagine.

"You have to admit, we would never work." He agreed silently, but made no move to voice his opinion. He found that if he just let her talk (or rant and complain) with a few strategic responses on his part, he could avoid unnecessary drama and a headache.

"For one, I talk too much and you not enough," She had a slight lilt to her voice, almost teasing. "Some people would think we'd balance each other out, but I would get pissed off because I'd be talking to a wall and you'd be annoyed because of my incessant chatter, when all you really want is peace and quiet." She seemed to ponder her last statement. "And people would say that you weren't really listening to what I was saying anyway."

She paused, looking at him expectantly, lose strands of hair falling into her large dark eyes and making her look ridiculously child like.

Was she serious? Did she want his reassurance, that yes, he was actually listening to her? He wasn't going to give her that benefit. What was it with women and needing constant reassurance? She knew full well that he listened to her every word no matter how dull or trite. That's just how he was. He wasn't going to tell her that he listened to her talk.

Or that he liked to listen to her talk for that matter.

He was tempted to let out a frustrated sigh at her expectant look, but he had more control than that. Instead he shifted his gaze away from her to the training ground, in the centre of which was the bey dish that they had just been battling in, and leaned against the rough bark of the tree. He closed his eyes, although she couldn't see that.

She seemed content with that small movement even if he was no longer facing her. Clearly he was not happy with where her topic was going. If she knew one thing, it was body language, his body language best of all, and she could always read him like an open book. She moved closer to him so she could lean against the tree as well. Her shoulder touched his but he didn't flinch away from the contact, instead he let the warmth of her body seep into his.

"You don't really care what people think though." She mused.

He didn't care but she did. He knew that. Knew it because unlike so many people he could read between her lines or, more accurately, he could see the truth behind her lies.

"Hmm…" It seemed that she had finally run out of things to say.

They sat next to each other in companionable silence, watching the leaves of the trees around them sway back and forth with the slight breeze. And she thought these were the best moments, when she sat silently next to him after one of their sporadic training sessions. When they were thoroughly exhausted and spent, and watching the scenery before them even if it was just stone hard ground and grass that had been baked to a crisp by the sun.

"But they'd be wrong," she whispered after awhile.

Kai tilted his head towards her, intrigued by her statement and not understanding what she had meant.

The dazed look left Ming-Ming's face as she faced him again, "About us," she repeated, "They'd be wrong about us." And for some reason, that didn't matter to her.

It struck her as funny because it was something that should have mattered; she cared so much about what people thought. But about this….? No, she truly didn't mind.

The Russian's mouth curved up into something that could almost have been a smile. His hand moved to cover her smaller, but just as callused, one where it lay on the ground next to him. The pop star couldn't help but grin; only she could read him like an open book. She shifted to kiss him on the cheek and he could feel her eyelashes brush against his skin.

"You're awfully talkative today." Her hot breath sent tingles down his spine, just as it always did and just as she had planed that it would.

He brushed the sweat soaked slat bangs from his face and turned toward her, his crimson gaze skimming over her features. A warm feeling spread over Ming-Ming under his scrutiny.

"Well," Kai started, dipping down to capture her lips in brief feather light kiss. "Maybe we should change that."

With and ease born of long practice he deftly pulled her onto his lap, his hands moving up her back and cause her to arch into him. A contented purr slid past Ming-Ming's lips. Her flesh was so hot it almost felt as if it were burning his skin wherever the two of them touched and pressed together. Kai brought one of her hand to his lips, deeply kissing her fingers, palm and knuckles. Her face found the crock of his neck, her sweet warm breath playing across his skin as her lips ghosted over his flesh.

He didn't know how to tell her, or even if he should tell her that it was okay for her to fall in love with him, that maybe he might love her too, even if it would never work. But, as he felt the girl melt into him, he thought that perhaps she already knew and that he really didn't need to say anything. That neither of them had ever needed to say anything.

Please R and R I'd love to know what you thought.

Big love and inspiration

Lamanth